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sassooda · 3 years

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Worlds Away / Chapter 40 - One in the Same 🔞

w/c - 6,476

“Love…”.

As Satoru positions himself back on the bed with a heavy heart, he wonders how long he’ll be without her voice. Elska lies there unconscious, in her own queen-sized bed a few feet away from Naoya who is also in the same condition but in a separate bed. The room Satoru mentioned to everyone before has become their new quarters but with his own personal flare. The five walls are a deep blue-grey, the trim a dark red, all decorative furnishings either that same red or a bright light blue. The sheets both of the sleepers are wrapped in resemble the color of love. This was all designed and put together as a surprise but things haven’t exactly gone as planned.

As he situates himself next to her, Gojo finds that he desires the comfort of her heartbeat. Laying his head on her chest, he relives the horrors of when he and Choso arrived to find them. He’s weighted with guilt, having become too distracted by his mother to focus that day. ‘What did they have to go through?’, he can only imagine having seen the scene himself. Although he wasn’t particularly bothered by the gore, Choso’s reaction said it all as normal people would easily have been mortified. Gojo’s heart also sinks from the sin of dealing with the woman who gave birth to him, even if she was monstrous herself.

“My love…”, his voice is broken from emotion as he whispers to her caringly, “Please come back to me.”. He’s been informed by Nanami and the others that Toji once found her in this same state, taking 6 days to wake up previously. This information doesn’t comfort him however after perceiving the devastation her, Naoya and Toji must have experienced. ‘…and we still haven’t found him yet.’. Satoru knows for a fact that if she wasn’t mentally compromised from the attack, not having Toji will certainly destroy her.

He positions her arms to lay over him, as if she’s wrapping them around his own. Gojo is still reeling from his own experiences that day on top of everything else. The heartache that dwells within him after killing his mother plagues him as if she still existed, only differently. “Love, I didn’t know it would hurt.”. A tear spills from each of his darkened eyes, remembering the vexation that woman caused him for his entire life. There certainly wasn’t any love lost between them but a piece of him died with her and he can’t explain why. In this moment, he only needs to be held by his love. As he listens to the rhythm in which her heart pumps, he feels like he’s brought to a point of necessary, although temporary ease. Bringing her even closer lowers him deeper into security, feeling safe and nurtured by her touch alone. Her and Naoya have only been out for roughly 18 hours at this point, leaving him to also dread how much time he’ll be without her.

**KNOCK, KNOCK**

Without moving at all, Satoru calls for them to enter and sighs as he feels close to losing his composure. He decides to not hide his despair for lack of current ability.

Choso quietly strolls in and takes in Satoru’s depression. He’s apprehensive about how unstable Gojo’s been since coming back to the academy but appreciates how much the man is going through. A slight grin appears across Choso’s face though as he looks over Gojo’s clothes, they’re both wearing their group-matching pajamas. Upon approaching Naoya, Choso pulls back the covers to further evaluate him, wanting to be sure all wounds were healed. He says to his friend, “You are one fortunate man…”, and pulls the sheets up with a smile. He then takes Naoya’s hand with relief on mind, understanding that Naoya will likely be happy at the fact that he was turned. Choso has reservations about this but they’re not strong enough for him to speak on.

Megumi now enters and walks straight over to Elska, on the opposite side from Gojo. He’s still in a state of shock after being filled in on the aftermath. He’s in a foul disposition not knowing where Toji is and is even further upset with how messed her and Naoya looked upon being retrieved. When he reaches out to take up Elska’s hand, his is swatted away, causing him to lower deeper into his anger.

“Leave her alone.”, Gojo growls from Elska’s chest. He immediately feels bad for snapping at Megumi but that was the only warning he was capable of. The hurt displayed on his former student’s face that he catches out of the corner of his eyes prompts him to sit up a little. “I’m sorry Megs, I just… she’s mine.”.

Megumi is feeling disheartened by his current fears on his father’s whereabouts and feels almost completely alone as he drowns in his thoughts. The territorial stance made on Elska causes him to snap, “She is her own person, you’re fucking delusional!”. As his breath catches in his throat, he waits for Satoru to respond maliciously but becomes confused when he doesn’t. ‘I just want to make sure she’s ok…’.

Choso walks over to Megumi and speaks with purpose, “Please let Gojo have time with her, he’s been through a lot…”, and nods as if to reiterate there still are things Megumi is unaware of. Choso sees the discontent on Megumi’s face and can feel the boy’s presence fluctuating so he continues, “And we will find Toji, I promise you. He loves you, you know…”. He watches Megumi’s eyes become glossy as he tries to fend off the tears so Choso hugs him. “I’m sure he’s ok, we just have to get to him…”.

Megumi usually wouldn’t accept the embrace but he feels so incredibly small and useless. He finds Choso’s need to comfort him endearing and wishes he’d been kinder to the being in the past, knowing now how well he means. “I…I miss my dad…”, he meant for it to be a statement but the clarification is muddled by the sorrow in his voice and it only strengthens as Choso continues to try and soothe him.

“Just come back later Megs…I know you’re worried too…”, Satoru doesn’t make eye contact but his voice is genuine. “I just need to be with her right now…”. He now curls back up into Elska and sighs deeply. “She would be angry if I kept everyone from her…”, and Satoru knows this is a fact but is still not budging on the current meeting.

Megumi wasn’t expecting Gojo to offer time up so he doesn’t know how to respond. With a fake scoff he replies, “I will then.”, and heads towards the door. Before leaving he stops and turns around to face them once more, “Shoko is awake now and she wants to see you Gojo.”, then shuts it behind him.

Satoru is aware that they have a prisoner underneath the school and Shoko likely has important information to give to him, he just hasn’t the motivation to move. He buries his face into Elska further, wanting to escape his current duties and pretend they’re just napping together. “Please come back.”.

After a few seconds, Choso exhales, “I’m glad Shoko’s alright.”. After being teleported to Elska’s location, he had to carry her back through his portal while Gojo grabbed Naoya. Choso immediately began to heal Naoya after they returned to the academy but they were soon met with Nanami who requested him to see to Shoko’s head injuries as well. Choso recalls that while he was navigating through his shadow realm that Elska’s energy once again lingered behind them and even seemed to stain some of the surroundings. He’s always been curious as to why hers behaves differently than everyone else. While lost in his thoughts, he’s jolted back to the present as Gojo begins to cry next to Elska.

“Gojo…”, Choso was caught off guard but feels he needs to allow privacy as he doesn’t know what to do. The terrifying Silver Shaman condenses before him, leaving a new wave of misery within his very being. Choso’s still shaken up by the events that took place with everyone and has yet to properly deal with the emotions flowing through him. He glances over to Naoya for a second and then internally declares he will return later. He hears Gojo plead for him to wait so he turns around and utilizes patience as Satoru collects himself.

“We…We have to find Toji.”, Satoru finds himself worried with the possibilities that could be his friend’s fate. Choso nods so he says, “Please, please search for him.”. Gojo looks down at Elska who has yet to show signs of waking, “For both of their sakes, we need to get him back.”. Now darting cold eyes to back to Choso, “I will kill whoever I need to. I will fucking explode every last one of them. This is what they deserve.”. Satoru’s eyes narrow as he thinks of who this Genghis is and how that man is likely responsible for organizing the horrific event. ‘He at least helped Getou…’.

Choso felt a chill crawl down his spine while listening to Gojo. ‘He very well means it.’, crosses his mind but he’s actually reinforced by the statement because he has his own revenge that occupies the same goal. He straightens himself while looking at Satoru, “We will find them and we will end them.”. Choso now brings his gaze to Elska for the first time and finds his dark thoughts fading, beginning to feel consumed by irrational emotions that stem from her condition as well. He has this completely visceral knot that tells him to remain near her but he can’t justify why so he thinks its best not go far at least. “I’m going to try some mapping but I’ll be nearby if needed…”, Choso now reluctantly opens the door and leaves.

Snuggling back into Elska, Satoru closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. “Everything’s so fucked up, love.”, he regretfully informs her as she sleeps. Wanting to be even closer to her, he now takes her right leg and hoists it over himself. He pulls down the front of her slip but only so he can her skin against his cheek. “They will pay for this…”, he seethes as he thinks about the new trauma her and Naoya had to live through at the hands of the Titers. “Genghis and Getou…”, his partnered enemies. He opens his eyes to slight movement. “Love?”. Slowly she begins to stir more, moving her legs and arms to in an attempt to regain awareness. Satoru hurriedly sits up and looks down to her with endearing hope.

Elska is coming to already and smiles sweetly once she opens her eyes to see Satoru. “My sweet Sati…”, she raises her arm to hold his cheek, only now detecting his anxieties. This realization triggers her though as the ominous memories play back in her mind. She instantly screams at the top of her lungs and is sent into a hysterical state once again. She doesn’t know that she’s flailing around during this until she feels Satoru anchor his body around her to prevent her from harming herself. She struggles against him though as she continues to wail. “THE CHILDREN!”, rips through the room and Satoru understands kids must have been present in the attack.

Satoru whimpers regrettably and holds her while her heart breaks. As her cries echo the otherwise silent room, he feels his heart responding, “My love, I’m so sorry…”. He rests his chin above her head as she begins to settle, although her sobs are still incredibly fierce. Her breath can be felt against his chest and neck as she heaves air in this dismantled state. He squeezes her tighter and reminds her, “I’m here love, I’m here. You’re safe now…”. He begins to tear up too as her voice goes silent and strains to make a high-pitched, fading squeak, the fact that she’s as broken as he assumed absolutely wrecking his confidence on the matter but he repeats, “You’re safe now.”, and kisses the top of her head. Satoru notices how strong her presence is and thinks that the whole campus should be aware of her waking.

Choso heard and felt her so he runs back into the room. “ELSKA!”, he continues his pace to the side of the bed where Megumi was and sits down. The sounds that leave her compel him to place a hand on her side as she’s still overlapped by Gojo. She seems to respond to him and calms down slightly but with wide and teary eyes he looks to Gojo who’s just as unnerved by the situation. He hears her say, “They made Toji…kill. They crushed…Getou…he crushed the children…”, and to these words, a tear falls from the beings face. ‘Getou has no qualms with killing innocents…’, but he keeps this information to himself while deciding he should share the tragedy of his brothers eventually.

Elska is slowly comprehending that the horrible sights behind her eyes are of the past but is still riddled with mourning. Understanding that the men have no idea of what all happened she forces herself to compose the best she can and tries to sit up. Satoru only took a second to understand so he is soon helping her. She remembers everything from the attack, which is different than how it’s happened in the past. With weary and swollen eyes, she looks at the two before her and says, “They tried to kill Naoya…”, she glances between Satoru and Choso, “His heart actually stopped.”, the fear of her prince dying reclaims its stance. “He blocked the spear meant for me…”, she looks over and sees him there laying motionlessly and begins to panic.

Choso can see her apprehension as her eyes drift to Naoya and says, “He’s right there Elska”, and grabs her hand as he can only imagine how awful that was, “He is stable and with new energy.”. Her eyes light up but then become watery again as she quietly speaks, “But they took Toji with t…them couldn’t protect both…”, and feels his lips quiver as she deteriorates before them again. Choso’s hand is now on her leg so he brushes the spot to provide additional security. “Knowing that helps, I will find him Elska.”.

Satoru feels Megumi and Itadori approaching the room so he yells, “NOT RIGHT NOW!”, and becomes satisfied when they stop. Looking back to Elska he grabs her shoulders and kisses her forehead, “Love I am going to fix all of this.”. He lifts her chin to him and with complete determination radiating from his eyes, “Everything is going to be ok. I will show no mercy.”, and she seems to be consoled by the darkness exuding him. He kisses her cheek and whispers, “We will paint the city with their blood.”.

Elska feels like his dark nature is nurturing her very soul. In a strange wave of reassurance, the calamity within her lessens so she finally begins to settle into him. While closing her eyes and taking a deep but jagged breath however, the familiar voice ricochets through her.

‘FEED FROM THE HYBRID’

Her eyes jolt open and she slowly turns her head towards Choso who’s still sympathetically rubbing her leg. She questions if she should but understands there is a reason she’s being prompted to do so.

‘YOU WILL SOON BE WHOLE’

With a mousey voice, “Sati?”, she feels through his chest, his “Yes my love?”, and pulls away from him, “I need to feed from Choso.”.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea love, why would you say that?”, Satoru is afraid that she will repeat history and is adamant about making things better not worse. He looks over to Choso who shares his reluctance and eyes him in a way to warn that it isn’t going to happen. “Love what if you lose control?”, he doesn’t understand what she could be thinking but fears it doesn’t matter as her eyes begin to glow. “Love…”.

Elska adjusts herself to her knees and holds her own body, “I think the other me is me.”. When she looks up to them both she can tell they’re confused by that but she proceeds, “I have to do it.”. She launches herself over top Choso and pins his arms down, “Choso I’m so sorry!”. She sees that Satoru has warped to that side of the bed in an attempt to reach her so she growls. He seems to be hurt by this so she adds, “JUST TRUST ME!”, and feels less anxious as he slowly pulls his hands away from her.

Choso’s in shock beneath her, not being sure as to why this is happening or if he should fight her or not. He darts his scared eyes to Gojo fearing that this won’t go over well but is confused as the Silver Shaman seems to retract. He now looks at Elska and can tell she’s not liking how she placed him in this position and suddenly feels at ease. ‘Was this why I wanted to stay?’. He nods to her and lays back down into the bed as her fangs pierce him shortly afterwards. Choso instantly moans and latches onto her, feeling one of his bent legs touching the floor kick out reflexively. She whimpers near his ear and it causes him to melt in place while she pulls from him. After a few seconds her left hand laces into his hair and grips the strands to pull his head more to the side, him closing his eyes and complying. She soon is grinding against him, exuding pleasurable noises which would have been his main focus if her presence wasn’t darkening so rapidly.

Gojo is cautiously monitoring the situation and feels he should stop it when her gestures turn sexual. Hearing her moan seductively into Choso leaves a bad taste in his mouth but remembers he chose to trust her. He knows this is the other Elska now but her words haunt him, “I think the other me is me.”, bringing him into a new state of contradiction as he thinks about how he’ll handle this if shit hits the fan. As he watches her free hand sail from Choso’s chest to underneath her he can’t help himself, “LOVE!”.

Elska grabs Choso’s member and squeezes it. She hears him quietly yelp and hums to his growing as she begins to fondle him further but eventually stops and closes the being’s puncture marks. ‘FOCUS’. Sitting herself over him she inhales deeply before looking down, “It’s incredible, how arousing your blood is…”, and manically looks down to his flushed expression, “…but it makes sense.”. She can tell Satoru reaching out behind her so she quickly grabs his wrist and flings him overhead and onto the bed next to Choso. She relishes in the shaman’s surprise to her strength and chooses to say in the lowly voice, “My favorite human…”, and grinds on Choso again instinctively, meaning the gesticulation for Satoru. Before either of them can say anything she continues, “She is right, we are one in the same…”. Still feeling overcome with desire she takes Satoru’s left hand and forces it upon her breast and whimpers when he grabs it. ‘FOCUS’, cascading through her mind. “They took my beloved but I believe they were meaning for me. I became too confident and played with the Titers, I was having fun.”. She feels the anger race across her expression as the failure surges within her again. “When the mind was repressed, we split into two in order to salvage as much as possible.”, she looks to Satoru with devious eyes, “We would’ve slowly gone mad otherwise.”. Neither of them are speaking, giving her the floor so she turns her glowing gaze to Choso, “You and I are almost exact in product, we were just born differently…I am half curse as well.”.

Choso’s eyes widen to this immensely as many pieces fall into place. Her energy that lingers, her ability to sense the darkness within him, the fact that his blood fuels her. He breaks his gaze with Elska to turn to Satoru who seems to be thinking but isn’t overly sharing his true feelings on the matter. Her presence increases rapidly again so he quickly looks back to her and becomes afraid as she licks her lips at him. She says, “If Sati wasn’t here, I’d take you right now…”, and he feels her hand caress the side of his face but holds his breath not knowing what that exactly meant. ‘Does she mean…’, and looks down at his lap as she sinks her weight into him. He cries out, “Elska NO!”, but feels himself being pinned by her again.

“Elska…”, Satoru is not sure as to what is going on but knows he should tread lightly with his disgust of her harboring secret desires for Choso. She looks to him expressionlessly but the attention was enough, “…Love, I’m sorry for doing this to you.”, he feels the shame in his heart and almost as if she could read his mind she says, “This was a war waged far before you were born sweet Sati. My ancestors and those of the Zenin and Titer clans started this centuries ago. A tragic love story…”. While still remaining her eyes on Satoru, “A Zenin once loved a woman from the Oda clan but their union was rejected for her clan’s lack of status. Oda’s were not inherently shaman and suffered in servitude to the major clans for this and many other reasons. An intelligent and unusually empathetic curse heard their plight and decided to offer them a deal. The Oda’s would evolve, allowing them capabilities of harnessing cursed energy. The heartbroken woman accepted without understanding what would be waged allowing the curse to manifest itself into fragments to take form in every Oda. The Titers, who were then one of the major clans, saw this as a threat and manipulated the time continuum to relocate the Oda’s to a place where they would not have to fear their dark powers.” She exhales, “The curse’s stipulations were for the Oda’s to end humanity by turning them into similar but lesser beings which would eventually allow the curse to take physical form once again.”. Gojo is left in awe by this explanation. ‘A Zenin?’, and turns his head to Naoya and contemplates on the unexplainable connection Elska and Naoya have always had. He realizes something and tells her, “The Zenin’s want you apart of their clan this time…”, his eyes unfasten completely, “…The Titers do too now.”, he thinks of his mother’s words that confirmed they want to breed with her.

“Yes but they foolishly misunderstand their place. The Titers never have and never will be able to control me. Their thoughts otherwise on this are contrived.”. Elska now thinks of Suguru. “I drank from Getou and learned a great deal, he’s merely their powerful puppet. I believe I placed enough doubt in his mind though, if he’s worth anything he will realize his own will.”. Choso and Gojo both wear expressions of mortification that she ignores, “If he ends up agreeing with his clan then I’ll be forced to act however.”, She grins frenziedly, “They do not properly comprehend that their fate rests on my whims.” Her eerie smile fades, “What they’ve done however, I will require lives to pay for it.”. She looks over to Naoya and winces to the reminder that he suffered greatly, “My prince will soon awaken. His DNA synthesis rapidly took course and it was unlike anything we’ve ever seen…”. Merely gazing upon her blonde lover quells her strength, “He has an adverse effect on my existence, he drains me of my ability to stay in this form…”, she looks back to Choso, “…which is why I need to become whole. You can make this possible.”.

Gojo is trying to make sense of this new information and is categorizing his brain for this purpose. When her eyes meet his own again she grins and says, “I will have you too when the time is right. You’re a variable in all of this, the Gojo’s have never had a turned amongst their ranks and with your innate power, I am hesitant to expose you to this needlessly. In theory I will be your master but your soul particularly is already so darkened that I am forced to question what your nature will be.”. Satoru has never discussed becoming like her but a small part of his heart is mended knowing that he’s not left out of her collection. “Love, I would be willing if you saw fit.”, he removes his hand from her breast and brings it to her face. She seems to like being addressed this way which cements the fact for him that they really both are Elska. ‘She refers to me as Sati too.’.

Elska abruptly dips back down into Choso’s neck and bites him again. His cursed blood reanimates through her veins and feels herself growing even stronger. The thought of wiping out the Titers and rescuing her beloved mix with the sensations the being gives her causing her to moan deeply. She feels him growing more underneath her again and smiles into him and wishes that she didn’t need his permission to turn him.

‘HE IS NOT READY YET’

Despite her current ecstasy, she yanks her head up and huffs with annoyance before closing the wounds. “Sometimes I grow fucking tired of your voice.”.

‘Who is she talking to?’, Choso feels his brow furrow as he recalls the other times she seemed to speak to no one. He’s reading that she’s now agitated and wonders if he shouldn’t make a break for it soon. He thinks about Naoya and Toji, how they would be losing their shit if they were witnessing this and doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Gojo’s wrath either.

“You need not run…”, Elska sighs to the obvious hesitation from Choso and maneuvers herself off of him and stands. “I will not turn either of you right now for our efforts should be placed into retrieving my beloved.”. Gojo warps behind her and spins her around and she feels his arms embrace her. With confusion she asks, “Do you not fear me, Sati?”.

Satoru chuckles into her hair, “Oh I fear you…I just love you as well.”, and is surprised when this dark Elska relaxes into him. ‘She loves monsters because she is one too…’. He knows this thought would likely terrify anyone else but he feels a new bond has been created between them in this moment and reminds her, “I know you feared me but you also never let me go.”. He inhales her scent begins to sway them, “You’re my love.”. He wonders as well who she meant that random statement to but doesn’t feel the need to press her for more information as he’s still working through what was just laid out.

Being so close to Satoru, feeling his body heat and breath brings Elska back to her arousal she’s been fighting for the sake of communication. She bites his chest through his shirt and rakes her nails down his back as he whimpers. She can taste his own excitement and decides that enough was said.

Gojo feels himself being pushed onto the bed and watches Choso jump up to standing. Elska straddles him and tears her slip open before glaring down and demanding, “Remove your shirt.”. He hastily does as he’s told while admiring how frightening her mannerisms are. When she leans down to kiss him, she lifts her weight from his lap and growls, “Your clothing is still in the way.”, to which he shimmies the waistband to his thighs, allowing his hardened flesh to make contact with her bare skin. He quickly finds Choso who is standing a few feet away with his jaw slacked open, “Cho-…”, she covers his lips and aligns herself with Satoru’s erection and says, “Do not concern yourself with him whilst I fuck you.”. He then feels her wet warmth slide down his shaft and groans loudly into her palm as she felt amazing. She pins his arms over his head against the mattress and proceeds to thrust herself into him passionately. When she gasps to using him, he feels a long-forgotten desire to tame her. Suddenly Gojo experiences his own switch as she continues to bounce herself on him. He breaks an arm free and sends his hand to her throat, squeezing it as he pulls her face down to his. When she bites her lip with arrogant eyes, he understands that she’s hoping he’ll fight back for dominance and whispers into her lips, “I will have you begging me to stop.”.

Elska grins to the confirmation but all of the sudden finds Satoru is no longer below her. “Try your best, you will not break me.”, she teases in her lowly voice as she recognizes his presence behind her. She hears Gojo say, “Choso, find me something to tie her up with.”. She looks to Choso who seems to not understand why so she smiles, “Do as he says.”. Satoru now wraps a hand around her throat again and pulls her back to where she’s on her knees and feels his erection rubbing against her. She tries to angle herself so she could feel him again but fails. She huffs disapprovingly but is soon met with his grith spreading her, leaving her crying out in lust. He leans down by her ear while he seats himself completely, “Love, is that what you wanted?”, and snickers as he rams her a few times.

Choso is finding the request made of him to be completely outlandish. ‘She shouldn’t be tied up!’, he now hears Satoru thrusting into her and feels uncomfortable with witnessing it in person. What he cannot ignore though is his own throbbing while he scurries to find anything that can be used for restraints. While searching through the drawers he comes across a scarf and quickly throws it over to Gojo without looking at them. His eyes take to Naoya in the other bed and he frowns to the situation at hand but knows there’s nothing he can really do to stop Elska. It was clear to him that she initiated and wanted to further down this adventure with Satoru. He looks over to them finally and looses his breath as he’s met with her alluring eyes. ‘Does she want me to stay?’, he questions internally hoping he was wrong. “Elska?”, he asks in a small voice, becoming mesmerized with how she’s staring into him.

Gojo pushes Elska down into the bed and brings her arms to fold neatly behind her back. “Like old times…”, he teases wantonly as he secures the scarf around her forearms and wrists. He nudges her body forward so he can sit on his knees behind her and admires her body as he postures himself over her legs. With his left hand he grabs himself up to rub into her folds, moaning to the visible evidence that he’s going to be able to go wild. He notices Choso run out of the room and chuckles while gliding into her fully, “I guess he didn’t want to watch. Smart move.”, and begins pound into her relentlessly as she moans into the sheets. He grabs her throat again with his right hand to pull her back towards him and says, “That’s right love, you will take this dick and you will fucking like it.”, and slaps her ass with his left. “I am going to conquer you all over again…”, he hisses as he pulls on her waist to make sure there’s not a single inch of him missing out. She cries out, “YES!”, which causes him to tighten his grasp on her throat from the rush it sent through him while he delivers deep thrusts. He whimpers to how she feels contracting around him and takes notice to her body’s response as he continues through her orgasm. “Already, huh?”, the accomplishment fills him with pride and he expresses it by still crashing into her as she falls apart. After a harsh few minutes, he slows down in an attempt to caress her internally. “Mmmm…”, he hums to how slippery her walls have become as she pants in front of him. “Perhaps my love wants to be controlled?”, he slaps her rear again with his left hand before regaining his grip on her hip. She lowly gasps, “Please try!”, which makes him say, “I am going to destroy you…”. He decides to warp in front of her and watches her body fall into the mattress. He grabs her hair and assists her in lifting her head while tilting his chin to the side and mocking, “The scary little Elska…”, she opens her mouth so he sends himself down her throat, “…gagging on my dick.”. He works his hips into her as expected tears roll down her face. When he removes himself to allow her air, he sighs to her saliva coating her breasts, causing them to glisten every so often. To his surprise she seductively moans and challenges, “Is that all you’ve got?”, which causes him to grunt as he traces her lips with his tip. He replies, “You should know me better than that.”, and proceeds to thrust into her mouth again. When she chokes on him, he throws his head back and furrows his brow while gasping, “My sexy little Elska…”.

Feeling his grip in her hair as he harshly stretches her throat fills her with exhilaration. There are reasons as to why he is so special to her and this depravity he harbors is one of them since it mirrors a part of her nature. She looks up to him the best she can as her muscles convulse to his motions and loves the dominating way in which he treats her. ‘Nobody has ever been so brave.’, she thinks as she gags. He removes himself from her mouth again but drags his member along her face which makes her whimper with anticipation. He says, “I can’t finish until I’ve opened everything.”, and she shivers to his voice as it was chilling, knowing he’s going to take her in every way he can. He warps behind her again but is maneuvering her to lay on her left side. She tries to adjust in a way that makes her arms more comfortable but he slaps her thigh and says, “Don’t squirm now love, it’s too late for that.”.

Satoru bends her legs up towards her chest so he could have unobstructed access. Spreading his kneeing stance, he leans over her to grab her throat again while he begins to nudge her second entrance. “You are mine to fuck and so is this ass.”, and groans down to her as he feels himself slowly making progress. He loves how her face morphs into pleasure the deeper he goes and wonders, ‘Has she liked this all along?’, but is soon taken out of thought as she gasps to being further parted. He releases her throat to lean back and stabilize himself with her hip, wanting to watch himself submerge into her. “Look at you love, taking me so well…”, she cries out heatedly and he bites his lip as he backs out to start the process over. He drops some of his own saliva down where they meet and works himself in deeper, becoming completely swallowed by her. “Such a good girl…”, he breathlessly whines as their eyes meet. “…Take it all…”, and begins to set a rhythm. As he increases his force she cries out “YES SATI”, and smiles with parted lips as she’s forced to endure him. He’s watching her skin ripple and wave out from his impact and it nearly makes him come undone having the knowledge that she’s enjoying this. He pulls out of her to take in the sight of her mess and rolls her onto her stomach. After making his way back in, he leans his body to hover over hers while he continues to pound through her.

Elska is completely under his control but is rather thrilled by how rough he is being. Through her moans she tries to tell him that it’s coming but before she can, the pheromones release into the room. She turns her head and sees Satoru’s face next to hers as he fills his lungs and moans, his motions halting while he does. She hears him say, “You must love it when I fuck you like this…”, and picks up his pace again. While gasping she’s able to say, “I want more!”, and her eyes roll back when gives her exactly that. She can tell by his breathing that he’s nearing his end so she arches her back underneath him as if to present she was ready to be a pretty display. His thrusts after that became full and deep with each stroke until she feels him twitch and begin to settle. He opens her legs to guide her onto her back while remaining inside of her. The look on his face is breathtaking and she can sense his relief as he slowly nudges through her a few more times.

While holding her ankles and leaning his hips into her, he brings his gaze from her face to where they’re connected and grunts to how pleasing the sight is. He leans down to kiss her feverishly as he comes to terms with his affections for Elska as a whole and says, “I love all sides of you…”, into her lips. He leans back up so he can watch his contents spill from her after he pulls out and moans when it’s even more beautiful than he imagined. Rolling her back onto her stomach he reaches down to undo her binds and finds their lips meeting as soon as she was free.

She slides her tongue into his mouth passionately and they moan into each other again. When she breaks away she says in her lowly voice, “I don’t have much time left like this but one day I will be whole. Let’s see if you can overpower me then.”, and brushes her thumbs across his cheeks. “I will be a blend of all attributes but I can promise I’ll want more of this.”. Her eyes feel heavy now as she feels her state diminishing, “I will have to sleep again but I will return to normal when I wake. Will you…”, she hesitates, “…will you bring me to sleep next to Naoya?”. She’s taken back by his kind smile as he lifts her up into his arms. They sway as he uses his knees to bring them to the edge of the bed and they nearly fall over as he works to swing his legs out to the floor.

They laugh together as he awkwardly finds his balance but he feels her sincerity as he walks them over to Naoya. “You can rest easy love and I’ll clean you up…”, he tells her as he lowers her down next to the sleeping Zenin. Her eyes are quickly losing their glow as she lays there and wraps her arms around Naoya’s left one, so he knows she’s going to be out here soon. “Love?”, she brings her hazy gaze to him, “We will find Toji, I swear it’s my priority.”. She smiles and thanks him before saying, “I’m glad to know he’s important to you as well Sati. Please, locate my beloved…he needs me…”. While he was forming his next words she closes her eyes and falls asleep instantaneously. “Love, I will make this world work for you…”, and leans down to kiss her once more. He stands upright again to find something to wash their wonderful experience with. After wiping her down he crawls in the bed and uses the slightest bit of space given to make his own spot, wanting to be next to her. He ponders on what she said earlier about the curse’s will to replace humanity and smiles into her neck, “I don’t much care for humans either…whatever your endgame is, we will succeed.”.

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userpoe · 3 years

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today on I have emotions about poe and leia: I was reading through the tros visual dictionary yesterday and noted, with some interest, it mentions that poe's responsibilities have shifted away from his duties as a pilot so he hasn't been going on as many missions in his x-wing. instead, he's going on "ground" missions, like supply runs and such - to the point that black squadron has effectively disbanded since they don't have to run any special missions anymore (WAILING).

here's where the angst comes in fellas: [wheels in the projector] Leia has almost lost Poe an alarming number of times in the first two films alone. They lose contact with him on Jakku (on a mission Leia sent him specifically on), he disobeys her orders to stay behind on an unstable Starkiller to ensure the Falcon escapes too, immediately about 3 days later, he offers himself up as a distraction against the First Order which they both know is a bad idea (and Leia is very visibly worried), then he disobeys Leia's orders to fall back. And the absolute kicker: Leia knew that Poe was going to the hanger when it exploded, so there is a very real chance that when the bridge was attacked, she may have been under the impression he was lost with the other pilots/techs in the explosion.

Immediately after in the Poe comics, Leia is hesitant to send him after Black Squadron when they need help: she hates the idea of leaving them, they're her friends, but she's also worried by the prospect of also losing Poe. And then, in Resistance Reborn, she's present when Poe makes his speech to the entire Resistance about how, if he thought it would help, he would sacrifice his life in a heartbeat if he thought it meant taking down the First Order (which Finn is appropriately horrified by).

where am I going with this? In the TROS novelizations, it expands on why Rey is staying behind training: because Leia has grounded her due to increasing visions she's been having about Rey's death (or fall). So, clearly, Leia has no issue with grounding her kids if she's concerned for them.

"Poe's responsibilities have shifted" makes me think Leia has quite purposefully steered him away from solo ops in his x-wing where he can potentially sacrifice himself for the greater good, in fact things get even better (worse?) when you factor in that Artoo is now accompanying Poe in his x-wing on missions instead of BB-8. Artoo, who has protected and aided Leia's brother for years, is now at Poe's side when he's on missions by himself. And when he's doing supply runs, he's never alone and it's usually aboard the Falcon: the visual dictionary mentions him, Finn and Chewbacca going on assignments together pretty frequently: Chewie, who protected Leia's husband, for decades is now working quite frequently with Poe.

And it's absolutely not out of the realm of possibility that Leia is purposefully trying to protect Poe, and this certainly isn't one-sided either: the dictionary also notes that Poe has asked Snap to stay behind to watch after Leia while he is away on missions (meanwhile, he has BB-8 keeping Rey company because he's worried about how isolated she is, I love him so much).

In conclusion, Poe and Leia are very protective of each other and I can in fact make heaps of content that make wanna cry from, like, three throwaway lines in a visual dictionary.

#tegan speaks #poe dameron #leia organa #poe and leia #i love their dynamic so much #he HAS HIS BEST FRIEND AND BEST BUDDY WATCH AFTER HIS GIRLS WHEN HE'S NOT ON THE BASE SHUT UP I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE

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kryzobi-wan · 3 years

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Dancing in the Dark

"What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?"

---

Just a whole lotta touch-starved, lonely Ben Solo feeling a lot of feels when the Force decides to connect him to Rey <3 Completely self-indulgent Reylo angst and fluff. Plus a little slow dancing 🥲

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Ben Solo had learned what it meant to be lonely. Growing up surrounded by droids instead of family taught a kid that particular lesson pretty quickly. Still, that aching longing for human connection never quite left him, even after so many years of immersing himself in the cool, unfeeling darkness in hopes that it would drown out that part of himself. He had everything he had ever wanted, he tried to convince himself. Power, control, strength… it should have been enough.

But that flicker of light—of warmth—within him that he never could quite get rid of felt like the piercing, burning bite of a lightsaber wound on his flesh. If the light was supposed to bring comfort and peace, then why did its presence hurt so much?

After his solitary childhood and early adulthood, it shouldn’t have been possible to feel any more lonely than he already did. Then she had come crashing into his life, entangling their respective destinies in a mess of unacceptable feelings and emotions, and leaving Kylo more unbalanced than he had ever been since joining the First Order. Her light had illuminated the truth of every crude approximation of connection Kylo had forged over the years in his chosen place of belonging. Where once the officers of the First Order, the Knights of Ren, even Hux, had provided some semblance of stability and companionship, he now saw them for what they were: hollow, resentful beings who couldn’t care less if he lived or if he died.

For a few brief moments he had thought that Rey might fill the gaping hole this realization left in the very depths of his soul. How naïve that had been. Now she had left him, scorned him, and he was truly on his own, with not even the sickening but constant presence of Snoke to keep him company.

Weeks passed. Hux had finally stopped reprimanding Kylo for his failure on Crait, and in fact hadn’t spoken to him in days, leaving him without even that sense of consistency. In the quiet isolation of his chambers, the weight of his father’s death at his hand finally settled firmly on his shoulders. With Snoke gone, his recollection of that fateful moment came with a different kind of clarity that was most unwelcome. This kind of introspection was dangerous, and he did his best not to entertain it. But he was weak. His thoughts involuntarily drifted to those peaceful moments in his childhood—as rare as they were—where for just one moment he thought his parents might really care, that he wasn’t truly alone. The ache of soured happiness came attached with those memories, now that he had been disillusioned from their lies.

Looking at him now, it was hard to believe that he had once believed in the beauty of the galaxy. Ben—Kylo—remembered a time when the stars seemed brighter, the air more pure and refreshing. When he could feel the bubbling of joy and frivolity in his chest, giving him the sensation of weightlessness as he passed through life ignorant of how truly alone he was.

Oh, how he longed for that beauty.

He had always been drawn to such things. The artful strokes of calligraphy, flowing from the tip of his pen. The feeling of soft, green grass between his fingers, and the touch of cold, crisp water on his toes. The gentle lilt of music playing somewhere in the distance, the tune floating through his bedroom window as he closed his eyes in sleep.

What kind of monster was he, to wish for beauty?

There was no such thing. Kylo Ren could never be worthy of it. Every beautiful thing he touched met its end sooner or later. He was poison to it, so fundamentally contrary to everything it stood for that it could be corrupted by his mere presence.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Rey had closed their connection. Since that moment on Crait when she looked down on him in his defeat, he had only seen her a handful of times, and only long enough for her to scowl at him and shut him out.

So he was alone. As usual.

Wandering the halls of the new flagship star destroyer, Kylo was acutely aware of this fact. Some days were worse than others, but this was bad as it got. Something inside him was begging for someone—anyone—to see him. To remind him that he wasn’t just some ghostly apparition with no corporeal form.

Not a single passing trooper or officer acknowledged him.

Perhaps it was his own fault. After all, you can’t have both the fear of your subordinates and the good opinion of them. He had chosen what made sense for the leader of an army, and he refused to consider any other option. He was the Supreme Leader of the First Order. He did what he had to do.

As it turns out, it’s lonely to be the one on top of the pyramid.

Kylo passed by a group of stormtroopers, his cape billowing behind him. They seemed to be celebrating something, perhaps one of them had received a promotion or passed a particularly difficult round of training. They patted each other on the back, excitedly chattering in low whispers about whatever it was that spurred this reaction. Despite the armor and helmets, he could see the camaraderie they shared. They were happy.

That was enough to trigger another episode.

They were coming more frequently now. It was different than his bursts of anger and violence, where he could reach some sort of catharsis by tearing apart his immediate surroundings with the slash of his fiery weapon. This kind of attack did quite the opposite, causing him to shut down completely, barely able to move or speak until he could manage to calm himself down to an acceptable level. His breathing quickened and he was forced to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

Kylo sucked in a deep breath as he willed the prickling of tears in his eyes to go away. He felt exposed without his mask. His traitorous expressive face betrayed every emotion that he felt, leaving him vulnerable. He couldn’t let his subordinates see this weakness, or he’d be ousted by a mutiny before the end of the day cycle. No, he had to get away before he went catatonic. Stumbling and suddenly dizzy, Kylo made his way toward his chambers. The lights on the walls and ceiling swirled in his vision like the flash of stars through hyperspace, and it was all he could do to remain upright as he burst into his quarters and shut the door behind him. Immediately upon entering, he ripped his cape and the outer layer of his tunic off, feeling suffocated by them. Removing his heavy boots, he focused on the chill of the cold durasteel floors seeping through his dark socks, connecting him to his surroundings.

With a flick of his wrist, he turned out the lights and collapsed onto the nearest chair, resting his head atop his knees, and clasping his hands behind his head as he tried his best to stop trembling. He allowed the quiet darkness to envelop him like a blanket, hiding the tears as they streamed from his eyes.

Whenever this happened, it felt as if the air around him was pressing inwards as it slowly crushed him. He needed something real, something physical to ground him. No matter how tightly he clutched at his own body, how much he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stem the flow of tears, it was not enough. The pain radiated outward from himself. It was as if he were a bomb threatening to explode at any moment, at which point he would cease to exist entirely. He could be floating in the lifeless vacuum of space for all that he felt. There was nothing to hold him together.

Completely and utterly alone.

He was well-practiced by now in self-treating these sudden attacks. It may take several minutes, but eventually he would be able to breathe out one last shuddering breath and still the shaking in his shoulders and knees. The floor stilled beneath him, and he no longer felt like his screams were trapped inside his body, begging to be let out.

All he felt in the wake of an episode like this, was numb.

He stared tiredly at the floor, now propping his head up on his hands as exhaustion flooded his body.

It was frustrating, feeling so out of control of one’s emotions. Despite the fact that his master was now dead and gone, he could still feel the disappointment he would have had in his apprentice. The words Snoke would have said echoed through his mind.

Pathetic. Weak. You are too unstable. The darkness will reject you. Your emotions cause you to fail. Everyone who ever claimed to care about you threw you away like garbage, but you can’t stop needing them.

Perhaps he had been projecting a little when he said those last words to Rey.

As if his thoughts had caused it, he suddenly felt the familiar shift in the Force that signaled the start of a connection. The rumbling sounds of his ship faded into a comfortable silence that was, for once, welcome in the aftermath of his anxiety attack.

He breathed out a sigh of relief before opening his bleary eyes and lifting his head slightly to peer about his room. She was nowhere to be seen.

Just as he was about to stand to go look for her, Rey appeared in his doorway, looking irritated and disappointed as usual as her eyes settled on him. She promptly turned with a huff and disappeared from view as fast as she had come, though the connection remained open.

“Rey, wait,” Ben (because he was always Ben during these connections) called out to her before she could shut him out. He stood abruptly, rushing to stand in the doorway. She stilled, her back to him and apparently awaiting his next words before she decided to leave him anyway or not. “Please don’t go,” he hated how fragile the words sounded as they escaped his lips.

Rey let out a tired breath. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Panic began to rise in Ben’s stomach again as he felt Rey start to force the connection closed. “Stay! Please, just for a few more moments,” he said desperately. He was starting to feel dizzy again. He wanted to pretend just for a little while that he wasn’t alone. Once he regained his stability, she could leave if she wanted. He just needed someone for a few minutes to keep him from falling apart.

As if she could sense this, she turned to face him, setting her jaw firmly as she stared at him with caution behind her eyes. Relief flooded his veins, and before he could stop himself, he reached out with one hand and clutched Rey’s arm, using it to keep himself upright. She didn’t move a muscle, though she stared at him as if she wanted nothing more than to step away from him. He bowed his head, breathing deep, calming breaths in and out.

“Thank you,” he said softly after a moment.

Rey nodded once but said nothing. Her silence had become the usual ever since Crait, and as much as it pained him, he was grateful that this time she at least acknowledged his existence.

Once upon a time, she had told him he wasn’t alone. That had meant everything to him, even if it didn’t mean the same things to her. He just wanted to feel like he did in that moment. When they had touched hands, he felt a flutter of happiness and a spark of hope that he never thought he’d feel again. He saw a flash of beauty, like something had peeled back the dark shroud that obscured his view of the galaxy. For the briefest of moments, he thought he could be happy with her. That neither of them would ever have to be alone for the rest of their days.

Ben’s eyes flashed up to where his gloved hand met her skin, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, a chill running up his spine. He lost himself in the feel of human contact, nearly becoming overwhelmed by the sensation after so long without it. Perhaps the only thing keeping him from completely breaking down was that layer of leather still between them.

Slowly, as if he were not even in control of his own movements, his other hand gingerly brushed against the same arm, inspecting the fresh scar there. His hands were trembling as they traced the contours of her arm, down, down, down to her hand where they stopped, cradling her fingers with the softest touch.

“Ben?” Rey finally spoke, breaking him out of his entranced state. He looked up to her, tears pooling in his eyes once more. His hand instinctively tightened around hers.

“Will you dance with me?”

His words were unexpected. There was something about being there, with her, that made him wish more than ever for the things of beauty in this galaxy. They seemed to have reached a temporary truce, considering the fact that Rey hadn’t ripped her hand away from his yet. He couldn’t help himself.

“What?” Rey asked incredulously. She looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Ben began to feel the tug of her hand against his, hesitating but wanting to let go.

“I just—” Ben stepped closer, patting her hand lightly with one of his and bowing his head again to look only at their hands rather than her face. He shook his head in disappointment with himself as it became clear that he didn’t have the words to articulate what he was trying to say.

I need you, he finished in his mind, but Rey seemed to hear it loud and clear. Her eyes softened, though a hint of hesitation remained.

“Okay.”

Ben’s gaze snapped back to hers, his mouth parted slightly in surprise that she had actually said yes. Something like nervousness or excitement fluttered in his stomach, leaving him momentarily breathless.

He nodded, speechless and blurry-eyed, and dropped her hand long enough only to remove his dark gloves, casting them carelessly on the floor. When he stepped into her space again, the corners of his trembling lips teased the smallest hint of a smile, which was reflected in his widened, somehow younger-looking eyes.

Slowly, in his disbelief that this was really happening, Ben scooped up each of her hands in his own, clutching them to his sweater-clad chest. There was no music, but the beating of their hearts seemed to be amplified in the space that stretched between them and their bond. It was the only sound they could hear, aside from the shaky breaths each was breathing in anticipation for this new closeness, this tender moment.

Rey moved one hand to Ben’s shoulder, allowing him to wrap his arm around her. His palm splayed across her back, reveling in the feeling of her textured taupe-colored wrappings on his fingertips. Electricity sparked where their hands met, and he saw it again. A vision of beauty. Togetherness. The rightness of it all.

He pulled her in close, resting his cheek against her silky brown hair and closing his eyes to soak in the peacefulness of the moment as they began to sway. Fresh tears trailed down his cheek, mingling with her hair. She hesitantly leaned her head into his chest and brought her hand up to the hair at the nape of his neck, stroking it comfortingly. It was almost as if she knew exactly what he was feeling, exactly why he had asked her to stay. Could she really see through him that easily? Or was the bond stronger than they thought? If so, what could that mean?

He knew who she was. She was a nobody, right? Then why did she feel like everything to him?

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

They danced, in the calming darkness of the night. Peace washed over Ben Solo, evening his breathing to quiet, content breaths. There were so many things he wanted to say; confessions he needed to get off his chest, apologies, explanations… but nothing could get past the lump in his throat. Instead, he contented himself with looking out the viewport behind Rey, taking in the majesty of the stars beyond. Long ago, he had lost the sense of wonder and awe he used to feel when immersed in the view of open space. The endless black expanse began to feel empty and cold. It reflected his own loneliness back at him.

How had he missed the numerous stars and planets that dotted the sky? They shone brightly, their warmth reminding him that there would always be life, hope, and a future—beyond.

Skywalker… Ben heard an unfamiliar voice, gravelly but laced with amusement. Still looking to the horizon…

The world around them had disappeared. The two swayed and twirled amidst the infinite vastness of space, and Ben felt weightless, like they were floating through the galaxy without a single worry or care. There was no Resistance, no First Order, no Jedi, and no Sith. There was only Rey, and the stars that illuminated her glistening eyes.

That same sense of awe, the hope and contentment of his boyhood innocence, filled his heart with every brush of her hand against his, every time their eyes met, the beating of her heart next to his own…

Rey pulled back a few inches, enough that she could tilt her head back to study his face. The hand he was holding in his dropped before she placed it on his other shoulder, her hands firmly but gently gripping them. If Ben were told that her touch was the one thing keeping him from shattering into a billion pieces, literallyholding him together, he would believe it without question. Her fingers tangled in the loose fabric of his thin sweater, rubbing soft circles over his skin. It was a comfort he was not used to, a balm for the crawling discomfort of starvation from human contact which he had felt for so long.

His eyes fluttered closed and he could scarcely breathe. They continued to sway as Ben moved his free hand up to Rey’s face, experimentally trailing his fingertips over her skin with a touch so light, she might not have even noticed had she not been so in tune with what he was feeling.

When he opened his eyes again, he observed her image through his lashes, unbothered by the sadness or pity she held for him in her eyes. He did not care what thoughts or emotions kept her here, he was just glad that she was.

In his exploration of the contours of her face, his hand brushed against a stray piece of her hair, drawing his intense focus away from her soft skin. He held it lightly between his thumb and forefinger in fascination and wonder, tousling it gently before following the path of her hair to the three buns at the back, which he threaded between his fingers.

Following his lead, Rey cupped a hand over his jaw, setting his nervous system ablaze. It was almost too much to handle. His head dipped forward until his forehead was practically touching hers, all the while they continued to sway. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, mere inches separating their lips from each other’s.

Before the situation could slip any further out of Ben’s control than it already had, Rey pulled back, her body stilling as she stared at him as if in study. His arms felt suddenly empty, but the sharp pain of loneliness from earlier had faded to a dull ache. He no longer felt like he was at risk of imploding, which was a relief to his tormented soul.

Eyes meeting hers, he silently conveyed his gratefulness for what she had done, finding words to be insufficient. He worked his jaw absentmindedly as his gaze flicked over her features, trying to gauge what she might be thinking in that beautiful mind of hers.

Without warning, she rushed forward and enveloped him in her arms, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. The embrace was as short as it was sudden, but it was like heaven coming down to him. He had barely managed to reciprocate the action before she released him and stepped back, seemingly unsure of what to say.

Her voice came back in little more than a whisper, and he thought he saw a tear escape from the corner of her eye. “I understand,” was all she said, her jaw firmly set in that look of determination that Ben was so used to seeing.

And maybe she did.

Of all the people in the universe, Rey would know the heartache of loneliness better than anyone. All those years alone, waiting for the return of those who could never come back… Maybe she needed this as much as he did.

Rey stared intently into his eyes, and it felt like she was able to see directly into his soul. She nodded, perhaps in answer to his line of thinking. Perhaps it was just a gesture to reassure Ben that everything would be okay. Either way, he felt a part of himself melt away under the influence of her light, leaving him with a sense of peace unlike anything he’d ever felt.

With that, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, disappearing without consequence.

Ben breathed out a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding, stumbling backwards to his couch to think. The ghost of her touch on his skin remained, and it brought him a lasting comfort.

He should have felt scared, or worried, that his mortal enemy knew his vulnerabilities and sorrows so intimately, but he wasn’t. He had shared with her a moment of beauty and of happiness, and something about it told him it would be a significant turning point in the story of the Jedi Killer and the Last Jedi.

As he drifted off to sleep that night, he could have sworn that he felt her gentle touch on his forehead, brushing through his dark wavy hair in comforting strokes. Tender words of encouragement graced his ears, and whether they were real or imagined, he took them to heart.

He dreamed.

Of the cool, still waters of a lake.

The light of the moon reflecting on its glassy surface.

The velvety blackness of the night sky,

Decorated with the pinpricks of diamonds glittering from above.

And the mountains,

Standing strong and steadfast in the distance,

A friendly shadow on the horizon.

He dreamed.

The woman in his arms,

Illuminating the world around her,

Her light shining like the sun,

Her smile a warm glow that nurtured his soul.

And he danced.

-.-.-

Comments greatly appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed! Much love, Reylos <3

#Reylo #reylo fic #reylo fanfiction #star wars #star wars tlj #post star wars tlj #ben solo #touch starved ben solo #kylo ren #ben solo x rey #ben solo cries a lot #rey #rey nobody #rey from nowhere #rey from jakku #pov ben solo #reylo dancing #my fanfic

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crowsandthoughts · 4 years

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Stomache ache || Tsukishima Kei, Oikawa Tooru + Kuroo Tetsuroo

A scenario of Tsukki, Oikawa and Kuroo when their s/o can’t fall asleep and she kept going to the bathroom just because her stomach isn’t feeling well, full of fluff :)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima Kei

The test was going to be in almost a week from today but Kei, Tadashi and you started to study as the good students you are. Well, maybe those two included you in this study session so they could be sure you were actually understanding everything. Even though the intention of this was only studying, breaks were taken mostly every 20 minutes… definitely not your greatest moment. Loads of snacks were eaten - you ended up so full! but that feeling changed and your stomach started being a problem. Thank god it didn’t start when you were still studying, since i would’ve been the worst thing ever.

Tadashi had just left when your tummy started to hurt. Your house was pretty far away and it was too late for you to go alone. Since Kei and you were childhood friends, his mother easily let you stay for the night! If it wasn’t for the pain your stomach was making you feel, this would’ve been an almost fanfiction scenario you could only imagine in your head from all the years you’ve been pinning for your tall friend. He even lent you his clothes!

You endured it for some more minutes, he was in a futon on the floor while you “slept” on his bed. Carefully enough, you got to your feet and went to the bathroom… multiple times in the night. Whatever made your stomach that upset, you sweared for your life you wouldn’t eat it again… even if it meant not eating at all. You could only hope the blond didn’t notice a damn thing because you would be embarrassed as hell.

When you were finished with you business in the bathroom, you got out and met with the blond’s eyes. He had this smirk in his face and all the emotions you were trying to hide just exploded in your face. “I’m sorry i woke you up…” He lifted his eyebrow “Are you feeling better though?” You directed you gaze to the wall “Y/n…” “My tummy hurts…haha” and with that your vision clouded, you were super ashamed you almost couldn’t handle it. You felt how he sighed and put his hand in your shoulder “You dumb, go to bed. I’ll give you something for it” so you did what he said. Even if you were feeling really self-concious, the tone of his voice expressed how deeply he cared and that was just what you needed.

Oikawa Tooru

It was one of those nights where your tummy wouldn’t stop hurting. Maybe it was the amount of food you had ate during the day or perhaps part of it was rotten, you didn’t know. What you did know was that the sound your stomach produced was not healthy at all. Either way this wasn’t what you were expecting from this day, all week you were completely excited about this “sleepover idea” with your boyfriend Tooru: preparing the outfit you would wear, what movies you would love to watch, you name it. All to be ruined by your stupid stomach plotting your entire plan and making you feel anxious.

The “tummy problem” started just when you two arrived home from the cute date you had. You tried to deny any kind of discomfort your stomach made you feel and just hoped it went away. Hot news - it didn’t. Sometimes you could ignore it and behave normally but there were other times when you needed a break in the bathroom. You tried those visits were as fast as possible so the boy wouldn’t notice. (He is an observant pal so obviously he would)

You thought it all came to an end when both of you got yourselves comfortable (as comfy as you could with all the pain your tummy made you feel) in his bed. He was definitely sleepy and ready to shut his brain off since he had a long day: he was practicing in the club some serves before your date. As soon as you felt his body relax, you jumped out of bed and ran all the way to the nearest bathroom. You tried to be as silent as you could every time you went but because of your rapid actions you ended up making a lot of noise when you closed the door.

Just when you felt everything was going the best it could, a knock at the door interrupted your late night date with the toilet.

“Y/n, baby, you know you can count on me when you don’t feel well, right?” Your brows furrowed as you heard his voice from outside. That’s when your facade broke, and all your frustrations surfaced. “Tooru…” your voice trembled as you called his name. “What is it sweetie?” as those words came out of his mouth some tears felt from your eyes, you weren’t expecting this but the tiredness was consuming you as well. “My stomach hurts…”When you said it, he went to his kitchen and prepared some tea for you to drink. “Hold on, baby. I’m going to give you something for it, yeah?”

You spent some more minutes until you felt better and came out of the room. Your gaze was directly to the floor, the embarrassment because of all this ugly situation kept you from looking into his eyes. “Y/n” He said and took your hand. His soft touch left you breathless and guided you to a comfy place with the tea he prepared. “drink this and you’ll feel better, okay? Don’t cry…” He said as he lifted your face so your eyes could meet. “Lean on me when you need it”

Kuroo Tetsurou

It had been a long day. Some stressful customers were being such a pain in the ass, it’s true that there’s a policy of “the client has the last word” or something like it but even those phrases have it’s limitations. Turns out that the lady you were attending was that kind of individual, a disrespectful son of a bi- well, you had to admit that you have been a little bit too sensitive for the past few days. It was a mix between the ugly customers, inconsiderate coworkers and the fact that you study and work at the same time and everything is on your shoulders.

As a matter of a fact, your diet was not the best, some meals were skipped and they weren’t consistent at all. That day specifically was definitely one of your worst: the fatigue, tiredness, hunger and bad condition of your body overall was affecting you. Since you had classes first hour in the morning, you didn’t have time to get something to eat other than a sandwich that you found in the refrigerator. You didn’t know whose it was, probably from Tetsurou’s, nor did you know how long had it been there…

The effect of the rotten sandwich started just when you got home from almost fighting with the petty woman. Normally you are an organized person and your temper is reasonable but the state of mind in that situation was unstable. You threw your high heels around your and Tetsu’s room and dropped yourself on the bed. Even though your tummy was making weird noises you didn’t care, and that’s when your brain turn off.

The place was kind of a mess, but Kuroo Tetsurou completely understood why. You were tired as hell and he has always been the messy type. “I have to help a bit though” he thought as he put his things down on the sofa. There was almost no trace of you except of the happy snores that came from your shared room. He smiled and left you there sleeping, he knew how exhausted you had been all week and all he wanted for you is to rest. He ended up working on some projects from university, studying a bit and when the boy least expected it, it was already 2am. He had his headphones on but he was almost sure he heard the door being shut. He didn’t pay attention to it the first few times, but already on the eighth time … the messy haired boy was beyond worried. That was definitely not normal.

“Y/n…?” He tried to sound as sweet as possible. “what” you responded as fast as you could. “Are you alright kitten?” and with that you were weak. The pressure and just everything you were baring till that moment slapped you right in the face. “…ₙₒ”. And then your stomach decides to make the worst sound ever, good thing he is the closest person you have in this existence. Even like that, maybe if it were in another situation it would’ve been funny and you would make a joke about it but right now “The stinky sandwich is missing, kitten that’s like 1 month old..” that made you feel even worse to not be able to tell when a thing is not edible anymore.

“oh…” you felt so embarrassed. People could say are such a fierce person - all bark and bite type - but at moments like these, they could not be more wrong. You needed him by your side and he was more than disposed to help. “Y/n, kitten don’t worry” you could hear his voice filled with love “i’m going to give you something and then we’ll sleep, alright?” Yeah, you could be an independent person but at the same time depending on him is just as fine.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I hope you all liked it! It’s been a long wait but i can’t assure you i’ll update more frequently or just content itself. Either way here it is!

I hope you have a great day or night!!!🖤

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oppabimbab · 4 years

Text

let you go | park jinyoung

genre : angst, fluff, break up, heart break, smut

parts : 2/2 (part 1)

starring : jinyoung x reader

synopsis : you broke up with your boyfriend, park jinyoung almost a year ago and when you decided to come to one of your friend’s wedding; you didn’t know you would see him again after 365 days. nothing has changed except the fact that you guys are no longer together. The wound, it rips open again.

words count : 6112 words

Every minutes are the biggest torture you’ve ever been in your life. How did things turn out to be like this? All you wanted to have some fun here but God sure wouldn’t let you do that. Your mind left you immediately when you realise he is here.

But, not alone— he comes with his girlfriend.

How awful does it sound like?

You swallow the tiny bit of the croissants while scratching the steak on the plate with the fork. You’re not sure if the food tasted bad or you have lost your taste bud because every piece of them, taste bitter and awful in your throat.

The moment when you finally acknowledge where Jisoo stands in his life, you bring yourself to somewhere far from the table. None of these feel right to you and you don’t want to believe it either. It feels unreal and confusing. The more you tried to process, the more you’re failing to find any words.

But, for sure, you definitely know one thing to describe this.

Heart ache.

You lean against the wall in the quiet alley, trying to process this new information. Chest thumps like it’s going to explode. Skin tickles like the electricity is running down your spine. Heart. It beats along with the pain, an unknown pain that have been stabbing you few moment ago.

You heave a small sigh while looking at the walls.

It’s weird. It’s weird when you’ve learned what is pain, the moment you both lost this relationship. You knew how exactly how pain feels like when he walked away from you and never seems to come back. You knew how heart breaks feels like when you woke up every morning with the heaviest cloud in your chest but he is still absent. He isn’t anywhere.

You knew it.

But, why does it hurt even more this time? It’s the same pain but why does it hurt a little bit more when you saw her, smiling at him—like you used to do back then? It hurts even more when he pulled her closer to his side—just how he would do to you.

It’s unfair. You finally recalled how bright her smile looks like—exactly how you looked like before. It’s unfair.

“Does the food taste good?” Nayeon asks out of sudden as you can feel a warm touch on your shoulder. You flinch a little, making the cutlery to fall down on the fall, causing them to look at you. You laugh nervously before bending down to take it back.

“Sure, it tastes amazing,” you smile at her then to her fiancé, Jimin. Both of them look good. It would be cliche but some people really are meant for each other because when you see them, they look beautiful. Jimin apologises for your dirty spoon as he calls one of the helpers to get you a new one.

The next second, you feel the gazes are on you. Again.

“Jisoo, have you met her? She’s one of our close friends,” suddenly, Sana speaks to break the silence and you can’t help but feel a little nervous. You look at Sana before trailing your eyes to her—the beautiful woman across you.

Of course, they had a welcome conversation with her when you were away to get your shit together. Of course, they have been laughing together as Jinyoung introduced her as his girlfriend while you were stuck in the quiet alley, fighting these feelings—all by yourself.

Now, it’s your turn to let her know, who you are.

Jisoo’s mouth is opened slightly when she met your eyes. A soft smile appear on her lips as she sticks her hand out, to you. Jisoo wears that smile again.

“Hi, I’m Jisoo,” her unique voice fills the space around you. Her eyes are so bright, like it has nothing but sincere feelings. You nod before taking her hand, trying not to look awkward. You introduce yourself before both of you let got of each other’s hand.

You steal a glance at him.

He looks anywhere but you. Your heart clenches at the sight. Why does he make you feel like invisible and non-existent when you’re there, sharing the same place with him. You can’t deny when you feel like a big walls are climbing between you and him and you have no idea how to break it down. Immediately, you look away from him. It’s not good.

“Jinyoung talked a few things about you before. You indeed look good in person,” she says, sending you her signature eye smile, which is making you lost at words.

He talked about you. How does it supposed to mean? Everyone at the table says nothing as they let both of you to talk and you’re so sure they saw how obvious your face changed the moment she said that.

When you see her soft expression, you immediately understand—Jisoo knew about you and Jinyoung. She definitely knew about that.

You inhale some air before nodding. Part of you, is confused. If you ask yourself, you would feel jealous, awkward and intimidated if your boyfriend’s ex is there—basically eating in the same table with you.

But, the fact that she sounds cool and relaxed even she acknowledged the history you’ve shared with Jinyoung, makes you wonder, why is that? Why does she sound so cool about that and why does it makes your uneasy?

You look at her and she smiles at you, like nothing has happened. A sincere gesture and smile—she reminds you so much about him. A sudden tsunami of pain crashed all over you. Again, it takes you away from the reality.

You brought the cleaned cloth to the wet plate and wiped the residue off from the glass. It was Friday and you had nothing to do beside cleaning your new apartment since you took a day leave. It had been few hours since you began cleaning every part of the house without taking a rest. Probably, few minutes rest them you would drag your ass to continue whatever you left behind.

After the last plate, you heaved a sigh and glanced at the time on your phone. Almost 7pm but you still received no texts from Jinyoung. Jinyoung was out to work with the boys and he promised to text you when he already finished but when you received nothing, supposed he haven’t finished yet.

Leaving the phone on the kitchen counter, you brought yourself to the cabinet to put the plates and cutlery back to its place. You grunted when the cabinet was too high for you to reach with your short height and annoyed, you took a chair before you climbed on it.

Carefully, the plates were put slowly inside the wooden storage as you weighed yourself on the chair so it wouldn’t make you fall on the marble floor and break your chin. Of course, it would be a disaster if you have to spend your days in the hospital.

“Someone is wearing my clothes, again,” a raspy yet soft voice interrupted the silence in the kitchen and it made you jolted in surprise. Not to extent of overreacting but it definitely made you surprised. Where the hell that sound came from and why the hell Jinyoung was standing there?

You cocked your head to him and there was him, leaning against the wall with arms crossed on his chest. He had an amused look all over his face, ignoring his fluffy hair was covering his eyes. Jinyoung looked up at you with a smile, probably waiting for you to respond.

“When did you come?” you frowned at him before you find yourself struggling to come down as the chair suddenly became wobbly and unstable. Reflexed, Jinyoung came to get you off.

“Just now,” he said, still looking at you like a predator.

“Okay but should you surprise me like that? I could break my bones if I fall,” you mentioned about the earlier surprise. Your i’m-almost-annoyed mood changed when he grinned, showing off the cute wrinkle in the corner of his eyes.

“You’re overreacting. The chair is not that high,” he pouted at you and you agreed. It wasn’t that high actually but whatever, didn’t couple whine about littlest things?

You pinched his cheeks before turning your back at him to go to the counter to clean the table. Every steps you were taking, you could feel your body was aching a lot from the work and all you wanted to do was get some bath and sleep.

“How’s the work?” you spoke as your hand went back and forth with the cloth, cleaning the residue on the counter. Jinyoung hummed. His habit when he was thinking.

“Today was great. We met an agency to sign a contract with us but it’s not certain yet. Still in process,” his voice echoed from behind and you nodded at his remarks. Your lids were getting heavier.

“Wow, really? That’s great, baby. What’s company name?” you said and almost yawned before you folded the wet cloth to finish what was left so you could get a fresh bath.

It was tiring but at least, you wanted to listen a sneak peek of Jinyoung’s day before you could pamper yourself. Few seconds later, you received no response from him, it made you stopped and turned your back to look at him.

Before you could do that, a familiar warmth collided against your skin on your back as his fresh cologne scent strike. It left you speechless for a moment when his firm arms snake around your waist. leaving you froze on the feet.

“Can we talk about those things later?” Jinyoung buried his head on your shoulder and whispered with his raspy and melodious voice to your system. What was with the sudden move? You peeked at him across the shoulder.

“Alright but what are you doing?” you whispered back and out of sudden, he inhaled and nuzzled the scent from your neck, making you made a soft whimper. It got louder when he left a soft kisses along the neck. It wasn’t rough or rushed, it was slow and romantic. Jinyoung knew exactly where your weak spot was and when he found that, you couldn’t help but moaned. It felt surreal and amazing even your body was aching a lot.

“You look beautiful today. I can’t help,” he said between the kisses, making your skin vibrates along with the words that came out from his mouth. The next second, you find your skin tickles at the touch. It was hard to actually put into words but your fingertip tingled a lot when he touched you. Every part of your skin felt like they were on fire. A fierce fire.

“Jinyoung, I’m tired,” you shuddered at the touch as he trailed his hand towards the hem of your shirt. That day, you wore nothing but only his oversize shirt that you stole from his closet. Not sure what came to your mind but you chose not to wear any panty or bra. It wasn’t usual of you but that day, it was different. For real, God must let you did that because of this.

“Hmm,” he hummed and it sent another electricity to you, again.

“Baby, I’ll be quick. I promise,” he groaned to your ears as he slid his hand inside the shirt and trailed his warm fingers lower to your abdomen. He knew what he was doing to your body and the way he played those fingers, it drove you crazy.

Your back arched and it made the gap between you and his chest disappear. Jinyoung noticed your body weakened at his touch so he trapped you between his veiny arms and let you hold on to his arms. You gripped on the cold surface of the counter while the other hand holding on around his arm.

“Jin-Jinyoung. Not today,” your voice almost disappear when his hand had reached your core. He didn’t touch it but you could feel the head coming from his big hand. The next second, you heard his small chuckle.

“Your mouth says no but your body says the opposite. Which one is dominant, baby?” he grunted as he pushed his hip closer to you and again, you bit the lower lip to refrain the moan from coming out. The huge bulge that brushed in your inner thigh made you realised how turned on Jinyoung was. He was turned on and when he did, you barely could say no.

He was a sexy beast.

“Spread your leg. Now,” he commanded.

You couldn’t catch a breath when his long and slender finger touched the clit of your core, the moment you spread your legs to give him an access and it moved in a perfect circle. It was in a gentle pace but it brought you to another world.

Moan filled the kitchen. Eyes closed, mouth opened. There was nothing but erotic moan came out from your mouth.

“Ah~~Jinyoung,” you panted along with his name. You wanted to pull his hand away because all you wanted to do was getting a fresh bath and rest but the more you tried to do that, the harder it became. His finger kept circling the bud as he nuzzling on your neck, kissing the sweet spot again and again. The sensation. It felt like a heaven.

“Still a no?” Jinyoung grunted. You couldn’t respond to him. You couldn’t even think straight.

“Why are you so wet,” he added. As the words came out, his pace was getting faster, abusing the wet and swollen clit, giving you his endless ecstasy from his finger. It was crazy how his finger could make you feel this good. Jinyoung then gave your exposed inner thigh a slow rub as he chanted how wet and turned on you were.

Eyes shut closed, your mouth was opened, moaning and whimpering his name, telling the world how good you were feeling. How good he made you feel.

His warm breath touched your neck. Breath hitched and weakened.

The next second, a familiar knot twirled inside your lower abdomen, for real, it gave more pleasure to all over your body. You screamed at Jinyoung, telling him how close you were to your climax and just like how he usually do—he told you to give in.

“Let it go. Don’t hold back,” his sexy hoarse voice echoed and just like that, you find your juice was coming out from the core, wrapping his slender finger.

You immediately bent your upper body on the counter, getting yourself some air after almost being choked with your own saliva. How the hell you could breathe when he was abusing your clit? When he was kissing and bitting your neck? Normal people wouldn’t catch the breath.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered at him, panting like crazy on the cold surface.

“I’m crazy for you,” Jinyoung said when he eventually grabbed your hips and rubbed his throbbing member against your inner thigh. You yelped as it wasn’t clothed anymore but raw. It was big and hardened which is making your wet core, pooled again.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he cursed under his breath, without letting you to respond, he pushed his hip onto you and making his hardened member disappear. He didn’t let you to adjust to his size at all. You screamed at the sudden fill. Jinyoung had been big from the first you had sex with him but this time, he felt really good.

Heavenly.

“Jinyoung!!!” you screamed out loud, gripping onto his muscular arm tightly while supporting yourself on the kitchen counter with the other hand. The nails were clawed on the surface as his member were throbbing inside you, it got bigger each time it slid.

Jinyoung moaned slightly as you pushed hip onto him, making his tip reaching the walls of your pussy. A smile appeared on your lips when he moaned so you pushed your hip again and again, causing him to fill the space with his sexy moan.

Fucking sexy. He was fucking sexy when he moaned with his raspy voice. He barely made any sound when both of you made love but when he did, you swear to god, you became addicted to it. You made him feel good.

“Stop or you can’t walk for a week,” he grabbed your hips, stopping you to do that. You smirked.

“Prove that to me,”

You couldn’t see how he looked like but you knew his eyes were darkened in desire and lust. He hated when you challenged him and the fact that he would wreck you, you felt butterflies.

In a blink of eyes, he started to thrust his member into your wet pussy with the roughest pace while grabbing and rubbing your hip with his huge hands. His name came out from your mouth again and again as Jinyoung grabbed one of your breast before giving it a rough kneading.

Again, with his finger, he rubbed and pinched the hardened nipples slowly, making your system almost went error.

“Hmmmm Ahhh,” you screamed out of pleasure. The slapping sound, sounded like a background music along with his grunts and your erotic moan.

“Is that good? Hm?” he hummed, quickened the pace of thrust into you, wrecking the juice that was coming out from the hole. It was really messy and sloppy as the liquid running down your inner thigh.

You nodded.

“Jinyoung, I want to see you,” you whined with the weakest voice. He gave you a few more thrust before pulling out and quickly turned your body around to look at him.

Now, you saw how he looked like when he was fucking you. His eyes strike into yours before he grabbed your hips with his arms and place your ass on the cold counter. You squealed at the sudden contact. It was cold and dull, you immediately missed how he felt like inside you. To be exact, you missed him.

Jinyoung stared at you with his darkened gaze without anything came out from his mouth.

Taking him closer to you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, you smiled. His weakness.

“Kiss me,” you whispered at him.

He grunted again and pulling your mouth to his as he started to hover your lips. The entire part of your lips and mouth. The kiss was rough yet sweet. There was nothing rushed or sloppy when he kissed you. Jinyoung’s kiss was always gentle and sexy. When he casually explore your mouth with his warm tongue, your core clenches for his touch. He needed to fill you again.

You pulled from the kiss and jerked the hip onto him along with the eyes strike into his gaze. Needy and desperate. That was you at this moment. A sudden chuckle left his mouth when he noticed how bad were you at being patient. He gave you a small peck before slamming his member into you again, causing your legs to tremble.

It felt like a heaven.

He grunted every time he pushed himself onto you while breathing hard on your collarbone. Every thrusts felt like drugs, you wanted more and more.

“Fucking tight for me,” he scowled, like a beast.

“Please, don’t stop,” you lifted your chin to the air and moaned, while fisting in his hair, softly. Jinyoung’s name never left your mouth every time he pumped onto your walls. The world seemed like it was fading from your vision and leaving you and Jinyoung alone, making love to each other. You didn’t care. If world was breaking and fading, as long as Jinyoung was there with you, you knew you would be fine.

His chest rose and almost fell with rapid breath even his pace wasn’t getting any slower. He spread your legs even more, abusing the swollen core.

“Mine. Mine,” Jinyoung trailed his mouth to your neck and moaned the words again and again, against the skin. in sync with the thrust.

The words—it sent butterflies to your stomach. It was ecstatic and ethereal. How could it suit perfectly with the pleasure he was giving you at this moment? It doubled the electricity that had been running down under your skin.

“You’re mine. Always mine,” he moaned again. Grunts and groans—with his voice. Rough and sloppy, your favourite.

Endless moans and scream came out from your mouth. Your body started to twitched and flinched when the climax started to build inside you. The walls were sensitive and swollen but Jinyoung wouldn’t stop.

“Jinyoung....Ahh~ I need to—,” you screamed through gritted teeth, holding both of his shoulders. When you opened your eyes, you lowered your gaze at him and he was staring at your soul. The eye contact—he stared at you like a predator while slamming his hip onto you. You couldn’t help but met his eyes. Those beautiful orbs—there is no way you would want to look away. Every parts of him, were an art. His breath hitched.

You moaned while looking at him and a satisfied smile appeared on his face when you had the erotic response to his touch.

“Release yourself and scream my name, baby,” Jinyoung groaned at your opened mouth. Mouth opened, moan and whimper. He loved that. When you couldn’t wait any longer, you cummed around his member and left your whole body twitching.

Moment after, he released himself into you, filling every part of your core with his warm liquid. You couldn’t name anything better than this. This was heaven.

Jinyoung panted heavily on your shoulder as he supported you from falling on the counter by wrapping his arms around the waist. You held onto his arms while your chest rose back and forth, catching some air and calming the throbbing core.

The weather was cold but the sweat were prickling on both of you and Jinyoung’s skin. It was really amazing—difficult to put it into words but it was really amazing. The pleasure you’ve reached. Untouchable.

When he finally calmed down a bit, Jinyoung pulled from you and brought his gaze into your soft eyes. His eyes have changed. They looked sincere and affectionate—like it was full with love, for you. Just for you. You smiled at his flushed and sweaty face. Beautiful.

“I love you,” he spoke. His gaze sparkled with affection. The way he stared at you, you could see a soft cloud in his eyes. It was love. True love.

Slowly, you trailed your hand to his cheek and gave it a few rub.

“I know,” you whispered with a smile. His face. Your heart aches at the sight. Not a pain one but it ached a lot to think how this man existed and God sent him to you. It ached you when you couldn’t even prepare yourself if you lose him. He barely knew how thankful you were when you opened your eyes—and see him on your side.

Jinyoung kissed you gently and pulled away to look at you again.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Jinyoung,” you said

You come back to reality immediately when the sound of people talking interrupt you and your memories. You look at the untouched food on your plate and realised how long you have been stucked in those scary thoughts.

Why the hell that part comes in your mind—when he is right in front of you, entertaining his new girlfriend? Why is that part of him, touching you and telling you how much he loved you, come right when his girlfriend is smiling at your pathetic face?

You thought God loves you but this is too cruel.

You smooth the dress under the table and starts digging the food. You’ve lost the appetite but you need to end this day quickly—even deep inside, it feels longer.

For some reason, when everyone is having fun, Seulgi is gossiping with Sana. The boys are laughing and almost drunk along with Nayeon and her fiancé. Jinyoung. He is sitting there, talking to Jisoo like you aren’t there.

You feel like this place doesn’t belong to you. You wanted to go home. Now. Because your body seems like it’s getting weaker.

You can hear how bright Jisoo’s voice from the way she talks to him. When she giggles and Jinyoung would casually listen and stare at her when she is talking, probably about how her dog is behaving at home and when Jinyoung would tuck the hair strand on her face behind her ears to look at her even better—your heart clenches.

You used to be in that place. You used to spend the whole night, telling him how suck your colleagues are or whining about the small cut you had on your finger or maybe—clinging onto him when you missed his presence. Jinyoung would listen while sipping his coffee and eating the snacks.

He actually listened and engaged with you, from the very beginning. The best part is he remembered.

And,

You used to giggle at his random jokes and told him how lame it sound like. He was bad at making good jokes but the weird thing is, you laughed anyway. He didn’t care as long as you laugh. Even it’s an ugly laugh—he didn’t care because all he wanted to do was seeing you smile.

But, you’ve lost it. Everything. Now, Jisoo is in that place, doing everything that you used to do with him. You feel like you’ve been replaced—definitely.

You inhale some air to calm down the overwhelming feeling that started to take over your body. You steal a glance at both of them before you looked away immediately. You finally realised the distance you have between them two despite just sitting few centimetres away. For some reason, you understand—some things are unreachable even you’re only a step away.

So, you choose to leave.

You remember how worried Seulgi’s face is when you pulled her to quiet place and said you wanted to leave this place. You convinced her to stay since Nayeon probably needs her until the end of the part.

“I’m fine. I should be fine,” you told her.

The party is still on-going but your heart isn’t. Seulgi immediately knows what’s happening and finally, agreed for you to leave.

You’ve talked to Nayeon and just as sweet as she always is, she understands. You knew everyone is well aware what has been happening between you and Jinyoung. The fact that they’re being careful and respect this situation instead of making it more awkward, you appreciate it so much.

When You finally have the chance to leave, you immediately disappear from the hall as you bring yourself to the back entrance. Nobody would know you are leaving—not even Jinyoung. You wouldn’t know this night will end like this. You have no idea you would bringing yourself to the back entrance—leaving like you’re not meant to be here.

“Hey,” as you take your steps to leave the place, you heard the familiar voice from behind. Your heart thumps when you look back.

It’s Jinyoung.

He is standing at the door while looking at you and your devastated self. His figure under the dim lights look majestic, along with his orbs, sparkling, like they always do.

You feel your throat is choking when he comes closer to you, towering your small and petite figure. He had grown taller from the last time you saw him.

“Seulgi told me you’re leaving,” his voice sounds calm and soft. God, you’ve missed that voice—so much. You clear your throat and nod.

“Yeah. I’m leaving,” you speak, looking up at his eyes even though they are the most dangerous thing in your entire life. He sucks on his lower lip.

“I have something to do...at the office,” you sound hesitant because you know how awful you sound like. You’re not sure whether he notices the lies you’re telling him but you hope, he don’t. It’s weekend and you literally have nothing to do at the office, like you claimed. You don’t want to leave but you need to.

He nods.

“I see. I know it’s late but congratulations. You finally become a designer,” a small smile appears on his lips—without knowing, it brings so much pain to you. You nod at him, looking down to your heels.

There is a silence between you and him, for a moment before you could his voice again.

“Thank you for all the good times we’ve spent together,” he added.

“I couldn’t tell you this when we both separated but I really want you to know that the time we had together was beautiful and amazing. It wasn’t short or long either but I definitely won’t forget every inches of it,”

His honey voice fills every space around you and him. It feels like the gravity has lost and the world is fading from you and him. You see and hear nothing but him. It’s weird and crazy but your eyes—you only see him.

“When I broke up with my exes, I always feel regret of dating them but with you, I don’t feel regret—at all. You were one of the best thing that ever happened to me and I don’t want to forget those good times. Thank you for giving me such a good memories to remember,”

He sound very calm and steady when the words come out from his mouth. He rather sound like none of the memories hurt him like it hurts you.

But, those words—why do they hurt you so bad? This bad? Your heart breaks at the last words. You knew there was a goodbye a long time ago but this time, it feels like it’s officially over and both of you are telling goodbyes to each other.

You don’t want a goodbye. Not now. Now forever. You could feel tears are pooling on your eyes before you casually shake your head, to make the tears go away.

“The time we had together was indeed beautiful. They were so beautiful,” you slowly bring your eyes to him and reading his eyes.

He smiles but it tortures you even more.

“But....Can I ask you something?”

He nods.

“Do you love her?”. You don’t know where the courage comes from but deep inside, you want to know. You want to know exactly how he feels like even you already know the answer. But, this time, you realise how delusional you are. You want different answer.

Jinyoung stares at your eyes, trying to get the message from them before he smiles, showing off the small dimple on his cheek.

“I do. Very much,”

You are scattered. Into million pieces. You wished you heard him wrong but when Jinyoung’s face lights up along with the words leaving his mouth, you couldn’t believe it’s real. You don’t want to believe but when you realise Jinyoung wouldn’t say something like that without actually mean it—you whole soul is crushed.

This is real. You’ve lost him. You’ve really lost him.

Your mouth is opened, trying to say something but nothing comes out.

“Even we are no longer together, I hope you would find someone who would love you more than I did. I’m sure you would find it because You deserve the happiness,”

Nobody would love me like you do—you’re my happiness.

He looks at his wrist and suddenly looking he is rushing to go back.

“I think it’s time to go,” Jinyoung says but when he notices your gaze, he stops immediately. He knew you have something to say from your gaze. The body language—he remembered. It’s crazy how sweet yet painful it is.

“Jinyoung,” you call him. You couldn’t find the right words to actually tell the words that have been keeping inside your chest. You need to do it today because world knows, you won’t be seeing him again.

“Thank you for making me feel loved and secure during the time we shared together. Thank you so much for bringing the best part of me when I couldn’t love myself—like you did,” you stop when your chest is rising and your throat is choking.

“Don’t remember me. Forget everything about us and make a new one with her. Don’t love her like you love me—love her like you want to love her and the way she wanted to be loved,” you feel like your throat is choking when the words feel like a poison. You couldn’t believe you’re telling him to forget about you, about those times you’ve shared—with him.

He looks stunned, leaving him speechless.

“You’re the best part of my life,”

There is no correlation between the way you tell him to forget about you with the way you tell him, he is the world. That’s the least you could do—because he is now out of reach from your hands.

Jinyoung grins.

“Thank you,” he nods. You wish he would say more than that. But, it leaves you to no avail. You can hear your heart is screaming.

“I think it’s time to go,”

“Goodbye,” the next second, you trail your eyes to his eyes and taking every image of that beautiful pair of eyes like there is no tomorrow. Like tomorrow won’t come. But, for real, there is no tomorrow for you and him anymore. There is no future of you and him anymore.

How cruel this world is.

The moment when you bring your feet to take the steps away from him, turning your back at him, you could hear his very last word.

“Take care,”

Where did the last part go? “Text me when you reach home” part? Where did you lose it?

Every steps you’re taking to the busy street of the city, feel like thousand thorns are stabbing every part of your skin. It stabs and leave the wound wide open. For real, It feels awful and scary when you’re walking from the person with the most memories you don’t want to erase.

When the sudden realisation hit you like a storm—you could feel the pain inside your chest. You feel something is throbbing in your heart and it hurts like crazy. It hurts so bad—you can feel it, choking you from your own breath.

Let him go.

More steps are taken before you realise the tears have been streaming down to the cheeks and pouring on the ground, like a rain. You didn’t know you’ve been crying ever since you walk away until you taste the salty water. It’s bitter.

You’re sobbing like a crazy woman when you realise how long you have been fighting with your own tears the moment you saw him for the first time in forever. You wanted to cry when you saw him. The more you wipe the water from coming down, the more it wets your face, the sad symbolic how broken your heart is.

Your heart is crushed into pieces. You wanted him so much. It never changes. The 365 days you’ve spent alone, didn’t make any different because when you come back to your bed every night to end the day —you still want him from the deepest bottom of your heart. He is still there in your mind— His scent, his laughter, his voice, his touch—you remember it all too well.

If life is a movie—he is the best part and you can’t forget every inches of it because you knew exactly how it feels like to sleep along with the hopes, in case you could wake up with him beside you.

But, that tiny hope seems like it has been taken away, leaving you hopeless. That hope—it used to make you feel alive but it’s gone. You feel dead.

The people are looking at you, crying over the pain inside your chest. The tears, it falls like river. You didn’t care—they don’t understand how painful it is. Nobody understands this. You want them to but they won’t because it aches too much. It’s hard to put it into words because even thousand words aren’t enough.

Just because you love them, doesn’t mean you’re meant for each other. Just because you adore them, doesn’t mean you’re right for each other.

The tears fall even more at the thought. You bring you hand to your chest, while the other hand clutching the purse tightly with your feet stepping the countless steps to anywhere. God, take this pain away. Take this wound away from me. Give me anything but not this.

You beg.

Now, when the night falls even deeper, when you have no idea how far you have been walking along the streets, when the cold breeze touches your tingly skin, when the seasons change from winter to spring, you know, everything has changed. Your place has been replaced.

Jinyoung has become a memory and you need to accept it even it takes million years. You’re sure—it would take forever. He is someone, whom you can’t reach no matter how you shed the blood and tears. He is unreachable. He used to be but not anymore.

Looking at your feet, you wonder.

Seeing his back when he walked away or looking at your feet when you’re leaving.

Which one hurts the most?

But, for sure, you know, the only thing that would break you into thousand parts is;

letting him go.

PS : I didnt do proof reading, sorry for the errors.

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femalechibiblogger · 4 years

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My Top 10 Most Tragic Villains

1. Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader

Anakin Skywalker is one of the most important characters in the Star Wars franchise. In the first movie, Anakin is only mentioned and is described as being a skilled Jedi Knight, a good pilot, and was also a good friend. Even in the prequels and cartoons that came years later, Anakin is shown to be kind, caring, and determined to save those closest to him. However...no one would have expected a great Jedi and friend to become the most infamous villain in the series. Anakin’s darker feelings, such as anger and jealousy, made him vulnerable to the Dark Side of the Force. When he has visions of his pregnant wife, Padme, dying in childbirth, Anakin is determined to do anything that he can to stop his vision from coming true...including betraying his friends, killing children, and helping a Sith Lord conquer the galaxy. However, Padme still dies, and Anakin becomes the Sith Lord: Darth Vader. Anakin had lost everything...his friends, his wife, everyone...and now all he had left was Emperor Palpatine and the Empire. But for many years, Anakin was unaware that his children had survived: His son Luke, and his daughter Leia. In the end, Anakin chooses to save Luke from Palpatine, and dies knowing that his son never gave-up on him.

Despite Darth Vader having been a villain, he is only a villain because he was deceived and tormented until he lost everything and everyone who loved and cared about him. For many years, Anakin was haunted by his past actions, and lived in great regret of what he had done. But in the end, we see that he still had some good left in him, as Palpatine could never destroy Anakin’s love for his children.

2. Arthur Fleck/Joker (2019)

Arthur Fleck is the main character of the original DC Comics story in the movie, Joker. Arthur is shown to be a mentally ill man who suffers from uncontrollable laughter due to a brain injury, who lives with his delusional and emotionally disturbed mother. Arthur worked as a clown, but his dream was to become a comedian. However, Arthur had been mocked by many people in Gotham, which caused him to kill three men who were harassing both him and a woman on a train. Arthur’s actions cause an uproar consisting of people who are either poor, unemployed, mentally ill, or all of the above. As the story progresses, Arthur discovers from shocking truths about his life: His mother had lied about him being the illegitimate son of her former boss, billionaire Thomas Wayne... His mother was actually his adoptive mother, and that he allowed her boyfriend to abuse Arthur...abuse that had caused him his head injury which is the reason for his uncontrollable laughing. Tired of being lied to and ridiculed all his life, Arthur kills his mother, dresses up as a clown, and kills people on live television. Not only that, but the protests that Arthur had unintentionally caused resulted in the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne, whose murders were witnessed by their son Bruce.

This is one of the few stories that actually features Joker’s backstory. This movie is not based off of any comics, and is therefore an original story. While Joker is one of Batman’s most dangerous villains, this may be one of the greatest portrayals of his former self. Arthur Fleck had suffered his whole life, until he snapped and would become one of the Gotham’s greatest threats.

3. Simon Petrikov/Ice King

The Ice King was the main antagonist of the cartoon, Adventure Time. Throughout the series, Ice King would attempt to kidnap princesses, especially Princess Bubblegum, and would often fight the two main protagonists: Finn and Jake. However, Ice King’s past was unexpectedly revealed in the episode, Holly Jolly Secrets. At first the episode is comedic and shows videos of Ice King’s hilarity...but it all becomes serious and sad near the end. Ice King is revealed to have once been a human named ‘Simon Petrikov’, who specialized in mysterious, supernatural artifacts. Simon had a great career, and was madly in love with his fiance: Betty. But one day, Simon found a mysterious crown buried in ice and snow. When Simon put it on his head, it gave him visions that made him act insane without him even realizing it. This drove Betty away, and Simon began to slowly change physically, emotionally, and mentally. In the end, Simon was driven completely insane and lost all memories of his past. His obsession with princesses is because he used to call Betty his ‘princess’...though he did not remember calling her that. In the series finale, Simon is freed from the crown’s power and is returned to his old self.

While Ice King was introduced as a comedic villain, and was the main antagonist for most of the series...he is still a tragic villain do to him once being a sane man with a good life, but began to lose his mind because of the crown’s magic. At least he was transformed back into his old self, in the end.

4. Mr. Freeze

Mr. Freeze is one of the most famous and tragic villains in the Batman universe. Mr. Freeze is, of course, a villain who uses the cold in his crimes. But in the past, Mr. Freeze was a scientist named ‘Victor Fries’ who had a loving and caring relationship with his wife: Nora. Victor loved Nora more than anything in the world. But at some point, Nora was diagnosed with a fatal disease with not long to live. Desperate to save her, Victor had Nora cryonectically frozen in order to keep her alive until a cure for her illness was found. Unfortunately, however, the equipment malfunctioned, causing the lab to explode in ice with Victor in it. Victor survived, but the explosion caused his body to only be able to survive in extremely cold weather. Nora had also survived...but her condition was even more serious than before. Victor created a suit to help him live, and began to commit crimes so he could continue keeping his wife alive.

Mr. Freeze’s motive for his crime spree is his wife’s life. He would go to extreme lengths to save her life...even if it meant becoming a bad guy.

5. Zack Foster and Rachel Gardner

While number 5 on the list consists of a duo...Zack and Rachel make one heck of a team. Zack and Rachel are the two main characters in the anime, Angels of Death, in which all of the characters are, in fact, mentally unstable individuals who like to kill people.

As a child, Zack had lived with his mother until her boyfriend set him on fire for his own enjoyment. While Zack survived this attack, his mother abandoned him at an illegal orphanage, where many other orphans were mistreated and starved by the couple who owned the orphanage. Zack was forced to bury the bodies of the orphans who died there, and was treated as a pet by the couple. One night, Zack watched a slasher film, which gave him the idea to stab the couple to death while they slept. Afterwards, Zack left the orphanage and was soon taken in a blind, homeless man who was the first and only person to ever show him kindness. However, the man was killed by a couple of sociopaths. Zack found out and killed them. For many years...Zack would kill people who were ‘happy’ and lied to him, thus earning him the title of a serial killer.

Rachel had lived with her parents before the start of the series. Rachel’s father was a cop who had a drinking problem, which resulted in several fights between him and his wife. Both of them blamed each other for Rachel’s lack of emotions, but only stayed together because of Rachel. Rachel’s father saw her as an insane girl, and her mother hated her and would even beat her. One day, Rachel found a stray puppy and wanted to keep it, but her parents wouldn’t listen to her and just kept on fighting with each other. But later on, she went back to where the puppy was and it bit her. This caused Rachel to blackout, but when she came to...she saw that she had killed the dog without even remembering what she had done. She then “fixed” the puppy by sewing it back together, thus “making it her’s”. When Rachel returned home with the puppy that night, her father snapped and stabbed her mother to death. Rachel witnessed it and ran back to her room, with her father chasing after her with the knife. Rachel took out a gun that her mother had hidden from him, and shot her father in self-defense. Rachel then sewed her parents’ bodies together, as her way of “fixing” them and creating her “perfect family”. A week later, the police arrived at the house and saw Rachel with the sewed up puppy and her parents. The police thought that Rachel was a surviving victim who was in shock, and was sent to a mental institution for treatment.

Zack and Rachel are quite complicated, as they have both protagonist and antagonist qualities. They both kill people and use each other to escape a building full of death traps and killers...but they also care and understand each other, as they have both suffered years of abuse to the point of developing murderous instincts.

6. Dr. Doofenshmirtz

Dr. Doofenshmirtz was basically the main comedic-antagonist of the cartoon, Phineas and Ferb. Doofenshmirtz is the arch nemesis of Perry the Platypus, and is always making some kind of ‘inator’ device to conquer the Tri State Area...though many of his “evil” plans backfire and are not really THAT evil. Though the reason why Doofenshmirtz is an evil genius, is because of his bad childhood.

Both of his parents neglected him, he always lived in the shadow of his younger brother, his only friend was a balloon, no one ever came to any of his birthdays, he was forced to wear dresses after his brother was born, and he was even disowned at one point and was forced to live with ocelots. So, yeah...it’s no wonder he turned to a life on crime.

Doofenshmirtz is quite hilarious and not very evil...but his terrible childhood makes you wonder how he hasn’t killed anyone! At least his arch nemesis and teenage daughter care about him.

7. Denzel Crocker

Denzel Crocker is one of the main antagonists of the cartoon, Fairly Odd Parents. Crocker is a fourth grade teacher who is obsessed with catching fairies...which makes the people around him see him as crazy. Of course, there is a reason for his obsession with fairies.

When Crocker was a child, his single mother worked two jobs and left him with an abusive babysitter. Because of this, he had fairy godparents...just like Timmy Turner. His life with his fairies was the only time in his life when he was happy. However, after Timmy went back in time and accidentally revealed that Crocker had fairies, his fairies were taken away from him and his memory was erased several times. People even forgot all of the good things that Crocker had done with his fairies, and was now hated by the townspeople. Because his memory was erased more than once, his appearance changed...but he still did not forget the existence of fairies, only forgetting that he himself had fairy godparents as a child.

Crocker’s obsession with proving the existence of fairies has caused him to become a laughing stock, to the point where he was expelled from Harvard, was denied funding for his fairy research, lost his girlfriend, and he never moved out of his childhood home. Crocker is capable of building extraordinary machines and is quite smart, but he wastes his talents on trying to prove the existence of fairies. If only Crocker had never became obsessed with fairies, he may have been able to live a normal and decent life.

8. Wellies

Wellies are the residents of Wellington Wells in the game, We Happy Few. Wellies are known to be decent citizens in Wellington Wells...but their minds and emotional states are from from decent. They kill or throw out anyone who becomes a Downer (a person who either won’t take Joy, or cannot take Joy due to having a bad reaction towards it). But their villainous characteristics are all caused by denial and drug usage.

In an alternate timeline, England surrendered to Germany during WWII and the citizens of Wellington Wells were forced to send their under 13 children on a train to Germany. The children never returned, even after Germany lost the war, and all of the townspeople were so traumatized by what had happened that they now rely on a drug: Joy. Joy is a pill that makes people forget the past, and put them in a state of constant happiness. The Wellies are addicted to this drug, as they cannot bear to remember what had happened to the children. To make matters worse, their whole civilization is now on the verge of collapse due to many problems caused by them always being on Joy: Broken machinery, plagues caused by pollution, towns beginning to collapse due to poor maintenance, starvation due to lack of food production, and a government who cannot bear to face the reality of their situation and would rather be on Joy than solve the problem.

Because of their reliance on Joy, Wellies are completely unaware that the town is collapsing, and would rather be in denial than face reality.

9. Mary

Mary is the hidden antagonist in the game, Ib. At first, Mary appears to be an innocent girl who claims to be trapped in the Fabricated World like the main protagonists, Ib and Garry. However, it is revealed that Mary is actually a girl from a painting who wants to escape the Fabricated World by replacing either Ib or Gary in the real world.

Depending on the game’s ending, Mary either replaces Ib or Garry in the real world by leaving one of them behind in the Fabricated World, or is defeated by Ib and Garry and remains trapped in the Fabricated World.

Mary was the last painting made by the artist: Guertena. She saw him as her “father”, because she was created by him, and was devastated by his death. Mary is very lonely in the Fabricated World, and wants so desperately to exist in the real world. Mary would do anything to become real and have a friend and family of her own. Years of loneliness can make a person desperate and insane.

10. Zombies

Zombies are always the villains in anything zombie-related. They are undead humanoids who eat human flesh, and drive survivors to do questionable things and fight for survival.

However, there is something that some people seem to forget: Zombies used to be normal, ordinary humans who did not become zombies by choice. They were turned into zombies either because of a mysterious virus, or a nuclear weapon that mutated them into creatures of the undead.

Zombies do not remember who they once were, and some even end up killing and eating their own loved ones without even realizing it. They have basically been ripped of their humanity and are now walking shells of their former selves.

#top 10 list #zombie #villain #tragic #dr. doofenshmirtz #angels of death #ib #video games #cartoon #denzel crocker #we happy few #wellies #ice king #mr freeze #darth vader #joker #arthur fleck

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din-skywalker · 5 years

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blood on my hands

eeeeyyyy another yancy fic! this one is super violent and bloody, and has some mild gore, as well as someone with unstable mental stuff happening, and a child killing their parents so like??? careful!

lemme know what you think!

—–

Yancy has had a bad day. Okay, no, scratch that. He’s had a horrible day. Every little thing has annoyed him to no end, causing his blood to boil and his teeth to grind together as he tried his best to tune out the world around him. That is what his therapist has told him to do when he was feeling angry; take deep breaths and think about something else. Ignore what is making you angry.

But he has had no such luck doing any of those steps, and now the palms of his hands were bleeding because he was digging his nails into them a bit too hard. He curses as he enters his home, wiping the blood off on the black and white shirt he was wearing. That is probably going to make his mom annoyed with him- she had just bought this shirt for him, and it was one of his only nice shirts left- but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was too angry to focus clearly, and so he doesn’t even notice the way his palms sting every time he wipes them down the front of the shirt.

Man, he could go for a nice plate of spaghetti. He’s pretty sure that’s the only thing that could turn this day around for him. Spaghetti was, after all, his favorite meal. Especially if his mother cooked it; she was the best cook that he knew.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, smelling something cooking in the kitchen already. He always got home around dinner time because of his tutoring after school keeping him in later than most other students. Though, today, he was just too pissed to focus if he’d actually gone, so he’d instead hung around the school campus until the late release buses arrived to take them home.

That bus ride did nothing but raise his anger and stress levels. Everyone on it was just so loud and annoying, screaming at one another and making the air thick and hot and sweaty. Yancy had situated himself near the front- the back is where the loudest and most crazy kids regularly sat- and tried to block all the noise out by plugging his ears and leaning his head against the window. But, that proved futile, and his world got blurred together as he went into what his therapist calls “sensory overload”.

He didn’t know what that meant really, or did he care, but he knew he was going into one now. He could recognize the feeling of his muscles tensing and his head banging and his palms sweating and his eyes burning as the world around him collapsed in on itself. It made it difficult to breathe, and his lungs ached for fresh air.

He was only able to breathe again once he ran from the bus, two blocks away from his usual stop, and took deep breaths. It helped the overload go away after a few minutes of breathing, cold air prickling at his skin, calming him, but it did not make his anger go away. That stuck around, curling in his gut like a snake waiting to strike.

He walked the rest of the way home, and by the time he arrived, his feet were aching and the snake had traveled to his chest, coiling around his heart. He was fuming, ready to snap at the first person or thing that got near him.

Now, he was stepping into the kitchen, calming himself down as he went. The food smelled great- he hopes it’s spaghetti. The snake remains, but he’s calmed it down enough to speak with his mom. He hates snapping at his mom. His dad, not so much, but never his mom. She was too sweet, and always believed in him even when he seemed like a wasted basket case.

“Hey, Mama,” he greeted, clearing his throat to rid it of its tightness. He walks to the table and hops up on it, swinging his feet as they hang just above the ground. He frowns. His growth spurt hadn’t made him as tall as he would have liked.

“Hello, Yancy dear,” his mother replied, smiling down at the pot she was stirring. Yancy takes another deep whiff of the smell, grinning. It smelt like spaghetti, alright. The snake lowers its head. “How was your day?

The snake raises it again at the question, hissing at the thought. But Yancy shrugs, picking at one of the cracks in the ancient wooden table. They hadn’t been able to get a replacement for it in years, and they were overdue for one. This one was falling apart and covered in cracks. It probably didn’t help that Yancy was sitting on it, but he didn’t are too much. He only worried about taking care of the things his mother gave him specifically or the things she told him to care for. If she were to tell him to get off the table, he would. But she hadn’t, so he leaned back on his hands.

“Not the best, honestly,” he replied, kicking his toes together half-heartedly. His shoes, which he’s had a couple of years, have stayed in pretty good shape. He’s done his best to keep them looking good, after all. “Everyone was annoyin’ as hell.”

“Language, dear,” his mother reprimanded without looking up. He says a quick apology. “I’m sorry it was such a bad day for you. Tomorrow should be better.” She always said that.

“How was your day, Mama?” he asked, and then finally notices the blood he’d gotten on the front of his shirt. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing to his feet and walking to the sink. He hadn’t even realized he’d done that! His blackouts were getting worse by the day. He’d have to speak to his therapist about that next.

“Language,” his mother said again, throwing a glare at his back. He says another quick apology and starts wetting a paper towel, trying and failing to wipe the blood stains from the white parts of the shirt. His mother frowns. “Did you already ruin the new shirt I got you, Yance? I told you that one was expensive.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Mama,” Yancy said, and the snake was rearing its head. How dare she speak to him like that when he already knew he’d made a stupid mistake? He was already beating himself up over it, she didn’t need to do the same. That was just wrong! “I’m not sure how I did it.”

His mother moves to stand beside him, and her eyes widen. “Is that blood?” she asked, and quickly snatches his hands, turning the palms over so she could see them. She looks up at him, her eyes wide. “Yance, what did you do?”

Yancy pulls his hands away and waves her away. The snake is snarling, its teeth bared. He clenched his own jaws, teeth grinding together, head beginning to pound. He needed to calm down. “It’s nothing, Mama,” he said, keeping his tone flat. He would not snap at her. He could control himself enough to not snap at one person in the least, goddammit. “Was an accident.” He pauses, and smiles at her, though they both know it’s forced. “What’s for dinner, though? I’m starvin’!”

She frowns up at him, but she must see the desperation in his eyes, because she turns and returns to the pot she is stirring. She’s learned over the years not to push him on matters like these, especially if he didn’t want to talk about it. It could easily trigger an episode, and those were fun for no one.

“Nothing special,” she said, forcing her own casual tone back into her voice. Yancy appreciates that.

“Your food is always delicious, Mama!” Yancy exclaimed, trying to be happy. He could be happy. His head wasn’t pounding, his blood wasn’t boiling and his teeth weren’t flattening from his hard he was grinding them. He was happy! “I hope it’s spaghetti tonight! I’ve been looking forward to having some of your spaghetti all day!”

His mother glances at him through the corner of her eye, her shoulders suddenly stiffening. Why was she acting like that? Like she was scared of him? Didn’t she know he was happy, and that he would never hurt her even if he wasn’t? The snake tightens its hold on his heart, and it’s becoming hard to breathe, his own muscles tightening. Why did it suddenly feel so tense? Weren’t they both happy?

“I was making fettuccine…” his mother said quietly, trailing off.

The room is filled with silence then. Yancy’s eye twitched, and the snake strikes.

He grabs the nearby knife, stabbing it in the counter surface. His mother jumps as he drags it across, dropping the ladle she’d been holding. He lifts his gaze to her face, her features beginning to blur, the edges of his vision clouding with red. Why was she still acting scared? Why was she so fucking scared goddammit!

“Why the fuck… would you make… fettucini…” he snarled, his words as sharp as the knife he was yanking from the hole he’d made in the counter. When had he made that hole? He’d thought he was just slicing it back and forth. The blade reflects the light pouring in from the window, and he could see the fear growing in his mother’s eyes. That just makes him angrier. Why would she be afraid of him! He’s nothing to be afraid of for fuck’s sake!

“Yance… puh-please calm- calm down,” his mother stammered, a sob breaking her words apart. Tears were streaming down her face as she takes a step back from, stumbling as he steps towards her, the knife hanging at his side. Why was she fucking crying? Why was she backing away from him? Why the FUCK is she afraid of him?! “You need- need to calm down, sw- sweetie.” Her voice is turning to begging. “I- I can make you- spaghetti, if- if you want it!”

“Stop acting scared!” he screamed suddenly, and he doesn’t miss the way she flinches, the way more tears explode from her eyes. His heart is racing, hammering against his chest, causing his blood to burn, his entire being to burn. “It’s pissing me the fuck off!” He slams the knife into the counter again, and his mother yelps.

That was it.

“I-I’m so-”

She didn’t get to finish.

The knife was acting on its own, lodging itself in her throat. Her blood sprays onto his hand, onto his face, onto his shirt. The shirt he’d just cleaned, too! Fucking bitch. She was screaming, pleading, and quivering under him, her back digging into the counter as he pins her there, twisting the knife further into her flesh. The red was fully filling his vision, and he couldn’t see. He couldn’t feel or think.

She didn’t get to be scared of him. She didn’t get to stain the shirt he’d just cleaned. She didn’t get to act like a fucking coward towards him, when he was doing everything in his goddamn power to be good.

The knife sinks further, and he drags it downwards, closer to her chest. He pulls it out, and then brings it down against, directly into the ribs in her chest and the heart beneath. His mother sputters on her own blood, chokes on it, her body quivering and arching, before it goes still, limp in his hold.

How dare she make him hold him up, like she was better than him!

He stabs the same spot repeatedly, the blood splashing on him, on the floor, on his sanity. It was warm and thick and sticky, and it was covering his arms and chest and face. But he kept going, until a large, gaping hole was left in her chest, sliced flesh and broken bones sticking in the middle of the mess.

He leans backwards- when did he end up on the floor?- and draws a deep breath through his mouth, some of the blood- why was there so much?- slides into his mouth, onto his tongue. He spits it out, and drops the knife- how was it so coated?- leaning against one of the cabinets, the spilled pot of noodles forgotten beside him- when had he knocked it over?

It takes him an hour to calm himself down.

And when he does, his eyes landing on the dead, mutilated corpse of his mother- how did that happen did he do that why did he do thath0ow did he do that how did he not realize he did that what the fuck what the fuck what tfukc oh god oh god oh god- he screams at the top of his lungs. The scream tears at his throat, causing it to bleed, but he doesn’t stop, until he sobs, crawling to the body. He cups both of her cheeks, throws up when he sees the holes in her neck and chest and stomach- oh god oh god he did this he did this he did this- and cries and cries and screams.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he sobbed, burying his face into his mother’s hair, body trembling, heart screaming.

His father comes home shortly later, finds him cradling his mother’s body, sees him covered in her blood, and the knife coated in the red liquid. He screams as well, points an accusing finger at him.

“I knew you would do this!” he yelled, and the sound tears at Yancy’s ears. Why couldn’t he just be left to mourn his mother? He already knew he’d done this. “I always knew you were a fucking monster!”

Yancy screamed, hand flying to the knife of its own volition, and tackles his father. Years of anger built up explodes in a single moment, and he cuts into his father’s stomach, lets the guts spill out. Watches his father choke on his blood. Watches him bleed out and die, a crumpled mess on the floor that had been clean seconds before.

He was covered in blood.

So much of it was drying on his arms and legs and face. It was making it hard to move, to breathe, to think.

He did the only thing he could think of doing.

He calls the police.

—-

REBLOGS>LIKES

#mine #markiplier #yancy markiplier #jacksepticeye #blood #gore #matricide #patricide #my writing

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camillemontespan · 5 years

Text

the interview every magazine wanted [drake walker x camille montespan]

NEW ARTICLE!! I actually loved writing this. We got fluff, we got sass, we got corgis, we got Drake getting embarrassed about that intimate photo taken on honeymoon!

(I know some people might find this a weird way of writing fic but I genuinely enjoy writing articles like this, it’s quite fun).

So in this, Liam asking Drake and Camille to make their baby his heir just hasn’t happened. Sorry, not in Cake’s universe. Fuck that.

But Cordonians being all up in Camille’s vagina is all the rage! Yay!

A/N; I added another edited photo in this but there is more writing underneath in case it’s not obvious. The article doesn’t finish when the photo appears.

@jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @pug-bitch @moonlightgem7 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @dcbbw @iplaydrake @drakewalkerisreal @katedrakeohd @emceesynonymroll @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @carabeth @burnsoslow @notoriouscs @ritachacha @rainbowsinthestorm

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

'Are we controversial?’ Duchess Camille of Valtoria asks her husband.

The Duke shrugs. ‘If asking for privacy is controversial, then yeah, I guess we are.’

I’m meeting the newly appointed Duke and Duchess of Valtoria at a private members club for one of the most anticipated and sought after magazine interviews in the media. The interview in question will be focusing on the current royal baby obsession sweeping Cordonia. In case you have been living under a rock for the past month, everyone has been wanting Camille to get pregnant. After weeks of dodging paparazzi and rejecting magazine interviews, the couple have finally agreed to sit down with Trend and I am the journalist in charge of writing this feature. It has to be good. To say I’m nervous is an understatement.

Drake and Camille are notoriously private. That is the one thing you need to know about them. The fact I even got this interview is a big deal.

‘One interview. Our only interview. Our words, no editing, no twisting what we say,’ Drake told me down the phone. I agreed.

The thing is... Camille isn’t pregnant yet. They want to use this interview to set the record straight.

When I meet them in the drawing room of the Cordonia Club, they both stand to greet me. Camille hugs me tight. ‘I love your dress!’ she says. Drake shakes my hand and asks what I would like to drink.

They’re dressed casual-smart. Camille is wearing burgundy cigarette trousers, a silk dark blue vest and black suede loafers with gold lionness heads stuck on top - they’re amazing. Drake is wearing a grey fisherman sweater, dark jeans and brown suede boots. They’re a ridiculously good looking couple; it makes my heart hurt a little.

Did I tell you that Drake smells amazing? He leans over to hand me a glass of water and I catch a whiff of sandalwood and leather. Umf.

The first question I ask is if they think they’re controversial which they ponder for a moment before Drake’s casual answer.

To be frank, the beginning of their marriage attracted controversy from the get go. They got married two months ago at Drake’s family ranch in Texas. They rejected the idea of a royal wedding and instead chose to be surrounded by just close friends and family, which meant no media frenzy. This angered the media and public alike.

‘As we were just starting out as the new Duke and Duchess, I don’t think we were prepared for the intense reaction our wedding would have,’ Camille tells me. She is sat curled up on a chaise lounge, her back settled against Drake. They are sat like a normal couple who binge watch box sets. Not a Duke and Duchess. ‘We didn’t realise how much the public wanted to see our wedding.’

This may sound naive but Drake and Camille genuinely had no idea how popular they were until after they became husband and wife. ‘We were commoners,’ Drake explains. ‘We weren’t in the same league as say, Bertrand, the Duke of Ramsford.’

‘But it exploded for us when we went on honeymoon,’ Camille continues. ‘We had this beautiful and intimate wedding, away from the press. No social media, nothing. We wanted away from the chaos. It was a little bubble, you know? But as soon as we got on the plane to the Maldives, I saw the in flight magazine and oh my God, the headlines.’

They didn’t let it ruin their honeymoon though. Camille continued to drink champagne and cliff dived into the ocean - Drake shows me a video he took of Camille jumping from a cliff in her bikini and it looks terrifying, but she turns to the camera with a mega watt smile on her face before jumping off the edge. Drake shouts proudly in the video, ‘Yes baby!’

But, the press had been savage. Articles focused on asking if the couple even cared about Cordonia while they were swigging champagne.

‘We were on our honeymoon!’ Drake protests.

Others called them traitors for marrying in the US - ‘ridiculous because we’re both American..’ Drake mutters.

Drake is clearly not a fan of the press.

One tabloid conducted an investigation into Camille’s background and brought up her sad childhood; she lost her parents aged five to drugs and was adopted by her grandmother. She never went to college because she couldn’t afford it and started working aged 14 while attending school so she could help her grandmother with bills. She waited tables at a diner until she came to Cordonia.

Camille goes quiet when I mention her parents. ‘I guess they’re going to be brought up to me,’ she whispers. ‘I should get used to it.’

Drake takes her hand and takes over. ‘They bring up her parents in a negative way, as if her history is meant to tarnish her. But what they don’t mention is how strong Camille is, how she doesn’t let it define her. That should be the focus of that story.’

Camille smiles gratefully at Drake and I see how their relationship works. They are a team. I decide to steer the conversation away from her parents which is clearly a sore subject - besides, we are here today to discuss the current obsession with Drake and Camille having a baby.

She insists she’s not pregnant.

As soon as Drake and Camille came back from their honeymoon, her stomach became circled in paparazzi pictures, asking if she had a bump or had just eaten a lot of pasta that day.

‘Pasta. I love pasta,’ Camille says dryly.

Social media imploded with tweets begging for a Cake baby.

‘Cake is like our couple name..’ Drake groans. ‘Someone came up with it and christened us that abomination. Apparently we were trending on Twitter. Something about a cake baking in the oven?’

Cordonia has always been set in its ways. A traditional country that puts family and the home first, it is not modern and it often lags behind it’s European counterparts. The need for a royal baby increased, as a Duke and Duchess without a pregnancy within the first year is seen as bad luck and will bring about instability.

‘There’s talk that if we don’t have a baby, the country will be unstable,’ Camille says. ‘I don’t know how we have had that pressure placed on our shoulders but I’ll tell you now, I don’t like it. I don’t appreciate being bombarded by paparazzi shouting at us, asking how many times we fucked on our honeymoon. I don’t appreciate having every outfit I wear scrutinised for a baby bump. I don’t appreciate it when journalists joke to Drake asking if he’s had ‘some sweet ass today.’ I’ve had so-called doctors talk to newspapers charting my health and chances of getting pregnant. What goes on inside my uterus is nobody’s business except ours.’

‘I literally protect her wherever we go now,’ Drake joins in. ‘If we’re leaving a building, I scout the most hidden exit. I keep her shielded from the press. We’re both under pressure in different ways but I honestly wish Camille didn’t have any of it. She’s under so much pressure to have a baby and we’ve only been married two months.’

I ask if they should have expected this sudden obsession because of who they are. Drake stares at me, a hard expression on his face.

‘We may be the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria but we didn’t sign up for this,’ he answers. ‘We’ll take the title, we’ll take on the responsibilities required of us to support Valtoria, hell, we’re happy to do all that. But we won’t stand for being hounded. I won’t stand for it. I want Camille safe and last week, she wasn’t.’

Last week, Camille was mobbed when she was out with her friends, Olivia Nevrakis, the Duchess of Lythikos, and Lady Hana Lee. A mob of photographers chased after the three friends on the way to Camille's car, surrounding the vehicle so they couldn't drive away. The photographs made front page news with Olivia flicking up her middle finger at the camera and Camille screaming at the paparazzi to leave her alone. Hana continously beeped the car horn, shouting for them to move.

Drake shakes his head. 'I was so angry about that. By all means, take photos of us from a distance but don't terrify my wife. Don't chase her and her friends. That's why I've started talks to issue a restraining order. Some of those paps went too far.’

Drake has indeed done that. Details are being kept hush for now but soon, the majority of the press won't be able to go near the Duke and Duchess. We don't know how strict this will be but knowing Drake, it will be a big change.

‘We went into this agreeing that we were going to do it our way,’ he tells me. ‘We want to be the most normal Duke and Duchess Cordonia has ever seen and that applies to any kids we might have. The happiest times of my childhood was when I was in Texas; Camille’s happy memories stem from playing in the garden with her grandmother. That is the kind of stuff I want for our kids.’

But surely nobility aren’t the same as commoners?

Drake chuckles. ‘We’re changing that from the inside.’

I point out that they are like the Duke and Duchess of Sussex - or, to use their more popular names, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. Both couples crave privacy and Meghan herself has been under scrutiny by the British public and press.

Camille sighs. ‘I feel worse for her because she’s married into a dynasty. We aren’t even related to the king; but Harry is. So Meghan has stepped into this role, right into the deep end. A lot is put on her shoulders.’

I ask if she has met Meghan.

Camille hesitates. ‘No, but she’s written me a note. We’re both similar in terms of our situation. American, not born into royalty, people wanting to know about every aspect of our lives. A true rags to riches tale, as one tabloid described me.’ She sounds bitter at this.

‘Hey, at least Meghan’s got Harry,’ Drake jokes. ‘You got me and I’m as common as you! I know nothing!’

Camille nudges him gently with her elbow and giggles. ‘Yeah but you’re Drake Walker. Oh my Lord, you’re the best.’

Drake grins and they look a little lost in a daydream, blushing at each other. I forget they are still in that honeymoon stage and not yet wanting to punch each other in the face.

I go back to their desire for privacy, bursting their bubble. I look at Drake, who reddens but straightens his back. He knows what’s coming.

On their honeymoon, Camille took a private photo of Drake. Little did she know that her phone would get hacked and the photo made international news. Yes, it even spread out from Cordonia.

The photo - in case you haven’t seen it and if you haven’t, you have definitley been living under a rock- showed Drake naked from the waist up, his lower half covered by bed sheets, reclining against the headboard. He is smirking at the camera, a staged pose that made many women -myself included- and also many men hot under the collar.

He looked rugged. Like he had just come back from cutting wood outdoors and just wants to relax in front of his lady love before drinking whiskey by the fire.

I ask if it’s okay to bring this photo up because the shade of beetroot that Drake has turned is making me falter.

‘Fine, I’m just going to own it,’ Drake sighs, holding his hands up. ‘It was a fun thing, only meant for Camille’s eyes, and shocker- it went viral.’

Camille takes his hand. ‘Sure, when we first saw that the photo had been leaked, we were shocked. It was a huge violation. I wanted to hunt down the person who leaked the picture. But then when I thought about it, I was like ‘hell yeah, that’s my husband!’ He looks amazing in that picture and he’s all mine.’

‘You have to say that..’ Drake says, blushing. ‘You’re my wife.’

Camille rolls her eyes. ‘Drake, anyone with a pulse loved that picture. Remember Smith from Sex and the City who posed naked with a vodka bottle? That was my sexual awakening! Just think: you have been some innocent girl’s sexual awakening!’

Drake looks horrified.

I mention that a few of my colleagues had the picture saved as their phone screensaver. Camille bursts out laughing. Drake stares at me. ‘Who does that?!’ he asks, his voice turning high pitched.

Camille shakes her head. ‘Drake, you can’t talk. You had Salma Hayek saved as your phone screensaver for years.’

‘Yeah, until I met you! Besides, I was really young then! Now my phone screensaver is of you!’

They’re bickering like a married couple. Which they are. It’s really sweet.

‘My mom texted me about the photo,’ Drake admits.

Camille giggles. ‘What did she say? Oh yeah- ‘that’s my boy!’ She falls about laughing and Drake grabs her, tickling her under the arms. She starts screaming.

‘She hates being tickled,’ Drake tells me, while still tickling her. ‘Don’t ya, Camille?’

‘I yield!’ Camille gasps. Drake lets go but the two of them are still tactile; their hands are always touching.

I ask what’s next for them as Duke and Duchess. Camille grins. ‘We have corgis now.’

Drake laughs. ‘She’s obsessed with our new corgis.’

Camille shows me photos of their dogs on her phone. ‘Cheddar was getting lonely so we got Olive. Look at Olive! Look at how giddy she is when Drake arrives home!’ She shows me a short video of Drake coming home and Olive is bounding around his feet, barking excitedly. You can hear Drake saying, ‘Yes Olive, I love you too...’

Camille puts away her phone and looks at me seriously. ‘Honestly though? What’s next for us? I just want us to be happy. That’s all I want for us.’

Drake squeezes her hand. ‘Whatever that entails, I’m so ready for it.’

A month later, which is when this interview is about to go to print, Drake and Camille issue a statement:

We are pleased to announce that we are expecting a baby. The baby is due in September and we couldn’t be more excited and thrilled. We would appreciate privacy during this time in our lives so we can focus on planning for our new family and look forward to meeting our new arrival in the Autumn.

-The Duke and Duchess of Valtoria

The kingdom goes crazy. The press try to take photos of the couple, but thanks to Drake’s newly established restraining order, photographers aren’t allowed within ten feet of the Duke and Duchess.

Magazines are full of baby name predictions. Some ask who the baby will look like. Drake the DILF memes go viral.

But shielded away from the craziness are Drake and Camille. They attend royal events, wave to the cameras and meet adoring fans. Someone took a photo of an older lady speaking to Camille before handing her a present; it’s a tiny babygro with an embroidered corgi on the front and Camille shows it to Drake, her eyes filling with happy tears.

Drake and Camille have set boundaries around their life and I don’t blame them. But they will still go to these events and smile at the cameras and talk to journalists because that is their job. That is what they have to do and they accept that.

What they don’t have to do is tell everyone about every single intimate detail of their lives.

Had Drake and Camille known they were expecting a baby when I interviewed them? Well, Camille drank water and insisted a lot that she wasn’t pregnant. She seemed more excited about their corgis.

Maybe she didn’t know.

But I realise this is not my business. It is their business, nobody else’s.

And as a journalist who craves the next big story, I have to say; I’m in Drake and Camille’s corner.

#drake walker #camille montespan #cake #trr fanfic #the royal romance #trh #the royal heir #choices the stories you play

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squadlessgeek · 5 years

Text

Title: When He Sees Me

Summary: human au ; logan is nervous and overthinking when roman sets him up on a blind date. based on the song “When He Sees Me” from Waitress, and this wonderful animatic by @voidsides / @artfromthevoid

Warnings:

Word count: 2,435

Pairings: Logicality (Logan x Patton) and background Prinxiety (Virgil x Roman)

Tag List: (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) Tag List: (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed) @monikastec @persepinecone @horsesquid @sassyandmessy @ilivetoexist @lizaelsparrow @galaxy-warping @insanityandimperfection @sander-fander-sides @swlotakulady34 @llamaavocado @applecannibal @helloisthisusernametaken @wildhorsewolf @justanotherpurplebutterfly @beautifully-terribly @awkward-avocado-of-death @ab-artist @toujours-fidele @an-awkward-gay @anaveragegay @gingergiraffe101 @i-just-punched-malfoy @musikasworld @constantstateoftired

Read it on AO3

The ringing in Logan’s ears almost drowned out the excited giggling from Roman, the amused snickers from Virgil. Almost. He blinked a few times, shook his head, even pressed the tip of a fingernail into the pad of his thumb hard enough to hurt, hoping to wake up from some sort of awful dream. None of the above worked.

“I’m sorry, you what?” He asked finally, brows drawn together and staring Roman down like he’d just dealt the worst betrayal in the history of their friendship.

Roman raised a hand to his face and laughed behind it. He lounged carelessly on their sectional sofa, his boyfriend of three years, Virgil, settled in beside him. The three had been roommates since college, and while being the third wheel was occasionally awkward and undesirable for Logan, they were his best and only friends, and it just made more sense to keep their living situation the same throughout the years; economically, of course.

“I set you up! He’s so cute, Lo, look!” Roman tried to show Logan a picture of the mystery man, but Logan brushed him aside. He looked to Virgil for help, who only shrugged.

“It’s just a date,” Virgil said from behind the screen of his phone. Logan gawked at him. The most apprehensive, cautious person Logan has ever known, somehow calm about the situation. Of all people, Logan would’ve expected Virgil to understand.

Logan took a deep breath and adjusted his glasses, turning towards the staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs. “I’m not going,” he said. Roman complained loudly, hopping up from his seat to follow his roommate upstairs. “End of discussion. You can’t just— I don’t understand what the thought process behind this decision was.”

“He’s cute, and single! See, you two have so much in common already.” Logan rolled his eyes and stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to look at Roman. “I swear, you’ll like him. Even if you don’t work out romantically, you two could still be adorable as friends. Plus... I think he’d be good for you.”

Logan squinted down at Roman, the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what that could mean. “Good for me?”

“You know what I mean. You need to get out more, meet new people. You seriously smell like an old, wet book. That’s not even an insult, it’s just the truth. Right? Back me up, V.”

“I’m not part of this,” Virgil called from the couch.

“Whatever,” Roman continued. “In any case, you should go.” He reached for Logan’s hand, who only resisted a little while Roman tugged him back downstairs. “I know you’re scared, but—“

“Scared?” At the bottom of the stairs once again, Logan pulled his hand away from Roman, shaking his head. “Please. I’m not scared.” Roman raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lip twitching up into a skeptical smile. “I’m not! It’s just— you don’t really know him, right? You only recently met him. He could be dangerous. He could be unstable, he could turn out to be some stalker with psychopathic tendencies, he could be anyone!” As Logan rambled on, he paced around the living room, only working himself up even more. Roman kept trying to interject, and Virgil, now interested, opted for watching this scene play out rather than keeping his eyes glued to his phone.

“Lo, he’s sweet—“

“What if we sit at a booth and he wants to sit beside me instead of across? What if he talks too much, or too quickly, and I’m not interested in what he has to say, or worse, I can’t understand what he’s saying at all? What if he asks me too many questions, tries to pry into my personal life before I even know him? There are so many things— you don’t understand, he could prefer Coke instead of Pepsi, he could eat Oreos the wrong way, he could prefer the movie over the book, he could drink his coffee with way too much sugar. Oh, my god, he could be colorblind! How untrustworthy is that?!”

Logan only stopped his tangent once he actually looked at the expressions on his friends’ faces. They looked at him like he might explode, like he was crazy, and it made his entire body tense.

“So,” Roman cautioned, “You’re scared.”

There was a beat of silence as Logan pushed his hair back, regained his composure. And yet his voice cracked the slightest bit as he breathed, “Terrified.”

Admitting his fears was never his strong suit. Admitting anything, really, was quite a feat he was not too familiar with. He let himself sink onto the other end of the sectional, removing his glasses briefly to rub at his face. Virgil sat forward in his seat and placed a tentative hand on Logan’s knee.

“I’m just being cautious,” Logan sighed, sure that Virgil was going to comment on how crazy he was acting.

“I know,” was what he said instead. Logan looked up at him, meeting his eyes, watching that familiarly hesitant smile. “But I don’t think you’re afraid that you’ll hate him. I think you’re afraid that you’ll like him.”

Logan felt his face grow warm and averted his gaze to the carpet, Roman "Oooh”-ing dramatically from the other side of the couch. He quieted with a sharp look from Logan, but the words still hung heavy in his mind. He was afraid of so many things, mostly of the unknown. Of what he could never be sure about. Of ifs and buts and maybes. And this whole thing was chock full of the unknown. But maybe, facing his fears wouldn’t be so bad, because in a way, it would calm them. At least he could be sure.

“There is probably one thing you should know,” Roman said, snapping Logan out of his thoughts. “Patton is colorblind.”

And so the unknown becomes the known.

And in a way, it’s comforting.

Roman According to him he’s wearing a baby blue sweater and overalls. Cute. He’s got round glasses and just an absolute mess of freckles, and he literally lights up a room when he walks in - you can’t miss him. 10:22am

Virgil we told him you would probably be the only person on the whole block wearing a tie. he’s excited that you both wear glasses. good luck lo. u got this. 10:28am

Logan sighed to himself as he scanned the messages in the group chat the three of them shared. He decided against correcting Roman on his incorrect use of the word “literally,” and instead put his phone on silent and tucked it back into his pocket. He didn’t want to come across as rude if it went off in the middle of this... interaction. He preferred not to call it a date. Calling it a date made it real in a way that Logan would rather avoid for now. Just until he knew more.

When it was his turn in line, he ordered a coffee, sixteen ounces, black. As the barista rang him up and took his card, he decided that this was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have come. He should have stayed at home, made his own coffee, gotten some work done. Instead he decided to spend the day standing in a cafe full of people nothing like him, for a stranger that might not even show up. A stranger who might be wrong for him in so many ways, who might not be worth the anxiety of an ordeal like this.

He could have Roman apologize for him, and it would be fine, everything would go back to normal and he would never have to think about the colorblind stranger again. He had more to lose from staying than he did from leaving. He thanked the barista as she handed him his cup, and turned back to the door with full intention of going home.

But then he understood what Roman meant.

Just as he turned toward the door, someone else walked through it. His eyes, behind round wire frames, held a mix of hope and nerves, and didn’t try to hide the fact that they were looking for something in particular. Freckles dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose; if one were to focus they would notice that the little dots continued down his neck and beneath his sweater. Baby blue. Accompanied with white overalls.

You can’t miss him.

Logan’s stomach twisted, especially as the nervous and hopeful eyes landed on him. Too late. As he walked towards Logan, the latter panicked. He could slip past him, quickly walk out, get into his car, and leave. Or he could pretend to be someone else, despite the description his friends provided. Logan? Who’s he? Never heard of him.

And yet.

“Hi! Are you Logan? I like your tie.”

He found himself answering, “Yes. Thank you.” He managed to recover enough to extend his free hand, blinking away the initial shock from seeing him. “Patton, right?”

The handshake was accepted, though not before Patton gave him a funny look, like it was an odd greeting. Had he already somehow messed up? But he was smiling, in a way that was almost painfully genuine, so evidently things weren’t starting off too poorly. “That’s me! Should we pick out a table?” Logan let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. Table, not a booth. Good start. Logan preferred plain chairs over booths any day.

“Yes, let’s. Are you going to order anything?” He asked, gesturing to the counter where he’d gotten his coffee. Patton shook his head and held up a reusable cup that would have matched the shade of his sweater if it weren’t for the countless stickers decorating it. The contents looked very chocolatey.

“I brought my own!” he said, as he picked a table and sat down, Logan following his lead. “It’s just a milkshake; caffeine has the opposite effect on me, makes me tired.” Okay, while sugary milkshakes in the morning were a questionable dietary choice at best, at least his coffee order wasn’t some complicated, elaborate, unhealthy thing. “So, I’ve heard lots about you from Roman,” Patton said, sitting cross-legged in his chair. It didn’t look comfortable. Logan felt himself break into a cold sweat, wondering what his roommate would have said about him.

“Oh?” He tried his best to sound casual, collected.

“Only good things, don’t worry. Well… Sort of. I mean, you know Roman, he can make everything out to be way more dramatic than it actually is.”

Logan nodded at that, sighing to himself. The amount of insects he’s had to let outside in order to quiet Roman’s shrieking… “Well, what sort of things did he tell you?”

Patton twirled his straw between two fingers, his eyebrows drawing together as he recalled the information. Every expression he made was very pronounced, like he wore every emotion and thought out on his sleeve. Logan couldn’t believe Roman would see these two people, entirely opposite of each other, and think that they would be completely compatible for one another. “Um… well he said you’re very focused, and stubborn. And smart. Very smart. And that you know the answer to just about any random question you could think of.”

Logan couldn’t help his small twitch of a smile. Roman called him smart. And the last statement was true enough; he could recall several late nights when he’d get a knock on his bedroom door and Roman or Virgil would poke their head in, ready to ask some inane question. One of his favorites was when Virgil asked if bees sneeze. They don’t, by the way. They lack noses, as well as mouths and lungs. “He also said that you were nervous about this date,” Patton continued, before sipping his milkshake with an amused glint in his eyes. Logan stiffened. “It’s okay! I was pretty nervous too. It’s been a while since my last date, so…” He trailed off as Logan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Patton’s confession of his own nerves should have helped to calm Logan’s, but it didn’t.

“I… don’t tend to do anything that may come with a high risk,” he said. “With things like this, there’s so much unknown. And I’m much more comfortable sticking with things I already know. If I’m completely candid, I almost didn’t come. And I almost left before you arrived.”

While Patton so far had worn most of his emotions in his expression, now there seemed to be something he was hiding, though not very well. Logan could tell by the small, forced smile, and the way he looked down at his cup, that what Logan admitted had stung in one way or another.

“It’s nothing personal,” Logan said quickly, for some reason eager to reassure him in a way that he usually never cared to do with anyone else. “Roman probably told you that I appreciate new information, I like to learn as much as I can. Well, I was… nervous… because of the unknown. Because I didn’t know anything about you. But I think… I think I’m willing to learn.” Patton’s genuine smile had returned, at least a little bit, and his eyes flitted down to the table. Logan followed his gaze and saw that he had subconsciously rested his hand on top of Patton’s while he spoke. Warmth flooded into his face and he pulled his hand back, apologizing softly.

Patton giggled, the most musical sound Logan ever heard. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

His happiness was infectious; Logan definitely understood what Roman meant about lighting up a room.

And, worse, he understood what Virgil meant the night before. I think you’re afraid that you’ll like him. Facing one fear means facing a hundred more, each more terrifying than the last. If Patton had been unlikeable from the moment they met, Logan would have walked out of that cafe having lost nothing. But instead, he left feeling as if he’d gained something.

And everything that could be gained, could also be lost.

Before they parted ways, they exchanged information. Their phone numbers, and Logan had also given Patton the link to his blog, since the latter grew excited when it was mentioned, and insisted on reading it. No one had ever been excited to read his blog before.

Just as Logan arrived back at the apartment and pulled his phone from his pocket to unsilence it, a new notification from a new contact was displayed on the screen.

Patton When can I see you again? 12:02pm

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did-you-reboot · 4 years

Text

Yuán | 缘 : Chapter 6

Posting an illustration-less chapter here in case there is anyone who would like to read it without seeing the blood. :)

In this barren land, here in the end, Hades stood before Zodiark at the edge of the darkness.

Under His glow, twelve bodies lay scattered around him.

They were silent. They were unmoving.

They were dead.

Hades looked about in search of the one who had killed his brethren but found none in this barren land. He turned to Zodiark, and though he felt fear he also wanted to know why.

Zodiark let out a piercing keening sound—not one of explanation but one of desperation.

Hades wheeled around and where there had once been nothing, Hydaelyn stood aglow on the horizon. And with the Light of Hydaelyn behind her, a dark figure approached —

Athena approached.

She limped forward clutching her side and his heart wrenched—her face was tearstained and screwed up in pain and she held up a hand to him, not to kill but to plead—

She reached to him to plead for help—

Hades tried to extend a hand but his body felt as lead and he couldn't move quickly enough—her eyes looked to his as she reached for him and in that infinitesimal moment when their eyes met, the light left her eyes and her body and her soul and she fell forward into a lifeless heap—

The Light of Hydaelyn dissolved away.

But still Zodiark keened. Even in the absence of His two mortal enemies He still cried out for help.

Hades felt His cries—

Hades felt His cries on the surface of his soul—

Hades felt His cries seeping into him, deeper—

Hades felt His cries and woke, covered in sweat in the light of the early dawn.

His heart was pounding within him as he put a hand to his chest, feeling for some lingering trace of His presence despite the futility of the act. He could hear his pulse in his ears, wild and frantic, and his shallow breaths came in ragged bursts as his eyes darted back and forth across the room in search of the barren wastes—in search of the bodies of his brethren—in search of Zodiark—

And slowly, when it finally sank in that there was no barren waste, no dead bodies, and especially no Zodiark, his heart calmed and his breaths calmed and he sat silently on the bed.

He put a hand over the dark, scarred skin of his stomach.

A horrifying thought emerged.

Had Annaiette’s killing blow not been enough to completely tear him from Zodiark’s influence?

That he felt this fear and doubt as fully as he did upon his return provided a modicum of relief; surely that meant that he remained free of Zodiark’s grasp? The dream—the dead bodies, the keening, the cries for help—they were all nothing more than a classic, run-of-the-mill, mundane nightmare. No ancient primals involved—just a nicely stressful experience created by his own paranoid mind.

He was not unfamiliar with nightmares; after the End, it was years before he’d gone a night without them.

The solitude of the room felt somehow loud and overbearing.

As he looked numbly out the window—looking at whatever wasn’t here, which happened to be an overcast sky—his thoughts turned to Annaiette. Last night it felt as though she had wept a thousand thousand years worth of tears; and when she could cry no more, exhaustion took her and coupled with the alcohol, she‘d been only barely coherent. After helping her into bed and ensuring she’d not choke in the unlikely event that she vomited, he had wrestled with himself over whether he should stay or leave.

In the end, he decided to leave. To allow her some space, he tried to tell himself.

But in his heart his cowardice was clear. There was a deep ache in his heart at the sight and feel of her soul but there was an even deeper fear underneath. And this fear, as it was when he first realized who she was, still weighed heavily within him:

She knew—she knew what he did.

And he feared she would be disgusted.

He feared she was only just tolerating him—that soon it would give and that soon she would make her true opinion of him known.

He exhaled sharply and threw the sheets off in frustration as he swung his legs off the bed. He'd held office in the Convocation of Fourteen and built two entire empires, and here he was cowering in bed. There were things to get done and he was going to get them done, because he was Emet-Selch and that is and always has been what Emet-Selch did. When things needed to be done—when nobody else could—Emet-Selch got it done. That is how it had been for millennia, and that is how it would continue to be.

And as he washed up and got ready for the day, he carefully ignored the loud thought clamoring in his head:

He may have been Emet-Selch in the past but this mockery of a man was no longer him.

=====

When Hades arrived at the control room of the Emperor’s Throne, he found the Exarch and Annaiette already there and somehow it felt as though they’d been waiting for him. Annaiette looked none the worse for wear apart from the now-constant weariness in her eyes, and she raised a hand in greeting with a somewhat hesitant smile.

“Good morning,” she said, and he could hear the slight hesitation in her voice.

“It’s rare to see you in the control room this early,” he said with a hint of cheek. “To what do I owe this pleasure, hero?”

He was pleased to see that Annaiette appeared genuinely heartened by his words. The Exarch, though, was significantly less so.

“You said yesterday that you wanted to examine the damage to the Tower yourself,” said the Exarch, his ears ever so slightly tilted back. “Annaiette stopped by this morning so I asked her thoughts on the matter.”

“We can go today if you like,” she said brightly. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Hades raised his eyebrows in slight surprise—he hadn’t expected to have the opportunity to go down so soon. “If you’re willing, then who am I to say no?” he said with a wide-armed, facetious shrug. She laughed.

“Good. I need to get some things first, though. It won’t take long,” she said before nodding to the Exarch and striding out of the control room.

“And will you be joining us on this little adventure today, Exarch?” Hades asked once she was gone. One of the Exarch’s ears visibly twitched and he bristled slightly—Hades wasn’t sure what was wrong with what he said but it seemed the Exarch was less than pleased about it. Or perhaps the Exarch had a particularly bad morning.

“I will, in fact,” the Exarch said standoffishly, his ears nearly flat on his head now. He carefully kept his gaze averted from Hades.

Whatever it was, Hades seemed to have touched a nerve.

But the Exarch didn’t say a word more and Hades didn’t care to pry, so he busied himself with gathering the relevant diagrams and documents that they would need to assess the damage. Would that the Tower’s remaining management nodes were functioning correctly...There were a good many that still worked but they were all somewhat unstable due to the inexorable ravages of time. He didn’t want to risk losing any data due to their unreliable behavior and so he opted for the more primitive method of writing things down on paper.

It wasn’t long before Hades and the Exarch finished gathering what they needed—diagrams and journals and a satchel of tools just in case. The Exarch remained aloof so Hades ignored him and summoned an exploded view of the systems they meant to examine. He had already committed the necessary information to memory but the exploded view gave him something other than the Exarch to look at.

When Annaiette arrived—interestingly, with Alisaie in tow—the pair hesitated at the door, clearly baffled by the palpable tension in the room.

“Er—I’m back,” Annaiette said, eyeing the Exarch and Hades nervously.

Her words broke the tension of the control room, and though Hades hadn’t been terribly bothered by whatever he’d done to bother the Exarch, he found that both he and the Exarch visibly relaxed.

It appeared that Annaiette had gone to fetch both Alisaie and weaponry; she held a slender gunblade in her hand and extended its handle and a bandolier of cartridges to Hades. “Take these. We can handle whatever comes but better safe than sorry. I charged the cartridges for you.”

The blade looked to be new or nearly so and had a length and shape similar to a Garlean gunblade. He gave it a slow, careful twirl and found it well-balanced and the components well-oiled, and it felt quite comfortable in his grip. It had been many years since the last time he’d bothered to hold any blades larger than a knife—it was an old but familiar feeling, and he found it somehow soothing. The bandolier, too, was soothing in its own way: he remained agonizingly bereft of the ability to manipulate aether and perform any magicks, but the feel of Annaiette’s aether in the charged cartridges somehow filled a small part of that void.

“Do try not to hurt yourself, Emet-Selch,” said Alisaie with a smirk as he took the blade and bandolier.

Hades raised his eyebrows at the cheek—Thancred must be rubbing off on her. “I make no guarantees,” he said, smirking in turn as he put the bandolier on. He almost let slip a joke about not being able to shoot a gun in his old age but quickly caught himself; he’d already somehow irritated the Exarch today, and making a joke about shooting guns in his presence was perhaps in poor taste.

“If everyone’s ready, then let’s go,” said Annaiette. She looked to the Exarch with a smile. “Lead the way, G’raha.”

It seemed the Exarch’s sour mood was only for Hades; as they made their way down into the Tower’s depths, Annaiette and a cheerful Exarch walked in front making idle conversation about something or other that Hades didn’t care about, whilst Hades and Alisaie trailed a few yalms back. Alisaie walked slightly behind him, and Hades had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

“Watching to make sure I don’t cause trouble, are you?” he eventually called over his shoulder to Alisaie. “If I’d known earlier, I would have planned something. Apologies for being a terrible bore.”

Alisaie scoffed and fell in step with him.

“That’s not why I’m here—not that you could,” she said, and when Hades peered down at her he caught a hint of a smile on her face. He smirked.

“You’d be surprised what an old man can get up to,” he said airily. “Why are you here, then? Sudden interest in Allagan technology? You don’t strike me as the scholarly type.”

“No, that would be my brother,” she replied with a wry smile. “I just happened to be in the Crystarium and Annaiette said there might be monsters that needed fighting. She thought I’d enjoy it.”

“Ah, violence then.”

Alisaie let out a snort of amusement but didn’t say anything to the contrary. He wan’t quite sure that he believed her but it didn’t feel worth the effort to pry.

The further down they went, the dead bodies of Allagan constructs and their broken enclosures became more frequent. The constructs appeared recently killed; those with organic forms were in the early stages of decomposition, with fragments of drones and clockwork knights strewn around them. Though Annaiette appeared perfectly relaxed, he made sure not to get too comfortable himself—the Allagans had thousands and thousands of constructs squirreled away in this Tower and while he hadn’t given them even an onze of thought in the past, he was now very fragile and very mortal and he wasn’t terribly keen on returning from oblivion only to be quickly sent back by some Allagan monstrosity.

While earlier Annaiette and the Exarch had been walking very casually, the Exarch turned to lead them down a corridor toward the first site they were to examine and Annaiette’s posture perceptibly straightened. At first Hades supposed that this particular area must be new to her, but when they emerged into the adjacent chamber, it became imminently clear why she was now on her guard.

The damaged section they meant to investigate, a data relay that was intermittently sending corrupted signals, was immediately obvious there in the back of the chamber, with cracked and misshapen paneling falling away from the wall. What was also immediately obvious were the angry Allagan beasts in containment units lining the room, slavering at the sight of them. Though the containment units appeared in good shape, there were a number of shattered and empty ones in the damaged section’s immediate vicinity.

It was now clear why the Warrior of Light thought it prudent to bring Alisaie along.

“Do what you need to do quickly,” said Annaiette as they made their way to the back of the chamber. Her voice was serious, commanding, and it sent a shiver down Hades’ spine. It reminded him of days past, when the world was whole and some debacle in Amaurot required the aid of the Bureau of the Conservator.

It reminded him of the unflappable Conservator in command of her teams.

The Exarch began rummaging in his satchel, presumably to find the blueprint, but Hades didn’t need it, not yet. He pried the damaged paneling open as gently as he could to reveal the enormous device within. A veritable spaghetti of thick cabling extended from either side of it, and he could see some of the cables’ connections to the device body were misshapen as though by heat. When he pulled the access panel from the front of the device, the story of this damage slowly came together: a long crack spanned the body of the coolant circulation unit, and the bottom of the unit was discolored by a gunk that time had rendered a disgusting brownish-black—likely coolant residue. That the device was still partially functioning meant that its controller successfully put the device in low-power mode, but some of the components must be too damaged to send valid signals...

The muffled rumble of growls was beginning to fill the room, along with the heavy thuds of limbs against glass.

“Hurry if you can, Hades. Alisaie, make ready,” came Annaiette’s voice. She was cool and calm but there was urgency in her words.

Hades looked over his shoulder to the Exarch, who had the blueprint of the device unrolled. “I’m going to tell you which components appear damaged. Mark them,” he said, and the Exarch nodded.

The growling and the thudding grew more and more frenzied as Hades called out the damaged components.

And just as he was contorting himself to get a good look at a board in the back, he heard the sound of glass shattering, of the guttural roar of the now-free creature—

Of Annaiette and Alisaie meeting it, fighting it—

Hades heard the Exarch drop the blueprint and satchel so as to join in, and just as he pulled himself out of the crevice he had shoved himself in, he heard and saw more and more beasts bursting out of their containment units—Annaiette yelled, not out of fear but as a battle cry—dark spikes shot out of the floor and beams of energy rained down from the air and until each creature had eyes for only her—

But Alisaie’s magicks were not enough to quickly down the beasts, and there were so many—where had they even come from—that even with the Exarch’s healing magicks, Annaiette would soon be overwhelmed. They needed to kill them quickly but Alisaie couldn’t do enough on her own and the Exarch was busy keeping Annaiette alive—if Annaiette could direct her energies to killing them rather than preventing them from attacking everyone else...

Annaiette wouldn’t have given him the sword if she didn’t think him capable.

Magicks or not, within him was the skill built over the eons of his existence.

He was Emet-Selch. He was capable.

He could only hope that his body would be able to keep up.

He pulled the sword from his back and loaded the gunblade, and without another thought he leapt forward, running around the outer perimeter of the horde—he heard the Exarch and Alisaie make noises of concern but they couldn’t speak in the midst of their casting. Annaiette caught sight of him as he neared and she shot him a look of questioning dismay as she sidestepped an enormous claw and parried another—

“You’re stronger than me—you kill them and I’ll hold their attention!” Hades called as he raised his blade toward the nearest beast.

Annaiette opened her mouth in protest.

He fired.

And he fired once more.

In the moment that the beasts acknowledged his presence, she made a split-second decision and raised a hand toward him—dark red wisps spun from her and into him and soon he felt the ire of the beasts upon him—with a yell he fired once more and spun, slicing at the legs of the beasts to tell them that he was the one they should care about. A claw was descending toward him and he parried it—the impact jolted his entire body despite the redirection, and quickly he redoubled his grip on the sword as he dodged another claw by mere ilms. He could see the movement of aether clearly—his current abilities likely augmented by the Echo—and it was by this skill that he spun and weaved away from the claws and teeth of the horde in the midst of Annaiette’s rampage with a peculiar shadow alongside her—

But his body was too weak to sustain the pace—he saw beasts falling left and right to Annaiette and Alisaie and but he was already wearing down—soon a claw caught him on the shoulder—and another on his off hand as he spun and reloaded—Annaiette was casting shields around him as she cleaved through the creatures and the Exarch was quite graciously keeping him alive with his healing magicks, but it wasn’t enough to prop up this twig of a body—

A pillar of light erupted down into the quickly weakening beasts—an explosion followed and dropped nearly the entire horde until only two were doggedly clinging to life. He fired on one and in that split second he could see the aether of the other as it began to swipe—his body had reached its limit and time slowed to a crawl as though to ensure he would see in full clarity the approaching death from this battering ram of a limb—

With the last of his strength he took a step back and braced himself for impact—a moment later his entire world exploded with pain and he was thrown backward—there was a terrific pain in his torso as he struggled to get any measure of breath into his lungs—he could hardly open his eyes the pain was so great—

Another moment later he felt the pulse of healing magicks—his ribs shifted back into place and he felt the deep gouges in his chest closing—the pain fading to a dull throb—

“Hades? Hades!”

Annaiette’s voice.

He opened an eye and found her kneeling at his side, with Alisaie and the Exarch hovering a short distance behind her.

“Are you all right?” Annaiette said breathlessly. There was a real fear in her eyes and in her soul—

—a hesitant press of aether toward his—

It sent a small pang of guilt through his battered chest.

“I perhaps—should have discouraged the Allagans—from making those,” he said with a rasping wheeze. He managed a wry smile from there on the floor.

There was a moment of silence as she processed his words, and he caught Alisaie rolling her eyes behind her.

Slowly, a smile slowly spread across Annaiette’s face as she shook her head in disbelief.

“You did this to yourself, Ser Allagan Emperor Person.”

Ser Allagan Emperor Person.

An incredulous laugh escaped him—he grimaced when it sent shooting pains through his body—and for a moment there was silence. But she let out a snort of laughter—so too did Alisaie—and soon even the Exarch couldn’t fully maintain his disapproving frown as the slightest hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips.

They laughed—low laughs that crescendoed until they reverberated off the walls of the room—he laughed despite the awful pain in his body—he laughed despite the ever-present guilt looming in the back of his mind—

And there in that chamber, covered with blood and surrounded by dead beasts and with his entire body on fire, Hades laughed more than he ever had in the last ten thousand years.

#rebootwritings #fanfic #ffxiv #ffxiv spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #long post

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ivytorn-blog1 · 5 years

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LANA CONDOR, CIS-WOMAN, SHE/HER, HUNTER / deep in the pacific northwest lives IVY MAI LE. i heard they’ve been living there for four years and last saw them hanging around the rough draft, i think they might’ve been pouring drinks while listening in on conversations. at twenty two years old, ivy doesn’t look a day over twenty two. everyone around here always associates them with leather bound books, hidden in the back of the shelf; scars beneath delicate flowers and patterns in ink-covered skin; and the final sharp inhale before one tells a deadly secret. hope they enjoy their stay ! ( cami, gmt, she/her, 19 )

TW: DEATH, BLOOD, SCARS, SELF-HARM (or sorts)

a family of refugees, the le had a long established reputation back home as the brave protectors of mankind, nomads stopping at every village and small town to valiantly step into the darkness and return with a token of the evil ailing the populace. with very little collaboration with other hunting families, they kept extensive tracks of lore, written and verbal, passed down through generations - thus, the accounts they now possess are a mix of superstition, old wisdom and rare experiences. it is well known that if a hunter is looking for out-of-the-box ways to defeat a target, the le’s knowledge might be of use.

ivy is part of the first generation of her family to be born in the united states, their new hunting ground since the 1960s. for the most part, they’d stuck together, leaving only to marry into other families or to join prestigious groups. their status had carried over to their new country, and their skills only consolidated the fact that the le were a family one would wish to keep as close friends within the hunting community.

born on the 17th of december, 1976, in modesto, california - but soon the moving began. the le carried a philosophy of self-protection and search for better targets, one that involved moving at least once a year, hopefully with no tracks behind to be followed. staying for a few months, every family member who was able to work did, gathering funds for the next expeditions and better gear. to reach a le, one had to actively search for them.

this led to ivy having no formal education. under the official guise of homeschooling, she, her siblings and cousins learned the basics of mundane education: writing, reading, easy maths. everything else was done in a militaristic setting and specialized in the trade they’d pick up as soon as they were deemed ready. survival skills, botany, lore, interrogation, fighting, shooting. nurturing friendships outside of he family was a hard task, but ivy was up for it anyway (mostly during the final weeks of being in the same location, when the house felt too small and her cousins too annoying,and she sported a bleeding nose from fighting her siblings). the instinct to look to the outside world was always there, even if just as relief from the suffocation of her family. however, she’d eventually be on the move, and never allowed to send letters or telephone anyone afterwards.

ivy was the classical middle child. with two older brothers and two younger siblings, she was often found trying to sneak into the back of the trucks leaving for hunting missions, because if miles, only 6 years older, could accompany the grown ups, so should she. in other occasions, she played the role of the instructor, throwing knives with the youngest, assuming herself the leader of the family, the great wise one - of course, until there was blood and crying and she was grounded. other times, though, she was hidden behind doors, listening to conversations she wished to take part in, but never close enough to be allowed to. a constant feeling of being on the edge of proving her greatness, but never seen enough for that. one such occasion came at the time to flee to oregon.

her family has been focusing on werewolves for the past 15 years, ever since a particularly bad encounter left a few relatives dead ingruesome ways. they will hunt everything else, even if that means they must join forces with other groups for better results, but werewolves have become quite the specialization. eight years ago, down in southern california, the family began a war they did not intend to wage by angering a particularly big pack with what was considered brutal unjust killings. the le found themselves as the targets, in a mess most other hunters refused to touch out of their own preservation - instead, they help set up routes for the le to leave, far away from the pack. pride got in the way, but all that bravado wouldn’t make winning any easier - only when the eldest son, miles, only twenty years old, was violently murdered did the family pack up.

II.

miles was a promising hunter, nearly as skilled with a gun as his father - but then it was all gone. the family had to regroup, grieve and, above all, reestablish their image.

up until then, ivy had already begun going on missions (simply watching when she was ten, helping at twelve, full member of the team by fourteen) but it all changed after miles’ death. the narrative wasn’t that their children weren’t well protected, but rather that they were unprepared. when they handed her six year old cousin a knife and rope, she understood. the new goal was to make them not impressive soldiers but the best, as soon as possible. there was no space for slip-ups.

ivy’s mother has a reputation especially for interrogations. in order to grow their lore books or purely to get information on other targets, her mother came in with a bag full of flasks and tools - and young ivy had always shown interest for that. not exactly the violence of torture, although she quickly grew desensitized to it. the stories that came out of their targets’ mouths, however, were fascinating, small windows into the world of the supernatural. so she stayed, listened, asked questions sometimes, and slowly began performing the incentives as well. they tell her she has a future in that, a great interrogator. the thought makes her stomach restless: imagine all the knowledge she can amass. imagine all the things she’ll be able to ask when it’s just her interrogating, no one else in the room to supervise her work, much less her words, her excitement over the tales of her victims.

despite that, the le are not within the most ruthless of hunting families. they believe in a strict moral code of balancing plates - all supernatural creatures are inherently evil (if they are not, it simply means they are fighting their natural urges to be so, and thus their goodness is an unstable state) and so, hunters like them are meant to kill off threats to the neutrality of the world by getting rid of some evil. they won’t kill someone purely because they are a supernatural., but will mistrust them, and likely keep track of them for a few days to make sure they can’t find any current (or past) transgressions. however, taking those lives should bring consequences to the hunters themselves - this, of course, ignoring the fucked up mentality/indoctrination this leaves them in, and things like ptsd, but they certainly don’t care about it. in order to keep that delicate balance, for every life a le takes, they mark their own skin with a dash, letting it bleed, hurt, and at last scar. they are both used as a sign of pride, members showing off their deformed skin with glee, and as a moral tally, keeping hunters from going on mass killings that are not justified.

things have, however, grown much more brutal since miles’ death. the incentive to grow that tally is stronger than ever, and the justifications for missions are simpler and simpler.

III.

in oregon, they moved even more, until four years ago. arcane falls was alluring for its established community of supernaturals AND hunters, a dangerous game of cat and mouse right under their nose. ivy still lives with the rest of the family in a big house down a dead lane, the only other house in view being a decaying old one (that, of course, the entire family had already explored for safety and the hopes of finding something wicked in there). everyone took up little jobs, and ivy continues to expand her resume in bartending, now pouring drinks at the rough draft, where she keeps her ears open (even if a lot of the information she gathers turns into missions for her elders or teaching experiences for the younger ones)

arcane falls is a bit of a dream for ivy. she’s so close to all these different beings, even serving some in the bar. a chatty bartender type, some of what she hears is not intel for missions, but rather knowledge for her own gain. here she’s been able to keep her eyes open for a hidden pleasure of hers: magic.

books inside carved books, ivy has been keeping lots of information on the supernatural - nothing that’s of use in tracking them down and killing them, but rather in understanding them, their powers and skills, the beauty of the terrifying dark they inhabit. magic, especially, is a secret vice. she’s just purely in love with the concept of breaking the laws of everything that is real and truly loses all the cynicism in her when she sees it. but it’s a terrible sin no one shall know.

she still hasn’t achieved the greatness she knows she’s capable of. in fact, ivy knows she hasn’t even had a chance to prove that she’s half as good as she claims to be. she hasn’t brought home any major token, hasn’t conducted any great interrogations, everything feels like she’s just holding her breath right now, so close to everything but not there yet.

not having gotten her chance also leaves her on a particularly bellicose edge. it sees she’s a powderkeg always about to explode, and the smallest of thigns set off that anger she’s been building up for years - ready to anger, ready to start a fight, ready to self-destruct when outwardly destruction is not possible.

she’s begun covering up her scars with tattoos, much to the dismay of her family. she claims it’s to not cause a scene at work once others see her arms and connect it to the le reputation; after all, her shoulders and upper arms are getting pretty crowded. delicate flowers and weeds are intertwined with the scars, collapsing into geometrical patterns closer to her neck, and she plans on getting more. much more.

ivy is also a casual hunter?? sports hunting. forest survivalism. she enjoys pushing herself and self-training. the rush of being a predator, even if the moral consequences are harder to grasp.

this young lady loves playing with knives way too much. keeps a pocket hunting one with her at all times, of course, but truly enjoys swinging it around for fun, throwing, pretending to chop some fingers off just to giggle at the reactions around her. most things she does are in search of a certain rush like this.

character parallels: erik killmonger, kate bishop, stefan salvatore, rosa diaz, bobbi morse, derek hale,sabrina spellman, tish walker, penny adiyodi, jace wayland, billy kaplan, raven reyes, julia wicker, annabeth chase,meera reed, sam winchester, isaac lahey, idk more help

PINTEREST to come soon oops

hmu for plots and such pls !!

#❛ iv . | this is how it goes : everybody’s got a bone to pick ; headcanons .#inferisintro

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indigodice · 5 years

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START AT THE VERY BEGINNING, A VERY GOOD PLACE TO START

i’ll probably edit this gradually out of this being too much to read in one sitting maybe that means this should be more than one post what a mistake i’ve made its time to iron out some kinks in this blogging thing

For us the beginning was probably in high school. On and off games of Traveller and Shadowrun which weren’t overtly terrible, just unmemorable. I can only remember a handful of moments but they largely weren’t tied to a particular narrative. They were very singular drops in an ocean of wasted time. Maybe they were terrible after all. From early on there was a sense that combat was taking up hours while actual role playing was taking up minutes.

The most memorable thing in Shadowrun was the infiltration of a mansion by circulating rumors of a rave and party supplements. The plan had two parts, a coordinated dispatching of the mansion’s guard and relocation of the guards that hadn’t arrived yet. It was a largely successful, noisy, but bloodless smash-and-grab. We had time for another module which the GM then randomly generated using the random generation rules. We tried to replicate this plan with moderate failure, destroying a wyvern’s eggs then turning in look-alikes.

This form of random generation was most of what we did in Shadowrun, and probably the reason the experiences were unmemorable. We gathered to role play, and ended up wargaming. As things go on we have particular problems separating role playing from wargaming and expression becomes narrowed down to mechanics decisions on our character sheets. Compounding this problem is the lack of even binary choice in the narrative. When Mr. Shadowrun says we have a mission, it’s a single mission instead of a selection, so the extent of our choices are constricted within that predetermination. We’re our character sheets. And that means players rebel. Given our not-a-choice my character convinces another character that its suspicious a Mr. Johnson found our HQ so quickly, so we explode our HQ and have to find work elsewhere.

When Mr. Traveller is pushing us through events, we’re only given what he comes up with to work with, the narrative didn’t care about what our characters cared about. Eventually those games wound down as that groups’ GMs disappeared. We met someone willing to GM consistently, only we weren’t aware of his mental instability. And when we became aware of it, most of us recognized we weren’t equipped to handle such a someone. I didn’t share that thought because I was naive, but luckly I went with the group decision to cut him out and maybe we’re the better for it.

I might have brushed that aside, but that mentally unstable GM hosted an AdvancedDND module, Caverns of Chaos, which was meant to be an introductory look at ADND. During which we added players which the GM accepted in word, then rejected through gameplay. The game was a party and everyone was invited. Our complaints of the game moving slowly were responded to by accelerating rewards through a sentient reward room that responded to our whims. As my whim was suspicion it became a curse room. Our complains of the slow momotonous wargaming became an accelerated wargame where they were revealed by a wizard to be the machinations of a mind flayer. Then the wizard to transported us to another place where our skills were arbitrarily needed. Maybe a day had gone by in the game. But outside, months had gone by.

Then a combination of player drama resulted in the GM’s mental instability reaching a breaking point through rather violent expression. And so the group was reformed. Following that we had a few attempts to salvage that now lost campaign. Each player was given a chance to GM to salvage the game, and eventually we decided on restarting, scrapping the old characters for new ones. We picked up a new system called Pathfinder. Before our first moments role playing we’d looked at 3.5 books and heard Pathfinder was supposed to be better supported. So we began.

This worked for a while, as the new GM brought us though the Crypt of the Everflame. We reached the next town after a few months out of game. Crypt of the Everflame was intended to be a few sessions. The GM was experiencing burnout and never told anyone. From a personal standpoint I resent how that was handled, since it resulted in the group meeting, playing maybe an hour of combat, then everyone splitting off to do something else. Sometimes we wouldn’t be informed until arrival that nothing had been prepared, or that the GM wasn’t feeling up to it. Due to circumstances, this GM reached his own breaking point and was going through a kind of personal transformation, and dropped out of the group.

Those that remained tried to continue on. We hosted more one-shots trying to continue from those Pathfinder characters. After reaching the next town SEPIADICE creates one of my most memorable moments. The town had reached a breaking point because one of the partymembers was hellbent on creating mischief. Another decided the problems within the town were because of their systems of governance and took to trying to rally them against their leadership. The de facto town leader didn’t have the strength of his knights that usually kept the peace. We’d been sent here to retrieve them. He’d been trying to maintain the peace with martial law. And so he banished our party fearing more mischief. My character was infuriated that the de facto leader transgressed a rule of hospitality as he’d been on the road because of his own town’s leadership, and so my character confronts this town’s leader. He was steadfast in his decision since we were outsiders to him. We’d gained entrance because of a squire’s word. The fight first in words comes to blows. Another party member supported me with her magic, and the squire comes to the leadership’s aid. At that moment the fighting stops, and we make our escape.

The casters of the group splinter off, while those that remained travel presumably with the squire to retrieve the knights. The game ends and is never picked up again. We have a round of one-shots and eventually we decide we want a consistent game. We vote on the next GM. Notably I voted against SEPIADICE because the other would be GM was the more experienced, and I was hoping for something sustainable. So she wins four to three. It turns out her game has the same problems all the prior GMs had. Eventually SEPIADICE gets his turn to GM and does an adequate job. And I realize where I wanted to build on the other GM’s experience, she didn’t actually have the potential to change. While the muddle of one-shots never became anything particularly memorable. Sometimes we’d make decisions that felt meaningful, but then the one-shot would end and we wouldn’t get to witness the outcome of those decisions.

If SEPIADICE had continued I’m sure his game would have been enjoyable. As a GM he’d produced most of the memorable moments I enjoyed. But he’d become frustrated because I hadn’t managed to leave the headspace of the character I was playing, and consequently decided on playing that character in his setting. Causing two other players to also choose prior characters that had been there with him. So it became a cascade of insolence that I both didn’t see and didn’t dissuade by not seeing it. The difference was that I had asked and they hadn’t, but the result was the same. Old characters with old ties that didn’t fit the requirement he’d set down for character creation.

From the start of pathfinder up until the very end theres this looming question about what makes unable to role play, or why we’re bad as a group. There are answers ranging from “our group is too big” to “we’re probably just bad” to “its the ruleset we’re using.” Actually I’ve cherrypicked the ones I believe. I don’t remember the rest. From beginning to end our groups tended to be too large which muddled other problems. It was hard to role play because everyone needed some time in the spotlight and it was easy for us to get distracted either by the many bored players. Realistically the GMs shouldn’t have used combat as a crutch to stretch the time we were playing. It wasn’t fun. But it didn’t help that we were playing in a game that revolved around combat and the flow around actual role playing was snuffed out both by needing wait for long stretches of time for anything cohesive to happen. Things got gradually better after the Crypt of the Everflame because players started losing interest. But at the core we didn’t as a group understand what made role playing games good.

They certainly had potential, but most of what we did was wargame, and frankly video games were better for that. We couldn’t tap into what made role playing games good. Except for that moment where SEPIADICE banished our party. That was a damn good moment because that was a man with his back against the wall trying to give himself some more space, only he accidently makes things worse. The conflict they had against each other was not something they could resolve, it wasn’t either of their fault, and they both refused to bend. So they fight. And they fight because they refused to bend, and that’s how violence happens in reality. And so much of the violence in our role playing games has that weird circumstance of oh they show up while you’re travelling so you have to fight now. That’s not giving violence any respect. And any expression during that kind of violence falls flat when there’s nothing tangible at stake. Sure you could die, but you’re not really dying if you don’t have any connections to anything. Dying because you have too much pride feels better than the nothing of a random bear encounter. And to be honest SEPIADICE you should have died when you encountered that bear, instead you bit it and it ran away because the GM thought we would run, but adventurers aren’t reasonable people.

So maybe that’s one of our problems with role playing. Adventurers aren’t reasonable people, they encounter unreasonable things, and are expected to act unreasonably to resolve unreasonable things. Oh god there are so many paragraphs now and why is there only personality at the end who the heck is going to read all of this?

#dnd #rpg

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zaraegis · 5 years

Text

Over 2k Words of Elaborate Undertale Headcanons

There are like, a lot of these, and getting them into words was kinda hard

that is why it took so long

also this is five pages in Word so longpost under cut

firstly: the Void and inventories-this is largely adopted from scrollingdown’s headcanons

there is a place, or nonplace, or metaphysical state of (non)existence, called the Void. the Void is not real. Like, that’s its defining feature; it’s where paradox flotsam and reset timelines and things that aren’t real go. The universe’s garbage bin and error handler and general catchall for things that need to exist for causality reasons but don’t. And where all sorts of various random nonsense are, because everything in the Void can change, and interact with other things in the Void, including itself, and twist and change or just not affect things it normally would.

That includes all the laws of physics and common sense.

The Void is where all the deleted/dummied out rooms are, along with the Gaster followers.

It’s also the location of inventories, and the ultimate source of all magic, which leaks into the world in lines and nodes and monster souls, and the souls of humans who’ve spent enough time around monsters or in areas charged enough with the kind of magic monster souls give off/have to gain magical ability.

Inventorying something is the process of using some DT and some magic/soul power to mess the metaphysical ‘tags’ of an object, dropping it into the Void. The DT is vitally important, as it forms into an 'anchor’, keeping the Voided item from changing properties and 'encoding’ a way of fixing the corrupted metaphysics and dropping the item back into reality at will, allowing the DT to be reused at any time.

The inventory-user 'claims’ a small bit of the Void with their DT, allowing for a certain number of inventory slots. The maximum size of an item that can fit in a slot, the number of identical items that can go into the same slot, and other inventory properties vary depending on the person.

The Box System is artificial inventories, which link to the soul of whoever is using the box to help them access their items.

Putting people in inventories is possible but requires a great deal of trust; the Annoying Dog suddenly being in Frisk’s inventory was probably a bad experience! Suddenly, there is a DOG in their SOUL VOID POCKET DIMENSION and it’s not even stasised it’s awake like a party member! And it stole Toriel’s phone and took it to the Void.

The Underground is less real than the Surface, allowing Frisk/Chara to SAVE and LOAD much easier and giving a lower threshold to the ability to use magic; post-pacifist Frisk probably went a few days unable to SAVE, not because of a lack of determination but rather because all their magic was tied up in keeping their inventory working, especially without Charrator helping them.

I had to include the Charrator pun it’s so amazingly bad.

The least real area in the Underground is Waterfall, which is kind of an eldritch location. There’s the giant plank structure nobody lives in, the Temmies which are reached by phasing through a wall and walking on air, all those deleted rooms and stuff, the echo flowers including the room full of them that creeps Papyrus out so much be pretends to be a voicemail, the alien geometries of the map (look up a map of Waterfall sometime; the Disproportionately Small Gap room connects two horizontally distant rooms…with a horizontally tiny room), the weird hydrology, Gerson who leans on the fourth wall all the time and has infinite cloudy glasses implied to have belonged to a fallen human, the weird puzzle rooms like the dog artifact, the dog that gets IN THE PLAYER’S INVENTORY WHAT THE HECK and gives you some kind of…inventory virus item?? where using it fills your inventory with more dog residue items and sometimes edible items that aren’t inventory virus items??

anyway…more weird Waterfall stuff…Gaster is here, for some reason, in a hallway that is usually not there-like you normally just, skip that hallway, walking from one end of it to the other without crossing the intervening space. The disappearing water is bizarre; nothing leaves the Underground so where is the water going? The plaques about monster history are just scattered at basically random, what the heck, why are they not all clustered on a wall or in a museum? What’s with the random abandoned statue that looks a lot like a Boss Monster that’s supposed to be holding something and is surrounded by shattered statue bits? It sorta maybe looks like a memorial statue, like the one that was in the CORE that Mettaton got rid of, but it’s just abandoned in Waterfall? Three of the four ghost monsters we see are definitely from or currently living in Waterfall, and ghosts are really weird.

And, finally: What’s with the giant black abyss in the middle of Waterfall? It’s like someone punched a hole through it into the black edges of the Void.

Or maybe that’s exactly what they did.

Gaster’s followers mention a risk of Alphys going the same way he did-which would be a really odd risk if the CORE is the creation Gaster fell into, as Alphys doesn’t really have much to do with the CORE.

It’s more likely to be something inventory-box related; Alphys links Frisk’s phone to two separate box systems, and she works with DT.

So: Alphys invented the box system. Gaster nominated her for his successor, stole most of the credit for her work, and created Something based on the box system, and it punched a hole in spacetime in the middle of Waterfall and took a significant and semi-randomly-distributed chunk of Waterfall out.

But why would he do that?

Maybe he was hiding something. Something big, and terrible, and he wanted people not in on his dark secret anyway to be unable to find out, and his attempts to erase it from the minds of others went horribly, horribly right.

In the True lab, there is a weird machine at one point. The weird machine has, as part of its design, what looks like a dark red SOUL-like the colour Frisk’s, and presumably Chara’s, flickers to during invincibility frames.

At no point does anyone in the game acknowledge that it looks like a SOUL.

It’s entirely possible that that SOUL is Chara’s, stolen by Gaster and used as part of the CORE-the part that intersects with the True Lab.

It’s not being used to break the barrier-probably for good reason; at the end of the Asriel fight, when he breaks the barrier, he notably says he’ll break it then let everyone go free, but lets all the souls go free as he breaks the barrier, as if doing so is a required part of the process.

Also, in the epilogue walkaround, all the coffins in Asgore’s basement tomb are open and empty. Chara was taken out of theirs to be buried in the Ruins, so that’s them accounted for; but it’s like all the other fallen humans got up after Asriel broke the barrier and walked away.

My headcanon for both those weirdnesses is that the Barrier was meant to be broken by willing human magicians working together-with all the human souls willing, and at least one alive. And it has a failsafe-smashing it open with only the souls of dead humans would result in it exploding or something and bringing down the cavern roof. So Asriel had to resurrect everyone and use their power to open the Barrier at the same time-and the Barrier would react noticeably and negatively different to the soul of a dead human, such as Chara.

Their SOUL was the only one checked against the Barrier after death, and it was assumed that the process of merging a single human soul with a single boss monster soul, and then the merged soul dying again and having the boss monster part of the soul disintegrate, damaged the soul somehow and made it unfit for breaking the Barrier with. So Gaster 'borrowed’ it for 'research’ and 'scanning’.

And just didn’t give it back, instead integrating it into the CORE.

A process which woke Chara up-and let them haunt anywhere the CORE’s light and power reached.

Gaster realized that he had an angry royal spirit haunting his power generation infrastructure, and this spirit might be able to figure out how to manifest properly and tell on him, or try to murder him. But he had a solution worked out. He’d toss their mind into the Void and make people forget all about them.

His machine was more unstable than he realized. It may have even dragged in beings from the world of Deltarune and given them bizarre powers; I’ve seen theories that the skelebros, or at least Sans, are from Deltarune, which would certainly explain why Sans has a concept of Hell.

Chara was partially forgotten. Most notably, their name was totally erased; nobody except for Flowey/Asriel, raised from the dead by a massive amount of determination (metaphysical inertia, stubbornness made substance, anchors in the Void) ever uses their name, and Frisk (who overpowers Flowey, DT-wise) can fill in the name-shaped hole in reality left behind. Asgore mostly remembers having only a son, and usually doesn’t mention his adopted child because usually he doesn’t consciously remember them. It takes many monsters working together to tell the story of the Royal Siblings in even a short format, since they have to overpower the memory effect.

Chara themself was slammed into unconsciousness and remained unconscious for, possibly, years.

Until Frisk lands on their grave, and a link between their souls is formed, waking Chara up.

(The technicians working on the CORE note that they’re using less of the CORE’s capacity than they have since Alphys became Royal Scientist. Chara feels better than they have since they were alive. And Frisk thinks that wow their ghost buddy narrator sure is draining like half their magic gain. Probably necessary to help with inventory management, SAVE point management, healing at SAVE points, and all those little illusionary head’s-up display and information box things.)

(Nobody except Undyne and Flowey remembers that there didn’t use to be a Waterfall Abyss. Undyne assumes that it’s no big deal, since nobody else cares about it. Flowey’s long since given up trying to make people remember anything about how weird Waterfall used to not be.)

(And the universe tossed a random related thing into the gap of why, exactly, Alphys was royal scientist.)

Incidentally some headcanons that aren’t part of that big headcanon tangle up above-

Mt Ebott isn’t the only place that monsters are sealed away. There might be monsters already living on the surface, from other barriers being broken; or maybe there’s a big road trip in the post-pacifist future of mage humans going around breaking barriers.

Different sealing locations have different monster demographics, different monster species, etc.

Most monster species have few members and little genetic diversity per sealed population, but they do have a lot of magic-based reproductive medical tech etc; using genetic data from members of one species to shuffle genetic data of a member of another species, asari-like, to allow for cross-species reproduction is a commonish thing, as is cross-species offspring carrying.

boss monsters are either a. the result of human-monster hybridization, or b. monsters that usually have litters of kids, not just one, but…big screwed up royalty family tree+terrible luck=toriel and asgore being the last two boss monsters in the Ebott Underground and then having a singleton child

also they’re all lop-eared as babies but most of them grow out of it, toriel and asgore are baby-faced

time on the inside of a barrier tends to pass differently from time outside of the barrier, usually slower (the barriers are meant as time capsules) but eventually the temporal gradient gets too much and it gets faster inside than outside

monsters still live in the underground post-pacifist; it only goes empty during Asriel’s boss fight. at first this is just, gotta get infrastructure and stuff set up, book hotels or whatever, logistics!! you can’t pack up and leave yet, citizens, it’s a whole day’s walk at a dog monster or human’s pace to the nearest town, there are logistics

and then it was like…the surface isn’t that much better, really? not that it’s bad more like the problems the Underground had were…mostly due to being sealed off, and it’s much better now there’s things like trade, and the option to move

and then there were also climate concerns and people going Actually I’ve Lived Here For 200 Years And I Don’t Want To Change or whatever (plus, also, Gyftrot)

and so the Underground became more sparsely populated but not empty. Some of the residents are humans, moved in from the Surface, as well.

all sealed monster populations are really good at things like recycling and so on. like they basically totally obsolete the local recycling plant in like two weeks and that was all setup time.

frisk is mascot not ambassador, asgore is not actually 100% right on what the word ambassador means in English since they’re keeping up on modern English based on what wound up in the trash and that includes phrases like “ambassador animal” so asgore, naturally, assumed the word had become something more like “mascot”

#undertale #meta #long post #submission

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