#when they've either never been the one chosen or the one left behind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-wishes · 8 months

Text

𝕆𝕦𝕣 ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕃𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝔾𝕚𝕣𝕝

Summary: You try to escape from two fearsome Sith Lords. Surprisingly they take it rather well.

Author's note: This is totally getting a part 2. Or maybe a series we'll see.

Warnings: dark, absolutely no regard for the rule of two, sorta a vent fic (venting that these two are so fine and I can't get them out of my mind), slightly fluffy.

The empire's warships have a tendency to blur reality. The interiors of their large hulking exoskeletons house endless corridors and makeshift chambers. Vast, endless arrays of space. They've been optimized for housing droids, clones, and artillery. Not for escape, not for an endless search of a freedom that has long since eroded.

Calling yourself anything but desperate would be a lie. Your feet run to the chorus of your broken heartbeat. The need for freedom, the need to escape spreads through your body like a poison. You know it'll end up killing you, either from exhaustion or by their sabars. But you have to try, you have to run. Even if you've left fragments of yourself in the warm bed the three of you sleep on. Even if you forgot your heart under Anakin's pillow and your soul still lingers in Maul's warm embrace. Maybe freedom is worth cutting off pieces of yourself, if only in the hope that someday they might grow back.

There's something wrong with the corridors you're sure of it. You've never been one for directions, instead relying on the holo screens and navigation systems to lead the way. Mirror images as far as the eye can see. Identical, plain. Nothing substantial to store in your memory. There's something ironic about this situation, a punchline that doesn't quite land. You half haphazardly tug on the skirt of your nightgown, desperate for anything familiar. You're not sure why.

You remember how Anakin called you pretty this morning, still hazy, still clinging to the sensation of slumber. Perfect blue eyes too dazed to look at you. Really look at you. The chosen one gazes at your ghost, your ethos. the perfect doll he and Maul had morphed you into. Behind you

Maul pulls you to his chest. Hand running up and down her side, trying to resurrect you into his dreams. It's only when Anakin's eyes close, seeling the shimmering blue orbs, that you crawl out of bed and into the unknown.

You're lost, abandoned in absolute desolation. The marble tiles bleed frost into the soles of your feet. Somewhere in the distance, you feel a disturbance in the force. Too far away to matter, yet leaking with a potent rage that burns. It's hope you think, albeit pathetically, maybe it's better to capitulate this pointless crusade and wait for the Sith lords to find you. The crash comes just as you're about to stop. You bump into him, falling in the process. All armor and steel. The Stormtrooper's mask is off giving you a clear view of his scarred face. His eyes flash, some dreary emotion too obscure to read, he offers you a gloved hand, something human something casual.

You stare frozen.

When exactly did you stop comprehending human idiosyncrasies?

When exactly did you start reading every interaction as a threat?

He's a monster, you think, just like the ones you've been warned about. Lectured time and time again by both Anakine and Maul. Monsters pry on little girls, especially ones who wander off on their own. Monsters lurk behind unsuspecting walls, ready to pounce when their prey approaches. You wonder if, the definitive definition of "monster" could be passed on to the two Siths who call themselves your lovers.

There's blood, too crimson to be real. Metallic aromas wafted through the air. You've only now noticed how close the disturbance in the force really is. Close enough to distinguish itself. To reveal that, in actuality, it's not a disturbance at all.

It's two...

Something cold yanks at your forearm. Pulling you to your feet. for a split second, your nerves calm. The familiarity of the cybernetic arm grants you a heavy ease. Anakin pushes you over to where Maul is standing. Golden eyes burning holes through the stormtrooper's armor. 'He didn't do anything' you long to say. But the words wisely die on your tongue as Maul grips your shoulders. Anakine's saber is lit, stabbing through the soldier's armor as if it were flesh. As if killing him where as easy as killing a rogue thought. "You're quite a foolish soldier for daring to touch that which belongs to your commanders. Even more imbecilic for so much as looking at emperor Palpatine's disciple."

Maul's grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes never once leaving the bloodshed. One of his hands instinctively roams to your belly, then slides down to your thigh. Rubbing it ever so gently as his claws pierce your soft skin. You close your eyes trying to make yourself smaller. You hate how his touch grounds you. How the familiarity plucks at your heartstrings. When he touches you like this you wish you would forever rot in his arms.

"'I'm sorry" You don't know why the words come so easily. As if they've been itching to spill from your tongue. Maybe it's easier to say 'I'm sorry' rather than 'You've broken my perception of love, of reality and now I can only find comfort in your darkness.' "Hush" Maul's anger spills with every syllable. His claws dig deeper, earning him a pained hiss from his doll.

"You're not sorry, in fact, you rather enjoyed this didn't you? Running away making us chase you down, I never thought your species would enjoy being the prey so much, little one." Anakin walks over, saber seethed at his side. His every step promised pain, retribution. He's angry, furious. They both are, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'll end it all today.

Maul's chambers have always been a testament to Dathomir, bathed in deep scarlets and endless ebony. You wonder if he's homesick for a place he's only visited in his worst ephialtes. After the incident in the corridors, they drag you back to the Zabrak's room. Neither bothering to say a word. Merely permitting their rage to engulf you, subduing you into submission. It's an unwelcome surprise when they begin to prep for the day. Throwing on their black cloaks, prior to choosing your outfit. An abnormal affinity settles across the room. Too unnerving to go unchecked.

They dress you each morning, a ritual you think, some attestation of love that's never been quite right. Maul drapes you in velvet dresses. Each one harbors a sui generis softness that sits erroneously across your skin. Their opulent sensation only brings forth feelings of aversion and despair. Their softness an ode to your imprisonment.

the dresses come in shades of crimson, detailed sometimes in black, sometimes in gold, and sometimes in a frigid blue that sends shivers running up your spine.

Anakin fusses over your accessories, why they feel the need to dress you so extravagantly daily is beyond you -as you've come to realize many things are- On days when Anakin's hubris reaches its apex, he bathes you in gold. Astonishing glittering collars across your neck and Kuat bangles hanging from your wrists. When he's sober from his pride he chooses black diamonds. Simple and exotic. scintillate and opaque.

Allusions to the dark side.

A hidden reference that crawls inside you.

Once, back when you'd been sure defiance was still an option. Back when callow hope still dared to flow through your veins. Back when you'd been a jejune, stubborn thing. You had refused to wear one of the dresses they'd bought. Adimant in your refusal until Maul had stuck out his hand. Summoning the Force to remind you just who held the supreme authority here.

The Force had strangled you, clawing hungrily at your neck. You felt your bones caving in on themselves, watched with exacerbating hysteria as your feet abandoned the floor. He'd only released you when he was sure you were near death's adorned door. Permitting you to molder on the floor akin to a ragdoll.

Anakin had chastised you after you'd conjured enough strength to sit up, gasping greedily for air. He'd broken two fingers that day. One still harbors a small scar.

A Promise ring.

An augury.

There are days, few and far between. When they've deemed you've been behaving adequately for long enough. That they permit you the choice of which dress you'd fancy wearing for the day. It's a rare event, reserved as a special treat. You think it's their way of proposing variety, giving you the illusion of choice. Making you feel a little less smothered.

Today is not one of those days. Today, you feel them pick you apart, only to reassemble you in their image. Drowning you in extravagance. A reminder, one whose deprecating nature weaves itself within your muscles. You, little girl, are nothing more than a doll. And dolls should know their place.

No sooner do you feel the final lace fasten across your back, that Anakin is tugging you outside the door. Metal arm clasped around your forearm.

Maul follows behind molten gaze locked on your face. The hallways bend to their will as if the walls themselves quiver with their presence. You recognize this corridor, recognize the frigid forlorn.

There's something wrong with Emperor Palpatine's throne room. It's surreal, makeshift. His real throne lays somewhere cold, somewhere even his apprentices don't dare wander off to. The ironclad throne has never felt right. Never felt like it held any real power. Just terror, just dread, just hatred. But here it is in all its glory. Left to two apprentices who'd rather treat it as a toy than a sacred place.

Anakin dramatically throws himself onto the throne. One leg thrown over the armrest as he leans against the other. His other leg planted firmly on the ground. He keeps you steady on his thigh. Torturing you with his distant, disappointed look. Maul stands in front of you. His eyes liquid gold melting into you. You see the galaxy in them. Hear it whispearing secrets meant to be forgotten. It's Anakin's voice that rattles you from your disjointed thoughts.

"You caused us so much worry angel" he's being nice. You don't trust that. There's something sinister plaguing his words.

"You know Ani, she may cease escaping if you'd cease to spoil her." Maul leans down, gripping your chin and squeezing. " The brat forgets her place, merely cause you'd rather coddle her than discipline her."

Anakin glares, a shift in his eyes, blue bleeding into gold. "Hmm, Maul, you're starting to sound an awful lot like Kenobi right now."

"Why's that? Did the old fool tend to also point out your shortcomings?"

You wonder who this Kenobi is, as you watch the Siths' exchange crude childish vitriols. Maybe he'd make a better lover than the two men you have the misfortune of being adhered to.

They never could truly see just how similar they were.

Two sides of the same coin.

One born of copper, the other, black rose petals.

Subconsciously you reach out. Grasping Anakin's robotic hand, fiddling with the panel, peeling it away to gain access to the wires and circuits. You have a bad habit of ripping things open. Anakin learned this the first time he kissed you and you tried to gnaw at his chest with your nails. Not in malice, but rather to satisfy a ravenous curiosity. A raging need to open him and see just how he ticked. You'd wished to perform an autopsy on his soul. Rip him open and devour all his secrets. Back then you'd wondered if you could kiss sunrises into Anakin's eternal night. Strip him of bleak blackened skies and introduce him to stars and a moon that shines. He'd only vaguely permitted it. Opting to pluck the stars lying within you. Swiping them for steel and lava and other mundane things that fueled his incessant rage.

Anakin's head dips, lips pressing on your jugular vein. "You're ethereal" Anakin mubbles against your skin, like the dying prayer of a collapsing star. He's so pretty when he kisses your neck. Biting away pieces of you. Stealing your light for himself.

"Princess" Maul seethes venom pelting from his words. You realize you'd been ignoring him. Something he's not too fond of. "What in the stars was going through your pretty little head?"

he looks like he'd love nothing more than to wring your pretty little neck right now. "I just..." your words feel heavy. Tiny bullets polluting your tongue. It feels so cruel to say when you know just how much they love you. "I just wanted some freedom. Just a bit of space."

"Dumb little angel" Anakin chastes. You lower your head in embarrassment watching Maul kneel in front of you. He cups your cheeks, placing a soft kiss on your head. "You can never escape us beloved".

"I love you," says Anakin. All you hear is, I'll haunt you, I'll break your ribs one by one so that I may possess your heart. Maybe they mean the same thing.

"And I'm pretty sure if Maul could feel normal emotions like everyone else, then he'd love you too." You can't help but let out a giggle as Anakin throws his head back laughing. A rare melodious sound, that causes your heart to skip a beat. Maul merely rolls his eyes before pecking you on the lips.

You trace your fingers across Maul's chest, feeling the pummelling of two hearts. A double heartbeat. Two melodies entwined, You wonder who he harbors in those hearts. One for love and one for family. You nip at his bottom lip. Ushering the blood into your mouth. He tastes of Ichor and smoke. Of sadness and rage. From behind you feel Akanin bite into the hollow of your flesh. Leaving traces of himself upon your skin.

"Our pretty little problem" Anakin mumbles.

You're a problem, a vexation draped in velvet, an unsolvable equation. Trapped between a love that seethes through your body like a toxin. Engulfing you until your mind relents. Maybe it's easier this way. Easier to say 'I love you' without the double entendre.

You do love them.

A rather arduous conclusion to reach.

Maul and Anakin.

Palpatine's apprentices.

Your lovers

Yeah, that sounds about right...

💜💜: @athanasia-day @hotpinkboots @jenn-patterson-69 @nickiiiixoxo-blog @the-chains-are-the-easy-part

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animeyanderelover · 9 months

Note

Can I request prompt 56 with Obito?Thank you ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

I’m back from my vacation!

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional thoughts, stalking, mentions of arranged engagement, abduction, death

Prompt 56

Nothing had been quite the same. Not since (f/n)'s death. Since their murder. The entire town had been in an uproar ever since, questioning everyone and investing heavily to solve the mysterious and brutal death of your future partner. Well, the one your parents had chosen for you. You hadn't had any say in it when they had arranged together with (f/n)'s parents the engagement, didn't have any right to object when discussions about the wedding had beem brought up. Deep down though you had prayed, prayed to old and new gods to save you, free you from a marriage you didn't want.

However, now that your wishes had been heard, you didn't feel any relief. Never had you wished death upon them, nor any harm as you had known that they hadn't had much of a choice in it either. They could have lived such a long life, far too young had (f/n) left this world. All alone, burnt and murdered. Who would commit such an inhumane crime?

---

You did your best to ignore everyone's eyes as you walked across the marketplace, although your head hung low and your gaze was focused on the ground in front of you. Ever since (f/n)'s funeral, rumors had started to make their way amongst the citizens. Many knew by now how unhappy you had been with the arranged engagement and since no one else had ever felt any ill will against (f/n), you had quickly become the main suspect in this murder case. No one had been able to confirm those rumors though as you had been on that day with your parents who had started preparing you for the upcoming marriage, looking with you for the fitting clothes you'd wear for that day. You had an alibi yet despite it, the gossip hadn't died down. An accomplice. That's what you often overheard as people came up with the conclusion that you probably had someone who had helped you. The question would be who though, you'd be slightly curious to see who they might suspect as your partner in crime.

Not everyone believed the ridiculous talk on the streets yet their pitiful and sympathic attempts to cheer you up didn't make you feel any better. You didn't want to be pitied, suspected or noticed at all. You didn't want to be the centre of attention nor made different in the mind of the people only because of your personal connection to the victim. Sometimes you felt like an attraction more than anything else. You were slowly made into an outsider and you did not like it one bit.

---

Muffled voices from behind the door caused you to stop abruptly, right in front of your parent's house. Only your parents were supposed to be home right now yet you definitely heard more than two voices right now. You slowly put down the bag filled with groceries before pressing your ear against the wood of the door, attempting to identify the muddle of voices inside.

"You're sure that your child will come? They've been avoiding us for those last few days. Mighty suspicious, wouldn't you agree?"

You recognized the sharp and rough voice instantly, even if the sound was still muffled. It was (f/n)'s father, their mother was most likely with him. You removed your ear hastily as you knew what they thought about you, you'd known ever since the funeral where the mother had shouted and cried at you, blaming you for the death of her child. You understood that both of them were in deep grief and sorrow, felt hot anger for whoever had murdered their only child. An irrational feeling that both of them had turned against the first person available, you. They had been the loudest from all villagers, had accused you the harshest. You were innocent and felt unfairly treated, a part of you still felt sympathy for them. You couldn't bring yourself to face them though, you felt too ashamed and scared to do so. So you slowly placed the bag of groceries in front of the door before turning around. It took courage to face parents struck with resentment and grief, courage you did not have.

---

You awoke with a startled gasp in the middle of the night. Strange light was illuminating your room from the window and loud screams could be heard from outside. Many different voices were shouting all at the same time and made it hard for you to distinguish what each of them was saying yet you could clearly hear the sheer panic inside each and every voice. You quickly stood up and hurried over to the window to take a look outside. Your heart dropped and your face twisted into a fearful mask. Fire. There was a fire.

You didn't care that you were still in your night clothes as you stormed down your stairs, hastily put on your shoes and ripped open the door. You stepped on something as soon as you stepped outside though, the object rustling as your foot pressed down onto it. When you lifted your leg confused, you saw a single red rose lying randomly on your doorsill, slightly withered. You picked it up carefully, avoiding to get pricked on the dark red flower. For a few seconds you stared at te flower, trying to come up with an explanation to how that had gotten here when suddenly one of your neighbours called out your name.

"(y/n)! (y/n)!"

They came running from the direction of the fire, fear and worry etched deep into their face.

"Y-you...I think you should get out of the village." they managed to squeeze out in between their panting, wildly gesturing with their hands around.

"What? Why?" you blurted out confused before something clicked in your mind, a bad foreboding as your gaze stared at the brightly burning fire again. If you were right, it came from the direction of...

"What happened?" you asked in a suddenly somber tone, continuously swallowing down the lump in the back of your throat that threatened to appear there and make it hard for you to breathe.

"T-the house of (f/n)'s parents...it's burning! It's on fire, (y/n)! Both of them are most likely..." They couldn't even finish their sentence but they didn't need to, you understood perfectly what had happened right now and you also knew why they urged you to leave as quickly as possible.

"They suspect that I'm responsible for it, don't they?" you pressed out, clutching the rose inside your hand tighter, until you felt the thorns breaking your skin. You yelped quietly as you felt warm blood trickle down your palm, although you were far too stressed in that moment to dwell too long on the mild sting.

"They're out of their minds, (y/n)! They're scared! A few of us tried to stop them but they won't listen! I-I understand that this is unfair of me to ask but I think that it would be safer for you if you'd leave for a while. At least until everyone has calmed down a bit."

"How bad is it?"

"Some of them want to throw you in jail and use force to make you confess that you're the culprit. I don't think that anyone can reason with them right now."

The screams grew slowly louder in the distance, an angry mob that was coming for you. You had masked all your emotions behind a mask as you looked at them with an unreadable expression. They couldn't look you into your eyes and the thought left your lips before you could stop it.

"You're scared of me too." It wasn't an accusation but the stunningly soft tone with which you mumbled those words might have been even more unnerving. They flinched slightly, panicked eyes darting shortly across your face. Their mouth opened shortly as if to negate your statement but they couldn't bring themselves to do so with the way you looked at them.

"I...I'm sorry." they stumbled out, seemingly the only thing that they could come up with in this situation.

"It's alright. Thank you for warning me despite your fear." you replied, numbly stepping forward and walking past them.

"Wait! Are you leaving without any money or clothes?"

"I don't have time for that, I fear." you replied, glancing over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of the first villagers that came storming to your house. Your legs started dashing across the streets towards the nearby forest where you would take shelter for an unknown time. You wondered what would happen to your parents, prayed for their best as you continued clutching the flower as if searching for comfort in the pain.

---

You let your feet carry you through the forest, unaware of where you were going. You just walked and walked further away from the distant screams and the glowing flames and only when everything was only darkness and forest did you realize how uneasy you had been the entire time, holding your breath and clutching the rose in front of your chest, coating it in your blood. A few deep breaths in and out were taken as you took in the sounds of rustling leaves and chirring of the insects, reminding you that nothing would hurt you here. That's when you finally slid down against the trunk behind you, stretching your legs out and laying your hands in your lap, weary gaze focused on your blood-stained palms and the flower, shimmering bloody under the dim moonlight.

A long sigh left your lips, a sound far too old for someone your age, as you leaned your head against the wood behind you. You knew that the question of what to do now was unavoidable but at least for tonight you did not want to worry about it. At least a few hours of peace and silence. That was all you wanted. Heavy eyelids slowly drooped as you didn't even want to bother finding a better place to sleep for tonight. You were exhausted and just wanted to forget everything for a while.

---

Not entirely sure if you had fallen asleep at all and if yes for how long, your head shot up all of a sudden like you had seen in your past with alarmed animals when detecting something. A flash of something black had just appeared in one of the treetops before vanishing in thin air. It could have just been your tired imagination, it could have been just some bird but it had disturbed you nonetheless. Your back was stiff from the wood and your neck cramped painfully. You rolled your neck around a bit, the tips of your fingers digging into the tense muscles underneath your skin and massaging them to loosen them up. Your eyes never darted down though as you searched for the strange shadow from before, without much success though. For a blissful short moment you were able to convince yourself that it had been indeed not more than a fleeting imagination from your tired mind. Until you heard something that dangerously resembled footsteps.

Holding the flower in your hand, unwilling to leave it behind and risk leaving any traces behind, you pressed your feet in the hard ground and shuffled yourself into the ocean of bushes behind the tree. Your hands were still inflicted with wounds and nor did you want to open them again and leave behind a trail of blood, nor did you want to risk any infection. Doing it as fast as possible yet also as quietly as possible was a challenge so much so that with every rustle that came with your movement, your heart seemed to stop for a short moment.

Little twigs poked into your clothes, skin and entangled themselves into your hair, pulling it as you moved further into the bushes. Your view was eventually hidden, the limited light shining through the twigs and leaves limited. Only your ears were reliable now and you hyper-focused as you tried to pick up every suspicious sound.

Apparently whoever was out there though wasn't even trying to hide themselves though as you heard them walking to the spot where you had been resting only moments before. Knowing that, you stopped moving completely, not willing to risk getting caught. The tension was killing you and you would have given everything to just peek out of the bushes and catch a short glimpse but you weighted your chances and arrived at the conclusion that it might be too risky. The person walked across the open space, the pace of their footsteps increasing significantly after a while as if getting impatient or anxious.

"(y/n)!"

It was a male, unfamiliar and high-pitched voice that almost sounded fake in your ears. He knew your name so you couldn't do anything besides assuming that he was also from the village, only that you had never heard this voice before. Your home wasn't very big so everyone knew everyone though so the fact that this voice was belonging to someone you didn't know threw you off. Who else would know your name? You'd never left your town. The urgency in his voice was something that surprised you too, no malicious intent anywhere in his voice. Much on the opposite actually, he seemed scared for you. Nevertheless though, you stayed silent. You did not trust strangers who just knew your name whilst you had never met them before.

"(y/n), please come out. I know that it must be scary for you, you poor thing were chased out of your own village. I'd never harm you though, I'm here to help."

You sat up, slightly alarmed that the stranger knew about the village accident. That must have been only a few hours ago. How did he know? He must have been watching you this entire time, a thought that gave you slight chills.

“Sweetheart…where are you hiding? I know you’re here."

Sweetheart? Why would he call you by such an intimate nickname? That was something usually only lovers called each other or parents their own children. He wouldn't call you that without knowing you long enough, you realized with growing dread. How long exactly had this guy been watching you?

Your thoughts blocked out his attempts to beckon you to show yourself as your mind started peacing together the information like you'd done with puzzles when you were younger.

A stranger who knew you yet you'd never seen him who felt some form of weird affection for you. He'd known about you fleeing from the village mere hours ago so he had definitely been watching you without you being aware of it. Was he a stalker? If yes, for how long exactly had you been watched? Since before your engagement? If that was possible, how would have someone like that reacted to the information that you'd been engaged? He already sounded like he wasn't quite in his right mind so he must have reacted terribly to it. But that would only mean...that he must have murdered (f/n) in some sort of blind rage.

This man out there was the murder of (f/n) and their parents.

You felt your blood freezing in your veins as cold terror embraced you tightly. You noticed how your body had slowly started crawling further away as your survival instinct took over. You'd not stay close to someone who had murdered people for you.

When he suddenly started babbling though, you stopped, alarmed by his silence. Admittedly, you hadn't listened to whatever he had been ranting about but it seemed out of character for him. Had he lost his patience.

You heard him sigh, at least you had to assume that it was him. The voice itself was deep, far more deeper than it had previously been but at least it sounded real now. tThat must have been his real voice, although you had to wonder why he would feign his real voice like that.

"You don't leave me much of a choice if you don't come out willingly, you know?"

The voice seemed to be directed to the bushes as if he was looking straight at you, hidden behind the green leaves and twigs. All hair on your body stood up instantly when you heard his voice, your gut twisting around inside of you and letting you know that it sensed danger. You started moving faster as the sensation filled your veins, urging you to get away from this man as quick as possible.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are. I’ll find you anyways, I can hear your breathing.”

It happened in only a mere few seconds and you couldn't react or do anything. He just appeared, right above you. Hands shot through the twigs and leaves, grabbing you and tugging you forcefully out of your hiding spot. Your heart dropped down to your stomach when your legs were in the air flailing around as you were in the air all of a sudden for a few miliseconds before he lifted you up in his arms and seemingly transported back to the open field. The speed had your head spinning, you'd never encountered someone that fast before in your life.

His hold on you was consistent even when he slowly let you down, taking notice of your dizziness and holding you so that you could steady yourself. The world was turning an spinning and so did your stomach as your senses were overwhelmed with the buzzing dizziness in your brain. You wondered shortly if you'd have to vomit, something you'd rather avoid in front of a stranger. Your eyes closed as you took deep breaths, trying to distract yourself from the nausea and the dizziness somehow. You just had to wait until the world didn't spin anymore.

You caught multipe whiffs of his own scent whilst breathing in and out and the image of an old cave instantly popped up in your mind as you did so because that was exactly what he smelled like. An earthy and dusty odor clung to his clothes and skin which made you wonder if he was perhaps living in one.

"I-it's fine. I'm fine now." you stuttered out when you felt one of his gloved hands brushing through your hair worried, your eyelids slowly fluttering open as you blinked a couple of times. The world at least wasn't spinning anymore so you felt secure on both of your feet now, slowly straightening yourself.

He was wearing an orange mask as you noticed, black and slightly spiky hair the only thing that you could see. A small hole was where his eye should be, although it was weird why he didn't have another hole where his other eye was. You gazed warily at the one black hole, unable to see his eye due to the lack of light.

You attempted to remove yourself from his touch carefully only to stop when he quickly grabbed you and pulled you back, seemingly not tolerating even a bit of distance in between you too. You swallowed heavily, pushing the urge to scream and yell back down as you knew that it would be useless. There was no one around here and acting all hysterical surely wouldn't get you anywhere.

"You're the one who murdered (f/n) and set fire to their parent's house, aren't you?" you questioned with a quivering voice.

He tilted his masked face in an almost childlike manner which was answer enough for you and forced you to breathe deeply out and in, your heart pumping wildly inside your chest.

"What do you want to do with me now?"

A question you dreaded but that you had to ask. He hadn't come all the way just to introduce himself to you surely.

"You're coming with me. I'm not letting you wander around like this. It's too dangerous for you."

"Why do you think so?"

"Because I know how the world is. It's a cruel and unforgiving place. I won't let it harm a single strand on your head."

"But I have parents and friends."

You had said something wrong, you knew that the moment his grip tightened on you and he stood straight, towering over you.

"You mean the parents who wanted to marry off to some random stranger and the friends who wanted to chase you out of the village and hurt you? Those so called precious people of yours sold you, betrayed you and didn't even believe in your innocence! What worth could they have to you?"

His voice was poisonous and his grip tight to the point that it became painful. When you winced slightly and grabbed his arm, he luckily snapped out of it and released his hold. You rubbed your hurting arm, pulling it close to your chest.

"So you're saying that you're better than them? Despite the fact that you murdered people?"

"They deserved it! All of them deserved it! They were out to hurt you, imprison you and make you unhappy! I did it to protect you! I already told you, I won't let anyone harm you."

His voice became soft and sincere at the end and you knew that he meant those words. It could have been almost romantic if you didn't know that this was a deranged killer who had some weird obsession with you.

"And you're different?"

"I am. I'll care for you. I'll love you. I'll protect you."

He sounded eager as you asked him those questions and you had a suspicion he misunderstood your hidden horror as acceptance and your questions as confirmation. You couldn't run away though, he was far too fast so you had no choice but to play it safe.

"You say all of this yet I don't even know your name and your face. Seems a bit unfair, considering that you know me quite well."

You were sure that you saw hesitance flickering shortly across his body as he slowly reached out to his mask, paused for a brief moment before pulling it up. What you saw shocked you slightly as you had never seen something like that before.

One half of his face was covered in scars and you could only fathom what would cause such an injury. You had a feeling though that you shouldn't overreact so you kept your calm face and nodded.

"And your name?"

"Obito."

#yandere naruto #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere obito #yandere obito uchiha

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splathousefiction · 2 months

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I have been in the creative field since I was 18. While I am most popularly known for my work here at Splathouse, "Jack The Warlock" isn't the only face I've worn in the 16 years I've been making things in a professional space.

In no particular order, a (in)complete list of projects I either created myself or have been a part of is below the jump. Details at this time will be kept vague. You are welcome to make your guesses and DM/Comment down below. If you get it right, I'll tell you.

An actual hard-copy account with my complete involvement along with website addresses, email accounts and passwords is currently within my safe in my own hand writing. It's to be scanned and made public upon my death, serving as (if nothing else) a testament to "try everything".

I started an absurdist magician sect. I was originally inspired by chaos magic theory, but sought to refine their ideals. As such, it takes the element of the concept of belief itself as a malleable thing that can shape the world without ever being spoken or made physical via ritual work. "If you think it, it can happen"-be that in the ego or the id. The sect is still operating internationally today and has over 100 members. We're small, but we're there. None of the members have ever met me or have any idea who I am.

I've published two short-horror collections as a female author in her forties. They were released for free and are pretty openly available almost everywhere you can pirate books. The books are incredibly popular with queers, with booktok most notably covering them pretty hotly for a month. None of my readers have absolutely any idea I am behind both collections and still send emails (without hope of ever getting a response) today. Many assume I'm dead.

I released an experimental dark fantasy hip-hop EP that was inspired by this album by Earl Sweatshirt and MF DOOM. It's a five track album that totals in at 21 minutes. Much like the horror anthology collection above, each track can be enjoyed by itself, but when played in sequential order tells a Berserk-like story. The album took six months of my life and features encoded secret messages in the audio, with the "lore" being that it's a form of sigil magic. To date, it is the most popular audio project I have ever recorded and vastly surpasses anything I have ever made for Splathouse. Absolutely no one knows that the vocals, the producer and the song writer are one guy, nor do they know it's me. They've been waiting for a follow up EP for years. I will never release another one.

I have been a writer and creative director for several ARGs. One of which was a darling of the early days of Youtube Explainer videos. The project "concluded" because I was intensely disgusted by the growing cottage industry of "curators" destroying the mystery of such things. As they still do this and have careers directly profiting off the creative works of others, I see no need to join such a project ever again. Absolutely no one involved in the projects had any idea who I am, and the projects I started myself have never once been connected back to me.

I've co-wrote several webcomics. One or two of which gained middling popularity. No one working on these projects has absolutely any idea as to who I am or my larger sphere of work. I left the field because of audience treatment of webcomic creators.

I've had original artwork I created featured in multiple gallery showings that highlighted "abstract" and "outsider" art, back when I still enjoyed doing artwork. Anything you find by me on deviant art in the "Splathouse" era was me attempting to wrap my head around digital art; my neuro divergency prefers physical mediums. Every single one of these submissions was under a different name chosen at random.

I've acted in precisely two indy movies under a popular name used by directors who don't want their names attached to projects. Film buffs know the one. I was the lead character in one and the side character in another. The films are connected, but aren't sequels, a series, nor is there a prequel involved. The films were highly experimental and shot in the "guerilla"/"Gonzo" tradition. They went through the indy circuit and won [insert number of awards here]. I wasn't compensated nor were the films profitable. We didn't care and I haven't spoken with anyone from the cast since, who simply asked for a name and nothing more. Some of them are still in the industry. One of them is a reasonably successful B-movie director now.

I've created several text adventure games. Most people are familiar with the Splathouse ones, which released in the early 2010s. What they aren't familiar with are the ones I released on itchio under an different name with a disposable email address. The games were reasonably popular with that niche sector of the gaming community, and still get regularly recommended.

There's more I could add to this, but I feel I'm done for now. It's late, I've work in the morning.

If you've made it this far in the list and you're still curious-no, you aren't going to get me to tell you any details about any of these projects. Even my best friends couldn't get that out of me. If you're curious as to why I did literally any of this, the reason is two fold:

Because I could.

why not?

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boasamishipper · 2 years

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I would like some Brawshaw Parents pt 2 (bradley and phoenix) headcannons pwease

loved your post on macheresin as parents, now spill rooster as a dad (+icemav as granoarents ofc)

when the pregnancy test comes back positive, it scares the absolute hell out of them. they've been married a couple years now, together so long it's hard to remember a time when they weren't roosterandphoenix, and it's not like they weren't trying, but still. holy shit. holy shit, phoenix whispers, with a laugh that sounds more like a sob. holy shit, bradley echoes, with what actually is a sob. holy fucking shit. they're going to be parents.

mav cries when they tell him and ice, who utilizes every connection in his (extremely vast) possession to ensure they get all the support they need from the navy, every step of the way. phoenix's parents are divorced and she's not close to either of them, and she's terrified she's not going to be a good mom. bradley, on the other hand, is absolutely shit-scared of leaving his kid behind the way goose left him and carole behind - not that it was his dad's fault, he knows that now, accidents happen, but still. when phoenix is asleep (or pretending accurately enough to fool him), he takes to whispering to her belly, making promise after promise. i'll never leave you like my dad did, baby. i swear that i'll be around for you.

bradley is there for phoenix to the point that it's almost smothering, by her side through the worst of her morning sickness and the strangest of her cravings (who the fuck craves soap, bradshaw, what kind of child am i carrying??) and her mood swings. when it gets to be a little much, ice and mav intervene and get bradley out of the house so phoenix can have a little alone time. mav spends a lot of time reassuring bradley that he won't mess this up, that he (and ice) will be there for him. that goose and carole would have been so proud of him - that mav is proud of him too. many tears are shed.

they tell the rest of the detachment at the end of phoenix's first trimester, and for the next few months, gifts sporadically arrive at their house: baby clothes, diapers, stuffed toys, blankets...many, many toy planes. everybody thinks they are So Funny and So Original. bradley ends up stringing all the little planes into the baby's mobile that hangs over the crib. (painting the nursery alone takes more planning and coordination than was required for the mission that brought dagger squad together. colors are chosen. colors are rejected, rinse, repeat. phoenix argues with bradley for three hours about why he needs to get a grip and let her stand on the ladder. bradley loses that argument but wins the one about moving furniture. when everything is finally done - painted, furniture in place, rocking chair by the crib and changing station Just So - phoenix leans into him and he presses the softest kiss to her forehead. both of them are crying. neither says a word about it to the other.)

they wanted the baby's gender to be a surprise (they decided they were going to name their kid after goose whether it was a boy or a girl), and boy howdy is it ever a surprise when bradley holds his daughter for the first time. she's tiny and pink and squirmy and So Fucking Perfect that for a single moment, all of his worries disappear. hey, nickie, bradley says to his daughter - his daughter - once he gets his voice back. she stares curiously up at him from phoenix's arms, intrigued by his mustache and the tears in his voice and eyes. this is your mommy, and i'm your daddy. it's so good to finally meet you.

nickie rose bradshaw has phoenix's hair and bradley's eyes, and everybody loves her the minute they meet her (even if they meet her well-behaved or when she's in the middle of a toddler meltdown over bradley buying the wrong cherry popsicles at the store - even though they were the right ones last week. c'est la vie). she calls ice and mav grandpa and grandmav and has them both wrapped around her little finger, absolutely adores bob (she steals his glasses like the untitled horrible goose), and thinks piggyback rides from hondo are the greatest thing in the world. she's happy-go-lucky and cheerful and climbs everything and loves music and is so goddamn smart and stubborn it's not even funny. she got that from her parents in spades.

hangman - because it's not like rooster can avoid having hangman around his kid, not when he technically saved rooster and mav's lives and especially not when coyote and phoenix are so close - nicknames her robin, and nickie loves the nickname so much that she refuses to be called literally anything else. when mav starts calling nickie robin bradley knows it's a lost cause. (and it's not like bradley thinks the nickname is bad or anything; he just Cannot Stand that it was hangman who gave his daughter something she loves so much. or that nickie likes hangman so much.)

nickie, age five, giggling like a maniac: uncle jake is funny!!!

bradley on his hands and knees: baby how could you do this to me. i watched paw patrol for you.

(meanwhile - coyote: hey phoenix says that nickie wants to go by robin now because you started calling her that. jake. jake why are you crying)

phoenix, after many talks with sarah kazansky and penny benjamin (amelia babysits whenever she is home from college), settles on a parenting style that's basically like 'treat your kid the way you would want to be treated (but also be firm enough that you are not a pushover)'. bradley follows this rulebook as well, but is a little more lenient with nickie than phoenix is when it comes to tiny things like watching one more episode of her favorite cartoon or having ice cream before dinner.

bradley teaches nickie how to play piano, just like his father (and mother, after goose died) taught him: her sitting on his lap, her little hands over his, her eyes wide with delight at the music. she is very good at it and learns how to play great balls of fire for him for father's day. bradley is absolutely Wrecked. (the video is deemed best picture worthy by the dagger squad group chat.)

nickie loves her dad a lot - she drew a mustache on her face in permanent marker when she was three and loves to make him laugh - but she loves phoenix So Much Too. the first halloween costume she is old enough to choose herself, she dresses up as her mom in her dress whites, with her hair in a neat bun and her little face So Serious. the picture has a place of honor in phoenix's wallet until nickie has kids of her own.

ironically, unlike her parents, nickie Hates flying. she cannot stand traveling commercial and the one and only time she accepts mav's offer to take her up in one of his planes, she cries so hard that they don't even make it to the end of the preflight checklist. the bradshaws end up having to travel by bus and car a lot, and when they do have to fly, dramamine becomes their new best friend. phoenix does a little better at soothing nickie's aviophobia than bradley, but it's still a very exhausting experience for everybody involved (at least until nickie is old enough to get a prescription for xanax when she flies; then it's blissfully smooth sailing.) mav and bradley are a little disappointed she's not interested in flying, but then again, maybe that's not so bad. at least they won't lose her like they lost goose.

(to be continued in another reblog bc i ran out of space)

#thanks for asking!#top gun: maverick #bradley bradshaw #phoenix trace #phoenix x rooster #nickie bradshaw #macheresin #icemav #all part of the #series: i'm steppin' to you toe to toe #which begins with #fic: i don’t know what you’ve been told

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lemonhemlock · 1 year

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"ryan has been quoted in the past saying aegon ii is his favourite aegon and also a "grey character" yet in the show he has more monstrous hobbies than ramsay and little character development."

I've never heard this interview and it's just wow… "he is grey" when he is a rapist and children fighting pits enjoyer? It's a pity this interview was before these episodes, I wish someone asked Ryan about this. You'd think they don't understand how their writing translates to the viewers but they know what they are doing very well, I mean, look how they made Rhaenyra into the chosen one and how most of her characteristics are shown in a positive light and the show never focuses on the bad things she does, always framing her as a sympathetic character. A scene where she walks after giving birth to see Alicent wasn't in the script, but they wanted to make the audience sympathize with Emma's Rhaenyra from the start and they threw Olivia's Alicent under the bus for it. HBO used this scene as a preview of the episode and people were hating Alicent even before they've seen her. Daemon also has this heroic framing, his fighting sequence was so impressive people think he is the best fighter in all GoT universe, the writers romanticized daemyra by making them star-crossed lovers, they even showed a scene that can be seen as him bonding with two dragons at the same time, he is literally the coolest. This is why I will never understand team black complaining that the showrunners hate Daemon. I get what Ryan is saying about Aegon being complicated and fascinating to write, but his complexity is simply overshadowed by the terrible things they wrote for him. (This is just a rant)

If Ryan is truthful about him stanning Aegon, it's possible that the decisions to monsterize him didn't come from Ryan, but he can't exactly come out publicly and criticize his working colleagues either. So, when asked about his take on Aegon, he can only talk from his perspective and that's obviously not going to jive with what's on screen. "Yeah, I think Aegon is a complex and interesting character, but X and Y came into my sandbox and stamped all over my plans" - that's not going to happen.

Something definitely went down behind the scenes if Miguel Sapochnik left, while Ryan Condal stayed, because the reason given reads very PR to me. But we have to wait until next season to see whether if Ryan is a secret green or whether the team black whitewashers were weeded out or not or whether HBO thinks they're gonna make more money if they turn Rhaenyra into a saint.

Ryan says he's been a fan for 20 years, so that's a start. But in any case, all of this is speculation based on vibes, we don't really have any concrete proof - like, if the original scripts leaked at least we'd have something to go off on, comparing the script with what ended up being filmed. But we are not in any way privy to backroom discussions and complaints and power struggles.

A scene where she walks after giving birth to see Alicent wasn't in the script

Oh, I didn't know this!

#ask #anon #hotd critical [production]#hotd critical [storytelling]

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behaein · 7 months

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♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — SR MEDIA CALLBACK. aka haein gets a second chance with sr media and performs how can i love the heartbreak, you're the one i love (ref / 2:45-3:45)

when haein first receives the message from sr media, she has to blink twice to make sure she wasn't misreading anything. considering that she never made it to the next round for the other labels, she wasn't expecting anything with sr media either. the audition tape was her messiest yet when it came to video quality, and she was dressed in such comfortable clothing. if someone were to only take a quick glimpse at it, they would have mistaken it for a practice video.

nevertheless, she starts preparing right away. the message reads ballad song, and she's got flashbacks of the last time she's sung a ballad, but she quickly pushes those thoughts behind. having her mind occupied with something from the past will only do her more harm than good, and she's promised herself to continue living forward.

first, she decides to make a list of the ballads she even knows. haein's never been a huge ballad fan because she enjoys music that allows her to bop her head, but it looks like sr media has something in mind when they ask for this specific task. dancing is allowed, as the message says, but she believes that her dancing skills have already been shown through the audition tape, original choreography and all. she's proven she can dance, so now it's time to show them she can sing.

now she knows she's not a power vocalist. she's not going to be able to belt out high notes and push her diaphragm hard enough to impress anybody. so she seeks out songs where she can be emotionally invested because while she may not be the strongest vocalist out there, she's quite confident in the way she can express lyrics and songs. that's why she's mostly a dancer to begin with. there's something so fascinating about being able to deliver emotions and sentiments through her body, but now she's got to do that with her voice.

she probably seeks for about a week before she settles on a song she feels she can confidently do. the song is filled with emotions, within her range, and requires just the amount of technique, which she can pull off. maybe she sounds too confident, but that's not it. this was always what oh haein was like. the past couple of months was uncharacteristic of her, but she's gotten back on her two feet, and she was ready to impress the judges once more.

seven am feels like an early call time, but she's there, bright and early with a smile on her face. after everything that's happened, this feels like absolutely nothing. she can feel some glimpses here and there as she waits to be called along with a couple of other potential trainees.

as she waits, she does a couple of vocal exercises and stretches. while she won't be dancing today, being relaxed is important. if her body tenses up, so will her vocals, and she doesn't want that happening today.

when she's called in, she goes through the camera test first. stand here, please stare at the camera, please turn to the left, now the right, we'll also be taking a picture of you from the back, now please show us five different poses. this isn't haein's first rodeo, so this part pretty much flies by, and soon she finds herself in front of the panel of judges.

she thinks she recognizes a few of them from next gen, but she can't be sure. not when she's already in heartbreak mode for the song she's chosen. haein clears her throat, takes a sip from the water bottle that's been given to her and gives them a nod to signal she's ready.

haein knows more than anybody else that sixty seconds is a short time. probably not long enough for most people to show off everything they've got to show, but that's the reality she's faced with, so she pours her heart out into the song. her eyes are closed for a good portion of it, but she makes sure to open them at the very end to face the judges. as she's always been coached, she makes sure to make eye contact with one of them, and the song cuts off.

her sixty seconds is up.

initially, she thought this experience would be nervewrecking. maybe it's because she's been caught up in living in the past for the last couple of months. however, she feels free. she's quite confident she's shown them everything she can with the first audition tape and now this short ballad cover. before she can ask them if there's anything else, she's interrupted by one of the judges.

"please reflect on your time during the next gen audition process and tell us what you would like to do differently, should you be invited to participate in a second season."

she can't help but smile at the question because haein was expecting them to ask about next gen sometime or another. of course, she expected them to be more direct with the question and maybe ask her about the vocal crack itself, so she's rather pleased that it's a more general question.

"i believe i've learned a lot from it. it was a rather humbling experience, seeing so many other talented trainees give it their all. i was eliminated earlier than i would have liked," she decides to be honest because what more harm can that really do, "but it was a nice way to reflect back on my skills. seeing myself filmed and aired like that was a great way to see exactly what my strength and weaknesses were, and i've been working on improving on those apsects."

haein pauses for a moment before answering the second part of the question. does she even want to participate in a second season? can she answer it like that? she knows there's a running joke that sr media, the very company building she's standing in, is known for giving second choices to many trainees and artists. will her answer be received negatively if she says she doesn't want the second chance?

"frankly, i'm not sure if i'd participate in a second season. i believe i'd be more likely to take on a new, different challenge," she answers, deciding that being honest is the better choice here. again, the worst that can happen now is them not giving her a trainee contract, but at least she won't be walking out of this place with the thought that she'd lied to everyone. "however, if i were to participate in a second season, i think i'd spend more time evaluating each mission before beginning to go straight to practicing. we were given such short time spans that i was so focused on trying to get to the task at hand that i completely missed out on what the judges wanted from each round."

the judges whisper among themselves for a few seconds before the man in the center gives her a nod and thanks her for her time. with that, she bows toward everybody there and gives them one last smile.

does she think she did a good job? well, maybe not to them, but the deep breath she lets out and the wide grin on her face once she leaves the building is proof that she poured everything she could into this audition.

now all there's left to do is wait.

#( * ♡ : self para. )#( so glad i finally get to post this! )#( wc: 1238. )#( ngl i was gonna drop haein if she didn't get an offer through these open auditions )#( because it felt like her journey was coming to an end )#( so i'm happy she gets to extend her journey here! )

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hedge-rambles · 1 year

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Midlife Crisis: A D&D Campaign Idea

So I'm far too lazy to actually write campaigns and play D&D lately (i.e. the last three years) but it doesn't stop my brain kicking me with stupid fucking ideas for campaigns so have this one on the house.

Core concept: Every member of the party is an adventurer who realised, for whatever reason, that they fucking hated the class they were. It's not that they were bad at it, just that they realised it wasn't what they wanted to be. Maybe they were following in a parent's footsteps, maybe they just kinda fell backwards into the role, maybe they genuinely thought it was their calling when they were younger, but the point is, they're sick of it and need a change. So they've retrained as a new class.

Hook: The party meets at a local college/night classes/community centre/nearby pub and bonds over the fact they've all decided to change careers later in life. The party maybe forms naturally during a social mixer or it could be a sort of cross-disciplinary coursework assignment. Either way, the one thing they have in common is that they're all in the same boat.

Basic gameplay setup: Each player creates a character in a chosen class, appropriate stats etc., and levels it up to level 5. Ideally I suggest you try not to meta-game this and push the character towards the stats for the eventual class but if you want to play it as their true calling that could work too. Just try and make it make sense in character.

Once you've done this, dual-class them to the class they've retrained to, ignoring the rules about minimum stat points for dual-classing. I wouldn't recommend trying to play a wizard coming from a barbarian with a 6 in INT, but it could be hilarious. They should end up a level 5 [former class] and a level 1 [new class] with a total level of 6.

Recommended gameplay/roleplay: Your player characters retain all their old skills, they may well be extremely good at them, but a core conceit of the game is that they mostly try to avoid using those skills. No one is saying that, when it's a matter of survival, not to break out their old (significantly better) skills, just that you're going to try not to if you can.

Your former-fighter-now-wizard can punch a dude if she needs to, no one is judging, she's very good at punching dudes. You want to avoid it unless absolutely necessary because damnit she's going to be a fucking wizard, she's sick of punching. Buuuuut when you're out of spell-slots, well, you never run out of punch.

Alternatively, you can pick and choose how your character feels about their old skills. If your former class was rogue, you'll want to make a choice about whether your character happily picks locks where needed because he's good at it, or if he hates doing it because he left that life behind, man.

Do you have an angsty, tortured backstory of a life of crime where the character feels revolted using criminal skills from their time as a bandit?

Is your character is a muscle-bound sword-swinger who has a PhD in high magic, but looked at the idea of a lifetime in academia and went "absolutely the fuck not"?

Or was your character simply raised amongst druids until they went to the big city and realised that, though they'd never even heard the word before, they had truly been born to be an artificer?

The most important part is having fun with the idea though. But have a think about their reasons for changing path, and how that affects them.

#dnd #d&d #dnd5e #dungeons and dragons #ttrpg #idk I just think it's a fun idea #I also just love the trope of the character that's like...clearly meant to be a different class #either by accident or by choice they are a different class to the one they were born for #intellectual twig man barbarian #cleric of the god of peace and healing with a natural bersekrer rage #anyway have fun if anyone tries to play this

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junostwistedworld · 2 years

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Gray

Twisted from Steele (Balto; 1995).

♤♡---◇♧

Husky beastman. The youngest kid of seven, attention from his parents was sparse and unpredictable. Normally, if they did give him positive attention, it was out in public with other people watching. Completely a front, they never changed behind closed doors. His dad had a bad habit of losing jobs and picking up a new one every two to three months; either he would get bored of it and quit, or he was never capable of handling the job he was hired for and got let go. And with how small their town is, his father had to look for work in the closest towns. So it was unpredictable when he would be home, when he'd disappear, and how long it would last. As for his mother, she worked two jobs trying to cover their father's... finnickyness. One at the laundromat, the other at the grocery store. It left her tired, short-tempered, and yes, even resentful towards her kids. Gray was pretty much left to his own devices, he had to take care of his own needs, his mother was either likely to forget, be at work, or be dead asleep on the couch.

The first time Gray was actually praised by someone, it was a junior dog sled race. Kids ten and up around town race around the edge of town, just about everyone who grows up there participates a few times, it's almost like a right of passage. A two-dog team pulling an appropriately sized sled. And Gray didn't win his first race, he barely had any experience- but he somehow placed third out of a dozen or so kids, some of which had raced several times. Everyone was congratulating him, telling him he must have a talent for this, a bit more practice and he could enter bigger competitions, who knows... He'd never been praised like that, and he never wanted it to stop. If this is the praise he got now, imagine what they would say if he won second, or first. If he won some bigger competition- he was going to get better. That way, they would give him that attention and recognition he never got at home...!

Even though he tries to make everyone believe he's absolutely fantastic at everything he does, in truth Gray is pretty mediocre. He brags and boasts about his accomplishments, and tries to make everyone forget about the failures that outnumber the wins. Which brings us to his complex.

Gray has an inferiority complex like you wouldn't believe, and even a small comment like "just wasn't your day today" he'll take personally. Constructive criticism and offhand comments are all insults and attacks on him... His ego and mindset is very much his enemy, anything that doesn't put him in a positive light is an attack on him.

Gray knows Juno's father pretty well from dog sled racing. They've competed in just about every race against each other, it's a decent common ground to start a conversation. He's been invited to dinner at their house often enough, and it gives him more chances to show off to Juno... she doesn't believe a word of it, but Ari isn't immune. Eats up all his stories without hesitation.

When Juno got chosen to attend NRC, that was a huge blow to his ego. The biggest news their little town has had in ages, one of the top two magic schools in the world, it's all they can talk about... Yet another thing he has no talent in, magic. And it eats away at him- he likes Juno, and she's been nice to him (even when she didn't want to be), why can't he just be happy for her instead of jealous...?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #twst original character #twst oc juno margolyes #twst oc gray #junostwistedworld

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twistedyanposts · 2 years

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I'm an enabler, so let's say that in the yan self-aware verse, the characters aren't aware of how their chapter ends.

Which means the moment you're popped in there instead of Yuu, Riddle establishes a new Heartslabyl cast rule: The player is not to be left on their own.

Whether they know they were designed to be your first dorm dealt with or not doesn't matter to them in the slightest. If they don't know, then they believe that you chose them! If they do, then whatever highest power there is in the world picked them to watch over you! Either way, it was meant to be!

The regular NPCs of the world don't see you as who you really are. To them, there's no difference between you and Yuu. Tragic, really. But it helps them keep your existence in their world under the radar.

Ace and Deuce are the only ones in your class, and after that you get passed off to either Cater or Trey for club time. Trey knows they couldn't hide you from Rook if they tried, and Cater has a feeling Lilia already knows...meanwhile, Kalim is pretty oblivious. You aren't meant to know him yet, so while he feels something is off about you, something that makes him so much happier whenever Cater brings you to their club meetings, he can't quite put his finger on it.

When Ruggie is supposed to use his Unique Magic to steal Grim's sandwich, he ends up distracted and going back empty-handed. Not that Leona's too upset, because the news he carries with him is so much more interesting.

Plans have changed a little bit. The Magift tournament is tossed out the window, due to a much more appealing prize. The NPCs of Savanaclaw are pretty confused as to why they're specifically targeting members of Heartslabyl now, but to hell with it. Boss' orders, right?

In fact, Magift is supposed to be a no-holds barred game, ain't it? Well, now they've got a bone to pick with a specific dorm. Why not cripple them in advance, and prepare themselves for the hunt?

Ruggie is more than happy with the change of plan. Or at least, he is eventually. Because the more time he spends stalking after their newest prey, the oblivious first years you're always hanging around with, the more time he spends in your presence. Even if it is further away than he'd like...

Maybe it's because they drew power from you behind the screen before your appearance in this world, but for the folks who know who you really are, you're like a beacon of energy. For the hyena who's been starved for just about everything his whole life, living off of scraps, having you in front of him is a buffet that replenishes itself faster than he can eat it. His heart has never felt so full!

Jack was never on board with his dorm leader's original plan, no matter how much respect he used to have for him. As for the new one...it's a bit more complicated.

Sure, he resents Heartslabyl for keeping you away from the rest of them. What the hell! They didn't honestly think they could keep it up forever, did they? And it wasn't fair, either! It wasn't like they were the only people who had your attention. Main Story or no Main Story, you gave yourself to more than just their dorm, so to keep you all to themselves was just...agggh!

On the other hand, you had chosen on your own not to go to the other dorms, either...not that that was a bad choice. The other dorms weren't exactly full of trustworthy people. His own included. The path Leona is trying to lead them down has got to be the wrong choice. If you thought they were the best option, you would have gone with them! Riddle was able to see the error of his ways before...but so can Jack! So he'll prove to you that he can be trusted on his own, without the rest of his dorm! Then he can also protect you!

Last but certainly not least, Leona. He's less subtle once their goals have changed. Let Riddle show up, so long as he brings you with him. Hell, he'll take on the whole dorm at once as long as you're the honored guest. After the stunt they pulled, they deserve to all be turned to sand.

Something in the air had been off for a while, not quite putting him on edge, but more than enough to grab his attention. It was honestly kind of irritating, the way it kept him from being able to drift off like usual.

Looking back on it, he should've gotten off his ass and went looking for the source. Would've saved him a lot of trouble. At least now he gets to kill two birds with one stone. He won't make the same mistake those pesky herbivores did.

Once he's put them in their place, you won't be leaving. Ever.

After all, it's hard to be second place when you're the only one competing.

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #twst #tw: yandere #cw: yandere #yandere #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #leona kingscholar #yandere ruggie bucchi #yandere jack howl #yandere leona kingscholar

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s-brant · 3 years

Text

The Endless Summer (2/?)

(gif: @beccs) (PART ONE) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: A day out on the water goes awry and puts JJ, John B, and Y/N in danger. With tensions rising and the stakes higher than ever, JJ finds it difficult to control his feelings.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, graphic violence, and JJ being an emotionally confused asshat.

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks for the love on this series, I’m so glad you guys like it and I hope this part is just as good. Things get a little heated in this chapter, so buckle up. Let me know if you enjoyed this. Have fun!

JJ isn't sure why she did it.

He wasn't sure then and he isn't sure now, but he knows one thing for certain: there isn't any going back to how things once were now that the barrier between them came crashing down.

Sweat drips off of his skin from the relentless heat of the Caribbean that has made their recent lives hell with the painful tinge of sunburn atop their tans and heat exhaustion they must be careful to avoid at all costs. They were educated on both topics by Pope, their godsend of a survival encyclopedia in human form, who advised them to spend most of their day outside of necessary tasks like fishing and constructing stable shelter under the shady cover of the treetops.

The sole reason he and John B aren't hiding in the safety of the shade is that it's their day to fish, but he's not thinking about the sun. In fact, neither of them is. They're both wondering where their third fishing buddy is.

It took roughly ten minutes of spearfishing with him in comfortable silence for JJ to finally break and spill his guts about what happened last night. Though there was an unspoken agreement to never tell anyone that their hatred has turned into desire, he couldn't help it. He was going mad trying to unravel it in his head.

After all, he already had a conversation with JB about the recent shift in their behavior with each other by the ocean last night, so it seems fitting to pick up where they left off with the calm and clear blue water in front of them again.

He walks on the jagged outcropping of rock that serves as their perch to observe the fish without disturbing the pattern of the current they swim through with John B closely behind.

"One second she's pissed at me, the next she's all over me. It makes no sense. Then, she didn’t say anything to me after it happened," JJ says with his face hardened into a look of concentration at the fish he squints against the sun to aim at, "Not even "Fuck you, Maybank" or one of her weirdly creative threats. She just sat there all night and talked to everyone but me."

His gaze slips away from the water as his chosen fish disappears from sight before he can bother to throw the spear, eyeing up his friend's reaction to the news.

John B doesn't seem that surprised by it, because who else, aside from everyone else in Kildare who knows of their "hatred" for one another, could've seen it coming as much as he did? He considers it for a second, then props his arm up on the handle side of the spear he digs into the rock to lean against.

"I'm pretty sure that means she likes you."

JJ retorts, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Why would anyone ignore a person they like? It makes no sense to him. Every time he wanted a person, he'd simply walk over and make it happen. It's never been difficult for him to pursue the people he finds himself attracted to...Well, except for her. For a guy that also ignored her for the rest of the night and pretended their moment in the woods didn't happen, he has some balls of steel to be chastising her for the same things he did.

John B shrugs and says, "I'm being serious, dude. Sarah wouldn't even acknowledge my existence when I worked on the Druthers, and I thought it was some stuck-up rich person thing but it wasn't."

They shouldn't be talking at all right now as to not scare away the fish, but they do it anyway. They both know he won't let it go until it's out of his system for good. He wouldn't allow himself to forget it if he wanted to, so its better to talk it out than turn stir crazy from ruminating over it 24/7.

Though it's, as he worded it yesterday, hot as balls out, being by the sea lessens the feeling of it by a landslide.

The breeze they crave whenever they work on their huts or forage through the forest for wild berries, coconuts, or potential building supplies blows on them without pause for the time they spend here, which almost makes it more dangerous. They stand under the direct harm of the UV rays frying them without truly feeling it burn yet, and he dreads the next few days in anticipation of the returning sunburn he just peeled off of his shoulders the other day.

JJ walks down the side to get a better view of the water, balancing precariously on the sharpened edge with the spear clenched tightly in one hand. The breeze is strong enough to threaten his balance, but he holds firm and digs his toes into the sedimentary rock for traction. His body sways in the midday sun with the struggle for stability, or, at least he suspects its midday.

Since being stranded here, time is a foreign concept to them. With no phones, clocks, or any guide to go off of other that the position of the sun above to display the hours that pass, they've lost complete track of what day it is, let alone how long minutes or hours truly are in comparison to the endless summer they live within. They suspect it's been a month since they were left here, but, in all honesty, it could be two. None of them had the sense to mark the days in a tally until it was too late.

He says, lifting his arm to throw the spear, "Well, she is a stuck up rich person, so maybe it's just—"

"You know I'm right here, don't you?"

The sound of her voice from a few feet behind them startles JJ into turning around to look at her right when he lets go of the spear.

Unfortunately for him, the jerking movement throws off his carefully distributed weight and skews his balance, making the feet placed on the edge slip from underneath him and send him slipping down into the water. His calf is the first body part to hit the rocks, and the groan of pain he lets out at the feeling of the jagged rock slicing through his skin could make her heart stop mid-beat. But what truly scares her is seeing the back of his head hit the ground too.

Before he can slide the rest of the way into the water, two pairs of hands are grabbing onto his arms and heaving him up with all of their strength. She and John B grit their teeth with the effort it takes to pull him back up, their muscles burning from the strain, and once his feet are over the ledge, he pushes off the rock to help them the rest of the way. Drops of his blood disperse into the water off the edge from where he cut himself, dripping until there's hardly any left.

Once he's safely laid back down a few feet from where he slipped, Y/N is kneeling in front of him in a matter of seconds. The rock beneath her knees opens small cuts into her skin, but she doesn't pay it any heed. She sits on her heels to lessen the minor pain and lean forward to inspect the damage he took with nothing on her mind other than worry.

Soon enough, John B joins her to kneel at his feet as he sits up and watches them eye up his injury as though it’s some sort of ghastly, life threatening thing instead of a gash that won't need stitches. He watches them against the glittering ocean, waves washing up on the rocks around them to sting his wound with saltwater.

"It's a scratch, not an amputation," JJ says.

She ignores him with a frown lining her pretty features and twists his leg by the ankle to get a better view of the wound in the sunlight. It extends up the entire length of his calf, almost from ankle to knee, and dribbles fresh blood onto her hands as well as the ground beneath them. From what he can tell, it doesn't look all too severe. No muscle or bone can be seen, so it's a simple, superficial scratch.

When he doesn't get a response from either her or John B while they're too busy checking out his leg, he says again, "Guys, I'm serious, it's fine."

This time, she doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yeah, well you may not need stitches but you still have infection to worry about. This wilderness isn't exactly the cleanliest place," she says retorts with as much snark as usual, and he quietly rejoices in the fact that she's finally acting normal after what happened last night, "Not to mention, you hit your head pretty hard. There's no need to act all tough."

He shrugs.

"It's not an act, it really doesn't hurt that bad."

John B stands and smears the blood on his hands off on the front of his shorts.

"I'll be right back, guys, I'm gonna go get stuff to patch him up."

Just like that, they are left plunging into silence as he is running away down the peninsula back to the beach they've claimed as their own.

Silence has always been her least favorite thing to share with JJ. She'd rather anything over it—screaming, fighting, joking, friendly conversation, or even what they did together yesterday night. Anything is preferable over the tense and insufferable feeling of silence when they're alone together with none of their friends, or their playful hatred, between them as a barrier between them.

Instead of seeing the same pestering jerk she always used to when she looks at him, she sees the memory of how he looked at her in the woods. He didn't look at her like she was the worst person to ever walk the planet, or like she was his least favorite Kook "Princess", he looked at her like she meant something to him.

They sit together in uncomfortable silence in the time it takes John B to rush to the beach and back, careful not to slip on the rocks the way JJ did, with the supplies from the dinghy in his arms. It isn't much to work with, but at least it's something to keep the nasty wound on his leg protected from dirt and germs. She's sure he'd leave it uncovered and up to fate if he had it his way.

Before he can set them down on the wet rocks, thus ruining the gauze and bandages in craters filled with ocean water, she gestures at JJ with a stern command, "Take off your shirt."

His brows raise.

"Shit, Princess, take me out to dinner first."

She groans in frustration, "Can you be quiet for a second and actually listen to me for once?"

He catches John B's gaze with wide eyes, but complies nonetheless, reaching down to tug the tank off of his torso by the frayed hem until it's balled up in his closed fist to hand off to her. Her eyes only linger on his body for a quick second on accident before snatching it from him.

Her bloodstained palms lay the shirt out on the flattest stretch of rock she can find to act as a barrier from the small puddles of water to protect the supplies. One nod at John B has him setting them down atop the navy fabric as she glances up at JJ with a smug smile.

"Believe it or not," she taunts, unscrewing the cap to the disinfectant, "I didn't ask for it so you could sit there and look pretty."

The words throw him back in time to their conversation on the beach while they thatched the roof to their hut, and he wonders how long she's been waiting to throw that back in his face since he first said it.

He grins at her as he asks, "You think I'm pretty?" but before he can say more, she's pouring a generous amount of the hydrogen peroxide along the length of his cut without a warning for him to prepare himself. His leg jerks away on instinct to save himself from the burning sensation, but she grips his ankle tightly enough to force him to stay still.

His nose scrunches up with the urge to groan in pain, and he does a little. Through grinding teeth, he winces in response to the peroxide slipping into every cell of open skin and bubbling up like the white water of the waves as it kills the bacteria lingering in the gash.

"Does it hurt now?" Y/N asks.

She's looking up at him through her lashes with her lips curled into a smirk as she packs gauze onto the wound until it's covered to her satisfaction. And it should be the last thing he's thinking about right now after cutting up his leg and hitting his head hard enough to worry her about concussions, but he can't help it. Looking down at her like this, it's impossible for him to not think about the unfinished business they have.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday—the tattered white top, the red panties in place of a bikini, sunburnt cheeks, and a taunting look that he'll never get tired of seeing. But that's precisely why he's reminded of it. She's wearing the same clothes and looking at him the way she did on the beach before any of last night's antics occurred, and he can't keep himself from wondering if it'll happen again.

"Yeah," he finally responds.

Her smirk grows for a second before she gets back to work.

"Good."

JJ subtly eyes her up from where she shifts on her knees to set the open gauze wrappers under the peroxide bottle in exchange for the bandage wrap, but he isn't as subtle as he thinks. She can feel his stare no matter how sneaky he attempts to be. He may be able to evade John B's attention, since he dove into the ocean to retrieve the wooden spear that began to float out in the tide, but she never misses a thing. Not when it comes to him.

When he looks at her, he finds memories.

Her legs folded up beneath her bring him back to how smooth they felt on his palms when he lifted them up around his hips. Her rosy lips pressing into a line in concentration bring him back to the coconut flavor he tasted on them. Her nipples poking against the fabric of her shirt bring him back to when he lifted it up over her breasts to suck at the sensitive skin until he got a moan from her—There isn't a place he can stare without going back to last night.

Part of him hates that.

He can't stand that a girl who he spent the last five years hating has found a way into his daydreams. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did she have to lure him into her trap? He supposes there's nothing he can do about it now, though. After hours of stewing over it, he's reached the conclusion that it was likely a one-time thing, a mistake made in the heat of the moment that she won't make again, and he should get the idea of it out of his head.

When she has to adjust her grip to hold the gauze in place while she wraps the bandage around his leg, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth and jerks away again. She glances up at him with her best, "Are you kidding me?" face. Didn't he say he was tough?

"I'm starting to think you're a sadist, 'cause it's like you're trying to make it hurt," he says.

She gasps, feigning offense.

"Me? Enjoying this? It's not like we've hated each other for years or anything."

And though he may not realize it, this is her way of distracting him from the pain of having her apply added pressure to his cut while she wraps the bandage into place. It has to be tight enough to keep water and sand out, but not so tight that it cuts off circulation, and while it may have been tolerable without her touching it, the contact is enough to make it worse for him.

He asks, "Uh, speaking of, why are you the one doing this? Isn't it some kind of HIPAA thing to treat patients you've threatened to violate with tree branches before?"

The sound of her laughter makes his stomach flutter with butterflies, and he wonders what the hell is wrong with him.

"That's not what HIPAA is, genius"—her eyes crinkle at the sides with her wide smile while she wraps his leg—"and I'm the one doing this because I know way more medical shit than the rest of you."

Even Pope.

"Ohhh right, I forgot. Your dad is this hotshot surgeon and that makes you think you know everything," he taunts.

The casual mention of her father makes her chest ache with something not many of the Pogues, excluding Pope, have felt since being stranded on this island. With their parents either disowning them, absent, abusive, or dead, they have no reason to resist the allure of living here for the months or years it may take to be rescued, but she does.

She misses him.

For the longest time since her mom died, it was her and her dad versus the world. In everything they did, they did it together, and before she met Sarah, he was the closest she had to a best friend. Since they had no other family to help watch her as a child, she grew up in the hospital with him, drawing with crayons on his office’s printer paper with her babysitter and picking up small things along the way from watching him for so long.

He could've chosen to leave her at home, sure, but he didn't want to miss out on seeing her more than he already did, so she spent the majority of her childhood in offices, waiting rooms, and the indoor playground of the PEDs wing.

She takes a deep breath to steady herself after the sucker punch of being reminded of her dad and says, "Well, I know enough and, thankfully for you, I'm the one doing this instead of John B."

From far away, twenty or so feet offshore where their friend is paddling through the water with the lost spear held in one hand, they hear John B shouting an offended, "I heard that!" back at her. It draws a soft chuckle from them both, and she silently thanks him for distracting JJ one last time as she finishes and secures the bandage so it won't unravel.

She wipes her hands off on her water-soaked thighs one more time to get as much of his blood off of her fingers as possible before she reaches out with both arms extended to offer him help to stand. He takes them with a murmured, "Thanks," as they both try not to show how affected they are by the casual touch.

It makes them feel pathetic that something as small as holding each other's hands makes them remember what they did and desperately wish to continue it. Her throat bobs with how she must swallow the lump in her throat at their close proximity, barely breathing now that he's standing close to her with less than a few inches between them.

For a second, they don't move away. They stay face to face, and all she can think of is how badly she wants to kiss him again. But she can't do anything yet, not when she hears someone screaming from the water.

"There's a shark!" John B screams as he paddles back faster than he's ever swam in his life, already close enough to the peninsula that they can see the terror in his eyes when they turn to look.

Surely enough, there a tip of a fin too pointed to pass off as a dolphin cutting through the surface of the water to alert them of the fish's presence, but if that weren't enough, the water is clear enough for them to see its outline.

Thankfully for him, it isn't huge. It looks about as long as he is tall, but that doesn't change the degree of danger. Just because it isn't as big as other sharks doesn't make a bite any less lethal, especially when their only form of medical attention rests on her knowledgeable yet inexperienced shoulders.

For once in his life, JJ is frozen with no clue of what to do.

He's always the man with the plan, the one who jumps into action when others choke up and sit on the sidelines, but this makes him falter. What can he do to help other than stand here and pray John B can out-swim a shark? He's helpless, and now that he's faced with the prospect of losing his best friend for a second time, he doesn't know what to do.

It was his blood in the water that must have attracted the shark, and he was so caught up in his own drama with her and the pain of his cut that he didn't consider the danger of John B jumping in to retrieve the spear he dropped. It's his fault. His best friend is about to be eaten by a shark and it's his fault—

The blurred image of her rushing past in his peripheral vision rips him from his stormy thoughts, and right when he thought it couldn't get worse, it does. Water splashes up around her body and swallows her under the surface after she leaps off the edge of the rock with the aluminum spear from the dinghy raised in her dominant arm.

"Y/N!"

Before he even realizes what he's doing, JJ is screaming out her name, screaming it like he cares, and damns the consequences to dive in after her.

While he was frozen, she sprung into action without thinking of her own life first. She knew he was close to the rock, but not close enough to swim faster than a predator designed for the conditions of the ocean. It took one glance at the spear resting to the side for her to lean down, scoop it up, and get a running start to jump out as far as humanly possible. Various joints and muscles ached from how she strained to push herself far off the rock, taking flight with nothing but their survival in mind.

She sucks in a heaving breath upon breaking the surface, but she doesn't take a second to pause with John B paddling up to her so soon.

"Go back!"

The only answer she gives him is, "Use your spear!" before she brings hers out of the water in anticipation of the grey figure bolting straight for them.

It's a stupid plan, but it's the only one she has, and if one of them is in danger, they'd all risk everything they have to protect them. After all, they're already trapped here with the threat of death every day. Is there anything more worthy of dying for than your friends?

Neither of them is necessarily trying to kill it yet either, they're trying to keep it at a safe distance or hurt it enough so it swims away from them, but she puts all of her strength into spearing the fish between the eyes anyway. Her legs kick tirelessly to keep her afloat while she and John B stab as accurately as they can, choking down a mouthful of salty ocean water from how her head sinks at the surface without the help of her arms to keep her up.

Blood stains the water with a crimson hue spreading out around their bodies—whether it's theirs or the shark's, she doesn't know—and she must keep her lips clamped shut to prevent it from spilling into her mouth, breathing solely through her nose. She can tell her legs are soon to give out on her, but then a pair of hands latch onto her body. Call her irrational or stupid, but even with the clear distinction of human hands on her waist, her mind reacts in instinctual fear.

The touch makes her jolt mid-stab and sobers her feral mind back to reality for a moment until she realizes it's a human touching her, not the shark.

It's JJ.

His arms wrap around her thighs and hoist her up out of the water as much as he can while still swimming, effectively pushing himself underwater with one last gasp for air.

The sudden shift in view has her gaze shifting around to take in the new sights with a gush of red water rushing off of her onto the splashing surface: a light grey tail whips around in the chaos, the shark's head oozes blood from the multiple puncture wounds that didn't push quite deep enough, and its jaws snap right where John B's arm is before he yanks it back.

After a fraction of a second, it clicks with her that there's no time to waste watching her friend almost get his arm chomped off while she takes in the unbelievable sight. Her slippery grip on the handle remains as firm as possible, and she raises the spear over her head with an improved accuracy she never could've had from where she previously aimed it before. All of their shots landed well enough, but with the height advantage, she won't allow herself to fuck it up this time with her friend's life hanging in the balance.

She hardly recognizes her own frantic voice shouting at him, "Spear it in the gills!"

Her hands bring the razor-sharp tip of the spear down into its head repeatedly, and she isn't sure whether it's the splashing water or tears wetting her face when she buries the weapon down into it for a final time right when John B lodges his wooden spear in its gills.

Whatever she did, it must've hit its brain, because the animal halts its thrashing. Its teeth no longer snap at her friend, nor does its tail whip around in the water as violently as it did a moment ago.

As quickly as it started, it drops off into a sickening calm that leaves the white bubbles dissolving into a puddle of bloody water surrounding the trio and the fish that dies with no small amount of guilt on her part. There was no choice but to kill it. It makes her ache on the inside, but how could she regret it if she knows it saved them? The guilt might ravage her for the upcoming days, but she can't bring herself to regret jumping in after him.

She hardly has the chance to process it before she's being pulled away by both of the boys, her view of the scene shifting drastically once more with the abrupt drop of JJ letting her down in favor of guiding her through the gentle waves. His calloused hand squeezes her arm enough to cut circulation off on their journey back.

Time rushes past her in the next thirty seconds or so it takes them to reach the peninsula again in a paranoid sprint away from where the dead fish floats. One of them, John B she thinks, tosses the aluminum spear he dislodged from the shark's head up onto the rocks and clambers his way back up on his own. The waves closer to land grow rougher than the tender current out where they killed the shark, and she grunts in pain as one sends her and JJ straight into the rocks. His body hits her back with a solid ‘thump’ and forces her to wheeze with the wind getting knocked from her lungs upon impact, nails cracking on the black rock from the desperate grip she uses in an attempt to lift herself.

Meanwhile, JJ can't seem to catch his breath either, nor can he think of anything other than her once he sees that John B isn’t injured.

As soon as he sees his friend is unmarked from the teeth of the shark after he's out of the water, he positions himself behind Y/N to help her out first. He places his hands on her backside to push her up as quickly as he can. Knowing that the carcass in the water will soon attract more sharks in the surrounding area into a feeding frenzy, he'd rather it be him than her. It's a thought that shoots by too fast for him to fully acknowledge the meaning or weight of it at a time like this.

Somehow within his adrenaline-crazed mind, he is careful not to push her onto the jagged edge that sliced his leg open earlier, then climbs after her with little space left between them.

She's coughing up saltwater onto the rocks as he scrambles over to her, eyes wild with the petrifying worry of anything bad happening to her. They scan over her arms, legs, stomach, and back, and he doesn't even realize his hands are reaching out to inspect her as frantically as she had with him when he got hurt.

His hands cup her face, petting over her dripping hair and forcing her to look up so he can see if she somehow got hit in the face. Never has his mind been so void of rational thought, and, knowing him and his impulsive tendencies, that's saying a lot. The confusion of his contradictory feelings for her muddle his mind. Worry and hatred, attraction and anger—they battle it out, but only two manage to reach him externally.

Worry and anger it is. Worry for obvious reasons. Anger because—

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

She has never heard him sound so vicious since the start of whatever odd relationship/friendship/enemy-ship they have. With his worried expression and how he checked her entire body for injury after helping her out of the water, the last thing she would've anticipated from him was anger. Especially not after she saved his best friend's life. Considering what she just did for him, she thinks he should be thanking her, not chastising her.

Behind her back, she can hear a collection of yelling voices and splashing footsteps over the water dripping from them. It can only be the rest of their friends racing up the peninsula to them, but she can't turn around.

She stares at him with utter confusion flooding her at his unexpected outburst. Speechless.

"What was I thinking?" she asks incredulously with her face still cradled between his hands, "I was saving John B's life!"

Their emotional distance and disagreement are made up for in abundance by how physically entangled they've become. It wasn't intentional. It was a result of him needing to get close enough to scour her exposed skin for any bites, but now that they're sitting so near to each other, they forget to back away.

John B is too busy to engage with them.

He's doubled over on the ground with the compulsion to vomit the contents of his stomach into the ocean, but he doesn't dare get close to the edge again after what they went through. Instead, he positions himself away from them and their approaching friends until the half-digested food is forced back through his mouth. The acidic bile scorches his throat and nostrils on the way out.

JJ doesn't have the opportunity to retort back something about her being stupid, because Pope is the first person to reach them and ask, "What the hell happened?"

The rest of the group isn't far behind. It's Kie who asks the next question, then Sarah, then Cleo. They all pop off in rapid succession before either of the three of them can answer.

"Are any of you hurt?"

"Why is he throwing up?"

"Is that a shark?"

The last question draws everyone's attention over to the half-sunken mass of fish bobbing up and down on the breaths of the sea with a wooden spear sticking straight out of its gills. Though it isn't the biggest, most intimidating shark to roam the ocean, its presence doesn't fail to make everyone who looks at it shudder with the realization of what must have happened.

John B wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and points over at her with his trembling arm outstretched.

"She killed it."

The four of them whip their heads in her direction, jaws nearly falling off their faces in disbelief, but she doesn't say anything yet. Because as soon as they feel the eyes of their friends burning into them, she and JJ realize, as though they're returning to reality from the hazy layers of a dreamscape, that they're still holding each other.

She's slumped halfway onto him from when he hauled her body closer to inspect her, so she's essentially sitting on top of him at this point. Her legs, bruised and scratched up from when the waves crested to send them crashing into the rocks, are entangled around his enough that they look back and forth between them and where his hands cup her face in surprise.

JJ doesn't know what came over him.

Now that he snaps out of it at the same time as her, both of them separating and nudging each other away until their bodies are no longer entwined, he feels his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

When he saw her leaping past him to jump into the water, his mind shut off. He wasn't thinking about himself, or the possibility of getting killed, or anything at all. He was only thinking of the danger she put herself in, then he dove in and the rest of his conscious mind faded away into pure survival instinct. Yet, even after he knew the immediate danger was gone, the adrenaline kept him on edge, desperate to get her back to land and pray none of them were hurt.

"It was trying to attack him," she rasps. Her throat is raw from the saltwater she choked on, and every word burns. "But we did it together."

She pushes herself off the ground with an exhausted sigh.

Muscles spent from the struggle in the water, her legs wobble beneath the weight of her upper body as she takes a few steps to help John B up from his position on his hands and knees. From what she heard, he has thrown up all he has left in his stomach and hasn't gagged again in a minute or so, so attempting to stand again shouldn't be too strenuous for him.

His hand is cold in her grasp from the water soaking their bodies, but it holds firmly enough for her to help him into his feet without their palms slipping apart. No patches of blood are visible on his shorts, nor are there any puncture wounds on him from the sharp teeth that snapped at his arm in the quick but vigorous fight.

They were very, very fortunate to have made it out alive, and when he looks down at her face, he feels nothing but gratitude for the girl he previously saw as nothing more than his girlfriend's best friend. They went into the water as casual acquaintances, companions of convenience and the happenstance of being forced onto this island together, but they've come out of it differently. Now, they're friends.

Now, she's a Pogue.

He smiles at her, glancing up at their friends as their questions die down at the sight of his crazy grin, and says, "That was some real Pogue shit right there, Y/N." His eyes come back to meet hers. "I think it's about time we officially make you one of us. What do you think?"

She's opening her mouth to respond when Kiara cuts her off. The rest of them are staring at the trio as if they have ten heads sprouting from their bodies for not immediately surrendering more details of their near-death encounter other than saying she killed it.

"I'm sorry, can we please rewind to the part where you got attacked by a shark first?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, can I get a drumroll please for..."

The campfire is roaring with the abundance of sticks, leaves, and branches thrown onto the pile to fuel it as she feels a strong pair of arms looping around her thighs to lift her into the expansive, star-flecked sky.

In a flash of haunting memory, she relives the moment where JJ dove into the water after her and lifted her body above the surface to give her the high ground over the shark. She relives its thrashing hunger, the water splashing on her, and the cloudy hue of blood around them that she hoped wasn't either of the boys. For a second, as the world grows taller with her new perspective, she is brought back to the sudden shift she felt then and feels her stomach drop in panic, anticipating the danger.

But then the sound of her friends laughing, as well as the surging fire and crashing waves, comes back to her and forces the frightful flashback away. Her hip fits perfectly in the curve of John B's shoulder, and she lets her head fall back in giggling laughter at how he hoists her up in the air as though she's a holy figure of worship for the Pogues to kneel to.

His voice can likely be heard across the entire island when he shouts, "The Shark Conqueror!"

The group erupts into a triumphant mixture of cheers and laughter that fills the beach, everyone celebrating in their narrow escape earlier today...everyone except JJ.

After John B divulged the gory details of what happened, from JJ's fall to her picking up the spear and jumping in to save him from the shark, they made their way back with enough conversation to last the month. They all asked questions and took peeks back at where it happened in morbid curiosity, wondering how on earth they managed to come out of the situation without a scratch.

The rest of the afternoon continued on with the same buzzing energy that can only be created from the thrill of being alive. She's felt it many times since joining Sarah's group of friends that seem to find trouble wherever they go, but she has never felt it as vehemently as she does tonight. It's a mixture of euphoria, shock, and soul-crushing guilt for having to hurt another living creature, even one that was intending to make a meal of her friend.

No matter how much she grows up or discovers more about herself as a person, feelings never stop being as frustrating as they were to her as a child. You can get better at processing and hindering explosive reactions to them, but they never simplify. She doesn't know why she feels so much at once. She doesn't know why she feels simultaneously on top of the world and thrown off the edge of a cliff, but she thinks it has to do with him.

Since they walked back to the beach and talked about what happened until the day withered into night, which led them here to the “official” ceremony of her being named a Pogue for life, JJ hasn't spoken to her once.

Suddenly, the shoe is on the other foot.

Much like how she avoided him all night last night leading into this morning, he doesn't talk to her. He tries not to look at her too from where he sits on the log of driftwood across the fire, but it's somewhat inevitable with the spectacle John B is making of her at the moment.

Painted in the warm tones of the firelight like a goddess in her own right, Y/N is impossible to look away from, and it makes him angrier than he already is. A handwoven circlet crafted from the hibiscus and hippeastrum flowers growing in the forest around their camp sits atop her head. It doesn't fall to the ground with the movement of her throwing her head back in laughter. It stays in its rightful place against the rule of gravity until her face comes back into view for him to quickly look away from.

It dampers her laughter to see him avoiding her gaze so adamantly, taking a swig of water from one of the small cups they carved from wood and turning to talk to Kie to keep himself busy. The distinct sensation of being on top of the world slips away with the feeling of his cold avoidance and John B lowering her back to the ground until her bare feet sink into the soft sand.

Before she can start sulking about it for the foreseeable future, Sarah steps up beside her.

The familiar touch of a hand on her shoulder brings her comfort amidst her confusion and hurt over the way JJ is acting, and when she turns to see a pretty face looking fondly at her, a warm smile finds her lips.

"Pogue for life?" Sarah asks.

The three words bring make her smile grow the same way it had when she was talking to JJ on the peninsula. It crinkles the skin around her eyes with its unrestrained happiness to hear them because, as much as she pretends to let JJ's comments roll off of her, tonight marks one of the first times she's felt at home with them.

That's not to say they haven't made her feel welcome in the past, they did, but this isn’t the same. This is closer, this is the type of bond that's forged in situations like these where people have no choice but to rely on each other or let their worlds collectively fall apart, and she thinks, for the first time, that she could live here with them forever if she must.

None of them know how much time has passed since they arrived here, least of all her, but it sure as hell feels like an eternity. At first, she could barely withstand the idea of living here for months with the intention of being rescued as soon as possible, but now...

She brings Sarah into an embrace tight enough to force the air from their lungs.

"Pogue for life," she echoes back with her face buried into the salt-scented tresses of dirty blonde hair cascading over her tan shoulders.

Would it be crazy of her to think that this is where they're meant to be? That they're her family and this place she has fantasized about escaping is now their home?

After all, the lush island provides everything they need to sustain themselves with the rationing, scavenging, and hunting routines they adhere themselves to. Freshwater runs down the land in a stream from a water source uphill, plenty of different edible plants grow in the forest, and there's so much left of the expansive land to explore; it's perfect. Everything here is perfect for them, calling out to them to make it their home, but there's one little problem as of right now, and he's sitting across the fire behind her back.

Sarah's arms squeeze around her shoulders once to bring her in even closer.

"Thank you for saving him," her voice is so hushed, Y/N can hardly hear it with her lips brushing the shell of her ear to whisper into it, "I'm not gonna get all mushy with you right now, but I don't know what I would've done if"—Sarah's breath hitches in her throat, and she shakes her head—"I just wanted to thank you."

When they pull apart, Y/N is looking back at her with a knowing expression, one that says everything she can't in the presence of the others, and Sarah can't help but mirror it.

It isn't long before the blonde-haired beauty is whisked away by her boyfriend to help him cook the crabs they caught closer to shore after their encounter with the shark. Not wanting to swim out or risk slipping off the rocks again with the dead fish promising to lure more predators to their area for the next week or so, they settled for hunting for shellfish and making good use of the fruits they find growing in wild abundance in the forest.

The night ticks away in swiftly passing minutes thanks to the humorous company of the people around her.

She nearly chokes on a mouthful of banana as Cleo tells a story from before she met them, when she used to live in Nassau and work jobs with Terence and Stubbs on ships. For such new additions to the group, they both fit surprisingly well with the lifelong childhood friends that sit around and banter with such ease together.

They talk, laugh, dance, and eat together, and there are moments when she feels happier than ever. There are moments exactly like when John B lifted her up and made her giggle at how their friends cheered on her behalf in indulgence of the silly "ceremony" they did, half out of boredom and half out of gratitude for what she did. But then she is reminded of the man sitting on the outskirts of the group with his features hardened into an expression of contemplation she wishes she could decode.

The night breeze feels heavenly on her perpetually overexposed skin. It blows into the fire and allows it to swell from the oxygen supply, crackling and popping embers out every so often like the spark of the zippo lighter JJ fidgets with in his restless hands. The movement attracts her wandering eyes while they should be focused on Cleo and Kie dancing around the fire with boisterous laughter while Sarah and Pope sing for them.

She keeps herself honed in on the opening and closing of the lighter under the guidance of his ring-clad fingers for the next minute or so.

They may have been pitting themselves against each other since they met, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know him well. If anything, the keen attention that her old hatred for him forced her to keep on him made her memorize everything there is to know. And she surely has picked up on the nervous habit of him playing with the lighter whenever he's thinking, whenever there's something crawling under his skin that he can't piece together.

He sits with his back to her, facing out toward the ocean so all she can see is the hand he uses to flick the lighter open and shut with. With a quick glance at the rest of their friends to see if any of them are watching or wanting to speak with her, she pushes herself up from the log and dusts her sandy palms on her shirt.

The tracks of her footsteps lead around the corner of the driftwood he rests against until her feet appear, sunken into the sand in front of him. It takes a lot of control to not allow himself to follow up the length of her body, panning up along her legs until he sees that infuriatingly tenderhearted set of eyes looking down at him.

However, he doesn't have a choice in looking when her hand outstretches in a silent invitation. His first glimpse of her in the last half-hour shows her jerking her chin in the direction of the beach curving around the bend of the island.

This morning, he probably would've taken her up on the offer. He would've done anything to get a few minutes alone with her, but now he can't see past his anger and doesn't know why. He doesn't know why it hasn't calmed yet, but, in truth, it has more to do with him than it does her idiotic yet brave decision to fight off a shark today. Trust him, it still has a lot to do with the idiotic shark thing, but the rest is lost in translation for him.

"Not in the mood," he dismisses her.

Her brows furrow and form a crease between them as she tries to find something to say but comes up with nothing. At least not until it clicks with her what he thought she was trying to do by inviting him to walk with her.

The last time they went off on their own together, it ended in an explosive encounter they have yet to erase from their minds. It's what greets them whenever they close their eyes for a second too long, existing in their wildest daydreams and fantasies whenever they have a spare moment to themselves. Hell, he can't stop thinking about it even when he's already occupied. It was the reason why he didn't catch any fish this morning before the incident that made him pissed at her in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of her.

"Oh," she murmurs and starts to kneel down until her knees are sinking into the sand the same way she did when patching up his leg. Her eyes peek over his shoulder to ensure the others didn't hear them—"That wasn't what I meant...I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about today. It must have been a lot to process, since he's your best friend and all, and—"

JJ snaps, unable to tolerate it anymore, and stands up from his spot on the sand to move away from her.

"You don't need act all therapist with me, okay? I'm fine, and I don't need you to fix me if that's what you wanted. Today was fine. Everything's fine, so let it go."

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish with a loss for words. For the second time in the span of a minute, she is grasping blindly for something to say in the wake of him shocking her to silence. He's starting to walk past her but she doesn't let him. Her hand shoots out to stop him and holds onto his arm to turn him back despite his rudeness.

Underneath it all, her concern touches him deeply. It shouldn't trigger a reaction like this in him, so why does it? What about today set him off? He hasn't been this genuinely angry with her since before the hunt for the gold began, before she started to blend into their friend group and establish herself as one of them.

"Woah, woah, woah," she says, "I never said that. I thought that you needed someone to talk to. You know, as a friend."

Their friends start to notice their interaction tensing up now. Before, they didn't pick up on her stepping away for a second to check on him. Now, it's impossible to ignore what unfolds hardly six steps from where they watch as slyly as they can. The two of them haven't had a conversation as cold as this one in months, and what he says next takes it to a place that freezes over the connection they made last night and shatters the warm place it held in her heart.

He scoffs.

"We're not friends. If you think you gotta act different 'cause you threw yourself at me last night, don't bother. You hate me and I hate you. That's how it is."

No nicknames, jokes, or anything to act as a buffer, just cruelty. Rejection.

Though they truly were trying to pretend like they weren't paying attention, every single one of their friends stops and stares. A chorus of hushed reactions sound off from across the fire, and the faint sound of Kie muttering, "Oh shit," is the first thing to reach their ears. It's needless to say that none of them could've expected something so callous to come from him, not after what they saw when they ran up to them on the peninsula this morning.

With the way he was holding her then, doting on her and cradling her face between his hands even in the midst of his anger at what she did, they sooner expected the pair to admit they're dating than have a blowout like this.

In the delayed seconds it takes for her to realize what the fuck he just said to her, he watches her face shift from a look of concern to sadness, to flush-faced embarrassment, then finally to anger. Her teeth grind together, nostrils flaring on her inhale, and in one quick moment, she comes to a conclusion within herself.

She reaches up to rip the handmade crown of vibrant flowers off her head with flames to match the camp fire flaring up in her eyes for him. Before she can do anything, he already knows he crossed a line, if not multiple lines. It's evident in everything he sees, from the hurt look on her face to the force with which she shoves the crown into the center of his chest to send him stumbling back a few steps. Just like yesterday, except it couldn't be any more different.

"Fuck. You." She spits the words as though they're venomous, and he almost shrinks away under the intensity of her stare, “Go find somewhere else to sleep tonight, 'cause it sure as hell isn't gonna be with me."

Petals flutter out upon impact against his solid chest and float peacefully to the sand around his feet as he watches her turn on her heels and storm off toward their hut. Though, after what he did and what she said to him as a goodbye, it isn't really theirs anymore, is it? At least not for tonight, tomorrow, or the next day until he finds a way to make her hear him out for an apology.

He stands there, frozen, the entire time he watches her leave. Nothing can move him from the spot, not even Sarah knocking her shoulder against his with a pointed glare on her way past to follow her into the moonlit darkness.

He doesn't even resist the disappointed looks he gets, or the shoulder check from Sarah. This time, he deserves it. He deserves every ounce of their judgment. All she was trying to do was make sure he was okay and he was too consumed in his unreleased frustration from today to see it. And, in a way, he's still frustrated over it, but it's greatly overshadowed by the guilt seeping through him.

The shadowy shapes of the two girls disappear into the small hut further down the beach, and JJ is left with nothing to do but look down at the flower crown clutched to his chest in regret.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, @krisphann, @astrydis, @k-k0129, @zarahsloves, and @stilesflannels.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx2 #this fic is so over the top and silly but I love it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

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bill-y · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second.

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them.

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height, ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain. I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"

#hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #male reader #hunger games #male reader insert #peeta mellark x male reader #peeta mellark x reader #x male reader #peetamellark #gale #katniss everdeen #male x male reader

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yanderehellhole · 4 years

Text

Joker & Viktor Yandere Headcanons

Notice | I do not condone any of the inappropriate behavior in my writings, nor do I consent to my writings being posted on other sites.

Devin Notes | AAAAAAA!! I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG,, TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMENT!! I REALLY APPRECIATE IT!! Didn't know how much I loved Viktor until I wrote for him,, Anyways! Requests are open, please give me feedback!

Joker

☻ Ta-da! You’ve been chosen by a very calm yandere!

☻ His attraction towards you was sparked by his curiosity. Why did he get this feeling when he was around you? Why did he love you?

☻ These questions spark his interest in you and pull him down a rabbit hole. He can't let such an interesting person slip from his grasp! That’d be irresponsible! He can't let such a rare thing go to waste!

☻ Watches you from the shadows before he makes his move. Definitely won't speak to you until he’s sure this isn't some weird phase. When he’s certain of his love for you, he’s sinking his teeth in and not letting you go.

☻ Is very cautious of what he tells you about himself when you first start talking. Leaving you to want to know more and look for him. He doesn't want to be the only one curious!

☻ You can bet he enjoys seeing you try to figure him out. There’s some sort of sadistic pleasure behind him toying with you and leaving you bits and pieces for you to go off of. He wants to see how long you can stay curious about him. Even if you were to get bored of him, he’d never let you go anyway. Consider it a payment for entertaining him for so long! ;)

☻ Seeing as how he even got Licht to help him. His manipulation to you is no joke. He can have you falling for him in no time, lure you in with his mystery and charm. You most likely won't tell he’s yandere. His manipulative skill is practically god-tier so you’ll just consider him a man with multiple mysteries.

☻ He will definitely let you run free. He isn't the type to kidnap his darling unless he feels he has to. If you were to try and rat him out, you’d be kidnapped. If you’d try to stop talking to him, you’d be kidnapped. So you would best to tread carefully with him, he doesn't like having to go so far to keep you under control.

☻ Cares deeply for you. He could act like he doesn't, but deep down in his heart he does. That’s why he keeps coming back to you. So the least you could do is stay interesting, okay?

Viktor Licht

⚠︎Doesn't notice you at first.

⚠︎But once he sees you more, he notices something. Something alluring and curiosity inducing about you. Your eyes, your skin, your smell, everything makes him want to know everything about you. The truth to why he wants you so much.

⚠︎So he stalks you, learning what you like and don't like. Finding your taste in people, fashion, things he believes he needs to know. For his future conversations with you!

⚠︎Has the urge to just steal you away and keep you to himself. He just might if you're not careful. He stops himself though. it's not time yet. He’ll have you all to himself soon, just you wait! <3

⚠︎Conversations with him are awkward at first, but since he’s done his research on you, he’ll warm up to you. You two will get along just fine, and for some time, he’d be fine with being your friend. Until he sees you with someone, that is.

⚠︎When he sees you dating someone, he’s honestly surprised by his jealousy. He didn't take himself for the jealous type.

⚠︎Yet qwhenever he caught himself staring at you and your significant other, he felt disgusted and annoyed. He didn’t like the thought of them touching you when it should be him. He’s put in the effort to know you, it’s only fair!

⚠︎ After he’s had his mental tantrum, he’ll start planning. Thinking of ways to get them away from you. He doesn't want to use more force than he has to. So he decides to go with old fashioned blackmail.

⚠︎He finds the most vile things about them, threatening to tell you if they never left you alone. Telling them if they ever breathed the same air as you again he’d let everyone they know everything they've done. Every vile thing.

⚠︎If that doesn't work, he’ll kill them. It won't be by him though. Most likely, it’ll be by Joker. After some hard begging and explaining, he’ll be able to get him to side with him.

⚠︎ You won’t see him alot, or he deliberately avoids you after the deed is done. This is because he doesn’t want you to see him. He’s disgusted with himself. But his little guilt phase will be over as quick as it came.

⚠︎ Once he has himself together, there’s still some hesitancy to speak to you again. Mostly because of his overthinking. What if something goes wrong? What if he messes up and you figure out what he’s done? So many things will flood his mind when it comes time to talk to you again.

⚠︎ But when he talks to you, all his doubts fade. When he sees you smile, his heart felt like it was going to burst out his chest. It reminded him why he loved you, and why he can't let you go either. So he steals you away, so only he can have you.

#fire force #fire force x reader #enen no shouboutai #yandere fire force #yandere enen no shouboutai #joker #viktor licht #yandere joker #yandere viktor licht #joker x reader #viktor licht x reader #yandere joker x reader #yandere viktor licht x reader #yandere joker fire force #yandere joker fire force x reader

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imaginejamesandsirius · 4 years

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More Slytherin Sirius please? I was reading your last Slytherin Sirius fic, and suddenly I had this thought: Sirius saying, "since when did we start dating? Last time I checked, we’re barely even friends," and James answering, "when was the last time you checked?” and making Sirius realize they've actually been doing things couple do because of course what else could these two do? Please and thank you!

"-and I mean," James was saying, "we've been dating for long enough that you'd think the novelty would have worn off, y'know?"

"We're dating?" Sirius asked, not really looking up from where he was doing his homework. James was supposedly doing the same, but so far all he'd managed was unpacking his books, parchment, quills, and ink; he's spent the rest of the time complaining about his various housemates. "Since when? No offense Jamie, but the last time I checked, we're barely even friends."

"Yeah, and when was the last time you checked?" James asked in return, not overly bothered by Sirius's question.

"It's been a while since I had to think about it since it's so obvious."

"Uh-huh. That's why we, as complete and total not-friends, are doing our homework together in the library."

Sirius started to nod, but he stopped and glared when it was clear that James wasn't agreeing with him. He expected-- read: hoped-- that James would stop there, but he kept giving examples.

"It's also why we walk to our classes together."

"We have the same classes," Sirius grumbled. Them having the same classes had been a calculated attempt to optimize the time they could annoy each other.

"Yeah, that's why we hold hands and sometimes duck into empty corridors to snog. It totally explains why we go on dates every single Friday and sometimes have inter-House parties just so there's an excuse for us to get drunk and hang off each other when we're in public. It also explains why you got me chocolates for my birthday and kept sending me letters last summer."

"You... wrote me first," he muttered petulantly. "We're rivals, that's all."

James rolled his eyes, but it was completely fond instead of annoyed. That alone should've been enough for Sirius to realise he was wrong, but he kind of didn't want to give in now. Sure he'd been dating someone for over a year and not noticed, but he couldn't just admit that without James getting to tease him over it for the rest of their lives. That was hardly the first Sirius had thought of their relationship as lasting years into the future, but this was the first time he'd realised what it meant. Merlin, he really was an idiot. But he wasn't going to tell James that much. He had his image to think about, after all. "We're dating, Sirius, just admit it." The way James said it was nonjudgmental, but Sirius already had it in his head that he wasn't going to give in.

"Nope. Nothing to admit because we aren't."

James chuckled, expression more fond than ever. "Okay. Whatever helps you through the day, I suppose."

"As much fun as this was," Sirius said drolly, "I have to go spend time with my actual friends. Maybe you'll be able to get that essay for McGonagall done without me distracting you." Sirius shoved everything haphazardly into his bag and ran away.

He didn't have friends. James knew that. Which meant that now he had to go bother Regulus for a couple hours. James would probably guess that, but this whole thing was a matter of perception anyways. As long as Sirius didn't admit that that's what he was doing, it was fine. This was about saving face and- and... pretty much nothing else. Whatever.

Unsurprisingly, Regulus was not happy to see him. Surprisingly, when he was trying to get rid of him so that he could focus on his coursework, he said, "Can't you go bother your boyfriend instead of me?"

Regulus had never called James his boyfriend before. He knew that for a fact, because otherwise he would've been having this entire crisis earlier. Also because if Regulus had told him, then he wouldn't be trying to pretend like they weren't to James's face right now. "Since when is he my boyfriend?"

"Isn't he?" Regulus asked, forehead scrunched as he looked over his book at him. "I thought I'd seen you holding hands last week."

Last week... right, when Sirius had done it as part of joke, but it had felt nice so he didn't let go as soon as he might have under normal circumstances. "You did."

"Then why are you asking me about when you got together? Which, I can't believe you didn't tell me. Not telling me when you started shagging is perfectly fine because I don't want to hear about that, but dating? I'm your only friend, and you didn't tell me. No wonder you're so grumpy all the time; you never gossip."

"You're not my only friend," Sirius lied. "You're just my best friend." And they gossiped together plenty. Most of it was family drama but still.

Regulus, who knew perfectly well that he was his brother's only friend, scoffed. "Right. Why don't you go bother some of your lesser friends so that your best friend doesn't fail his classes?"

"You're not going to fail anything, you dramatic little bugger."

"Go away," he said, hunching down so that all Sirius could see over the top of his book were a few strands of black hair.

Since Sirius didn't actually want him to have issues in his classes, he left, but not without ruffling Regulus's hair to piss him off. If Reg wasn't going to support him in this, then he should double down. Get James something really nice to say that he acknowledged they were together and he liked it.

"So not that I'm complaining," James started out, his words carefully chosen and his tone measured, "but is there a purpose to the entire garden that is now taking up my dormitory? Or the three necklaces? Or the twenty different boxes of chocolates?"

Sirius blinked. "Too much?" he guessed.

"A tad."

"Hmph." Sirius had only meant to get him like, two of those things, but he didn't want to get him the wrong gift. At first, he bought James yellow tulips because he'd heard James saw they were pretty before. Then he'd added on red roses because James was a romantic, and red roses equaled romance. Then he'd seen blue hyacinths and added them on, and with three different colors and none of them being certain, it had felt safer to do a full rainbow or varieties.

After all that confusion, he'd felt like he had to get him something else since none of the bouquets were guaranteed to be his favourite. The first necklace he'd chosen was red and gold, but it occurred to him that he didn't know if that was James's actual colour preference or if it was because he was in Gryffindor. Sirius added on a silver band in case he didn't like gold, then he did a necklace all in black because fuck it, if he didn't know what James would like, he was at least going to get him something that Sirius would like to see on him.

He was pretty sure that there weren't twenty boxes of chocolates. It should've been more like a dozen. Because he didn't know if James would like the flowers or any of the necklaces, but everyone liked chocolates. Unfortunately, he had no idea what James's favourite was for that either, so he'd snuck out to Honeydukes to place an order. Browsing the shelves did him no good, so he'd shoved a handful of galleons at the person behind the counter and asked for them to send as many to James's room as that money would buy, preferably in a variety of their most popular products.

"It's not a bad thing," James tried, but Sirius just glared at him. James cracked a smile, sitting down next to him. "What happened to denying that we're dating? I thought that was pretty entertaining for the whole minute that it lasted."

"Yeah, well when Regulus thought we were dating too, I figured I should give you something to let you know that I like that I'm dating you."

"One bouquet would've done that."

"I didn't know which kind were your favourites," he muttered petulantly.

"I like all flowers," he said immediately. "Anything they sell at a florist, I will like."

"Hmph," Sirius said again. "Which necklace did you like?"

"All of them."

Sirius had to wrestle down the urge to hit him with a Stinging Hex. "Which one did you like best?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

James leaned over and kissed his cheek, then coaxed him into a real kiss. "I love them all. Fair warning, I'm sharing the chocolates with my dorm mates so they don't riot."

"Fine."

"Aw, do you not like me sharing your gifts?"

He didn't much care one way or the other, so he kissed James again. "Shut it."

Clearly, James took that as a yes to his question, because he grinned. "Aw, sweetheart, it's like-"

"Shut it," he said again, and this time he made the kiss long enough that James would have to put his brain back together if he wanted to tease him.

#prongsfoot #marauders #sirius black #fanfic #james potter #regulus black #filled #established relationship #slytherin sirius #no voldemort au #hogwarts time #siriuslystarbucks #Anonymous

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childofsolace-write-ups · 3 years

Text

[ARC ONE: REUNION]

INTRODUCTION

In the first year, thinking about it now, it was probably already starting then. There was no disaster, but I think it had been hinting on something, about an end that was to come. It was completely dark that night, we thought it was just some kind of an eclipse. But this one was a little strange. It was eerily quiet. I was scared. My baby sister was scared. Hell, my parents were scared. But then, they said it would be okay.

Like always, for every single day of our life, the sun would come up again, shine upon Gaea, and things will go back to normal.

Was I ever wrong.

You know what they say, right? Don't look at an eclipse straight in the eye. It could ruin your eyes? Well, when the sun came, it was so much worse. Anyone who walked out was burned... No, incinerated. Just like that, stepping outside and they spontaneously combust on the spot. The world thought it was just some new phenomenon. Scientists were trying to figure out why it happened. It took a whole year, but nothing came up for their trouble.

Then six more years followed, each one bringing forth a different kind of terror. The weather was unpredictable; countries that never experienced snow suddenly started experiencing hailstorms, leading up to terrible geo-storms. Insects invaded farms and destroyed their produce. Wildlife got infected with some unknown substance until them finally became creatures that look more like monsters we read only ever read about in stories, or watch about it movies.

And that was just the beginning of where everything went completely wrong...

/Trent Everhart/.Transmission over.//Year 70/

Once, people flourished and made a living above land. The resources were abundant. But then again, so were the humans who needed them.

Soon, 'Natural' lost its meaning, 'Artificial' replaced it. Machinery operations ran the daily lives of people, flowers and plants were faked serving as decorations, tall buildings took the place of tall trees in rain forests. Most factors considered natural can only be seen through microscopes.

But nature took its own course and returned with vengeance. Cosmic debris crash landed from above, causing an explosion that plagued the entire planet. It polluted the atmosphere and strange side effects started revealing themselves. Animals and vegetations alike were most susceptible to these changes. They attacked humans, nearly wiping out the entire species. Unable to thoroughly explain how this happened, scientists, without sufficient evidence, wrote it off as radioactive particles causing severe chemical changes to earth's living inhabitants.

But humans were smart, they were animals in their own way. They strive for survival.

Using the historical underground city of Derinkuyu as a reference they created a modernized type and with their latest state of the art technology they expanded it even further from two hundred feet to one thousand feet. For this purpose, unbeknown to the public, a life under the surface of the Earth was being prepared for them. Unlike the Derinkuyu however, they had the materials and technology to have metallic interiors and bunker units for dwelling. A large, nine hundred meter metallic ventilation shaft was constructed, filtering the carbon from above to be breathable oxygen air. The shaft also provided water to both the villagers above and, if the outside world was not accessible, to those in hiding.

Eventually, anyone not affected by the atmosphere were evacuated to underground cities right before the atmosphere could become too unpredictable and prove hazardous to their lives. A new system of governance was created. Since the underground cities in all part of the world were interconnected one way or another, they all decided to use a unified language starting then. 'Councillors' is the term referred to leaders chosen in each division, the word country becoming obsolete.

Guards who were obligated to inspect the surface level regularly were given Hi-tech contamination suits with advanced, state-of-the-art filters as to not be be affected by the atmosphere since anyone exposed to the atmosphere is banned from re-entering the cities. Some people died due to open wounds exposed to the atmosphere's strange particles.

Soon, humans engaged in a new form of living, but not without encountering troubles along the way.

The fear of being unable to distribute provisions without having shortages became prominent. This led the Councilors to convene altogether and come up with a radical solution. They decided to send back to the surface anyone they classify as worthless or a liability. More than a thousand orphaned, disabled, and jobless individuals were sent back up on the first release. It did not really matter to them if they survived or not, it was inconsequential as long as their survival was assured. In the years that followed, this became a normal routine. With the initial liabilities released, all the present releases were orphaned children. Then again, as one hero once stated in the History of the Surface, "The Youth is the hope of the nation", there came a generation of hope.

It was not planned, it wasn't an intention. It just happened.

Of the first batch of releases that only involved orphans, only eight had survived the harsh environment of the regressed and primitive state that the surface had been reduced to. Together, they survived and now thrive to make a living once more above ground, as humans were really meant to be.

Still, the Underground city was not to be ignored. And perhaps, it is to be reminded, who the true enemy really is.

::TREY::

The forest is quiet.

That's your first clue. Even on the surface, even given that most of the Earth's living creatures got wiped out within weeks of it happening, things should never be This quiet.

You'll never know; something dangerous could be trying to hide itself.

"I think this is where I found it."

I give a jolt when Lexie spoke behind me. I completely forgot she was there. With the silence, it was easy to think I was alone. "Keep your voice down," I whisper. "we don't know what might be out there."

"Trey," Kytes whispers back. "wouldn't it be better to just use telepathy? We wouldn't be making any sound."

I sigh, "Kyi that would be using our signature and if there is any bad Mana around here, that would set things off, like an open flame to gas leaks." I rub my forehead. "C'mon, we've been over this a thousand times. You're lucky it's not Rhys reminding you."

Kytes scratches his head. "Oh, yeah..."

"Been here for eight years, you would think you'd have that memorized by now." Lexie teases playfully. "It's survival 101."

Oh really? I think sarcastically. Like she's one to talk about survival 101. Half the time, Corrin's the ones reminding her of our protocols...

Kytes looks a little sheepish. "People can be forgetful, it happens..."

"Okay, shut it already you two." They weren't really making any real noise, but I knew Lexie's tendencies and once you got her talking, it might be harder to get her to stop. "Kytes's idea was good just too bad for that small detail. Now we should keep quiet." Like I was making any noise, though. "Let's get a move on, keep alert for anything that doesn't feel right."

"Heh, I forgot how uptight Trey can be..."

I huff in irritation but chose not to respond. She calls it being uptight, I call it instinct. It was very important after all, especially in terms of surviving the surface's unpredictability. We, the ones left, have gotten pretty good in relying on instincts. It's about the only warning you get up here.

The forest is very unusual even if it looks like any other forest. For one thing, I'm not even sure it can be called a forest, at least not a natural one, given that it's growing in the middle of what used to be a town. The road is cracked by numerous roots, and most of the buildings have trees growing out of them. Their walls could be hiding any number of things. The forest itself is the oddest thing. Many years ago, this was a thriving metropolis, full of people, tourists, machines—now it's home to trees that look like they've been there a good fifty years at least. This is one of the most immediate changes caused by the strange atmosphere when the phenomenon had first spread out through the entire globe. The landscape got warped beyond all recognition in the early days. That's why so many people died...

Like mom and dad.

"Oh!" Lexie cries and stops in her tracks.

I turn towards her. "Shh!" I snap. "Alexis, jeez."

"But Trey, this is where I found it. Only..."

Kytes scans the area. "Well, it's not here now."

"Quiet, the creature that pissed might still be around." I face Lexie. "And you're sure the piss was the non-absorbent type?"

We have to watch where or what we step into. Because if, for instance, you got an open wound and you stepped into a puddle with urine in it and that wound happens to get infected as well then it could mean something really bad. The Rabid animals up here are so messed up that even a slight contact with their shit may turn fatal for us. Luckily, only the Rabid Animals have urinal waste that have a touch of color so it's easy to figure which ones are the non-absorbent type. We try to get rid of those because prevention was better than cure.

"Well, it was a pool on the ground, all purpley and molted. I watched it for a while, it didn't seem like it was going away." Lexie combs strands of black hair away from her face. "So I thought..."

Kytes shrugs. "It's either something else absorbed it, or it really was absorbent after all and just needed more time to soak in."

"Maybe. So then, should we just—EWW, GROSS!"

"What is it—OH YUCK!"

I swat them both to remind them to be quiet and made a mental note to give them extra kitchen clean up duty. Really, do they want a death wish?

"It's just a skeleton—" an animal's. We don't see human skeletons since the earlier days, when we made it a point to try and bury the ones we still could out of respect. "you've seen them before."

"I know—but they're usually not THAT fresh." Lexie frowns.

I have to agree, it's isn't the prettiest thing I've seen. Even the other skeletons weren't as bad. It looked like someone's halfway eaten meal...

Wait.

"Quiet. See if you can hear anything."

Lexie leans back against a tree, Kytes crouches by a bush with me, and we stay still as possible listening out for anything unusual. I know there's something not right here. No animal noises, no birds. Then there's that heavy oppressive silence as though we're being watched very closely. A light breeze blows my fringe into my eyes and I bat it out of the way, frowning. The feeling something being wrong is stronger than ever.

Wait.

The breeze.

It should have rustled the leaves on the trees too. Yet there was no noise. I look up at the tree tops. They're perfectly still. Even as another breeze stirs the forest. Why would that be? Unless the trees are watching us?

I look around the Clearing.

Now that I think about it, the trees do seem slightly closed together than they were. As I watch, an oak sends a root trailing over! What could they be doing?

Unless... The Skeleton.

"RUN!" I grab Kytes and haul him after me, jumping over the oak root and out of the circle of trees.

"Woah now! Trey—what?"

Kytes doesn't have to finish his sentence. A large branch is suddenly in front of us and I'm unable to stop from tripping over it. A root winds itself around my ankle. Kytes is now full aware of the attack as more follow, breaking the surface of the ground to wrap themselves around us.

"I thought they only moved that fast with time lapse photography!"

Kytes takes his survival knife out. "I think this is a bit more serious than time lapse photography!"

Before I could bring out my own Cutlass, some vines grab hold of my forearm. The blond slashes off with precision he mastered, perfectly avoiding cutting my flesh. Lexie wields her double-edged Naginata to cut off vines stretching down from above. I'm still amazed how a girl like her who used to whine about missing cosmetics and other pointless stuff is now so skilled in combat. I think Lexie's weapon type came from some Asian country. I forgot which one. Actually, I even forgot what our own country was called. It seemed like such a long time ago that we used the term country.

I am once again forever grateful of Rhys's brilliant mind. Back then, we could count the weapons we had available to us with two hands. But once we got older, or more to the point, when Rhys got older and smarter, he made used of some books he found to create bladed weapons once we found a steel forging factory. And he had enough books to show him how to forge weapons of different origins. He taught us how to make our own, but most of the time they were poor attempts compared to what Rhys can craft. Now any weapons we need for ourselves and those who keeps coming can be easily accessed and made... Well, maybe not easily made since they still required a lot of effort, but at least we don't have to keep scavenging for usable weapons now. Sure, we could use all those guns and ammunition we got in storage, but we all agreed to save those for a time we might really need to them. Besides, at least with bladed weapons, there's no worries for a shortage of ammunition.

"Kytes, Trey! Do something, they keep coming!"

Kytes slashes his knife to an incoming vine before jumping back. "Uh, and you don't call what we're doing something?" He jumps over a root.

"Less talking, more attacking!" I snap, finishing off the hostile roots at my side and rush to aid Lexie. I make it in time to keep a giant flower bud from chomping her head clean off, barely missing the launch of purple goo it spat out. "Wah?!" I yelp, twirling my head around for a double take, seeing the goo boil through a bush as if it were acid or something, which explained the skeleton. "Okay. Rabid Vegetation's Gastric acid. Just as bad as a Rabid Animal's piss."

Lexie grunts, using her weapon as leverage to get up. "Noted. Next time, try saving my skin without pushing me. I twisted my ankle."

Okay, that was my bad. But it was that or being plant feed. At least she didn't break skin and bleed. Although uncertain, Corrin says fatality is possible if open wounds were exposed to loose Mana energy for more than ten minutes, and I forgot to make sure that we brought bandages with us. That's one strike of careless act for the day. I try to keep that to a minimum, the maximum being three. As the Leader, being extra cautious is an expectation.

"Trey! Help me out here!"

I spin around and saw vines lifting Kytes up, his knife lay useless on the ground. I rush towards him.

By duty, I was responsible for everyone up here as their leader.

As a friend, I was responsible for the blond, I was indebted to him.

When my sister was sick on the day we were going to be released to the surface, he took her place. I also owe it to his older brother, my best friend, who was now taking care of her back in the Underground city.

The vines were so thick that I couldn't slice through it with my Cutlass. I had to use the other way, but how can I with Kytes still in its clutches? A vine grips around my arm and I wince in pain as it tightens on my radius.

"TREY!"

Before I was fully aware of it there was fire flooding all my senses. I lashed out in rage, only vaguely aware of the beeping on my wrist that reminds me to take it easy. The vines holding up Kytes fall away in front of me. Luckily, the blond looked unharmed.

"Get out of the way!"

Thankfully, Kytes seemed to get what was about to happen. He grabs his knife and rolls out of the way. Good, I did not want to be misunderstood now. The two did not take their eyes off me as they back away. I concentrate where I want to have the flames to burst out and the results were no less effective. The Vegetable mutations draws back, leaving us unscathed except for Lexie's twisted ankle, which Corrin can heal no problem. I concentrate on pulling my power back. I look at the device fashioned like a watch that was strapped on my wrist, indicating my energy's exertion level. I see that it's stable and I join the two out of the clearing. Kytes helps her up and supports her weight.

"Code Red?"

I sigh, nodding. "Yes. We had far too many incidents this week alone, this being the twelfth. It's about that time again," It was a little frustrating. Rhys just got a filter working so we could fill a pool with clean water. I guess we have to make the most of it while we're still here. "I don't want anyone hunting till we move. We still have meat stocked so it's not like we have to settle for the vegetables and fruits in Kytes's gardens."

"Hey," The blond scowls. "My produce aren't that bad... are they?"

I smirk. "No Kytes, but if there's a chance to have meat, we want to have some too." I pat his back. "Let's head back."

"Oh, but Trey—" Lexie's eyes rolls up a bit. It signals her using her tracking ability. She's like a built-in GPS system with that. I don't really get it, but she can sense another person's or thing's Mana and Rhys has a theory that the ones who use Mana in their own way also has a unique trademark, like a fingerprint, so to speak. It was a bit unnerving the first time she used it since all you see were her cornea, but if you knew her as long as we have, you get used to it. "—yeah, I sense three guys out hunting nearby already."

I roll my eyes, "Three," I mutter knowingly, and the two share similar looks. "the only one who can get away with not following the group count rule is Meeko, and only if he has Lori and one other person watching his back."

Back then, with the whole idea of 'The rule of three' and it being an optimal number, maybe it would've made sense. But when playing video games and I would choose Party members, to challenge myself, I would pick three only; the MC would still get enough experience points and two characters would be enough to support him in battle. But this isn't a video game with a restart button. Normally when we send out groups for hunts, Five was the permitted number. It's too dangerous any less. Meeko can get away with it since his ability was multiplying himself. Usually, Meeko did most of the work to get it out of his system, being one of those always hyped-up types. Granted, he is one of our best hunters which we would all acknowledge often if he wasn't so rash and impulsive at times. This brings me to his better half, or more reasonable twin brother, Lori who normally didn't like fighting. Unless something or someone he cares for is in danger, he can be provoked to act though.

In our case, well, I thought the three of us would be enough for the Urinal extraction since we weren't really expecting a fight since this wasn't a hunt for food and we are still pretty much near the base, but I guess I didn't account for the fact that trouble would be the one hunting us. Even two persons used to be enough for extractions, but perhaps I neglected to take into consideration the level of experience. Previously, those two persons doing extractions had been either Rhys and myself or Leon and Jonah, the latter pair being eldest of our entire group. I only grabbed Kytes and Lexie this time because they were immediately available, and while I did not question their experience, Kytes was more adept to scouting, and that entailed evasive action, staying in a place only long enough to check its safety and avoiding combat as much as possible. Lexie was used to scavenging, which was gathering any useful items or materials after scouts deemed an area clear for occupying or searching. These two haven't seen combat as often as I have.

Damn, that's a second strike for me. "Where are they exactly?"

"A bit Northeast you'd get to that river, follow it downstream you'll make it to a clearing passed some thicket of bushes. Berry bushes, to be exact, not the good kind. They're at a glade of sorts..." Lexie smirks. "Well, at least the two not going crazy are. But I sense the third more crazier one of them is nearby."

Kytes laughs. "Just make it easier and call him who it most probably is. Even I can figure it's Meeko." he says.

"Okay, you two head back. I'll go fetch them. Kyi, after you take Lexie to the infirmary, go tell Rhys to prepare putting up some warning signs." I instruct. "Suggest Code 3." Carnivorous vegetation.

The blond nods. "Code 3, got it." He lifts Lexie, positioning her on his back in a way that can make him run faster. He takes off and I'm fairly impressed. He's fourteen carrying a sixteen year old while managing a running pace. I guess years of training does that.

I sheath my Cutlass and took off myself.

#ChildOfSolace Original

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