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daim1812 · 3 years

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One Last Time

Levi Ackerman x Reader

Labels: Romance, angst, drama, mentions of suicide, blood, children involvement, pregnancy and death.

Warning: Some manga spoilers. Change of storyline for adaptive purposes.

Song of choice: Saturn by Sleeping at Last

As the sun went down so did his body, sitting down on the log with a perfect view to a hidden lake between enclosed tall trees. Rising up from the mountain, the moon made its way into the night sky.

Levi couldn’t stop himself to stare at the moon. He couldn’t stop breathing the air, feeling it hit his lungs with small fights. He couldn’t stop from repeating the same images in his head.

His squads death made him realize that death was always near. He knew that no matter how much he ran away from it, it was always going to catch up to him.

Mike’s death shook him slightly. He knew this man for his whole years of being in the Scouts, and consider him someone close to him.

Erwin’s death threw him in a verge of loosing himself, almost to the point of ending things. And yet... he found himself weak to the thought. He couldn’t do it, it was someone else’s job to kill him and end his agony. Even when Hange stood there with him and helped him realize that he wasn’t that alone, her sudden sacrifice pushed him into an unknown feeling.

And so he sat there, amaze by the scenery; amazed by the simple thought that he was still... living.

Without a care in the world, Levi closed his eyes and emerge into the swing of the wind. Hitting him softly on the face and pushing his hair back, he indulge in a new feeling he couldn’t describe before.

He was delighted.

He was enlighten.

Yet, he hated that. Everybody else died, leaving him alone to understand himself and hate himself at the same time. All he wanted was... for them to come back. Since Isabel and Farlan, Levi learned the hard way that life isn’t the way he thought it would be. Kenny’s death was another punch in his face. His mother's death since the beginning made him this solitary person filled with problems.

Levi wasn’t normal.

Two pair of hands took him by surprise, but not enough to act defensive. He already knew this hands.

She pressed her face on Levi’s head, her body slightly pushing to his back. Her hands collared on his neck, embracing him thoroughly to her own content.

“What are you doing, Captain?” Her voice swayed Levi’s ears, the melody in her voice making him subtle and nostalgic.

“I have never stopped myself to watch this place, Captain.” He mumbled, almost too low for her to understand, but she did. Levi felt her jaw tense and knew she was smiling.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? This is what we fight for, Levi. For this place, this scenery, for the wind, for the people, for the oceans, for the animals, for us.” She let go of Levi to sit beside him, looking at him.

Levi finally got rid of his bandages, half of his face with a scar that marked a battle in transition; his left eye was hidden over a patch. She wanted so much to contain herself from touching his face once again. One after the other, every time she saw him like this, her hands immediately moved to touch his face. Levi doesn’t care much, but at the beginning he prohibited her to do so.

“Can I...?” The whisper made Levi look down, slowly nodding, not wanting to show her that he needed her to touch him.

Her fingertips rolled on his skin and scars, slowly, and carefully, she continue the path from the chin to his forehead. She stopped the movement once she reached his eye patch, looking at him for confirmation. He didn’t say anything, still staring at the ground in front of him, how the grass moved with the wind.

“I love your eyes, Levi.” She smiled at him, continuing her path, her fingers sinking inside his hair.

He finally let go of a sigh, looking up at her with the most saddest eyes, the color of his eyes slowly fainting by the light of the moon.

“If you die...” He started, stopping her movements. She frowned her eyebrows, looking back at him with fierce.

“Don’t say that. I’m not going to die. I’m not planning on doing so. My plan is to finish this war with Eren and those idiots, and then... we’ll retire in a cabin in the woods. We’ll have lots of kids. I’m still young, I can have at least 7 kids. Don’t you think?” She chuckled, Levi loving so much her action.

When was the last time he felt so affected by the emotions of another person? She had him wrapped on her fingers and yet he couldn’t do anything about that. He didn’t know the feelings he was going through. He didn’t understood what this new emotion was.

Was it really love like the books in the library described?

Was it the love Hange so furiously told him about when they stayed up almost all night drinking with Erwin and Mike?

Was love the past arrangement Erwin had with Nile’s wife?

Or was it that anxious feeling of seeing someone for the first time and noticing how beautiful they were?

He couldn’t decipher anything even if they were together. He was confused with all those emotions flowing into him. From the beginning, in his childhood, he never got to experience love and affection. Farlan and Isabel gave him affection, that friendship, and he learned from that. From Erwin he went through companionship, same with his squad, Hange and Mike. He understood those feelings; he already battled those and lost. Levi knew death, despair, loneliness, sadness; he knew all of those and yet he never once understood love.

She changed those thoughts so easily it scared him.

“You would look so beautiful holding our baby...” Her smile made Levi weak to the knees. How couldn’t he have fallen for her? “My plan is for us to be together until we are old and we decay with time. I want this to be over so we can be happy. What do you think?”

“...” Levi couldn’t say anything. If something he learned from all those years of loneliness and misery, it was to never dream too much. He wanted to live in the present because every time he thought things were alright something ended up wrong.

“Levi?” She looked so worried for him, letting her knees touch the grass in front of Levi.

His hands immediately hold her elbows, not wanting her to get on her knees and get her pants dirty just for him. Yet, she didn’t cared, only pushing away his hands a little bit to not make him feel bad.

“Talk to me, Ackerman.” Her voice soothes him. How many times has he loved hearing her call his name or just say anything in general?

He didn’t wanted to admit it, but having her near him, breathing, laughing, talking, whispering, singing... made him sleep so good for the first time. He finally let go of the worries in her arms and slowly pacified his urges of ending thing. Whenever he could sleep with her, he felt like the world didn’t needed to end just yet. Sleeping with her seemed like the only medicine he needed for days full of regret.

Either way, with those thoughts in his head while he stared down at the girl he profoundly fell for, he couldn’t let himself be like her.

Levi was the opposite of her. Down to earth, cold, and with secrets nobody needed to know. She was an open book, imaginative and lovable. He just didn’t wanted her to feel bad for saying words that could hurt her.

“This is real life, Captain. We are in a fragile situation right now in where we don’t know if tomorrow we will be alive. We live our lives to the fullest imagining that at some point we will stop and notice we fought so hard for our freedom.” Levi’s eyes connects with her, noticing how the light faded a little bit. “I can’t live in a fantasy... not when everything around me is based in reality. You are the one thing,” He stopped for a few seconds, his finger grabbing onto some of her locks. “I can’t loose.”

“You’re in bad luck, Levi, ‘cause I’m going into battle tomorrow and I promise you I will live. I won’t die yet. I can’t leave you alone.” Suddenly she pressed her forehead softly against Levi’s forehead, both of their noses slightly kissing. She closed her eyes and Levi admired her fractions.

He liked her so much.

She was the only reason why he hasn’t indulge into the darkness and end his life right there.

His fingers pressed her locks behind her ear, some of the hair covering his face and hers. She giggled at the humble actions of the man she loved with all her life. He continues to push her hair behind her ears, slowly passing his fingertips on her earlobe.

“Don’t die on me, brat. Keep fighting.” His whisper made her eyes crystallize. She felt the feelings behind those words. He wanted her to continue living even if he didn’t made it through another day.

She shook her head, the hairs from behind her ear falling back on her face as she pulled away from him.

Her hands locked onto his, pressing them on her chest tightly, a little careful of Levi’s bandage hand missing two of his fingers.

“No. Don’t YOU die on me, Levi. I want you to live and fulfill my wish with me. I want you to wake up tomorrow ready to battle and do everything it takes to come back into my arms. Many will die; death is inevitable, yet I’ll be here always. I want you to survive because you deserve to. I know how much you await death. You’ve been waiting for so long to feel it. The grass on your fingers, the blood gushing out of your mouth and the pain. But, Levi, I assure you, nothing is better than living the moment. Nothing will be better than this moment. You and me... finally together. I won’t let you die, Levi. We will have each other’s back. But you will survive even if it means me saving you over and over. I won’t let you fall into a darkness you won’t ever go out. I’ll light up your path every time you see it darken. I’ll keep the light up every time the wind tries to blow it. I’ll be here for you... until death do us apart.” Her eyes quickly tried to gush out the feelings, but the feelings were already dripping down her face.

Levi couldn’t stop himself anymore. He grabbed her cheek, pulled her up a little to be at the same height as him and pushed his lips against hers.

Her lips danced slowly on his, taking almost all the control of the kiss. Even if they were together for so long, Levi didn’t know a lot of things couple usually did. He didn’t know how to kiss, how to compliment, how to touch, how to love. Yet, she didn’t care for those small details. Being near her lover solely made her live happily.

Their lips continued to stick together, Levi wanting so hard to not let go. Maybe he didn’t wanted to let go because he wanted to love the moment like she told him to do; or maybe he felt the need to kiss her one last time just in case something bad happened.

Her hands touched Levi’s cheek, rubbing her fingertips on his cheek. He felt the cold round of tears pressing on his face, sticking them.

Breaking the kiss with a subtle movement, Levi gazed at her up and down, taking a mental picture of his lover for future references. For when the battle came, he could keep calm and fight dedicating his heart.

“Don’t cry, idiot.” He rolled her tear off her face with his right thumb. She nodded quickly, wiping her face with her long sleeve shirt.

“Promise me, Levi... we will fulfill my dream? Just promise me that.” His hand pressing on her cheek, she shoved it even closer to her.

He couldn’t promise that. He just couldn’t. Levi didn’t know if he was going to survive. The situation was getting dangerous and if everything went south, he would have to sacrifice himself to save the others. He needed to give them a future, Levi already fought enough, lived enough.

But now he had her... Now he was supposed to live to keep her by his side. He needed to survive. Yet, he just couldn’t say that to her. He wasn’t very good with words. Showing actions and taking actions was his forte.

The moon shined on them once again, the lighting in his eyes finally shinning again, the back of her head being lightened by the moon as well.

He wanted to live for her.

“I promise.” He mumbled, watching her shriek and throw herself on him, almost pushing both of them back into the ground.

She flowered him with kisses all over his face, being extremely careful of his eye and scar.

“I love you, Levi. Thank you. I’ll keep you safe.” Those words brought him so much joy. An emotion he hasn’t felt at all in his life, yet he was purely in love with this woman and he was going to make her happy.

“Me too, Captain.”

————————————

“Papa, papa, papa!” A little kid, around 6 years old with short dark hair and beautiful grey eyes threw himself at Levi. He catches him almost in midair and makes him sit on his arm and waist.

“What is it, Teo? I’ve told you to not interrupt me while I’m working.” The little kid shrugs his shoulders and purposely hides his face on Levi’s chest.

Levi noticed by the corner of his eye the little girl standing near the door, half of her face looking at him and the kid.

“Alora doesn’t want to play with me and I feel lonely.” His voice makes Levi tremble gently. Who would have thought that the Captain of the Survey Corps was going to be swayed by the adorable side of his older child?

“Alora, come here.” He turns around to the door, the little girl holding onto a dark teddy bear that hanged on her right hand and kept being swept on the floor.

She walked in with her face looking down on the floor. Alora couldn’t lie about it, she was almost scared of her father. He was always so quiet and cold; while she was the opposite. She was curious, a shining sun wherever she went, and a beautiful, intelligent little girl. With only 4 years old she already knew how to do basic math (something her mother continuously felt proud of and mentioned every time).

Levi looked down on her and gently squatted down with Teo on his arms, leading him to stand up on the floor.

Pressing his hand on Alora’s black, long soft hair that fell until her lower back and was tightly put in a ponytail, he smiled at her. Alora looked at her father and smiled back, loving those moments with him.

“Alora, would you like to play with your brother for a little while? Papa has some work to do, but once I’m done I’ll play with both of you. Anything that you want, I’ll play it.” He kept smiling, watching the kids as they celebrated that their dad was finally going to give them some attention. “Go play, kids.”

The kids rushed through the door, running into their rooms to play and have fun with each other.

Letting out a small sigh, Levi got up and sat down on his chair again. He still couldn’t believe he was a father of two children that made his life a whole heaven and a living hell as well.

A knock on the door caught him slightly by surprise, turning his attention towards now the person standing at the door.

He stared up and down at his wife, and how the dress made her look so irresistibly gorgeous.

She smiled at him and entered the room without invitation. Holding on her back for support, or for pain, she finally stood next to him. A hand pressed on Levi’s left shoulder, making Levi close his eyes and sigh again, loving so much her touch.

“You must be exhausted, Levi. Are you sure you can’t just finish this later? I could really use a massage, you know.” She leaned down a little bit, rubbing her nose on his cheek and ear.

“I have to finish today. I’ll be done soon.” Sighing once again, he let go of his desire to stop working and just let her shower him in affection and love.

“You’re so tense, dear.” Her hands touched his shoulders and made pressure on her hands to make him feel at ease. Levi’s head fell back a little bit, seeing his wife enjoying giving him all the love and attention he needed.

“Go do something else, brat. You’re always trying to make me feel good. I’m fine.” Levi pushed his body upwards, breaking the contact of her hands on his shoulders. She chuckled, understanding that Levi didn’t wanted to feel vulnerable at the state of tension he was in.

“Alright, Captain.” She makes the old salute, making Levi tremble at the sight. Even so, she continues to smile, leaning down on him to kiss him on the lips real quick.

“Tsk... idiot.” As soon as he said that, his body lay back at the chair, resting himself on it as he watched his wife walk away with a smile.

As soon as he heard his wife say dinner was ready, his body immediately got up and walked to the living room, seeing how the kids ran to the table. Getting from behind Alora, he helped her get on the chair. Giving her a short smile, Levi sat down at his respective chair, not having any other option than watching his wife put the plates and utensils at the table.

Levi always loved watching his wife do housework. He was a clean freak, and noticing how she always tried her best to keep everything tidy up and clean, made him love her even more. It wasn’t rude or anything, Levi helped a lot in the chores, helping whenever he wasn’t doing his own work.

“You’re slacking off, Levi.” She smiled, putting down the utensils next to his plate. He looked up at her, and her eyes shined to him. God, he could loose himself with just a stare.

“I’m tired.” He said with a sigh, resting on the chair.

“You could finish up quickly, papa.” Teo’s small voice makes Levi smile. His ear rings to that voice and he just enjoy his son’s voice.

“Yes, papa. You have to play with us.” Alora smiles while her mother pours some food on her plate.

“I know, kids.” His wife presses her thumbs to Levi’s nape, slowly rubbing it.

“Papa will be busy, but I’m sure he’ll take some time to play with you, kids. Right, darling?” Levi lets his neck fall back a little bit and looks up at her staring into his eyes. A faint blush covers his cheeks and he tries his best to hide it, yet she already notices.

“Yeah.” Mumbles, staring down at the food that was being served.

After they finished eating, Levi went back to his studio, trying as fast as he could to finish his work.

With a loud sigh, he finally finished doing all the things he had to do. He got up the chair, stretched his back and walked over to the room in where the kids were playing.

Standing on the entrance of the room, Levi let his back touch the wall and just decided to stare for a little bit at the kids giggling and playing.

He never had a childhood like that. All he knew while growing up was self defense. He knew how to stab, how to kill, how to defend himself. Levi didn’t know what other feelings were. The emotions he was feeling right now while watching his daughter show him her doll and his son the little train he got for his birthday, he didn’t know what that was called.

Knowing well enough how to battle an enemy, Levi never thought he would have to be fighting himself over and over in the future. He thought, maybe, after marrying her and starting a new life he would stop all those thoughts. And he did stop those thoughts. The birth of Teo brought into his life a whole new meaning that he didn’t know he needed so much.

Levi found love.

“Papa, papa! Come! Play with us.” The little girl’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. Looking up and down at her, he smiled, walking over to them and joining their small party.

Levi tucked both kids into bed. He wore them out enough for them to be knocked down cold into a huge sleep. Sliding the blanket over Teo and Alora, Levi kissed their small little forehead. If Erwin saw him right now he would have been surprised at the sight of weakness Levi was showing. “What would he say about this?”, Levi thought while staring down at the little girl holding tight her small bear. Nevertheless, Levi didn’t care. All he cared about were those kids and his wife. Erwin was long gone and he knew that if he saw that, Erwin would have been so proud of him. Levi found exactly what Erwin wanted for him, and what he wanted as well. No thoughts would change his mind on what his ex-Commander and best friend would have thought in that situation. Erwin would have been happy.

Turning off the light, Levi closed the door to the room and walked over to the room he shared with his wife.

And there she was, looking over at the door in wait for her husband. She smiled, opening her arms so she could get Levi next to her.

“Tsk. You’re a needy brat.” He crossed his arms, but still walked up to her. She grabs his hand and detangle them from his chest. Bringing him close to her, making him sit down on the bed, she gently pressed his hand on her belly.

Levi felt a knock, a kick, that startled him a lot. A life was in there. His next child was there. Levi finally understood that feeling. He felt it when Teo came the first time and when Alora also came. The feeling of being alive.

“It keeps kicking. It’s so funny.” She whispers near Levi’s shoulder, letting her head fall on his shoulder.

“He wants to kill you. I’ll kill him if he comes out like the other two. Disorganized and dirty.” His comment makes her laugh and Levi has no other option than to enjoy it. He wanted to record that in his mind forever. Her voice and her laugh.

“You silly... They are only like that because you let them be. I remember when I was a Captain and every time I saw you, you were scolding the cadets for leaving dirt everywhere.” She makes him remember, and he just snickers. He really was a strict Captain. And still, he always got the job done.

“I lived so long in dirty and dark places... I didn’t wanted HQ to be the same.” After he finishes talking, he feels another kick, letting go of a small smile.

“The HQ was bland. It was colorless. It reek of death and broken dreams. I didn’t like that so much.” She closes her eyes and rubs Levi’s hand over her belly.

“We didn’t have time to be thinking of colors. We were always living in a die or live situation.” She nods on his shoulder.

“I agree.”

“We should head to bed.” Levi mumbles again, not wanting to take his hand away from her belly or the warmth of her hand on his.

“Mhmm... let’s stay like this for a little while more. I missed your scent.” Her whisper makes Levi shiver, yet he only lets a small grunt come out of his throat, responding to her.

The small shallow breaths she was taking, the thumb rubbing on his hand, her hair falling on his shoulder and her thighs pressing on him made Levi so renewed. At the end of the day, all the tiredness faded away when she was there with him.

He knew she had her eyes closed, she was just resting on his shoulder. Yet, he wanted to look at her, kiss her, hold her, do everything he could think of even if she had a belly growing up. She has done so much for him and continues to do so by loving him every single day of their lives.

Levi slowly pulled his hand away from her belly and her, but now press it on her cheek. She opened her eyes and leaned back from his shoulder, now staring at him with bags under her eyes.

She was fucking stunning even when she was tired.

Letting his fingers roam from her cheek to her ear, pushing the hair to the back of her neck and ear; Levi cut the distance between each other and kisses her. Slowly, shaking and almost afraid of being too aggressive even if he wasn’t. Her hand found Levi’s shirt and gripped it. He pressed his other hand on her cheek and hold her face steady for him to kiss her better. Licking on her lip slowly, he went back and devoured her lips once again, showing off his dominating side.

Hearing her small moan, he let go of her. Staring deeply into her eyes, the small faint blush on her cheeks made him smirk. He loved making her flustered.

Slowly, but surely, Levi pressed his nose against her nose and gave her a lovely Eskimo kiss.

“I love you, Captain.” She said first, leaving him speechless once again like always.

He stared at her up and down, watching her completely. She always had this effect on him. Not for nothing they were married. Even so, Levi couldn’t be so easily frank like her. He loved her, but saying it was so difficult for him. Yet, when seeing her eyes shine the same way it did when they kissed for the first time, Levi couldn’t let her be disappointed on himself. He loved this woman with all of his life.

The woman who saved his life.

“I love you, too, (Y/N).”

————————————

“I’M NOT LEAVING HIM BEHIND, JEAN!!!!” The small faint voices of a girl during a silent world, were being simply shouted against the noise.

“We have to leave. We need to help Armin and Mikasa. If you stay here, we’ll be loosing you too, Captain. Please, reason with me here. We already lost Connie and Reiner is seriously injured. We need you.” Jean tried his best to reason with the girl who fearlessly continued to cry and shout at the tall man.

“NO!!! I CAN’T LEAVE HIM!!” She cries out, her tears falling in Jean’s arms and onto the floor.

“I understand, Captain. But Captain Levi wouldn’t want you to stay here and do nothing. We must continue to fulfill his wish and save the world. Please...” He couldn’t hold her anymore. She kept screaming while trying to push Jean away so she could hold her lover’s body on her arms. “CAPTAIN, GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!”

He let go of her and she fell on her knees, scrapping them against the rocks and sand. Yet, it didn’t hurt. Her body was numb to the exterior damage. She just couldn’t react to any of that. All she could do was cry and cry and keep crying.

Her body crawled closed to her lover’s body and she grabbed his bloody hand.

When did that happened? How did it happened? Where was she? How did she let that happen?

She kept questioning herself over and over again into the smallest details. Levi’s death was upon her and she couldn’t help but blame herself.

Levi’s soulless body was laying on the ground, his left arm missing and his left leg. He was not coming back from this one and she knew it. After everything she promised. After everything she tried to do to keep him safe, she failed every and each of those promises.

“Wake up, Levi... Yo-You... you promised... You pro-promised we were going to live. You promised ME you were going to live. You promised, you promised, you promised... YOU PROMISED!!!” Her shouts could be heard all over the quiet ambient. Jean let some tears fall down as well, his head falling forward to not be seen weak.

She grabbed Levi’s body and got him close to her, pushing his face near her and sobbing. Tears falling down on Levi’s face, almost washing away the dirt and the blood. She just couldn’t believe that was happening. Levi was actually dead, his body resting on her arms.

“You promised... we were going to have kids... and live happy in a little house on the woods! We were going to raise our children the way they never raised us. Please... please... Levi, please, I love you. Don’t go... don’t leave me!”

The sound of her sobbing suddenly were muffled by extremely loud crashing sounds.

Jean looked over to where the sound came and his eyes became plates. He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her forcefully, making her shriek and cry harder.

“Captain, Armin is in trouble. We need you. I know it hurts. I know you and Levi had dreams. But right now, if you don’t stand and get your shit together, everything that Captain Levi fought for will be for nothing! DEDICATE YOUR HEART!” Her red face and covered with tears, dust and blood suddenly came to a halt.

Levi wouldn’t wanted her to be like this and not in that moment. She gazed at Levi’s body on the floor one last time, got closed to it, kneeled down and after crying out her last tears, she gave him a farewell kiss.

She wiped her tears off and got up, her face drastically changing to pure anger.

“Let’s save humanity, Jean. DEDICATE YOUR HEART, SOLDIER!!”

The End

Thank you so much for reading.

Have a good day or night, darling. 🥰

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi x y/n #levi angst #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi romance #couple #blood and death #levi death #self insert #levi x reader fluff #levi x reader angst

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vaire-gwir · 3 years

Text

I’ve run out of my words

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt.

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck!

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Jaskier is a poet, he should know a thing or two about heartache. He should also know that he's out of luck today.

"Why did you follow me, Witcher?" Jaskier feels his presence a few paces behind him, still so painfully familiar to him even after all these months.

"How did you know..." There's a puzzled expression on Geralt's face. Jaskier knows he's not prepared for this.

It takes him a second to realize that no matter how angry he is at the Witcher, how deep his sorrow runs and how broken his heart is, a small part of him is almost glad to see him. It's the same small part that decided to talk to a stranger and follow him on a dangerous journey, the one that figured out first that what he was feeling was more than a crush, and that accepted every scrap of affection Geralt showed him like he was being handed the world on a silver plate.

Geralt is exactly how he remembers him, and his betrayer heart jumps in his chest when their eyes meet.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." I love you, I'd recognize your steps everywhere, the cracking of the leather in your gloves and the click of the metal of that buckle in your armor you always forget to fix after a hunt, I know them as if they were my own. I love you, and you broke my heart. That's what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat, they're no use now.

"I... You were not singing." Jaskier knows it's not surprise he sees on Geralt's face when he answers "I don't do that anymore." but he can't figure out what it is.

It hurt when he realized he couldn't bring himself to sing or play anymore, it left him feeling even emptier than before, cause he always thought he'd have his music to console him, to defend him from the things life was throwing at him, to build a wall around himself and protect whatever was left of him. How wrong he was.

"Why not?" Jaskier wishes he could explain that when they parted on top of the mountain, when he forced himself to say "See you around Geralt" knowing he'll never see him again, when he tried to process those heavy words that rolled off the Witcher's tongue, his love for music, for poetry, for life, rolled off too and hid somewhere he couldn't reach anymore. But Geralt never cared for his music.

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Keeping his tone even and preventing his voice from breaking is hard, harder than any performance he ever had to do. Ten months ago feel like a lifetime away now, it doesn't even seem real. The ache in his chest is always there to remind him that it is.

"That's not true." Jaskier sees how he clenches his hands as if those words meant a great effort for him. The Gods know how many times he looked into Geralt's eyes after singing, desperately seeking his approval and finding only a mild annoyance, like this was just another thing he had to endure.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Jaskier wants to be annoyed, he should be furious for what Geralt did to him, for leaving him like he meant nothing, but these days being mad is a lot of effort. He doesn't have it in him anymore, it's easier to let go of the anger. It doesn't make him feel less empty or less broken anyway.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier laughs bitterly.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to have my heart broken again." Jaskier is not even sure there is something left to break.

He'll never admit it but deep down he knows there's no forgetting Geralt. And he curses that small part of him that wants to listen to him, to let him talk and explain, cause he knows that he'd go back to traveling with the Witcher right this second if he so much as says he'd take him back. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. A Witcher apologizing, as if.

"I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier." Saying goodbye, even knowing that it's for the best, doesn't make it any less painful.

"You were right." Geralt looks at him in a way he has never seen before, for a second he thinks it's hurt that he sees flickering in those golden eyes, but it lasts a second. He should know Geralt doesn't care about him enough to be hurt by something he says or does.

"You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands. But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

His voice breaks at the end, he feels the tears stinging his eyes and he turns to walk away before Geralt notices it. Pain comes in waves, and today he's drowning.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher fandom #the witcher fic #geralt/jaskier #sad jaskier #heartbroken jaskier #fanfiction #quarantine writing

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aalapdavjekar · 3 years

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8 Lessons from Vipassana

2010 was a peculiar year. It was the year in which I found the great fortune of stumbling upon a book about the bizarre incidents and experiences of an Australian girl voyaging through the Indian subcontinent. The book — a 21st century rewrite of the lore of the hippie trail, offered little towards cerebral surprises, but made for a curious viewing of the life of someone who was brave (or foolish) enough to have gone through all the trouble that she did for the experiences she sought.

The author chronicled days spent discovering religion and spiritual heaven while avoiding hell — nosy neighbours, opportunistic rickshaw-wallas, and the odd would-be rapist. She portrays an all too familiar India — the world’s spiritual shopping mall serving food-poisoning on Tuesdays, vehicular accidents every Friday, and frightening latrines as a daily course. Not all of her pages carried so much drama, but they laid out a rough sketch of the trials and tribulations of the average foreigner in attempting to make sense of the country.

The smallest chapter in the book spoke to me the most. There was a tiny passage that depicted the joy and punishing solitude of the type rarely considered as thrill — monastic rituals, austere and rigorous routines, distress and hardship — it seemed a bit too much for anyone, let alone a solo adventurer. And yet, it seemed like just about the only thing she really enjoyed during her trip.

That was my introduction to Vipassana. That first memory is still fresh: the desire to confront this awkward specimen of a situation for myself, only because, at the time, it seemed so bizarre. To my ignorant mind, I could not have comprehended the result of ten long days (and nights), sitting around without the utterance of a single syllable. If nothing else, it would just be yet another substance: to taste, chew on, spit out, and rave about having conquered yet another mountain of sensory input; spin it all into a tall tale of profundity and wisdom.

Thankfully, the taste was sweet. To me, this became pretty important. It felt like a gigantic discovery and I often found myself proselytizing like a broken record for days after the first course. I eventually stopped for being seen as a bit of a nuisance, however, my fascination with the practice only grew with time. In those ten short days, I had experienced a deep, resounding change from within. As difficult as the journey had been, I only knew I had to keep going.

That was all ten years ago. 2010 was peculiar, but a dozen Vipassana courses later, life only became weirder.

It’s the stark contrast that gets you; the juxtaposition of life inside a course, and then witnessing the world outside. It is hard to illustrate and is not really the point of this post, but I mention it only because I’d like to warn you that many of the lessons I’ve learnt are all experiential truths. Simply engaging the intellect is not enough. You can’t describe the taste of salt to someone who has never experienced it before, and you can’t learn to swim simply by reading about it.

With that said, understand that even though I have been practicing for a while, it does not mean I have achieved any form of mastery over my practice. I still consider this as the just the first step in a very long path. I share these insights, all of which have broadened and enriched my understanding of not only myself, but of all-encompassing experience existence in itself. My only hope is to encourage you to sit down and focus on your breath.

1. Relaxing meditation is more like aggressive deconditioning…

The mind is a big ball of accumulated, tightly-knotted habits. Habits are not merely mundane proclivities like picking your nose, or a preference for K-pop. Habits are the set of all unconscious tendencies, picked up over the course of one’s life and through generations past, resulting in present thought, action, or both. Natural instincts such as the struggle to survive and the urge for sexual gratification are among the densest of elements residing within the mental landscape.

Mental forces are easiest to imagine when you think of them as analogous to Newton’s Third Law: each action has an equal and opposite reaction. As the mind sees, the mind does. Cause and effect. Through millions of years of evolution, the mind has been shaped to recognize and react to patterns. Certain emotions may result in specific thoughts. Certain thoughts may result in specific behaviours.

When you sit down to practice Vipassana, you essentially train yourself to observe the mind without reacting. The process may not seem like much but, with time, the simple act of observation decreases the rigidity and impulsiveness of the mind. Gradually, the simple act of watching it unravel before you, unveiling its knots until they loosen and eventually fade away, brings about a significant change. This does not mean that after ten days of meditation you will deprogram your mind and achieve liberation. It is a very gradual process. Believe me. Even after all these years, I’ve only scratched the surface and, so far, I’ve managed to adopt a slightly better diet. But I have better focus, more clarity of thought, less anxiety, and things that used to drive me crazy don’t annoy me as much anymore.

Meditation will change your brain. Thoughts included.

2. You are your mind’s weak, pathetic slave.

At any given time, you have very little conscious ability to overrule your genetic programming, emotional state, and natural surroundings (many have even argued that there is no such thing as conscious control and free will is an illusion, but that is a discussion for another time). The goal of meditation is to break free from the mind’s thrall: it’s patterns of thought. That’s the liberation that meditators keep referring to time and again.

If you find it hard to believe how little control you have over your mind, try to focus continuously on the breath just for a few minutes and notice the amount of thoughts that manage to pop up. You’ll quickly see how easily the mind is carried away. It’ll drift away, either to the future, or to the past. Bringing it back and keeping it in the present is a constant, seemingly endless struggle.

Our toxic addiction to our own thoughts creates the biggest hurdle. Over the course of our lives, we have been conditioned by our parents, school, society, even language, to think a certain way. Like the words we associate with objects to learn the alphabet in kindergarten, we continuously associate abstractions — words — to ideas; to the way things work. Our names for objects, people, places, feelings, situations, etc. are just names. They are concepts that are formed in the mind. In other words, our brain holds maps to reality which are drawn and redrawn over the course of our lives. But the map is not the territory, yet we are constantly under the delusion that the map is real.

Our fascination and attachment to our artificial concepts of what is real, important, and urgent is what hinders progress— the practice is essentially training the mind not to identify with one’s thoughts. In other words, to heal trauma, you need to learn to dissociate with the feeling which triggers the trauma. Trauma comes in many shapes. It may take the form of the stories that we forge for ourselves to make sense of who we are. The story we tell ourselves turns into the very bondage that keeps us in indefinite servitude to the mind.

The mind is a slippery serpent, as dangerous when untamed as it is powerful when mastered. Most beginners often find it frustrating how difficult it is to ‘control’ their minds. But therein lies the effort. It is a skill to be cultivated like any other. Exasperation and the desire to stop is a natural byproduct of the conditioning described earlier. There is an inertia to progress that needs to be continuously overcome. With time, it gets easier.

Meditation is simply a tool to harness and rein in the unruly mind.

3. Everything is connected. Every action has a consequence, and it matters.

This can be argued as a simple scientific principle. Richard Feynman in his lecture, “The Relation of Physics to Other Sciences,” describes the artificial divisions we create, forming a myriad of distinct models of understanding to comprehend and explain to ourselves aspects of the same reality. Brian Cox takes it even further.

My understanding leans towards the philosophical side, but bear with me. Most religions and spiritual traditions preach purity of mind, speech, and deed. Whether through scripture or ritual, they teach compassion, loving kindness, mercy and wisdom. I’ve realized that there’s more to this than mere morality.

To greatly simplify this, let’s imagine the world as a closed, finite system — something like a small swimming pool. Any kind of movement results in ripples that gradually extend across the body of water, affecting everything in their path. Eventually, given enough time, those ripples will bounce right back to whence they came. Sooner or later, your actions will meet their maker. But don’t mistake this as a need to be nice out of selfish necessity. The picture is bigger than this.

The world, much like our hypothetical swimming pool, is a melting pot of events resulting from simultaneous interactions causing countless, spontaneous consequences. It’s a chain reaction and an ocean of chaos, with the ebb and flow of individual currents that mingle, coalesce and form waves, crashing into one another to give us the great churning of the wheel that Buddhists speak of, and the agitation that we are almost too familiar with.

The turbulence, in essence, is the mind being washed away with the tide, engulfed and drowned in the vicissitudes of a constantly changing life. To remain steadfast and solid in such stormy waters would require nothing short of supreme mastery in the art of mindfulness. A cornerstone of such an endeavour requires the cultivation of a conscious effort to sustain complete awareness and acceptance for the present moment.

When one remains vigilant of thought, speech, and deed, and acquires a resolute and unwavering focus, then all the torment the ocean can muster will be but powerless against this tranquil state of mind. But even beyond that, tranquility will give way to reflection, understanding, and empathy. In other words, when you respond to anger with love, you cast water over the fire.

With practice, each action undertaken will arrive with more effort, more purpose and consideration. That is the delicate insight to be gained — that every action, every moment, every breath is sacred. Every bit of conscious presence is a gift to be treasured.

4. Nothing matters as much as you think it does…

Vipassana meditation is an exercise in cultivating insight through self-observation. You watch your breath and the sensations across your body as they arise and pass away, each time acknowledging their transient and impermanent nature. That, you come to realize, is the truth of all reality.

You realize that suffering is a form of mental attachment, not to any external object, but to the sensation that object has on your mind. This attachment is sometimes so subtle and imperceptible that it is impossible to witness it without a mind that is steady and calm. These attachments are what cause dukkha or suffering. Attachments are not limited to sensations that feel good. Any sensation that makes you feel like had more of it or less of it — desire and aversion — is attachment. The mind runs after pleasure, runs from fear and pain. These are attachments and they are a hindrance to the practice.

As you grow into your practice, you will gradually slip out of your old patterns of thought, replacing them with a more open, willing, and fluid presence of mind. What once bothered you may gradually dissolve into nothingness. What once seemed as part of you, possessed you, caused emotional havoc when you didn’t get what you wanted, might simply vanish from existence. No, you won’t turn into an emotionless robot. No it won’t make you give up everything in life, turn into a vagrant and move to the beach, unless you already desired those things. Meditation will only help sort out what you really want.

Practice will help you detach yourself from your thoughts until you realize that your thoughts are not you. Feelings come, feelings go. They are impermanent, and they don’t matter. All it requires is time and the simple act of observation.

5. You are not an experiential bubble.

For many beginners trying to embrace the many forms of mindfulness, one of the toughest obstacles to overcome is doubt. It may be doubt in oneself, doubt in the practice, doubt in one’s teacher, and so on. But it’s a natural response to something new, especially to those completely unfamiliar with these types of practices. Imparting trust is a transactional habit. Unless one is certain of attainable benefits and can measure their worth, they may find an unwillingness to take even the first step.

Couple a doubtful mind with the myriad of mental encounters one may face during meditation and the result might just kill the desire for practice. People have reported everything from swirling lights, out-of-body experiences, synesthesia, to demons. This is not unusual. Meditation is a gateway into the unconscious — a surgical procedure as S.N. Goenka, the person who brought the teaching of Vipassana back to India, describes. Through the process of Sankharupekkha (observing mental formations with equanimity), the practitioner encounters dormant impurities in the unconscious that rise to the surface of the mind, and manifest themselves as physical phenomenon.

Juxtaposed with modern-day culture, the meditative experience stands out like a sore thumb, often causing its students great confusion and mistrust in the very quality of what they are learning. It doesn’t help that the ideas and general philosophy presented by spiritual traditions are outright antithetical to “western” schools of thought.

Concepts such as avidya, anicca, dukkha, shunyata, samsara and nirvana are like salt. These are concepts that are almost impossible to understand through mere language—one must personally taste them. They are often horribly misconstrued and usually thrown out, replaced by a far shallower understanding that barely skims the surface of the teaching, conflating meditation with stress reduction and labour productivity. After all, these are the values our industrial societies can easily relate to.

We often make it harder on ourselves by letting our experiences fester. Remember to talk about them, discuss them, debate their true essence, and let them be out in the open. Let these ideas, however alien, achieve coherence and solidity. Give them a better chance to struggle and survive. There are many people out there experiencing the same reality, watching the same movie, feeling the same thing. The emotional outlet, especially when you are starting out in this practice is immensely valuable. It’s a small thing but it matters.

After my first ten-day Vipassana course came to a close, as the new students could finally open their mouths and start speaking with each other about their ten days spent in silence, we could all see the benefits this strange new thing had given us. I was in a room full of fifty-odd people that seemed to have had a similar experience in the course as I did. They all seemed calmer than on the first day, happier for having made it through; in the process, they had visibly changed. That’s what brought forth trust in the system; not only because it seemed to work across a diverse set of people, but because it made me realize that we are all in the same boat.

6. Compassion takes practice.

There is no absolute right or wrong. Understanding which is which requires not only context but patience. An impulsive and ignorant mind does not have the capacity to form correct judgement. An angry and intolerant person cannot be trusted to make rational and thoughtful decisions. Why do you need to develop proper judgement? The simplest possible answer: to progress in your practice. Hence, while Vipassana may bring insight, on the last day of each course, students are taught a slightly different type of meditation.

Metta, meaning ‘loving-kindness’, is a type of meditation that involves concentrating on directing love towards ourselves and others, even those (especially those) who may have hurt us. A daily practice of metta has its benefits, but most significant of all, is the way it complements insight meditation and brings out lasting, positive changes in mind and body.

The feeling is hard to describe, but all I can say is that (at the risk of sounding cliched), through the course of one’s life, pain is an inevitability, but suffering through the pain is a choice. With regular practice in metta, instead of being swept away by one’s emotions, one learns to consciously bring awareness to the suffering being experienced and replace it with compassionate and loving thoughts. Suffering is simply a negative reaction of the mind to any form of pain. With practice, mental aversion to pain gradually fades. Like mental ointment, compassion can heal the deepest of wounds.

But compassion takes practice. Think of it as learning a new language. Even if you have no prior experience reading the script or pronouncing the words, with time, you might just achieve fluency.

Compassion towards all beings, regardless of the situation, is an important goal for anyone serious about walking the path. When you emanate a constant stream of loving thoughts without ever missing a beat, then you might definitely consider yourself having changed for the better.

7. It’s all just glorified play.

By the time children reach the age of 3 or 4, their ego begins to form a cohesive identity — a map of themselves: I am this, I like that, I want to be so and so. Whether through nature or nurture, the child learns to take on a role for themselves depending on what the situation may bring: during interactions with their parents, with other children, and with society in general.

From an early age, children are engaged in play. Their games may be diverse, but are usually a form of role-playing: tea parties, dollhouses, make-believe — simulations of the adult world, to test its boundaries and see how things react. Fueled by curiosity and the joy of discovery, they rehearse and solidify their understanding of their surroundings, finding their place in the greater familial and societal picture, and simultaneously strengthen their masks of identity.

The masks we carry, birthed from the ego, may be necessary for our survival, but they are simply roles — the games we continue to play even as adults, with ourselves and with others. When the student of Vipassana comes to notice their own desires and attachments to the world, the identity of the self is often seen as the greatest attachment. It is the great epic; the story of ourselves that we’re so engrossed in writing and reciting— and madly in love with.

This story never ends. It lies permanently in the state of becoming: I am like this, I like that, I want to be so and so. The attachment to a false idea of oneself is the most difficult thing to witness and understand. It is the biggest delusion of the mind, and the greatest hindrance to one’s liberation from samsara — the endless cycle of birth and death. Whether you choose to believe that is unimportant, but recognising one’s tendencies to cling to one’s beliefs, one’s masks and identity, is a crucial process towards self-discovery and insight.

Recognising the mind for what it is — a constant stream of consciousness always in flux — will bring you a step closer to deciphering it.

8. You Know Nothing.

I know nothing. For knowing involves being certain, but if everything is impermanent and things are constantly in flux, then nothing can be certain.

To understand how truly inept we are at comprehending reality, consider the incredibly narrow spectrum of perception our brains provide. Our sensory organs: the eyes, ears, nose, tongue and skin offer only a slice of all the information that they come into contact with.

The eyes, for example, see only a thin slice of the electromagnetic spectrum, which we call visible light. Similarly, our hearing is restricted to frequencies of sound that fall between 20 Hz and 20 kHz. In the same way, we carry only a limited cognitive capability and intelligence.

It’s a humbling thought. At the very least, reminding oneself of the fragility of one’s understanding is a way to minimize cognitive bias. Further, since no one knows anything, knowing you know nothing will actually put you a step ahead of most people.

“I am wiser than this human being. For probably neither of us knows anything noble and good, but he supposes he knows something when he does not know, while I, just as I do not know, do not even suppose that I do. I am likely to be a little bit wiser than he in this very thing: that whatever I do not know, I do not even suppose I know.” — Plato’s Apology of Socrates

Similarly, from the Dhammapada:

“A fool who knows his foolishness is wise at least to that extent, but a fool who thinks himself wise is a fool indeed.”

Lastly, Shunryu Suzuki, a Japanese Zen Master calls the state of knowing nothing the “beginner’s mind,” the constant prerequisite for progressing in one’s practice:

“The goal of practice is always to keep our beginner’s mind. This does not mean a closed mind, but actually an empty mind and a ready mind. If your mind is empty, it is always ready for anything; it is open to everything. In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities; in the expert’s mind there are few.” — from Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind

May all beings be happy.

#meditation #vipassana #insight #zen #buddhism #philosophy #wisdom

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clonewarslover55 · 3 years

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Walon Vau’s story

I decided to write out Walon Vau’s story, especially his home life and childhood. Why is Walon Vau the way he is? Read this and find out why.

Notes: I used my own headcanons mixed with the small details Karen Traviss gave us in the Republic Commando books. Please don’t steal this because you think it’s all hers!

Warnings: Bad childhood, abuse, child abuse, wounds, whipping, exile, royal drama, evil in the form of a man, thoughts of suicide, angst,

Let’s start this off with a little bit of planet information and backstory!

The planet Irmenu is a small ocean world, the only land masses being large rocky islands. Most seem like mountains, with dangerous cliffs leading into the cold unforgiving sea. The ocean is riddled with beasts and monsters, but the only way of life is to sail. There are some valleys for livestock or farming, but not many. The valleys usually flood anyways, the storms always ruthless. So the Irmenu people fish and sail, searching for months on end just to survive and feed their family.

Sailing is easy enough. The winds are strong and the seas rough. It’s cold year around, but the people have learned to adapt and survive. Wearing the fur of the air breathing sea beasts, making larger boats, etc.

The kingdoms are clusters of islands, not one large land mass. Many islands are in large clusters, huge oceans between each cluster. The islands are all under the rule of the religious leaders, but sometimes there is still conflict. Conflict never lasts long on Irmenu though.

This oceanic planet is in the Outer Rim, in the Belsmuth sector. Their planet is in the middle of the Crombach Nebula, which is extremely hazardous. This gives Irmenu a very good excuse to be so isolated. The leaders of the world use this to their advantage.

This planet is a Feudal world, which means it’s controlled by a strict religion that also runs the powerful military. This means his world is very close minded and far behind on certain technologies and such. They still have spaceships and holopads, yes, but they’re out of date and ancient.

The Imperius Priesthood runs the planet under very strict rules. They control what leaves and goes, along with who. They control the nobles and their money, using the Count’s as their marionettes. If you didn’t follow their rules/beliefs, you were either publicly executed, exiled, or sent to a nunnery. All depends on the situation.

They’re everywhere, spying on their people and arresting whoever they please. Being so strict and ruling by fear affected the Irmenu people terribly. Most were religious fanatics, which means religion dictates every single part of their lives. They read the Irmenu Bible over and over instead of other books, and they follow the rules like good puppets.

This planet is clearly terrible on it’s own, which only made Walon Vau’s childhood even worse.

Walon Vau was born around 79 BBY on the planet Irmenu. He was the first and only son of the Count of Gesl, who was also an admiral in the very large Irmenu navy. Walon was raised like any royal, so he didn’t have much of a childhood.

Every second of every day was planned out by his father. He was highly educated, classes every day of the week and all day long. He rarely saw his parents, and when he did it was never under good circumstances.

Walon learned proper etiquette, dancing, poetry, politics, and many other things he’d need to know for his future as a ruler. He was taught by a number of tutors, each brutal and cruel. He either learned, or was beaten.

Once he reached the age of ten he began to work harder, practicing and studying for the navy. He didn’t want to follow in his fathers footsteps, but Walon had no choice. Plus he loved sailing, the ocean was calming and vast. The navy was his only hope for a better life.

Pa Vau, Walon’s father was a harsh man. He was described as domineering, cold hearted, and unpleasable. He beat Walon when he didn’t do perfect on his lessons or training. He wanted Walon to be like him, so he tried to beat all emotion and feeling from his son. He almost succeeded.

A good ruler in Irmenu has no heart or soul in Pa’s eyes.

He would never hit Walon on the face or anywhere visible, he had to have a good face as a royal. As Walon got older the beatings became more often and more brutal, because he wasn’t doing good enough in Pa’s eyes.

When Walon was fourteen and tried out for the navy his own father rejected him, saying he was not good enough. Walon continued to train, the beatings even worse. The training didn’t help, Walon never made it into the navy. Pa was so unpleasable his only child was never good enough for him. This caused Walon to quickly lose hope, the thought of suicide seeming more appealing by the day.

Walon only ever got to see his mother at nights, when she would come clean up his bloody lashing marks and other wounds. She was a soft gentle woman, but timid. Pa beat her as well, making sure she didn’t see her son for too long. She was never allowed to see Walon alone, because Pa didn’t want Vau to go soft by a mothers love.

She was a religious fanatic just like his father, so she would lecture him as well. He had to be better, he had to. He was royalty, he was better than how he acted. Her words were often more cruel than intended.

When she finished cleaning his wounds she’d read him a chapter of the Irmenu Bible, a book Walon was forced to know every last word to. He never listened though, he would always zone out and dream of a better life…….Or even of ending his life.

His parents were never in love, their marriage arranged. His father married his mother because of her wealth and bloodline. His mother had rare golden eyes, a symbol of high status to his people. He got her eyes, but his father said that the color of his eyes meant nothing compared to how much of a failure he is.

When Walon turned sixteen he was at a ball for some religious holiday, where we meant a beautiful princess of a neighboring province. After a few dances they quickly hit it off, and grew close rather fast. She basically saved his life, keeping him from ending it once and for all. She also changed his future for the better.

He would sneak out as often as he could to meet her under the stars, but more often than not they wrote love letters on flimsy back and forth. Each letter, written with the finest penmanship and finest poetic words was kept by the princess. Walon kept hers as well, in a box under his bed.

When Walon was eighteen, he asked his father if he could marry the princess. His father and her father both rejected the marriage, along with the Priesthood. Not because of politics or religion, but because Walon was not good enough or worthy to marry such a beautiful woman.

His father was enraged that he had dared to ask such a question, so he was beaten worse than ever and nearly died. All because his father was embarrassed. When Walon healed a little he learned his love had been shipped away across the planet, to a nunnery. She would learn her lesson for sneaking out and falling in love with someone who was not of an arranged marriage.

He knew he’d never see her again.

Walon was exiled temporarily aftwards, being sent to some neighboring shit hole of a planet. He was eighteen and alone, with no idea of the outside world. His mother sobbed for days, her only child and her last hope gone. She prayed every night that he would be allowed back soon.

Luckily for Walon Vau, he used to sneak out to the large library every night to read books. They had no fiction books, so he just learned about other societies and their ways. Most books pointed out how “bad” they were, but Walon always thought they were so much better than his planet's society.

Thanks to reading, he knew a bit about the real galaxy.

Walon had nothing but the clothes on his back. He had no money or possessions. No title, no name. So he wandered.

Soon he ran into a group of Mandalorians, one by the name of Jaster Mereel. They quickly took in a teenage Walon, teaching him a new way. The way of the Mandalorian warriors. He never believed his home world's ludicrous ideas, so switching religions and cultures was very easy for Walon.

His family found out and disowned Walon for giving up his culture and religion. He lost his title and broke his mothers heart. His mother apparently died of a broken heart, after she heard the news that he would never return. But he knows deep down that his father finally snapped and killed her.

Walon became a perfect warrior, his body and mind already scarred from years and years of abuse. He was cold, calm, and calculated. Walon was also highly educated and very intelligent. So much so that some other Mandalorians taught him how to torture and dismember. He learned about the medical field and could have even been a doctor, but he preferred dead bodies and torturing.

Jedi could hardly sense him in the force, his soul too broken. He was a perfect Mandalorian Warrior, fighting along with his friend Jango Fett and many others for years. He fought in the Mandalorian Civil Wars, killing Jedi with no issue.

Early in his time with the Mandalorians, Walon met a Strill. The Strill could sense Walon’s shattered soul and broken mind, so it adopted him. The Strill was named Lord Mirdalan, jokingly after his favorite uncle. The uncle that had beaten him the less, and had been executed when Walon was ten. Walon did not miss him, or anyone from his home world.

That’s Walon Vau’s childhood story. He’s ice cold, calm, and utterly detached for a reason. His body is scarred, as is his shattered soul. He was so traumatized and beaten down into the way of the soulless that he had a hard time trying to escape that pit.

He was cruel to his Clone Commandos, but every day he would be up all night thinking. He wanted them to survive the war, that's all he wanted. He didn’t want them to be failures like him, he couldn’t allow it. Failures never survived.

Walon Vau hardly ever sleeps at night, his mind plagued by nightmares. Not of the wars, but of his home life.

Mird held Vau together a little better, but his soul never healed. He could never escape the hole of his traumatic past, and it ruined his life forever.

They call him a psychopath but he really isn’t. Walon Vau can still feel, he just doesn’t know how to. Walon Vau is just a shattered and traumatized man, one who never got proper help. One who never had a childhood.

(Please reblog this if you like it! I worked very hard on it!)

Tags: @leias-left-hair-bun @iamassbuttkingofhell @catsnkooks @mxndalorians @colorfulloverbatturkey @ahsokatano-thetogruta @jedi-mando @peacefulwizardfox @hounding-around @julyzaa @feathersforclones @chr0nicbackpain @strangebroadwaykinks @jedi-nila-rhyn @crimson-dxwn @detroitbydark @passionofthesith

#walon vau #Walon Vau's story #Republic Commando #Planet Irmenu #Pa Vau #Ma Vau #republic commando novels #republic commando game #republic commandos #delta squad #walon vau’s boys #repcomm novels #repcomm game #repcom #repcomm

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koorinohebi · 3 years

Text

They Called Him Death

=== + ===

@raichoose in relation to that one ask.

Characters

Sidapa – He is known as the Visayan God of Death. Once also considered a god of the skies, Sidapa descended from the Heavens and instead made residence atop Mt. Madjaas. Here, he carries out his job of overseeing the existence of men. On his tree, he carves lines that signify a human’s lifespan. He is also in love with the seven moons that are up in heaven.

Bulan – He is the youngest of the seven moons and is the consort of Sidapa.

Hangin – A Diwata or Fairy of the Wind. Her name “Hangin” literally means wind.

Mermaids/Sirens – They are water spirits that possess an upper body that resembles that of a human girl or woman while their lower halves resemble fish tails. Apart from being beautiful, they have enchanting voices which they use for singing.

Saragnayan – He is known as the Visayan God of Darkness. He is considered as the god whom the evil creatures of the night obey as their leader. He is also known to cause chaos in a peaceful community. Saragnayan is said to be a superb spell caster who can control malevolent spirits and that he causes men to do evil things. Despite this, he is a very loving and loyal husband to his wife.

Luyong Baybay – She is known as the Goddess of the Tides. It is said that she is the one who controls the rising and falling of the tide. Luyong Baybay is also in love with the moon.

Kaptan/Makaptan – He is the Visayan Sky God and is considered to be the King among all of the Gods. In myth, he is said to be the equal of Kan-Laon. His stature reminds the Visayans of a proud Datu and he is very protective of his domain. He also has a fiery temper and is easily displeased when people worship other gods or idols before him.

Bakunawa – The Bakunawa is considered to be a creature that resembles either a sea serpent or a dragon. In most legends, he is in love with the moon. He finds them so beautiful that he eats them.

Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata – She is the wife of Saragnayan.

Kan-Laon – He is, among the Visayans, known as the Supreme Deity. Unlike Kaptan, he is a kind and gentle God who chose to live in solitude in a magical hut that is located at the top of the Kan-Laon Volcano.

Minokawa – The Minokawa bird is considered to be a creature that belongs to a family of dragons. It is also a creature that eats the moon and could possibly eat the sun too. The Minokawa’s feathers are as sharp as blades, his beak and claws are made of steal and his eyes of glass/mirrors.

Kataw – The Kataw are mermen of the highest rank and the rulers of the ocean. They resemble humans almost completely except for the fact that they gills and they have fins on their arms. Unlike the mermaids, they don’t have tails but instead have feet. They have the capability/skills to manipulate water.

***

They called him death, yet all I could see from him was life.

Love is perhaps the most curious of things, vaguest of concepts and the sweetest of thoughts. It is probably the only thing that moves the cog wheels of one’s heart no matter how much time and feeling has been eroded by both emotions and senses. It is truly a most beautiful thing that gives a sense of completion to those who feels it.

Yet it is also wicked despite its splendor. How many have lost their lives for love? How many had been driven mad by the very notion of it? There are those who were forced into silent desperation, always longing and always wanting. Those who yearn for love were always in the company of despair and insecurity. There is always a certain fear that lingered in their hearts one which, when realized, could make even the strongest of those beyond or beneath Heaven and Earth break and crumble.

Oh, what fragile creatures are those who are in love; hearts became malleable despite possessing a spirit of insurmountable will.

Though perhaps that is the beauty of it all; despite the consequences of taking a road led by love, almost everyone still threads it. While hesitant, those influenced by it allowed themselves to be enraptured by it as they miraculously find comfort in their strange actions. Regret hardly exists if the sensation is real. It is a cause that unites not only the mind and body, but also both heart and soul.

Love is indeed, despite its pristine magnificence, a terrifying thing for love is the only pain that humanity gladly embraces.

Of course, Love was never exclusive to humanity. Before them or more appropriately, like them, even those within the seat of divinity also fell prey to this beautiful monster’s embrace.

***

“Bulan! Bulan! Let’s play, let’s play!” A choir of melodic voices called to a passing young man.

A smile was easily painted on his face when he heard and saw them.

Oh how gorgeous they were, the inhabitants of the lake hidden within Mt. Madjaas. A myriad of beauty paraded themselves along the water’s edge. Their iridescent fins under the light of the sun were truly the embodiment of magnificence. These fantastical creatures often did not come out during the day but whenever he came to pass this heavenly retreat, they were always there. They were always waiting with vigorous eagerness. They were wonderful...as wonderful as their peerless hymns.

“Oh...!”

“Oh”

“Oh...” A unison of murmurs resounded. Even those seemed like a song. Their gentle voices coupled with the sound of splashing water made them appear shyer than their normally playful selves. There was of course only one reason for this.

Ah, they must be the younger mermaids. Bulan thought.

Along with the boy was a rather dreaded existence, or so thought the blooming sirens. With him was Sidapa—The God of Death and ironically the ruler of a place that flourished with life, Mt. Madjaas.

Sidapa was a handsome man, and in Bulan’s eyes did not pale in comparison with the other spirits or deities that lived amongst them. His skin was as pale as the ash that had fallen from freshly burned wood. His raven colored hair was as dark as the night, but was as soft as the light of day. Though his countenance was stern in nature, he was quite a gentle god. More than anyone he understood the value of life because he was the one who marked its end. It was a little sad that humanity, along with some of the inhabitants of his own abode, saw him only as a monster.

Though according to the God of Death, none of this mattered so long as Bulan himself didn’t believe it to be so.

And Bulan never did share the majority’s sentiments. Along with the others who had seen the softer side of Sidapa’s nature, he understood that he was not someone who deserved the reputation that preceded him.

“Sidapa,” Bulan called. There was an almost childish gleam of playfulness on the boy’s face that made the temperamental god loft a brow out of curiosity.

“What is it?” He demanded.

“Can I go and play with the sirens?” The boy asked.

How could he say no to that face? Bulan had the exuberance that could be matched by no one. Such a pure boy he was that Sidapa was rendered helpless to the child’s innocent whims. How hard it was for him to say yes…ah, he wanted to greedily keep the boy for himself because they did not always have the leisure to stroll around like this.

What was harder to do though was deny Bulan of his request. Ever since the boy arrived, he had never made any selfish claims (If wanting to get to know him could even be considered selfish) and instead willingly followed whatever it was that Sidapa himself wanted.

Of all the days the mermaids had to come out, it really HAD to be today. This was giving him a headache.

"I can't?" Bulan asked once again.

The Lord of the Mountain groaned his approval. "Do as you please."

Overjoyed, Bulan wrapped his arms around Sidapa briefly before joining the mermaids by the lake. The boy's kind gesture caused the god to freeze momentarily. Even up till now he still could not get used to feeling another person's touch. He was, after all, death incarnate. Whatever he touched was forced to draw their last breath and it frightened him that one day he would accidentally steal the boy's.

But Bulan had been patient, and had ask to be taught a workaround for the curse. Now, even he could hold hands with the boy without it being fatal.

He smiled to himself discretely. Bulan was such an enchanting existence.

Leaving the child to his devices, the Death God went ahead and took his rest under a tree whose shade extended over to the waters. From there, he watched his consort associate with the playful water sprites.

Oh how bittersweet it was to see his lovely Bulan smiling while he was not by his side.

…A dreaded reminder that he could be perfectly happy without him.

“Bulan sure has grown.” Said a voice.

“Shouldn’t you be guarding the forest, Hangin?” Sidapa said without even sparing a glace to show his evident distaste for the unwelcomed intruder.

“You shouldn’t be so grumpy since you’re watching over the boy Moon, Lord Sidapa.” Hangin said. The god simply quirked a brow before facing her; she was at it again with her witty but unnecessary comments.

Hangin was one of the Diwatas of the Wind (Wind Faeries) that resided within the expanse of the mountain. Though the Fae was quick-witted and wise, he often overlooked this due to how mischievous and playful a sprite she could be. Despite such, he still considered Hangin one of his more trusted confidants as she was both a friend that he had learned to accept and a guardian to whom he had entrusted his forest. The wind fairy initially insisted upon this for being allowed to make Mt. Madjaas her home.

“Look, Bulan’s waving over here!” She said.

In an instant Sidapa’s attention fled the mischievous nymph only to find that his dear Bulan was still busy fraternizing with the sirenas.

“Made you look, tee he he!” Hangin teased.

“As always, your jokes are distasteful.” He snarled. “Though I suppose it matters not,” He said, continuously gazing at the boy. “You are correct, however; he has grown quite a bit hasn’t he?”

“He has. The first time he came here, he was barely taller than me. And now look at him; the sirenas are enamored by his presence.” She agreed.

“MUST you point it out? Look at how annoyingly they fawn over him.” He still couldn’t believe they stole Bulan away from him just like that. Willing the thought away, he instead focused on Hangin’s sentiments. “The first time that he came here, how long has that been now…?” Sidapa’s voice trailed off when he decided to lean back and close his eyes. He reminisced that time, that turning point in his life when he had been saved by this unsung hero of his existence.

Bulan’s descent from Heaven was the pinnacle of Sidapa’s happiness.

***

Ah, how beautiful they are…

Atop the mountain and under the comfort of his tree, the God of Death looked up at the sky and watched as the seven moons danced amidst themselves in a sea of stars. To him, they were far more radiant than the sun. Their brightness did not outshine one another as they illuminated the gloomy veil of night.

Night time was Sidapa’s favorite part of the day because of this. It was only during these few hours that he could revel in the grace and elegance of these celestial bodies. He often would think that they danced just for him…a silly delusion, but that alone brought solace to the life of solitude that he had chosen. Seeing the seven moons play amongst themselves made it a little easier for him to continue his work. He was the one who oversaw the end of things— the end of life, surely no job was more depressing than his. A night like this up in his mountain was his only saving grace, a reverie that he chose to drown in for even just a while.

And he was content. To look at them from afar was enough. He dared not to covet the moons that he loved so much for his touch was the very kiss of the end itself. Ironic how despite being a god he was cursed by the very thing that he was; all he did was take and take and take…he could not even begin to imagine the horrors he would feel if he caused one of the moons to draw their last breath.

He was like a madman in his desire for them, wanting them for his own, only to keep holding himself back because that was how it should be. A sentiment kept for the sake of those that he held dear.

“If you don’t act soon someone else might steal those precious moons that you love so much.”

“Saragnayan, who allowed you to step foot on MY mountain?” He didn’t even need to take a look to know who had arrived. And of all those that could, it really had to be another who was as vile as he was; maybe even more.

“Is that how you treat your friend?” Saragnayan scoffed.

“Go back to Gadlum, I don’t need you causing trouble here, again.” Sidapa ordered, whisking the other away from whence he came.

“You can’t still be mad about that, it was just a joke.” Said the accused instigator of chaos.

Sidapa should learn to take a joke or better yet get used to what it is that I do. Saragnayan was the God of Darkness and Sidapa of all people should know the kind of things that he enjoyed. So, he may have manipulated some of the people who got lost along the steep trails of Madjaas; and he may have influenced them to set a few things on fire…but it was all in good clean fun…for the chaotic god at least.

“A joke?” That sent Sidapa’s senses ablaze. “A JOKE, SARAGNAYAN? LEAVE. Leave now before I carve whatever life you have left onto this tree!” Came the god’s outburst as he stood from his place, marching over to his unwelcomed guest.

How could he see something like that as a joke? The creatures under his protection almost lost a home along with their lives due to the mischief that the distasteful god created. While the animals on his mountain were unharmed, the same could not be said for the forest itself. Had he been slower, his home would have probably burned to the ground. How could Saragnayan even think of doing such a thing when he himself, from time to time, gathered flowers for his beloved wife from the flora and fauna of Madjaas.

He considered him his friend on some occasions, on others; he was the type of companion that needed a proper beating.

“And you’re just a stick in the mud.” The other taunted further.

“Get off of my mountain unless you want me to k—!”

“Fine, I shall take my leave. It IS clear that you are not interested in Luyong Baybay’s attempts to coerce the moons to descend from Heaven.” Saragnayan didn’t even give the Death God a chance to finish his rant.

This was the part that he loved the most. Sidapa’s expression drastically changed. His already pale face was getting whiter and his body quivered; practically shook from the news! Saragnayan knew of his friend’s infatuation with the dancing beauties that illuminated the night sky and often saw him gazing at them longingly; lovingly as if a child possessed. How could he not share this little piece of information to him? The deity had every right to know, every right to feel agonized and had every right to act upon his desires. For him, that was how gods like them should act.

“What has Luyong Baybay been up to?” Finally, the silence was once again broken.

“NOW you want to know?” Saragnayan goaded.

“Just say it.” He answered, an apparent jealousy beginning to seethe through his voice.

“She has been singing to them.”

"Singing?" Death repeated. The building frustration he felt simmered and was slowly replaced with curiosity instead.

He had noticed it lately. Was Luyong Baybay’s song the reason for this? Was it her singing that made those seven heavenly creatures more joyous during their nightly affairs? Were they happy because they were fond of the singing...

...They were happy because of Luyong Baybay?

“Sidapa, are you alright?” Asked Darkness.

The Death God couldn’t have been in a more murderous state than he was right now. Even Saragnayan felt the ominous intent emanated by the other. He could not blame Sidapa because more than anyone, he knew every nook and cranny of this thing called love. After all, Saragnayan had himself a beautiful wife that was sought after by most. Of course, no other fate befell those heathens other than death. Their efforts though were valiant and commendable...foolish, but commendable indeed.

This was how he knew of feats that were fueled by jealousy.

Envious men were dangerous since they exhausted everything for the sake of obtaining what they want. They were desperate enough to cross the threshold of madness.

And looking at Sidapa now, he was envy personified.

Saragnayan had to admit that he liked it this way. By being in the midst of anger, he could compel Sidapa to his will. For an alleged God of Death, he always viewed the other as somewhat soft and sentimental. It was unbecoming of his post and surely needed a little push in the direction of chaos. What better opportunity than now, right? Now that Death was green with envy, the God of Darkness was all the more compelled to sow and nurture seeds of discord.

“Saragnayan,”

Or perhaps he didn’t need to do anything more. That odious glimmer in Death’s eyes said it all.

“I hope you told your wife that you’ll be gone for quite some time. You’re not leaving until I drive that harlot Luyong Baybay to her knees.” Sidapa informed his guest.

“My darling is an understanding woman, I’m sure that she’ll—wait…what?” And here he was about to boast about the good qualities of his beloved only to realize that he had been dragged into something that he initially only wished to see…not participate in.

“This is me cutting you some slack for almost destroying Madjaas, Saragnayan.”

“But…but my wife!” He protested.

“Your wife can wait.” Sidapa replied coldly.

***

“Ahaha!” Hangin laughed. “I’m sorry Lord Sidapa. I really just can’t see Master Saragnayan allowing himself to be dragged around like that.”

“You’re right in thinking so.” He chuckled, remembering how valiantly the god tried to escape again and again as he declared disinterest in participating in the little revenge plot.

Saragnayan deserved whatever it was that the God of Death had pitted him with. Besides, he was also the one who told him of Luyong Baybay’s infatuation with the moons.

“No need to feel anything for that one. Whatever misfortune that befell him was of his own doing.” He said, actually quite pleased for once. Just remembering how Saragnayan endured those countless nights at sea without as much as a word from his other half was a spectacle.

“But what happened to Luyong Baybay?” Hangin asked curiously.

“I tortured her, of course.” He answered, an air of indifference suddenly hanging over his features.

“You would torture someone merely for singing to the moon?” She asked again.

“Yes.” He confessed.

“Was it even Bulan that she sang to?” Hangin questioned further.

“At that time I did not care which of the seven moons she sang for. I loved them all, you see.” Sidapa chuckled.

Now that he thought about it, perhaps he had been too drastic in his approach.

If he cared to try hard enough, Sidapa could still hear the agonized screams of the Goddess of the Tides, Luyong Baybay. The Death God kept her confined in a veil of darkness, away from the prying eyes of those who held her sacred. There, in Saragnayan’s domain, the goddess was bound and shackled by shadows that slowly ate away from the knee down. Her shrieking was like music, while the curses that spilled from her shaking mouth were not unlike the sweetest of delicacies. To see her desperation was enough. A quick death was not something that the deity of the tides deserved. Sidapa had no intentions of ending her. What he wanted was to watch her suffer.

“Lord Sidapa?” Hangin called out, putting an end to his bittersweet memory.

“Tell me, Hangin.” He started. “If someone threatened to steal away that one thing you loved and cherished, would you not entertain thoughts of cruelty against your rival?”

The wind fairy thought about this for a while. As someone who had not experienced the same feelings as her lord, she could not tell. She was a simple free spirited sprite and cared only for what she wanted to care about. For now, the only real thing she saw as important was Mt. Madjaas itself, her home. Without it, where would she be? If it wasn’t for this place, Hangin may still have been wandering the land. She might have simply left her fate to the unforgiving winds that blew. If what Sidapa felt was anywhere close to how it felt like being robbed of a home, then that was the closest that she could possibly comprehend.

“I don’t know.” She said with a light-hearted smile. “But if someone tried to steal something that I love, I think that I’d be really sad.”

“You would be devastated.”

When it came to others trying to take what he saw as his, Sidapa had bigger problems than just Luyong Baybay…rather, that pitiful goddess barely scraped the surface of his nuisances.

If obstacles had a living, breathing form then Kaptan was probably the biggest one he had encountered next to that unsightly excuse for a sea dragon, Bakunawa.

What did he have to do just so that he could live in peace with the one person that his heart held dear?

***

“KAPTAN!” Sidapa’s voice echoed throughout Heaven as he stormed the Sky God’s palace gates.

How dare this man? How dare Kaptan for invading his mountain and simply taking Bulan away? The child went to him on his own accord, so why did he have to take his little Moon Deity back? He had done nothing wrong apart from falling in love with the child who had descended from the skies. It was not his fault that he was enchanted by his endearing smiles and his kindness…nor that he helplessly grew to love the boy for teaching him how to feel. So why…why was he being taken away from him?

“Sidapa!” The god heard a familiar voice. And up above, as he looked beyond the gates of Kapata’s heaven, Bulan was imprisoned. The boy called out to him. For a second there, he felt his chest throb. This must be how Saragnayan felt whenever Nagmalitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata, his wife, called for him.

“Bulan, I’m coming for you!” Sidapa cried out, letting the boy know that he had heard his cries.

“No one is coming for anyone.” Without much as another warning, a volley of thunderbolts rained down upon Sidapa.

This bastard! The God of Death barely escaped the thunderous onslaught that was hurled at him. While he was able to deflect a few of them with his blade, he still suffered damage from the assault. Drawing in breaths, Death held his ground and searched for where the attacks were coming from.

Floating above the steel gates of his ethereal abode stood the one recognized by all as the king of all the gods, Kaptan. His dark eyes looked down at the lowly God of Death as if disgusted by this very presence before him. Raising his hands up, the space above seemed to distort itself and thunder bolts began to gather atop his palms. With a simple flick of his wrist, again, those bolts of pure electric energy plummeted towards Sidapa.

“You dare invade my heaven after abandoning it once? What an insolent cur you’ve become, Sidapa.”

“I only came here for Bulan!” It didn’t matter to the Death God that he was sustaining injuries despite parrying Makaptan’s bolts of lightning, what was important right now was for the pompous bastard to see how serious he was in terms of taking the child back. So despite his bleeding arm and labored breaths, Sidapa ignored the pain and once again stood his ground.

“Ho…” Lofting a brow Kaptan descended from his station, landing merely a few feet away from the other god.

He had to admit despite not wanting to, that Sidapa was holding himself quite well. No one had yet survived that large an assault from him. As much as he did not wish to recall past events, even his grandchildren were unable to survive his rage. And yet here was the other former sky god, holding his own against he who was Kan-Laon’s equal.

“Hmph, I suppose you are deserving of a chance.” Kaptan said, drawing his own blade from the sheath that hung by the side of his hip. With a smirk tugging at his lips, the Sky God pointed the jagged zigzagged blade at his adversary. “If you win against me, you are free to take the boy.”

“Consider it done.” Sidapa did not waste another second. Brandishing his blade, he sped towards Kaptan to take the offensive.

The two exchanged one blow after the other with neither of them falling to each other’s tricks. Whenever the God of Death would deal a blow, the God of the Skies would block it and return a strike of his own. To the young Bulan who watched, it was as if the two were dancing, locked in steps that could only bring about ruin for either one of them. Even if the Moon feared for Sidapa’s safety, he could not help but be mesmerized by their bout. As much as he wanted them to stop, he could not speak a word as the two locked themselves in battle.

“What a magnificent sword you have there.” Kaptan praised as his eyes noticed the shimmering silver blade that Sidapa used against him. It absorbed his blows well and sustained not even a single dent or scratch.

“The Minokawa isn’t feared for nothing.” Answered the other as he pushed Kaptan back. He could feel the frenzy coursing through his veins as the heat of battle consumed him. And as he charged once again to deliver a critical strike, the King of Gods blocked it with uncanny ease.

“You chose good but that sword is wasted on the likes of you….GHUAAAA!” As their weapons once again collided and Sidapa was at close range, Kaptan grinned wildly. In an instant, his sword was enveloped in a blue-ish silver light that erupted upon impact. The rawness of the electricity propelled Sidapa back, knocking him off his feet, his sword flying from his grasp.

The shock of the attack cause the Death God’s breathing to become shallow. His body felt like it was on fire after being caught by that explosive mass of energy. He was on his back right now with blurred vision and aching limbs. How could he have allowed for something like this to happen? Was he going to lose right here? Was he going to be killed by Makaptan on the spot?

No.

Was this where he’d lose Bulan?

NO.

Flinching, he tried to get up only for his head to be met with Kaptan’s foot.

“Did you really think that I’d let you stand?” Now that his enemy was on the ground, the furious god continued on with his abuse. He dug his iron sandaled feet against Death’s skull before stepping on it repeatedly, laughing as he did.

This was only halted when ear piercing screams broke through the groans that were emitted by Sidapa.

“Who dares—“ Kaptan’s eyes widened. Another one, there was another one who dared invade his territory.

This time it was that troublesome dragon serpent, Bakunawa.

As Kaptan moved away from Sidapa in order to deal with the new problem, the Death God instantly rose to his feet and as if a man possessed, and began to make his way to where Bulan was. Before he could though, Kaptan grabbed him by the foot before slamming him on the ground.

“And where do you think you’re going? I am not done with you yet.” He snarled.

“Bulan…is crying…he needs me…I have to go…” At this point Sidapa had already drowned out the king’s voice. The only thing that he could hear was the flood of screaming voices, but among them, heard Bulan’s as clear as day. The pain in his body did not matter to him anymore. Even if every movement was an excruciating effort, he didn’t care. “I have to go…I have to go…I have to go.” The light in his eyes were replaced with an animalistic glow and in the moment when Kaptan forced him down once again, Sidapa mustered an unseen force that eroded the air, making it stagnant. This caused Kaptan to jump back lest he wanted to get caught in that ravishing air of decay.

Again, he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t control the essence of demise coming from him but because of that he was able to free himself. Instincts overrode his thoughts and now that he was undeterred by anything he charged at the moon-eating dragon.

“How desperate you’ve become…” Though in a way Kaptan could understand the feeling…

Once upon a time, he too had been a prisoner of love.

I will treat this as your test then.

Kaptan merely watched as Sidapa fought Bakunawa in an attempt to rescue the boy, Bulan, from being eaten. Why did he even bring that child back? The Sky God was not infatuated with the moons unlike the rest. He simply thought of them as children who needed to be protected. So wasn’t it only natural that he brought Bulan back home? Though perhaps it was part of his sentimentality that allowed for such a thing to transpire. Bulan reminded him of his beautiful and kind granddaughter. They were both sweet and shy, and shone brighter than any gem. He simply could not let him fall in the hands of someone or something that displayed the picture of decay.

“What a helpless man you are.” He whispered to himself, amused. Just this once he would allow someone to whisk away something of significant value.

Kaptan would join the fight then, striking the great Bakunawa with one of his prized bolts in order to catch its attention.

“Go, before I change my mind.” The King of Gods ordered the moment he saw that Bulan had been secured.

“You have my thanks.” Sidapa said.

“I have no need for it. Go.” Kaptan urged.

***

Suddenly the young mermaids were in a flurry of giggles.

“So he saved you from the moon-eating monster?” One of the sirens asked, giddy.

“He did.” Bulan replied with a nod.

The water nymphs had been so adamant today. Since they were the ones who did not know of the story yet, they couldn’t help but be curious after expressing a clear fear for the Lord of the Mountain.

Compared to Bulan and the older inhabitants of Mt. Madjaas, the younger generation of creatures and spirits still saw Sidapa as a terrifying god. He was, after all, the one who oversaw the end of days for all. He carved it on his tree atop the mountain. Sidapa probably had the loneliest job as a god. And on top of that he was wrongly feared and was in fact misunderstood.

The Moon glanced at where his husband was and saw him talking to a familiar spirit. No wonder it became slightly windy, Hangin is here. He noted.

His train of thought would come to a halt when he felt a light tug on his arm. When he looked toward his left, a curious young siren was holding onto his arm.

“Um—aren’t you afraid of Lord Sidapa?” She asked.

“I’m not, but there was a time back then when I was,” Bulan explained.

“I remember those days. You were so young and you always cried when you saw Lord Sidapa’s face.” Said another nymph.

Surprised, Bulan looked to see who had spoken and in an instant, he found himself walking into the water. “Kataw!” He cried, giving the woman a warm embrace.

Kataw returned this with equal fervor and even brought a hand to pat the boy on the head. No matter how much Bulan grew, he would still be a little boy in her eyes.

“So the lord really IS scary!” One of the mermaids chimed in.

“Lord Sidapa may have a scary face, but he’s not THAT scary.” The Kataw explained. “He is a very handsome god. Now, he just looks scary because he paints it so. He’s doing that on purpose.” She added. Oh how the water sprite knew of Sidapa’s agenda. The more the others feared him the fewer problems he’d have keeping Bulan to himself when others were being too bothersome.

Today, his plan seemed to have backfired.

Though perhaps more importantly, Kataw knew that their lord’s frightening façade kept others from being accidentally hurt. Fear was a very important weapon for Sidapa. It was a means that enabled him to sternly keep others away from harm’s way.

“Speaking of scary, I should go back to him,” Bulan chimed in.

There were a couple resonating protests coming from the sirens, but the Kataw had willed them into silence by offering to tell another story. That bought the Moon God enough time to finally escape and return to Sidapa’s side.

When he finally reached the tree where the god rested, he saw that his husband had fallen asleep.

“He’s been talking about you, you know,” Hangin suddenly spoke up.

“It’s good to see you, Hangin,” Bulan greeted.

“Likewise, hehe!” Replied the wind fae.

“The mermaids were asking for stories about Sidapa and I. I think we got a little carried away with the time.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Sidapa and I were talking about the same thing,” she explained. “A long time has passed and none of us believed that you’d stay by our lord’s side.”

“Even I, Hangin…even I.” The Moon answered as he took a sit beside the sleeping god. When he looked at Sidapa like this, he seemed completely harmless. Then again, he never meant to harm anyone. The animals of the mountain loved him and the flowers bloomed for him. The older sirens sang hymns for him while the newly sprouting life within their residence grew curious of him day by day.

More than anyone, he was oozing with life no matter how much he may deny it.

Bulan could never forget the day that they met. Even now he could still remember the alluring scent of flowers that perfumed the air.

Even now, when he closed his eyes, Bulan could still see the sparkle of fireflies as they lit his way to Mt. Madjaas.

Even now, when he drew close to Sidapa, he could almost hear the sirens sing.

“You are the light that makes the flowers bloom.”

Bulan hummed it softly. The mermaids’ hymn was like a mirror that reflected the Lord of Madjaa’s heart. He was certain that the particular line of the song was meant for him…that to Sidapa, he was something that showered him with a feeling that made his heart bloom into love, but the same could be said for the god.

“You are the life that’s breathe into me.”

For Bulan, Sidapa was the life he had never known. To be in awe yet at the same time feel fear. To feel like there was something that he didn’t want to lose. Recalling that time when the death god fought with Kaptan was the first time that he felt a feeling of fear. Would he be lost to him? It was a thought that he could not bear. Things were much different now than it was back then. During that time, he was so young that he mistook fear for something that mesmerized him…but now, now that they were together, he understood what it was that he really felt.

In a way they were each other’s mirror, without the other their reflections did not exist...could not exist. It was only when they were together that everything was clear.

How frightening it was and yet at the same time, so beautiful…

Bulan careful laced his fingers with Sidapa’s and leaned in beside him. The Moon closed his eyes as well and enjoyed the breeze that the wind fairy gifted them upon her departure.

It was alright like this. No matter what they were or how different they seemed to be…just like night and day, one cannot exist without the other.

They call him death, yet he breathes life into me.

#|| The mun's art Things ||#|| Story Time ||#So this is the thing. About Sidapa and Bulan.#enjoy #Sidapa #Bulan #mermaids #sirens #lore #Myth #fiction #Bakunawa #Makaptan #Saragnayan

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Golden Hour {Hawks | Keigo Takami}

She felt so fortunate to have seen the amazing sights that she did—Tokyo lit up at night in the summer and buzzing with activity far below where she stood; flying high around the Three Holy Mountains in the seasons when their splendor was the most breathtaking; the vast expanse of the ocean spread wide in front of her.

But by far the sight she felt the most privileged to have seen and continued to see was the sight of her husband’s bright, warm features backed by the golden hue of the late afternoon sun.

Honey blonde hair haloed by the rays streaming through their balcony window and framed by the rich crimson of his wings painted him as a divine sculpture, truly a man that deserved to be gazed upon in reverence. A real hero in so many regards with his greatness achieved through his training by the Commission, she was the only one who really understood the greatness he had been born with.

Model-like looks hid beneath them a heart that was capable of so much love and tenderness, a person so valuable he had been hidden away by others in power who wanted to control him as something they could build and manipulate to need. He had broken free after turning twenty-three, a bird set free of the too-small cage they kept him in for the largest portion of his life, and while his true self could bleed through in some ways, Hawks held barely a fraction of the human worth of Keigo Takami.

Keigo was the man whose insecurity over battle scars could eat him alive while he told her how lucky he was to have someone as attractive as her, blemishes and all. He was paranoid of his hero image and the fluctuating rankings that had yet to affect him but “it’s only a matter of time” because he wasn’t young and single anymore. He was afraid of losing speed as his career went on and the potential lives lost that would follow.

He was also the man who remembered that on the day they met she was wearing a purple gingham dress and speaking with other sponsors over a plate of maguro finger food. He was more than happy to use his feathers to entertain her younger family members during gatherings, excited to use them for something other than violence. And Keigo Takami was the one before her, bathed in the rich colors of the setting sun.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said, catching his attention.

He turned to her, lips parted slightly in surprise. “I—you… think I’m beautiful?”

“I do,” she replied with a smile as she reached out to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I think you’re beautiful like this, with the sun hitting you just right. It makes you glow.”

His cheeks dusted pink and a small smile curled onto his lips.

“It’s one of my favorite ways to see you,” she added, voice sultry as the hand in his hair traced from his temple down his face, cupping his cheek. He leaned into the touch, his eyes boring into hers.

“What are the other ways you like to see me?” he asked lowly.

“There’s only one other,” she admitted. Her hand dropped from his cheek and down to the loose collar of his old tshirt, hooking into the fabric and tugging lightly. “Take this off and you’re halfway there.”

He slipped his arms from the sleeves and pulled his head out of the top, two red feathers appearing on either side of him to help guide the material’s large openings on the back over his wings to be tossed aside. Running his fingers through his hair, he cocked his head with a smirk.

“Halfway there,” he said cheekily.

With a smile she uncurled her legs from beneath her and rose up from the couch, turning towards the hallway that led to their bedroom. Reaching a hand out to him, he placed his palm in hers and stood to follow as she began walking. Once in their bedroom he closed the door behind him, an unnecessary task but one that he always made sure to do; inside was for the two of them only, safe and warm away from anyone else.

He dropped his hand and held her steady by the shoulders when she tried to turn around, his chest pressed against her back. Light kisses were placed at the juncture where her neck met her shoulder, and her head lolled back to rest against his collar bone.

She sighed and feeling the smile against her skin, grinned. “You’re still only halfway there, feathers.”

He barked out a laugh, his breath fanning out over the back of her neck as he pulled back slightly. Large, warm palms snuck below the hem of her shirt, smoothing over the skin of her stomach and tracing the familiar shape of her body, indulging himself only for a moment before removing her top and leaving her upper half bare.

“Let a man take his time,” he said in a hushed tone, his hands coming up to cup her chest as he pressed against her once more. A slow roll of his hips and a firm squeeze to her chest let any argument she could have had die on her tongue.

Instead she let out a quiet moan and arched her back at the feeling of his movements. “Mmm, Keigo…”

“Keep saying my name like that,” he groaned, stepping them forward to the bed.

She followed his lead, crawling up the large expanse of pillows and blankets before turning and lying back. At the sight of her husband moving up towards her, his entire body bathed in the golden light once more from their bedroom window, her breath hitched.

“Keigo,” she murmured, surging forward to throw her arms around his neck and pull him into a hard kiss. He fell onto his forearms above her, the majority of his weight supported by his arms but still a pleasant and welcome press against her body.

Desperate breaths between the clashing of teeth and tongues grew steadily heavier, and one of his hands drifted down to tug at her underwear and sweatpants. She shifted her hips to allow him to push them further down her legs and kicked them aside as soon as they were low enough, laying herself completely bare below him.

Still holding her close, his hand drifted back between her hips where he could feel just how much she wanted him. A cute little gasp escaped her at the first brush of his fingers on her clit and her arms tightened their hold around him, her nails forming shallow indents across his shoulders.

He kept his lips on hers to swallow the pleasure-filled noises as his thumb drew languid circles on her clit and his fingers curled into her, moving in a slow rhythm to prepare her for him. Though their more passionate moments were always his favorite, he could honestly say that the buildup was a close contender. To be able to coax her closer and closer to the edge with only his fingers made pride swell in his chest, knowing that he was the only one who could do it and would continue to be the only one for the rest of their lives.

The whines that had begun quietly grew louder as his fingertips found the perfect spot within her and he made sure to hit it at least every other motion. When she tightened around his fingers and her breathing sped up, her heart hammering in her chest hard enough for him to feel it, he gradually lessened the pressure against her clit and pulled his fingers from her completely.

He ground his clothed hips down against hers as he slowed their pace, dragging out the moment to savor the way they fit together so well even like this. But he knew it wouldn’t satisfy them for long, and with one last swipe of his tongue against her bottom lip he pulled back and stood to remove his own underwear and sweats, his wings fluffing out behind him.

“How many times have I had you like this?” he asked breathlessly, his hands sliding up her calves. “How many times have I been lucky enough to see you spread out so pretty for me?”

Her lips quirked up in a tiny smile as a pink blush dusted her cheeks; his words never failed to make her feel as if she were the only woman in the world he could ever look at with such love and passion. Early in their relationship she worried that it was an act like the ones he had put on for so many years because of the Commission’s training, but over time she began to understand that the depth of his emotion were so foreign to him that he truly did hold such wonder when expressing them.

“Could keep you in this bed forever,” he continued as he came to drape himself over her again. “What d’ya say we see if we can have us a chick or two, huh? Fill this nest up with little ones?”

“We will,” she murmured, “but not yet, Keigo.”

He traced a finger down her upper arm, the flash of disappointment not going unnoticed as he hummed, knowing that beneath her skin lay the tiny device in the way of his plans. “One year, two months.”

“Plenty of time to perfect our technique,” she said coyly, her intention to bring him out of his head.

A grin blooming across his face let her know that she was successful, and soon enough the grin was hidden in the crook of her neck and those same teeth were scraping against her skin. She whimpered at the feeling and a low, pleased rumble vibrated within his chest; with him pressed against her it harmonized with the wild beating of her heart.

With one hand between her and the mattress cradling her close, he slid his other hand down her side to prop her hips up so he could position himself properly.

“So good for me,” he whispered as his hips rolled forward until they were flush against her own, his wings lowering around them as if to hide their intimate moment from the rest of the world.

Her legs came to wrap around his waist to pull him just that much deeper, one thigh still supported by his hand and she moaned softly, causing him to look up from her neck to see the blissful expression on her face—eyes half-lidded as she gazed up at him through her lashes and her lips parted in a tiny ‘o’ shape.

Below him, she could only look on in awe as the dying light of day continued to filter through the window and highlight the man she felt privileged to call her husband.

“You’re so beautiful, the only one for me,” he told her, pulling back only to push forward and set a slow, steady pace. Gentle kisses were peppered across her cheeks as each time he filled her completely he paused to grind his hips against hers, the sensual drag against her clit absolutely perfect.

His name fell from her lips like an incantation, small gasps not breaking the spell of encouragement each syllable of his name created. The slow pace was maddening but was building the pleasure pooled low in her stomach.

“I love you,” she murmured breathlessly, catching his lips in a desperate kiss, “I love you, Keigo.”

A shudder ran through him and his rhythm faltered only to resume with faster thrusts of his hips, the new pace causing her to arch into him more. He held her tight against him, grinding more harshly each time he bottomed out within her.

“Fuck, I love you,” he panted as his nose bumped against hers. “I love you so much. Are you close, sweetheart? You’ve got me so close.”

“Please, Keigo,” she whimpered, clutching him harder and feeling the coiled muscles working beneath his skin.

The hand on her thigh moved between her legs, two fingers easily finding her clit and giving firm strokes to match the speed of his hips, driving her that much closer to her peak. “I’ve got you, baby, I know what you need.”

It only took the combination of his movements another moment before she was crying out his name and digging her nails hard into his shoulders, pure bliss washing over her completely. The sensation of her release around him threw Keigo over the edge too, his hips pressed flush against her own as he gave everything he had to her. His wings jerked back, flaring out to their full length in a beautiful arc behind him.

Together they lay amongst the rumpled sheets, chests heaving almost in synch as they basked in the floating afterglow of the moment they had shared. Golden hues continued to dance along the walls of their bedroom, yet still the most precious thing in the room was her husband. She wasn’t sure if anything could ever shine brighter than Keigo Takami.

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duhliriouss · 4 years

Text

Joker One - Shot

Grind on Me

Based on @jokerflecker’s anon ask rollplay that got a little too REAL , I’m sorry if this is a flop. I tried writing it as fast a possible for all you horny clowns and kinda went over board 🥺

A/N: plug in those headphones! I like to add music to fics a lot and find that listening with headphones on while reading really brings in the mood ❣️ well at least for me it does (I don’t do anything without music blaring in my ears) I’m sorry if I made it too musical :/

Summary: Joker has made you sexually frustrated so you end up grinding yourself on his thigh. That’s it really except for the insanely added random stuff😅🖤

Word Count: 3,625

Warnings: Swearing, SMUT

You’ve never committed a crime in your life. You can even say that now; as you waited in Joker and yours’ shared apartment for him to come home from his daily tasks of being his clown prince self.

You always had followed him blindly after his transformation. You’ve been together for so long now. And you were okay with his new-found confidence. You were okay with him switching the gears in your relationship; he was in charge now, and thank god for that...you were never good at taking the lead anyway. Now don’t get yourself all wrong, you loved Arthur dearly before he changed. It had always made sense when you soothed his laughing attacks before bed, when you gave him a warm soothing bath and kissed his bruises tenderly to make them feel better. You would do it all over again if you had to, even if it meant to go through mountains and valleys, hell and back just to protect him from the cruel world that had ambushed him vigorously day in and day out.

But you didn’t have to anymore. Instead, the tables had turned. It was Joker now that went though hell and back to protect you. Although this time it was to save you from the consequences of his own actions, the actions that you justified each time he added a number to his kill count. He never killed for the fun of it. It was for solid reasons; They deserved it, and he shows you just how much he appreciates you every day for staying by his side. He was only blossoming, and you will blossom with him in your very own way. You’ve become more loose, not caring what others think; Dancing in the rain with your beloved after he had just blown up the bank, splashing your feet in the wet remains and ash that sprinkled down with the cold water droplets that sent chills up your spine, mingling with the adrenaline you were both high on. And you have never felt more alive.

And that’s exactly what you did in this very moment..

( Listen To: Just the Two of Us - Grover Washington )

The radio trumpeted throughout the flat. Joker would be home soon and what better way to celebrate than lighting a cigarette and letting your head boom so loud you couldn’t even think straight? It sounded great to you, as it did everyday since it had become routine. You’ve grown bored most days since you liked to stay home all curled up in just your clown shaped slippers, one of Joker’s sweatshirts and your messy (y/h/c) hair, watching the news in anticipation to possibly see what your Joker has done now.

You smiled mischievously as you lit your cigarette, bobbing your head slightly to the vibrational thumps of melody that traveled from the floorboards up to your legs.

Just the two of us

Building castles in the sky

Just the two of us

The song certainly didn’t match the gracefulness of your sun dress you decided to wear today, but you danced anyway.

You lifted up your arms above your head with the cigarette in one hand, swaying your body back and forth and singing along, with your head held up high. The twilight sky seeped though the opened window, turning your living room into a lush blue hue, illuminating your already light blue floral adornment while darkening the rest of the flat into darker shades of purple contours.

You boogied and let yourself free, your body finding its way to each corner of the flat. You kept your eyes closed for the most part, letting yourself feel the strains and chords of the day, melting into a simple bliss of song. You moved your fragile, elegant body in ways that would be hard for anyone to keep their eyes off of; especially Joker, since he was already silently watching you from the doorway that led straight to the living area. You kept going, completely oblivious to his presence that had been muffled to the unnecessary loud music that seemed like it could shake the whole damn building.

He moved his forearm against the opened door frame, getting himself more comfortable as he watched you in complete amusement. This was clearly a routine for him too. He enjoyed nothing more than coming home and catching you in the act at your most tasteful state. He was infatuated by the way you’ve changed, with your afresh freedom that he created for you. For the both of you.

He started to tap his foot, his green oceans flicking back and forth as to follow your every move. His red painted lips turned upwards into a wicked smirk, nodding his head with chuckles escaping his throat.

“And darling when the morning comes

And I see the morning sun

I wanna be the one with you”

Joker sang out loud to you. You wiped your body around to find him leaned lazily against the door frame. Pure excitement boiled up your spine to the site of his return as you smiled broadly. Joker’s eyes twinkled to your contagious, beaming grin, causing his smile to grow even wider. You lifted your arms outward with your cigarettes still in your hand as you sung back:

“We can make it just the two of us!”

The saxophone that played in the song had begun as Joker swayed his way over to you, graceful in his bouncing steps, pulling his hands in front of his face in a silly attempt to fake-play the instrument. He kept going in a desperate plead to make you laugh until he was up close to you. And oh did it work. You couldn’t get enough of his absurdity. You laughed audibly over the fading out music, flicking your cigarette to the ash tray by the table that laid next to you so you could stretch out your open arms for a well needed embrace.

“There’s that laugh” Joker cracked out lovingly.

He reached in for your welcoming embrace and held you for what felt like forever. The only sounds now just being the radio talk show host:

“And there you have it folks. Our next song here will get that fog out of your brains. We are all disheartened from all the terrible riots that have been happening all over here in Gotham. So wind down, grab a glass of wine, and kick back to this one..”

(Listen To: Come and Get Your Love - Redbone)

“I’ve missed you” you breathed as you clung to his red suit.

“Shhh, I fucking love this song”

“Wha—“

“Shh” he hissed again “dance with me love”

You complied with a over dramatic eye roll along with a smirk as Joker grabbed your hips and gently started to move your body along with his own. He didn’t even give you any time to take in more of his scent or even be greeted with his usual array of kisses that he leaves all over your face and chest. Once there was music involved, no matter where or what time of day, Joker was clearly unable to contain himself from boogieing down and giving his full attention to anything else. You didn’t care however...actually, you fucking loved it. Nothing was hotter to you than watching him dance. Music or no music. It didn’t matter. His moves would never look as good on anyone else but himself. It sent you in a trance and always sent sparks of butterflies up your core. Actually, it was even more hot when he dances up against you; especially to music like this that forced the both of you to rub up against each other, other than the usual slow dancing and floor dips. Dancing to songs like this made you desire more of him. His confidence dripping off like pure honey, drizzling off the spoon.

Joker spun you around so your back was flush against his chest. He crossed your arms in front of your own chest and kept hold of your forearms as he moved his own hips back and forth, grinding against you. His unruly green locks bounced against the back of his shoulders enticingly. You followed along matching his rhythm, leaning your head back slightly so you can look up at his authentic, painted features. A smile plastered on your face as Joker leaned down and kissed the front of your exposed neck. You both continued to dance back and forth.

The bass that reverberated the entire building enveloped the moans that cracked out of your throat when he forced his tongue out to lap at the sensitive skin. Joker didn’t have to hear it to know what he was doing to you. He actually smirked against the pulsing point of your throat as it quickened. He could also feel the vibrations from your throat too as you whimpered.

“Heeyy“ He sung against your neck, you could feel his hot breath as his face nuzzled against you.

“Heeyy” you replied for the next verse. You both kept your eyes closed, both very aware of each other’s giddy, foolish smiles.

You gasped internally as Joker brought his mouth up to your ear, tucking a strand behind it as he spoke:

“I know what this does to you. I can feel your legs trembling”

“Then do something about it.” you teased back, making sure to keep the innocence in your voice as you spoke softly, though you couldn’t hide the shudder that ran through your body to his words.

Joker hummed in response. Your bodies just kept moving in a silent game of who can make the other give in first. It was Joker’s turn as he let go of your crossed arms and slid his rough hands down the seem of your dress, stopping at the front of your hips and grabbing down. Your breath hinged, cursing internally to yourself for telling him long ago that this was your sensitive spot.

Your heat was starting to drip to the inside of your thighs, you swallowed hard in anticipation of realizing it was now your turn. But before you could even think of what to do to get him going, the music ended.

“That’s alright” you thought to yourself. “I don’t need music to win”.

Apparently you did as you realized Joker had let go of you now. You stayed facing away from him for a few seconds as the talk show host invaded the silence that resided the room. You turned around to meet his gaze which you thought was right behind you, but instead watched as he was actually over in the kitchen area, pouring 2 glasses a wine for the both of you.

“Hey! That’s not fair! It was my turn!”

He seemed to ignore your clamor but held a small, smug grin which didn’t seem so small with that exaggerating, red stained smile. He made his way over with the 2 wine glasses, passing one over to you. You snatched it out of his hands, waiting for an explanation on leaving you this flustered.

“Your turn for what darling? I can’t dance all night. And besides..” he paused to reach down to the coffee table, grabbing his cigarette and lighting it. “That radio guy was really making me crave some wine”

Your lips parted slightly in bewilderment. Joker on the other hand took a long drag off his cigarette, looking deep into your dilated pupils. He was eating up all of your sweet reactions, it was such a drug to him, watching you be a writhing, flustered mess. You were completely unaware of the fact that this was still Joker’s turn. And he was winning. You never stood a chance and deep down you knew better.

You didn’t move and kept your eyes locked on him as he gave you a half chuckle. He held his cigarette with his mouth while he walked passed you to get to the tv, switching it on before making his way back to the couch. You turned to get out of his way but stayed standing still with the wine glass in your hand. You were feeling rather speechless on what to do or say next. Joker sat down gently on the couch as to not spill his brim-filled beverage. He kept his legs spread out and reached out his arms to the back of the couch lazily. He stared at you for a moment again, so you crossed your arms childishly and formed your lips into a pout.

“Yes?” You asked.

“I can’t see the T.V doll, could you move for me?”

His words stung straight to your chest. You were still completely unaware of his little game, prudishly under his control and he knew it. This was only making him radiate even more confidence. You stepped out of his way and stood to the side. You held your glass of wine with both hands, as if suddenly forgetting how to properly hold it due to how unnerved you were still feeling. You were extremely frustrated with the arousal you were still experiencing. It had all stopped so abruptly and all you craved in this moment was his hands on your soft skin again. Your skin tingled from being especially touch starved in this moment.

Your frustrations got the best of you as you failed to notice Joker’s enlarged pupils boaring into your innocent form. He was clearly satisfied with himself for thoroughly throwing you off. He was in control now. Your thoughts were finally interrupted as Joker cleared his throat. You snapped your head up to look him in the face, causing him to grin widely at seeing your flushed cheeks. You waited for him to speak but instead watched as he placed his already half drunken wine glass gently down on the side table, then using that now free hand to pat on his lap.

“Come”

He didn’t even need to say anything for you to know he wanted you to straddle him while he watched T.V. It had also become a routine for you and Joker’s down time. You sighed, ultimately giving up and walking over to him with a sheepish, tired smile painted on your lips. You sucked down most of your wine before taking your place on his lap. He didn’t move a muscle as you tried to get yourself comfortable, though it was hard seeing how, for some reason, he wasn’t closing his legs enough for you to be able to saddle him with one leg on each side of him. You didn’t think much of it though, you got comfy anyways by placing one leg on each side of just one of his legs, then lying down your head against his red suited chest to close your eyes and let the wine lull you into a dizzy nap.

You were struggling however, you couldn’t stop thinking about Joker’s hands on you just minutes ago. You felt slightly ashamed by how wet you were still getting underneath your sundress. You needed some friction more than ever right now. So you slowly started to move your hips against his thigh, oh so carefully as to not get him to notice. You acted it out as if you were just repositioning yourself.

Joker smirked wickedly as he kept his eyes to the T.V. , he had the news on which played a segment about himself. Though it wasn’t the purpose for his smug smirk - he knew exactly what you were doing. You had fell right into his trap, just how he wanted it..

“It’s okay darling, go ahead, rub yourself on me” his voice cracked a little

Blood rushed to your ears from his words. Your head snapped up drastically as you looked into his eyes, which flicked casually from the T.V to meet yours. You could see his dilated pupils now.

Was this his plan all along?

Joker watched as your rosy cheeks turned into a deeper red, flushing down all the way to your breasts. His gaze dipped down until stopping at your heaving chest. He swallowed trying to rewet his mouth, then licked the button of his lip before bringing his thigh up just gently enough to reach your heat, causing you to twitch slightly.

“Come on, don’t be shy now”

His words mixed with his relaxed posture was driving you crazy. Juices were soaking your panties at this point as butterflies continued to dance in your veins. You’ve never rubbed yourself against your Joker’s thigh before, so you complied timidly, steadying yourself first by placing your hands gently on his broad shoulders. You positioned and grounded your swollen bud on the right spot, instantly feeling the warmth that took shelter under his pant leg. You were a little too embarrassed to look him in the eyes yet, so you curled your back forwards slightly to give yourself room to rest your head into the crook of his neck. You could feel his pulse point quicken as you began to move yourself back and forth. Once you leaned down under his chin, Joker lifted his head slightly to give himself room to place his cigarette between his lips without interrupting you. His cigarette hung loosely from his mouth while his hands found their way back to the backs of the couch.

His eyes stayed locked to the T.V as you continued to grind on him; He wasn’t watching it however. His eyes stayed locked in on the reflection of the television, observing each and every motion of how you got off on him. How your (y/h/c) hair fell messily around your shoulders, down your back as you moved yourself on him.

Your breathe was getting more and more rigid as you continued. You were already feeling the tightness build up in your abdomen and your breath started to turn into whines that muffled themselves into his suit. You twisted your arm around the back of his neck more to get a better angle, you needed as much friction as possible. You were starting to get really close to your release. And Joker could tell because you finally brought your head up to face him. He his eyes caught yours in a heavy glare. Your flushed face watched him. He still acted almost careless but you could tell it was still his game since his eclipsed, barley visible green rings around the pupil of his eyes gave it away. His stare alone was enough for you to come undone.

Joker’s cigarette still stayed loosely between his thin red lips but his arms finally made their way off the couch and his hand traveled to your hips. Your maneuvers were becoming way out of sync so he gripped down hard with his calloused hands, moving you rapidly and roughly. His eyes flicked back and forth casually, multiple times until eventually resting where your blue floral trim met with your silky skin. The skirt of your dress had risen quite a bit from Joker’s hands. His head tilted just slightly enough to get a better look at how your juices were visible on this part of your thigh, shimmering from the dim light of the living room. You finally heard a low grumble accumulate in his throat. And your left knee could now feel the bulge that started to take over his pants.

This was enough for you now. You couldn’t take anymore as you threw your whole being into Joker’s loose embrace, sending out a loud cry as waves of your orgasm washed over your trembling frame. Joker let go of your hips, now just ghosting his hands over them to let you ride out your climax. You grabbed fistfuls of his red suit in your hands. Your legs shook violently around him until you could catch your breath. You were calming down but you were still a writhing mess. Joker didn’t move yet so you slowly brought your head up. His eyes looked at you for just a second before taking the last drag of the stub of a cigarette that still poked out of his mouth. He took one hand and discarding it in the ashtray next to him on the side table. He leaned his attention back to you, now looking straight down right on his suite to see all the drool you had left on it. His eyes then traveled to the bottom of your skirt again that displayed delicately to cover all your cum faultlessly. Your eyes darted all around him desperately waiting for any kind of reaction from him. Anything

“Lift up that pretty little dress of yours and show me the mess you’ve made” his voice came out hoarse and flat. Almost unamused

You obeyed, but you couldn’t tell what game he was playing now. Was he really unimpressed with you pleasing yourself on him for the first time ever? Did you really do that bad of a job? Was the way you did it unattractive? You internally nodded your head no, since you still could feel his hardened cock against your knee. He was obviously pleased.

With one last hesitating look, you slowly hiked up your skirt; you were wearing white panties but when Joker’s eyes fell on your mess, he saw how you have came so much that your thong was completely soaked, and see through. The white fabric clung to your pussy, defining your glistening folds. Joker swallowed hard and you could almost hear his heart beating faster in his chest. He let a few rigid breaths before letting out a small series of throaty chuckles. He lifted his head back up to you and you were caught off guard by a charming, wide smile:

“I win..”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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feverinfeveroutfic · 3 years

Text

chapter thirteen: black and silver

“Wow, what a story, honey.”

Sam had arrived into the harbor outside of Avalon right as the rains completely arrived, and she traded in a dollar for four quarters so she could call her mother and give a follow up as to what was going on with her. Once she had arrived at the harbor and took her back to her brand new house, Esmé thus treated her to a nice warm cup of a fusion of chai and black tea: it was tea time at the point anyway.

The house was a cute little cottage nestled in the low hillside that overlooked Avalon and most of the harbor right under a rouse of ponderosa pines and a palm tree: the small yard was decorated in small lush chaparral shrubs and bushes of bright pink pearly Catalina manzanita. Warm heavy wood lined the living room floor and the floor of the small but cozy kitchen; the wall behind them and the small comfy couch was a rich royal blue and carried a couple of framed photographs, one of which was Sam herself as a five year old girl. To the right stood the hallway which extended to her bedroom as well as the guest room and the spacious bathroom. Everything in that house was a warm amber or a royal blue, such that it reminded Sam of the shows in Boston and Providence.

“If I didn't know better, I'd swear we were in New England,” she confessed to her.

“Always wanted to live on Catalina,” Esmé told her as she lifted the tea bag out of the dark blue silver lined tea cup to ensure that it had completed steeping. “And I had a feeling you would like it, too. But the whole thing with Bill, though—that's—” She swallowed and Sam could see the agony in her face. “—I feel like I could've done something had you said something about it to me.”

“Well, see, that's the thing, though, Mom, is—I had no clue what he would do,” she confessed with a shake of her head. “He threw a glass at Belinda's head when they were getting me out of there. Missed her but he threw a glass at her, though! He actually locked me into the house at one point. The boys actually had to bust through a window just to get me out of there. They were about to go over to Germany, too—I'm glad they did because I know that man would've been furious about it. Surprised he never addressed it to me.”

“What's Germany like, by the way?”

“Beautiful. Just gorgeous—like Catalina or upstate New York but cleaner and a bit homelier, though. We were there for a week, and so Alex and I hung out for a full day together at one point. Went through the Black Forest and had authentic European beer on the train, too.” She dared not tell her mother that she left him there at the train station nearby the border to East Germany.

“I'll have to introduce you to him, though,” Sam told her as she held the cup of tea close to her chest. “He's really sweet, Mom.”

“As sweet as Joey was?”

“Sweeter. As kind as Joey is to me, I feel like there was something missing between us, like there needed to be something more there with us.”

“Did you feel any chemistry between the two of you?” Esmé asked her.

“Yeah, I did,” Sam replied. “But—I'm not sure how to explain it, though. All the touches and the little grins he'd show me—you've seen his crooked little smile.”

“Oh, yeah. Just like the man I used to know when your father and I were together at first.”

“Speaking of which... did you ever find him again?”

Esmé shook her head.

“I haven't seen him since your father and I got married,” she confessed. “And he was about to head back up to the northern half of the state, but that's—that's where it starts and ends, though. I couldn't exactly say where he had gone off to or what he planned on doing afterwards.”

The tag on the tea bag dangled off the silvery edge of the cup as she took a sip.

“Mmm—have you tried this tea, Sam? Locally grown. Practically everything here is locally grown and supported. We get things from the mainland, but it's rather endemic, though. It's especially the case over in Two Harbors.”

“This past summer, Louie and I took a road trip from the Bay Area back to Elsinore, and we went all along the coast, along the Pacific Coast Highway and the 1—and he showed me that one part of the Salinas River, right before it gets to the ocean.”

“Oh, I love that part of the state,” she told her, “all along the coastline. I considered moving to outside of Ukiah, right up close to the coastline up there but this place here on Catalina came up and it was an offer I simply could not refuse.”

“Nice little boat ride, too,” Sam added.

“Oh, yes. It's not often, though. Things are pretty self sustainable around here. I figured if it's really something that you wish for, like it's imperative that you return to the mainland, that's probably the one time you go across the Channel with the boat or with the sea plane. Some forty years ago, eight inches of snow fell on the mountain right over here.”

“Wow,” Sam raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah, you don't really think of an island off the coast of California as having snow,” Esmé chuckled. “But it happened. Hawai'i gets snow every so often, too, so does Seattle. And coincidentally, so does the Bay Area. It's nothing like Elsinore or the San Gabriels or northern Nevada, but it does happen every so often, though.” She took another sip of her tea and then shook her head and closed her eyes at the flavor. Sam took a sip herself: rich and subdued at the same time, and almost minty as well, and with a kiss of sugar to augment it a bit.

“Ooh, that's nice,” she remarked.

“See?” Esmé smiled at her and she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “So what are they like? The other band you're friendly with now?”

“Testament? They're dark but they're not like... satanic, though. They've got skulls and things surrounding them and their image, but I promise you, they're not satanic, Mom.”

“What are they called again?”

“Testament. I mean, it's even in the name. It should be indicative that they're not satanic.”

“Sounds more like they're about to preach a sermon of sorts,” Esmé confessed. “Like I think of the Old Testament.”

“Preach and give us what for—but not in the way in which Bill did with me, though. Their church is one of—guitars and hard fast music and having fun, too. Having fun with all of us ladies, too.”

Esmé laughed at that.

“Oh, god,” Sam declared and she picked out a delicate pink petit four from the plate on the narrow coffee table next to them, “one time—this was last summer, actually—we were all touring over in Boston and a few ladies were walking past us on the sidewalk and they called the four of us—Marla, Belinda, Zelda, and me—all satanic for hanging out with a bunch of metal boys. And Zelda was like 'yeah, a band called Testament is satanic!' and Marla and I both laughed out loud at that.”

Esmé herself chuckled in response to that as she held her tea cup up to her lips once more. Sam took a bite of the little cake in all of its light fluffiness, and then one more bite of it.

“What are they called again?” she asked her.

“Who, Zelda's band? The Cherry Suicides. It conjures the image of a human sacrifice—like a virgin giving herself up—or simply a woman stabbing herself in the chest.”

“So violent,” she remarked with a shake of her head.

“But that's what makes them so awesome, though. That same night, we were in Boston, and they were allotted right before Anthrax and Testament's sets. They did this song called 'Dead Witches', it was like a seven minute long jam. One minute of hardcore punk and then their guitarist Minerva just launched into this big long solo. Given they're a punk band, their songs are usually only a couple of minutes. But right there, they just showed that they're as a big of a power house as the boys themselves, too.” Sam sipped on the tea again so as to wash down the petit four.

“They're all real nice, too. These four tough looking chicks all the way from Providence, but they're so kind, though. They love their fans and they're easily some of the most polite people I've met.”

“They've been through a lot, too, you said.”

“Yeah, they have! All the break ups and the drama with the record labels and—” Sam shook her head as she thought about Aurora. “Long time coming for them, though. I hope I get to see them again.”

“You're gonna have to go back to the mainland anyways,” Esmé pointed out.

“Yeah, I promised Alex I would.”

“You said he's sweet.”

“Yeah, he is. He's funny—he's the kind of guy you don't really like at first until he finds a way inside of you. He's got this little bit of gray hair over his brow, too. He turned twenty back in September.”

“Twenty years old and he's already going gray?” Esmé gaped at that.

“He's been going gray, though,” Sam pointed out. “I remember him telling me about it but I don't remember the full details, though, except he's had it since he was like fourteen. When we first met him, it was like this little sliver over his brow and now it's this little tuft. It's weird, too, like it's just this little tiny bundle of gray hair on that part of his head, and just that part of his head, too. The rest of his hair is completely solid black.”

“Huh.”

“Aurora told me her—grandmother, I think it was—had something similar to that. No idea what causes it, either.”

“Maybe it's a birthmark. It's a long shot, but it is possible, though.”

“Could be, but—who knows, really.” Sam shrugged her shoulders. “He's been dyeing it, too.”

“Can't blame him,” Esmé admitted. “A boy his age going gray so early—you might as well keep your hair uniform.”

“He says it ages him.”

“And it does, too. I remember the very day your father initially went gray—and yes, it aged him several years. I remember the day I started going gray, too. Can't imagine how it makes him feel.”

They sipped on their tea in unison and the rain outside fell even harder on the rooftop and porch outside.

“I'm gonna assume the other reason why you moved here,” Sam started again, “and not the coastline is because this feels like the quintessential place to write a novel.”

“Exactly!” Esmé declared with a laugh. “There's only a couple thousand people here and no one to bother me, either.”

“Except me of course,” Sam pointed out.

“You're not bothering me, sweetie. You never bother me—if there's anything I can genuinely take away from you living so far away for a few years, it's that I miss having you around.”

“Well, even though I consider New York as my home, I can always ensure a trip out here. I might as well ensure that, anyways: I've got friends out this way.”

“So nice of them to bail you out of there, too.”

“Yeah, I mean—Greg got me out through the back window the first time around and we got down to Alhambra without sparing any expense. And then Eric literally busted through a window to get me out of that house. And then they took me to Germany for a week.”

“And you like the Bay Area, too.”

“The Bay Area is stunning. They took me to the place where Cliff's ashes are spread out—and it just felt like a—a—a pilgrimage of sorts. Eric showed me where he was from. Louie and I took a road trip together down the coastline.”

“And Alex took you home.”

“And Alex took me home, right,” she echoed, that time in a soft voice. “And he was in Aurora's wedding, too...”

Maybe she had in fact been far too hard on him as she sipped on the tea some more. She thought of him over there on the mainland, with the guys all around him. She hoped that, since she was on Catalina with her mother and not over there with them, that Bill would keep his distance from Reseda. She knew that he was far and away from there, and yet that fear still lingered over her.

At the same time, she began to think about Joey again and moreover, how in the world he managed to find a new woman to substitute her back home back East. The only way he would have found out is if someone back there told him, and as far as she knew, Louie never approached him once. In fact, the more she thought about it, the less sense it made to her. The only way she could even so much as find out about it is if she sought answers from the man himself, and it would be a little bit before she got to see him again in Long Beach.

That is if she could.

Afterwards, Esmé treated her to a bite of dinner at one of the cafes there in Avalon. Given it was raining, they retreated inside of there and shared a pina colada, even in the middle of December and a week before Christmas.

If nothing, Sam was glad to be around her mother again, even if Ruben was up in the Bay Area from that point onward. If nothing, it would be a rather interesting Christmas there on Catalina with all of the manzanita and all of the endemic plants about there, much like on her road trip with Louie: her mother joked about having a small palm tree in the front room of the house for the tree, although it made legitimate sense to Sam.

She knew that she would have to get used to the idea of having a split household from then on: divided over the entire state of California and she considered on returning to New York when all was said and done. However, she had her doubts about that, especially with Joey having his hands on another woman.

She took a warm shower to rid of the feeling traveling had given her and then she curled under the covers in her old bed tucked away there in the guest room. All the while she thought about Joey himself. She pictured him with his hands all over that other woman and she wondered if Frank genuinely saw them hold hands with one another or if he caught a fleeting glimpse of them and put two and two together. But she couldn't help it: she pictured him with a long and lanky supermodel, not a stubby little dark haired woman such as herself.

She rolled over onto her back and she wondered if he would return to her if she was a supermodel herself. Long narrow legs with big stiletto heels. The perfect hourglass shape to her body and her breasts so perky that no one could resist them. She could have the boys all to herself if that was the case with her.

If anything, as she thought about it more, she wondered as to why all of the guys even liked her in the first place because with every glimpse in the mirror, especially when she stood there after her shower and examined her nude body, she just saw a plain young woman with dark hair and dark eyes. She looked just like every other woman on the street as far as she could tell.

Nothing discernible as far as she could tell, either: nothing like doll-like features with Belinda or ever changing hair like Marla, or even something interesting like premature grays or having parents who hailed from both sides of the Korean peninsula.

And she bounced around with her weight as if it was the easiest thing in the world: but at least this time around, she was on the downswing. She glanced down at her body as it lay underneath the covers: the tips of her feet pointed up down at the base of that narrow mattress. She let her hand slide over the sheet, towards the right side.

She could still feel Cliff there next to her. She could still feel his presence, even with his smell gone away from her olfactory memory and even with the feel of his body vanished from the caress of her hand.

She could also feel Joey next to her. They were so close a few times. She actually got to put her lips around him not once, but twice.

And then, just like that, he went off with another woman all because she didn't resemble to a supermodel.

So many questions and all she could do was fall right into a dreamless sleep.

It wasn't until she awoke the next morning to the dense marine layer and the feeling Christmas was upon her when she realized she hadn't seen the mysterious man for months, as if he had vanished from her dreams forever.

After breakfast, Esmé drove her back down to the harbor for the next boat ride back over to San Pedro.

“I'll be waiting for you, sweetie,” she vowed to her as she held her in her arms away from the rain.

“No idea how long the show will be, though,” Sam confessed as she ran her fingers through her dark hair.

“I'll be waiting for you regardless of it, though.” She flashed her a wink and blew her a kiss before Sam boarded that little blue and white boat with her purse on her shoulder and her questions ready for Joey; she also had her explanation ready for Marla and Belinda, even though she had faith Alex had told them about it. She took her seat on the starboard side and peered over the edge to the gray ocean waters down below.

Twenty two miles across those waters and with the marine layer overhead, and soon the edge of California emerged in view: the coast seemed to extend on either side of them for as far as the eye could see. Sam thought about the Highway 1 on her road trip and how it all felt so endless and eternal at the same time, even if it was obvious the end of it came soon enough.

As the coast became clearer and clearer, she spotted that car in the parking lot before the dock. Even from a whole mile away, she recognized his tall body and those jet black curls. She didn't even have to see that little tuft of gray on his head to know that it was him there.

They reached the dock and Sam bolted off of the boat first and she hurried up to him.

“It's the damnedest thing, I can literally see you a mile away,” she told him as part of her greeting to him.

“You wanna know something?” he asked her as he set a hand on her shoulder.

“What's that?”

“I can, too. A mile out and I saw you peeking over the edge.”

“You could literally see me?” she chuckled.

“Yeah! Anyways, come on—the doors don't open until way later but—you know the drill.”

Alex drove her up to Reseda with nothing more than the side streets. He was silent the whole way and she could only assume that he had told Marla and Belinda what had happened. But she could only assume regardless of it all.

They reached the club in question and he parked around the back in the alleyway, much to where Sam thought she was about to bow headfirst into the dashboard in front of her.

“Sorry—I'm still trying to get used to it,” he confessed with a shrug. She let out a low whistle.

“Well, at least you weren't speeding,” she pointed out. He climbed out first; she followed him up to the back door there. All the memories of the Stormtroopers of Death tour returned as he held the door for her. She walked into the back hallway there, where two women congregated around Greg and his bass guitar. He nodded at her and Alex, and they both turned for a look back at them.

So he didn't tell them because they just got there themselves.

“THERE SHE IS!” Marla declared at the top of her lungs.

Belinda's snake pendant glittered under the pale lights with each and every step of the way. She threw her arms around her first and then she gaped at Sam. Marla shook her head and gaped at her.

“What the hell, Sam? Why'd you bail on us?”

She was taken aback at that. “I did?”

“Yeah,” Belinda followed up as Greg joined them there at the back door, “after you got the news that Joey had left you for another woman, you just sorta—went rigid and then you disappeared out of the cafe and just started walking up the road. We tried to get you back with us, but you were like 'no! I'll get there on my own!' Didn't even tell us where you were going, either.”

“Wow.” She slowly rubbed her hands together at the sound of that. “I—I don't even remember doing that. I can't believe I did that to you.”

“You must've just blacked out,” Greg explained. “Like it hit you so hard that your mind went completely blank.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that yesterday after I dropped her off at San Pedro,” Alex followed up, “like—it sounds like she just completely blacked out.”

“Yeah, you were completely checked out at that point,” Belinda added. “I couldn't even get you to pay any attention.”

“Well, yeah, I mean—Joey is my guy. At least, I thought he was.” Sam stopped herself because the tears were coming back to her. “Did—Frankie give any more explanation as to why he went with another woman?”

Marla and Belinda glanced at one another, and then the former shook her head: her neon green hair shimmered about under the bright light of the backstage area.

“No, he just said, 'tell Sam that—I spotted Joey with another woman, and they look in love, too. Probably more so than the two of them.'”

Sam closed her eyes and bowed her head a bit.

“If we see him, we're gonna have a long talk with him,” Belinda vowed.

“The three of us or just me?”

“We'll help you,” Marla promised her. “Aurora's not here right now—obviously—so she's way out of the loop.”

“Push comes to shove, since he took your heart from you—we'll take something from him,” Belinda added.

“We won't go that far,” Marla told her off. “Especially since there's more than likely a good explanation behind it.” She fetched up a sigh and shook her head again. “San Pedro, you said, Alex?”

“My mom lives on Catalina now,” Sam pointed out. “Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, that's right! Okay, so you went to your mom's house.”

“And Alex drove you there, too,” Greg added with a nod.

“I was driving down yesterday and there was traffic on the freeway when I got to Bakersfield, and I was like 'ah, jeez.' So I took a detour all through some farmland and I saw her walking on the side of the road. I was like, 'is that Samantha? Oh my god it is!' So I pulled over and got her in the car with me and I drove her there before the snow hit the Grapevine.”

“Drove me all the way down to the docks,” Sam added in a soft voice; something caught her attention out of the corner of her eye, and she spotted a man with his back turned to them. But she remembered his head of thinning black hair, still long and down past his shoulders. He was talking to Louie as she approached him from behind and tapped on his shoulder.

“Hey, Scott!”

“Hey!” He put his arms around her. “How've you been?”

“Been over at my mom's house—she lives on Catalina, now. Twenty miles off the coast.”

“Wow.” He raised his thick eyebrows at that. “So how's life in Elsinore? I heard some things about that.”

“I don't live there anymore. Marla and Bel got me out of there. I might find my way back to New York officially soon enough.”

“Cool!” He gave her a high five at that.

“By the way, how'd you find out about my living in Elsinore?”

“Marla. I saw her running down the street a while back and I asked her what was going on, and she told me to take her over to your old school—I was driving. She did some things in there and then she came back out and she told me what happened to you. She asked me to keep it between us and so I did.”

Louie raised his head and nodded at her.

“Hey—poison garden,” she greeted him. Louie hesitated and then he laughed at that.

“Poison garden!” He bumped fists with her and Scott looked at them both, confused.

“It's—a long story,” Sam told him.

“It really is,” Louie added, and then he laughed at something behind her. She turned for a look back at Greg and Alex with Marla and Belinda: Greg slung his bass over his shoulder and then he let it rest right onto his back.

“You're gonna do what Joey did, aren't you?” Louie joked as the three of them walked on over to that side of the backstage area.

“Nah—just wanna see what the crowd's gonna be like out there.” He poked his head out from behind the curtain for a better look out to the front row of the crowd: Louie and Alex joined in, as did Sam and Marla right behind them. They were met with a sea of heads, a few of whom near the front had little elephants on their sleeves. It took Sam a second to realize that those were the Republican elephants with their red make up and the little white stars on their feet. Alex had his eye on all three of them and he frowned at the sight of them.

“What's up?” she asked him.

“Yeah, this new album is definitely gonna be titled that,” he assured her. “Practice What You Preach.”

“This is bringing back all those memories of when we were first starting out,” Greg added, “we were playing in clubs up in the Bay Area. And there were a bunch of people who were talking about Reagan and we weren't having any of it.”

“Oh, yeah, it's definitely gonna have that title.”

The bunch of them backed away from there and Alex snapped his fingers.

“What?” Sam asked him, and he gestured for her to follow him. But he only led her to the little table tucked in the corner right behind him where he had set down a black backpack for safe keeping.

“I forgot to show you this, by the way,” he told her as he unzipped the front pocket, “—when I took you down to San Pedro yesterday.”

He flashed her a Polaroid photograph of a silver menorah on a table somewhere. All around the base stood a series of little yellow marigolds: each of the eight candles were lit with those pure yellow flames.

“Candles—lit for me?”

He opened his mouth to say something but he was cut off by Greg singing off key to something. Alex turned his head in his direction as Greg slapped and plucked at the thick bass strings.

“What's all this?” Alex demanded.

“Nana na na na! Nana na na na!”

“Greg!”

“Huh?”

“What're you doing?”

“Sorry, I was just singing. We are getting paid to do this, you know, Alex.”

“True.”

The back door swung open again and Alex set a hand on Sam's shoulder so as to get her out of the way. Chuck and Tiffany stepped inside, away from the fine drizzle that began to fall over Los Angeles.

“I saw our pals from Slayer in the crowd here,” Chuck pointed out.

“Where's Slayer?” Sam wondered aloud. “Where's Slayer? Where's Slayer?”

“I didn't see them, either,” Marla added.

“They're there, though,” Tiffany assured them, and Chuck's face lit up at the sight of Sam.

“Hey, Sammich! C'mon over here. I got something to give you.”

“Well, it's from me and him both,” Tiffany corrected him.

“What is it?”

He kept his hand behind his back and he showed her a thoughtful look on his face.

“Close your eyes and hold out your wrist,” he told her. She did just that and she felt something smooth brush against her skin. He tied something right atop his wrist.

“Okay,” he told her, and she opened her eyes. He had given her a bracelet of black onyx beads and fire opal sugar skulls.

“Oh my god, Chuck, it's beautiful!” she gasped.

“It's a friendship bracelet. I got one, too!” He showed her the twin bracelet on his wrist as well and she threw her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she whispered right into his ear.

“And thank you,” he whispered back to her.

“Hey, if nothing, we can name our new album Poison Garden,” Louie joked to Greg and Alex.

“No!” Sam whirled around and she pointed over at Louie himself, and he lunged back a bit as a result.

“No?”

“That's 'not' to you!” Scott called out from across the floor and Marla and Belinda both cackled at that.

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shishinoya · 4 years

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He Wasn’t A Dreamer || a.k

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ — SUMMARY || Akaashi was taught that dreams were wasteful. — PAIRING || Akaashi Keiji X Reader — TYPE || Story — WARNING || Angst — WORD COUNT || 1.7k words — AUTHOR’S NOTE || i don’t know... i got an idea and this thing was born ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Akaashi was a thinker; never doing anything brash nor unnecessary. Everything was calculated. From the way he woke up, placing his pillows against the headboard and tucking the sheets comfortably along his bed, to how he sets his notebooks on the right of his desk - never the left. He wrote out his day with plans, each having several steps. He followed them religiously, never straying away. His meals were cultivated to ensure he was taking the exact amount of nutrients. Rice, chicken, snow peas, all arranged in neat lines and in clean smooth bowls. It was precise, definite, perfect. He was perfect. He needed to be perfect. It had a purpose; there was reasoning to it. He was built from numbers and logic, dreaming never seemed like an option.

Akaashi was considerate. He never thought about himself and held his friends and family close in his mind. Always cleaning after himself, never leaving his mess for someone else to take care of. He stayed up late into the night, filling his ears with the sobs of a peer. He didn’t like it. He thought it was annoying. Classmates used him as a bank account, asking for money, promising that he would see it again, but he didn’t. He couldn’t buy a new textbook. He thought it was unfair. He gave; never expecting to receive. He listened; never expecting to be heard. He had a purpose. This was his purpose. He was their reasoning. He didn’t have a chance to dream.

Akaashi was quiet. His opinions and thoughts rattled his mind and poked knives at the back of his throat, threatening him to release them. But he knew better. He remembered the way faces twist and lips curled when his mouth opened. He still feels the sting of cherished hands across his pale cheek. They stuffed his mouth with mush and greens; stating that he should never speak with his mouth full. But it wasn’t. Their minds said “yes”. To them, his mouth was filled with trash and it was nothing worth hearing. It held a reason. There was a point to it. To discipline him. To tear thoughts of anything but logic. They used needles of control to sew thin lines of suppression and restrain through his dry lips. They stole his dreams.

Butterflies had their wings plucked and were turned into colourful prints. They were dull. The clouds that were once as white as virgin snow were now grey and spun into weaves of cotton candy. They were sour. The waves of the ocean that wrapped their warm salted arms around his skinny body were now chains, locking him from seeing the shore. They were cold.

Dull, sour, cold. You could call his life that. He wouldn’t hear you. It had a purpose; it had reasoning. Dreams were wasted thoughts.

He never thought of anything out the box of right; he couldn’t stretch his understanding of why. The bold red zeros on comprehension served as evidence. Asking more questions meant uncertainty. He was always certain.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You created earthquakes. You were bold, bright, levitating. Compared to his exhausted eyes, yours were anything but tired. They lit up every time you talked. They gleamed, especially when the rays of the sun tickled your skin. The way your lashes fluttered and framed them. He could see himself in them.

You constantly danced to invisible music that seemed to only play in your own ears. You drowned out the talk and words of others. Your descriptions used unfamiliar terms and a language Akaashi never heard before. You were asked why you always seemed like you were floating, and you responded with, “That’s because Tinkerbell gave me some pixie dust”.

Foolish. Akaashi thought. You were just another shameful dreamer that he shouldn’t get involved with. His mind, flooded with statements of how distasteful you were, instructed his throat to contract, ordered his mouth to open, demanded that he did not think and allowed himself to taste a bit of choice.

Wishful thinking. The desires of his mind wouldn’t control him. He could taste strong metal. Red tainted his teeth, painted his lips, layered his tongue. He could feel the pain; he just paid no mind to it. He almost lost his way. He almost slipped. He never slipped. Who were you? What have you done?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

His questions piled. He was curious. He was jealous. He wanted to be able to be as free as you. He knew these were emotions. He knew they were wrong. He would feel the lashes later, but he couldn’t stop them. They were immense. They pulled his insides and rearranged them so his body would bend. They raked his stomach so much so that it became unbearable. He clawed his chest, a feeble attempt in trying to cleanse the pain. He wheezed. He gasped. He choked.

He understood now. He understood how dangerous emotions were.

You composed your dreams. You showed him them. You took those butterflies and created giant planes where people rode on the wings like they would with roller coasters. You churned the clouds, sculpting them into castles and towers that overshadowed the lush green mountains. The ocean shifted with your movements; the waves formed horses where they pranced and ran along the surface. You were given the option to dream.

You were an uncertainty. He didn’t like it. He couldn’t see what you were thinking; he couldn’t figure out your motives. The friendships he made were always made to benefit him. You were a different case. He wanted to understand, to wrap a finger around your ideas. Your thoughts. You. Maybe it was jealousy. Maybe he wanted to live your life. Maybe he wanted to feel the joy of being a dreamer.

You were a risk. He was scared of you. He was scared of what he will go through. But he wanted to get that taste; that sweet taste of choice. The taste that he stopped himself from relishing in. The one that made his tongue go numb.

So he did.

He took the risk that called herself Y/N.

He talked to you. He needed information. You held important knowledge that he wanted - no, needed to know. You were like the vowels in his story of life; without you, it would be meaningless and difficult to comprehend. You had a purpose to him: to educate him, to teach him of this unknown tongue of words. That was his reasoning, and he repeated it to himself every time his eyes landed on your giggling figure. He reasoned and convinced himself that there was nothing special to you. You were only someone who would benefit him, you didn’t have a name. You were just a person. He clung onto the fact that his emotions were not affecting his decision making. He desperately resented the thought of you being more than just a person, just a small risk. He tried, but it wasn’t working. You were too much.

Nights where he sat on the frigid floor, back leaning against the bed frame, were haunting. Numbers, words, charts, data all twirled and kicked there way into his mind, to the point where if he closed his eyes, there wouldn’t be a spot that didn’t have writing. Calculations. He needed to calculate.

emotions = pain. i don’t like pain. the markings hurt. no emotions → no pain. i can’t feel. i won’t feel. then why does it hurt now? i wont feel. my mind is foggy. i won’t feel. redirect it. redirect the pain.

...

why are you here. . . ?

The outline. He could recognize it anywhere.

The movements. He followed with care.

The smile. That forsaken smile.

He hated how it wouldn’t go away. He blinked once, twice. You remained. Your arms reached out for him. He vigorously shook his head, an attempt to wake his brain from the nightmare that held his consciousness in a vice. You pushed out the numbers, the words, the data, and started to paint with hues he’s never seen before. How? He didn’t like it, not one bit. You weren’t leaving his thoughts. He needed you out. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. All it revolved around was you. His mind was invaded with snapshots of events that never occurred. A hug. He could never. A touch. She would never.

A kiss.

Never.

You were painful. You caused him the pain. He pulled his hair, gripped the strands. Tugged so hard, he thought he could hear them tearing themselves from the roots of his scalp. He pried his nails through his skin, to divert his attention, to rid his mind of you.

What reasoning did he have that you were on his mind? He liked you. That you made his heart race as if it were running a marathon every time he sees you. He liked you. He couldn’t understand why he was searching for that laugh of yours. He liked you. He didn’t know why he cared for your opinion.

He can’t fathom the idea of him yielding to useless feelings. They felt more controlling than the hands of his parents. They used strings and made him dance to their pleasure like he was some kind of puppet. He felt weak. He was more than that, though. He was the Akaashi Keiji. The one that reached beyond and above, being that perfect child that every parent loves to boast about. The one whose stare and eyes were so intimidating that others would coward in his presence. He always felt superior. He was always at the top.

And yet, you made him take a bite of defeat.

His knees buckled when you walked through the door. His bony hands, skin so tight that his veins looked like they could pierce them, felt clammy whenever you looked his way. When you bumped into his shoulder, he could have sworn that it was a blessing. You were a fairy who had blessed his eyes, lips, body, mind. He was a fool. Fairies aren’t real. You couldn’t be real.

For you were just a simple dream. A dream that Akaashi would never seem to reach. He didn’t understand dreams. He didn’t understand you.

He wasn’t a dreamer.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

cheese cult bbs ❤ : @akaashichigo @drainedjaz @haikkeiji @annalyn-annalyn @writingsbycrackhead @sosugasweet @cali-writes-sometimes @simping4ratsumu @ushiwakaa @from-left-to-write @akaashit-baeji @kxgeyamasmilk @agaassi @hanibuni @cupofkenma @kawanisshi @milkandc00kiez @thiccbokuto @shinsukestan @sufiawrites @wakaitoshi @skyguy-peach @fern-writes-ig @briswriting @miyuswriting @raevaioli

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soulwitch · 3 years

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Memory’s Blade

Only known by the moniker Suzune, this brown haired woman made one of her few appearances at the end of Redbellion. Nothing more than a fragment of a memory used to fight alongside Harune at the end of the galaxy.

Suzune is a name this woman took up whilst living with Harune for a period of several hundred years. As formerly known, time within Harune’s old lodge was at a standstill. While years passed for those inside, the effects of aging did not. And outside, when one moved to the lodge, they would return only minutes or at least several hours later.

In Suzune’s case her time span, despite being so long, nearly 400 years gone, only meant one week had lapsed in her home world.

Her time with Harune was one spent in love, from her first arrival, to her last departure, she was struck with the Mistress of the lodge. To the extent she stayed for centuries, in an isolated world, just them, the two servants, and those who came and went.

From time to time her skills were put to use, capable of handling rowdy visitors, ensuring Harune never needed to force her hand. Even teaching the newest servant, Hakune, how to defend both herself and Harune.

The laws of Harune’s lodge dictate that one only finds their way there if they’re in need of a wish. Suzune was in need of a wish, confidence. Her homeworld, which we will get to, was being ravaged by one called the Rift walker.

Suzune found her confidence while with Harune, in love she became herself without ever needing to make a wish. The issue was, if she left, she would never be able to return. Knowing this is what leads to her long stay, but soon it does end.

Suzune, otherwise known as Ueno Tsubame, would finally say her parting wishes to Harune, leaving after centuries of love, to return to her own world to save it. Leaving behind 2 fragments of her soul, two memories that could be brought out if Harune ever felt that isolating loneliness. Though with the family they had between them and their two servants, the chances of that was always so slime. At least till Redbellion.

Ueno Tsubame, ‘Suzune’. Stood at 5′8″, she wore a white kimono modified kimono, a blouse and modified skirt, hip adorned with a blade and her feet wrapped with shin guards and sandals. Her long brown hair was tied to the side, and her hazel eyes had a tint of gold about them.

Tsubame’s era was far more feudal than that of the current era the hearts reside from. Though the make up of the world has only advanced, but the locations have not changed.

To keep it simple as the world will not be the focus of any future story, but this lore is necessary for several muses to be flushed out a bit. The world’s layout functions with two large continents that each make up the west and east hemispheres. The western continent is mountainous to the north, and widens out to plans in the south, its shape is that of a rugged tear drop with a curve towards the East.

In the North Aloysha’s home is located, a feudal Eastern European culture that evolved into one of blade and magic. To the south, Leb’s home, a sprawing mix of French, Germany, Dutch cultures, a republic lead by idealizing advancements in technology.

On the Eastern continent, shaped like a waxing crescent moon of equal size, the north is ridged to the Easter but lays out low towards the west leaving ample space for the many cities of Kiyoko’s home, a faith driving Japan cultured home. Though run as tribal collectives. And to the south, the same mount ridge hugs the east but the west sloped land dispersed into an archipelago, birth an ocean fairing Chinese civilization of merchants. Between the two continents in a much smaller but equally as island filled nation, is Raven’s home. Another sea fairing nation of course inspired by the UK.

Most of them are a mix of modernization but still old fantasy elements. Since the Riftwalker’s death thousands of years ago, they’ve been in a perpetual, if at times uncertain peace. There’s turmoil between nations and cultures, but the worries of another Riftwalker always drives the nations to find peaceful solutions, as their own wars birthed the first Riftwalker in the first place.

Returning to Tsubame, ‘Suzune’, she was the daughter of a ferryman that shuttled people back in the old era from North to South coastal islands on the Eastern Continent. Getting immersed with travelers she met, Tsubame would sail around the world as she grew older and before the West and East divide occured.

From there Tsubame would over her journey, pick up both powers, skills, and talents as she traveled around the world to get back home. Finding her purpose in helping others, saving people from the Riftwalker’s monstrocities, and soon finding herself in the care of 5 young people, the ancestors of the hearts, ship wrecked, together they’d both learn from each other as well as how to harnes the Riftwalker’s monstrosities own powers.

They’d use their collective origins to muster the 5 nations together, and before the eve of the final battle, they camped out at the same place the hearts did.

That evening would be Tsubame’s entry into the lodge, and her 400 years of love and training, the discovery of her true origins. Returning to her current time the next morning to depart. Defeating the riftwalker, they’d usher in a thousands years or more, continuing of peace. Returning to that campfire, between them a promise that their ancestors would return here, each year, over every generation to continue this tradition until not trace of the Riftwalker’s energy loomed in the sealed grave they made nearby.

For Tsubame however, the fight had taken more from her than she anticipated. Shortly after their victory, Tsubame would pass away. Having left parts of herself with Harune, and the effects of living so long in Harune’s lodge and returning to one’s own time, the exhaustion took her. But she was at peace, she had already lived a long life full of love.

Now post Redbellion, Suzune’s fragments were finally used up to stop Jeanne and Yugveer and to grant the dying galaxy’s wish to have one more chance.

With her fragments returned, Tsubame/Suzune’s soul that had moved on to a new body, a new life, would finally be gifted the last few pieces of her soul, forcing the one who harbored it to feel as if, something or.. someone in their life was missing. But that’s another muse and another story.

Things to note about this vague world, its not so important but names can be added if needed. What’s important to highlight is that the Riftwalker’s arrival after many years of skirmishing and discord, caused initially a series of panicked conflicts, leaving much destruction in its wake.

The period after the Riftwalker, known as the healing, was entirely a century or more of repairs, alliances, and fixing the deeds done. It saw incredible amounts of population movements, leaving many children without homes.

Like the 5 heart’s ancestors were all shipped wrecked lost young teens and later young adults. The 5 hearts even now are orphans themselves, having grown up without their parents, though they’ve all made it through life with their teachings and hard work.

They like many who were influenced by Tsubame, held close the desire to prove a family is not bound by blood. The 5 were a family, even now their ancestors are too. Suzune and Harune’s family was all but strangers brought together, and after the Riftwalker, many families were but strangers making it through tough times.

Its this trait, this heart, which is why those Ancestors of Suzune’s allies, are the most suitable to helping Harune now, who needs her heart healed, mended, fixed, or replaced.

Tsubame’s origins are revealed to be a Celestial during Redbellion, but its more appropriate to see her as an Ocean Angel, or a Celestial of the Ocean. Its why she was so strong, the Ocean connects her world, and the Riftwalker sought to divide it. Tsubame was a ferrywoman first, connecting people across the waters, but later she was a hero that connected people across nations. And in Redbellion, she was the love that connected Harune to her desire to do the right thing.

Anyways, that’s briefly on Suzune/Tsubame. Like I said, a lot of this is fluff for other muses, but if you have any real questions about it, or are just curious. Shoot a message. I’m sorry if this is a bit of a mess as I have to jump from time/location over and over again.

Suzune/Tsubame is one of my regrets about Redbellion, that I didn’t have the ability to explain her more before the end as the threads that could of done so, fell through.

#;;Suzune #;;Akai-sekai

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vaire-gwir · 3 years

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I find you all Unwoven

I was sad, and then I decided to make myself even sadder writing this...yay me?

Geralt is outside Oxenfurt for a contract, something attracts his attention. Meeting Jaskier for the first time after the mountain scene doesn’t go as he expected.

English is not my first language, I wrote it in a rush so it probably sucks a bit more than usual, let me know what you think!

***

There was music coming from inside the tavern, it was not Jaskier's voice hitting the notes but the lyrics were his, Geralt recognized them. It was a weird experience, more so because he knew Jaskier was here. He recognized the unique mix of flowers, lavender and honey that made up the bard's scent, he'd never get that wrong, it was hard to forget. So Jaskier was here, and so was the music, how strange he was not playing it.

If he were asked why, Geralt couldn't explain why he decided to enter. Last time he saw the bard was almost a year ago, and too much time passed to try and mend something he broke. And yet, he couldn't resist. The moment he caught that flowery scent he knew he had to see him, even from afar, even just for a second or two. It's been so long since the last time he saw him.

It took Geralt no longer than a minute to find Jaskier in the crowded inn, but something was off. Everything was off, to be honest. The black trousers and grey shirt were a weird sight on the bard. No colours or frilly shirts, no silk pants or lace doublets. He was sitting by himself, eyes lost in his mug, it almost seemed like he was trying to appear smaller, inconspicuous, invisible.

He was not singing or playing, he was not talking with anyone, he wasn't trying to strike a conversation or catch anyone's eyes, he was there but he wasn't really there. That was not his bard. Something must have happened to him. That was not the man he used to know. 'You. You happened to him.' A cruel voice inside Geralt's head quickly supplied. Also, not his anymore.

Jaskier was like the middle of spring, when all the flowers start to bloom, the air is warm and filled with their scents, the nights are lighter and everything seemed a bit easier to bear. Now his eyes showed the end of autumn, when all the leaves fall from the dead trees, the nights are endless and even the days grow darker. There were no more flowers or light or sweet scents, there was nothing left. It physically hurts somewhere deep inside him to see Jaskier like that, it was painful for reasons he didn't know how to put into words.

Geralt was familiar with guilt, he knew its smell and ache, he knew how to bear it, but this was hitting him differently. He used to know a lively and bright person, chatty and quick, in love with life and everything in it, fierce and bubbly but whoever was sitting on that stool at the end of the bar was the very opposite of all that.

He observes from his corner at the back of the tavern, it's been months since he left Jaskier on the mountain after their stupid fight, and of all the times he wanted, needed, to see him again, this seemed almost unnatural. He's the last person the bard wants to see and yet Geralt feels compelled to call him, he's itching to say his name out loud and see the shadows dancing in the endless pool of ocean that were his blue eyes, he's craving to be close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin and hear him say his name, just once. Just once, like he always dreams about, like the dragon hunt never happened.

He spent so many days regretting the words he said on top of that cursed mountain, wishing for forgiveness, cause he could deal with Yen leaving, but losing Jaskier hurt in a different way. On the way back to where they set camp Geralt secretly hoped until the last minute to see him waiting with Roach at the edge of the woods, pouting and cursing at him, but all his things were gone.

The guy wearing Jaskier's face murmurs something to the maid, slips a few coins into her hand, and gets up. He wraps a thick cloak around his thinner frame, he has probably lost some weight, Geralt can't tell for sure. When he walks out of the tavern, he has to fight every instinct screaming at him to follow him. He sits still for a grand total of a full minute before losing that fight and rushing out, following the faint trace of lavender in the air.

Jaskier is just crossing the square when a dark shadow looms behind him. "Why did you follow me, Witcher?" He whispers softly while turning around. He slowly takes in the black-clad figure in front of him, the white messy hair, the golden eyes, the frown on his face and the fine layer of dust on his clothes. Geralt is exactly how he remembers him. Jaskier feels his betrayer heart jumping in his chest.

"How did you know...."Geralt begins to ask puzzled.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." Jaskier lowers his eyes and Geralt can't help but notice how tired he looks. The dark circle around his eyes threaten to swallow the sunlit blue sea with their purple hue, and he's so pale, his skin so white and washed out Geralt would almost suspect he was sick if he didn't know better.

"I... You were not singing.” He knows it's stupid to say, but he can't ask any of the other questions on the tip of his tongue.

Jaskier adjusts the cloak around himself, trying to keep the cold at bay. Geralt is yearning to trace the contours of his face, trail his fingers over his sharp cheekbones, or over his jaw, anything, he just needs a small touch, but he knows he can’t. "I don't do that anymore," Jaskier says.

"Why not?" His yellow eyes seem to widen for a moment at the implications of those words and he sees the pain flickering over the bard's beautiful features. Pain that Geralt put there himself. The ache inside of him burns fiercely. He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know where to find the right words. He’s not even sure Jaskier would listen,

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Jaskier sighs, he feels drained and exhausted. Geralt was the last person he expected to see today. and the last he needed to see. Too long he spent trying to sew himself back together, too many tears were shed at every dream and every memory of their time together, too many little pieces of his heart were still refusing to stay put and make him whole. It all seemed in vain now that the Witcher was in front of him.

"That's not true," Geralt mumbles under his breath, clenching his hands at his side, resisting the urge to reach out for him. There must be something he could say to make Jaskier forgive him.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Geralt hears it in his voice that if Jaskier had enough strength left in him to be mad, he'd be furious. He briefly wonders how long he stayed angry before he gave up.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier’s laugh is bitter and hollow, empty as his eyes.

Geralt knows he's right, but it still hurts to hear it from his voice. It takes him a moment for the words to sink in, it’s like his mind refuses the real meaning of them. He steels himself before saying "I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier." And it’s harder than slaying any monster he ever encountered. For some messed up reasons, he thought Jaskier would be willing to talk to him, to give him a second chance he knows he hasn’t earned. It’s only fair that he doesn’t.

"You were right." Geralt freezes in his spot when blue eyes search for his own golden ones. "You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands, But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

Geralt doesn't miss how his voice breaks, he can taste the salt in the air from his unshed tears and he can't help but wonder how many times this precious human he loved cried because of him. Loves. He still loves him, even if he never knew how to show it. He stares at the black cloak trailing tiredly behind his companion, his best friend, his lover, and he knows he deserves the pain he feels for what he did to him. He whispers his poor apology to the wind, but nobody answers. He really wishes Witchers couldn't feel emotions.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #post-mountain break up #sad jaskier #just pain I guess #idiots in love #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic

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esabri · 4 years

Text

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instant Markt market Grad degree besiedeln populate küken chick liebe dear Feind enemy antworten reply Getränk drink auftreten occur Unterstützung support Rede speech Natur nature Angebot range Dampf steam Bewegung motion Weg path Flüssigkeit liquid protokollieren log gemeint meant Quotient quotient Gebiss teeth Schale shell Hals neck Sauerstoff oxygen Zucker sugar Tod death ziemlich pretty Geschicklichkeit skill Frauen women Saison season Lösung solution Magnet magnet Silber silver danken thank Zweig branch Spiel match Suffix suffix insbesondere especially Feige fig ängstlich afraid riesig huge Schwester sister Stahl steel diskutieren discuss vorwärts forward ähnlich similar führen guide Erfahrung experience Partitur score apfel apple gekauft bought geführt led Tonhöhe pitch Mantel coat Masse mass Karte card Band band Seil rope Rutsch slip gewinnen win träumen dream Abend evening Zustand condition Futtermittel feed Werkzeug tool gesamt total Basis basic Geruch smell Tal valley noch 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langdxn · 4 years

Note

Hi. Has anyone sent in the song "I want to know what love is", by Foreigner?

AHHHH they haven’t actually! I’m sorry this one’s so angsty and dark but I couldn’t help it! 🖤🖤🖤

Xavier was three years dead. Three long years dead.

If you listened to your head and not your heart, you’d know you really shouldn’t have come to Redwood. Your fiancé was a long time dead, but something told you that closure could be right within the camp perimeter, if you only looked for it.

You tentatively followed the sounds of classic rock enticing you toward the dock, an 80’s siren calling you to the water’s edge as the sun set gently beyond the lake.

Foreigner. Xavier’s favourite. Were the true crime tourists you’d heard about plaguing the camp playing a sick prank?

“Is anybody there?” You called out, swallowing thickly as you dreaded the response. Your voice was met with nothing but silence beyond the music. Stepping gingerly onto the boardwalk, you inched toward the portable radio responsible for the compelling sounds.

Maybe it’s a sign.

As you neared the edge of the dock, you gazed out at the lake shining softly in the amber dusk, the last of the twilight’s rays peering through the forest across the water.

I’ve gotta take a little time, a little time to think things over

Wringing your hands together, you realised it was time; time to either join him or let him go. You may not know exactly where Xavier died, or even how he died, but the lake seemed as central to the camp as any point. Wrapping your fingers around the ring on your left hand, you bit your lip to abate tears — even in the last throes of sunlight, the amethyst stone perched in the centre of the band sparkled brilliantly. Xavier always had great taste in jewellery, or at least for the eighties.

“I guess this is it, Xavier,” you sighed resolutely. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, it’s been… fuck, you know I can’t lie to you. When you left that day, the last words I heard from you were ‘see ya later, alligator.’ Not quite the final words I was hoping for, you know?”

I better read between the lines, in case I need it when I’m older

Choking back tears, you sniffled softly. “I’ve not been living these last three years, I’ve barely been existing. Everybody said I’d move on, I’d find someone else, but there never will be anybody else. It’s always been you, Xavier. I don’t want to live without you anymore. I came here in the hope that would all change but the more I see of this place, the more I want to stay here with you—“

Your breath hitched in your throat as the creaking wood beneath your sneakers exposed a second set of footfalls that definitely weren’t your own. Balling your fists nervously, you braced yourself as your gaze darted to the second shadow casting behind you on the dock.

Now this mountain I must climb, feels like the world upon my shoulders

“You shouldn’t be here,” a stern male voice spoke as the steps drew closer.

“Oh damn, I’m so—I’m sorry,” you stuttered without turning to face him. “I didn’t realise there was security out here. I just came to see the lake and to… to say goodbye.”

But through the clouds I see love shine, it keeps me warm as life grows colder

“No—no, I mean,” the voice cracked, thick with emotion. “You can’t be here, you’re not safe.”

“Look, I’m really sorry—I’ll go quietly,” you spun on your heels to face him, gaze shooting down to the boards beneath you to avoid any confrontation. “I don’t mean to cause any trouble.”

In my life, there’s been heartache and pain, I don’t know if I can face it again

The man continued treading toward you, closing the gap between you until his white sneakers bumped against yours. His hand came into view, dropping a knife he’d been holding as it clinked crudely against the boards, then reaching to press a forefinger under your chin, lifting your head and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

The piercing, oceanic, soul-bearing blue eyes.

Your heart dropped in your chest.

“I knew you’d come someday,” Xavier smiled kindly, throwing his arms around you tightly. You froze, unable to respond, arms tethered to your sides as you processed the warm arms holding you, the heartbeat pounding against your chest, the soft breaths fanning your hair, the sunset glittering in his cross earring, spinning carelessly beneath his bleach blonde streaks. He seemed real. He felt real.

Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far, to change this lonely life

“Are you—what—is—“

“Don’t speak, baby,” he raised a hushing finger to your lips, relishing your soft skin against his hand. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

I wanna know what love is, I want you to show me

“You’re alive?” You swatted his finger away, holding his hand in yours. Xavier spotted the amethyst glistening on your finger, pressing it with his palm.

“You’re still wearing it.”

“Of course I’m still wearing it,” you sighed. “You might have been dead but I couldn’t just switch off how I felt about you.”

I wanna feel what love is, I know you can show me

You snatched your hand away, bewildered stare disfiguring into a scowl.

“So what was this all about, Xavier? Some big, elaborate setup to send your friend Brooke to Death Row while you hide out here for the rest of time?”

I’m gonna take a little time, a little time to look around me

“No, no, it wasn’t like that at all,” Xavier stepped forward, making you step back cautiously. “This place, it—it takes hold of you.”

“You’re not making any sense, Xavier.”

I’ve got nowhere left to hide, it looks like love has finally found me

“You think this is easy for me? Trying to explain to my fiancée that I’m dead and I can’t leave this fucking camp because of some bullshit curse on this place?”

Your jaw dropped open, eyes darting from left to right as if zig-zagging over the forest behind you could help you process Xavier’s outburst. He read the concern on your face, the fear in your eyes, the way your legs trembled beneath you, barely holding you up. He’d never seen his girl so fraught, so he leaned in to touch your cheek with the back of his hand.

In my life, there’s been heartache and pain, I don’t know if I can face it again

“Please, don’t touch me.” You stepped back again and lost your footing on the edge of the dock, letting out a scream as you reached out to grab Xavier and fell into his arms.

“Easy, easy,” he reassured you, clasping his arms around your quaking form. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby.”

I can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far, to change this lonely life

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” you cried, trembling weakly in his hold, molten tears pouring down your cheeks and onto his shirt.

I wanna know what love is, I want you to show me

“It’s okay babe, I wouldn’t get it either,” he cooed, smoothing your hair away from your face. “But you came back for me, that’s gotta mean something, right?”

Let’s talk about love, love that you feel inside

You froze suddenly, cogs whirring as you figured out your next move.

“That’s it!” You cried out, breaking free from his hold and rushing over to grab the knife he dropped on the boards, raising it to press the blade firmly to your throat.

And I’m feeling so much love, oh no, you just cannot hide

“Baby don’t— please, think about this,” Xavier panicked, arms outstretched in terror, mouth agape.

“Everybody that dies here, stays here, right?” You queried, shaking so hard the knife nicked the hollow of your throat, a gentle bead of crimson forming on your pale skin. A tear coursed down Xavier’s cheek as he nodded weakly. “So you come back to life somewhere else? Not in the same body?”

He nodded again. “Please, you’re my girl, you’ve got a life to live out there—“

I wanna know what love is, I know you can show me

“Yeah, maybe I did while you were alive. Now, there’s nothing keeping me out there. That’s what love is, that’s what Foreigner were talking about.”

You tightened your grip on the handle and pressed down harder on your jugular, a bright, genuine smile shaping your lips.

“See you later, alligator.”

#xavier plympton #xavier x fem!reader #xavier plympton imagines #xavier plympton fanfiction

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xiubaek-13 · 4 years

Text

Case File 01

A/N: This is a continuation on the AU I created for Case 99. It is a standalone one shot but there is background info that you’ll pick up on more if you’re read the first fic. Let me know what you think :)

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Warnings: Supernatural themes, violence, angst, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, manipulation etc. This will deal with some darker themes but there is some light hearted fun in here too, kind of.

Genre: Fantasy/Supernatural

Word Count: 8,488

Summary: Sometimes people are not who they seem. Sometimes the harbor secrets that they would take to the grave. Sometimes people play with your heart on purpose in a sick and twisted game purely for their own amusement. When they think they’ve won you strike, because only you decide what breaks you.

One stupid mistake led you here and now you can’t escape. For a time you were happier than you’d ever been, but then there are times when you remember who you were and where you’re from. Will you choose to stay or will you find your way home?

I wonder if they’ll bargain with me? Do they even do that in this city? You stared at the small fruit stall, filled with it’s overpriced produce, then back at the small pile of coins in your hands. After a few days of greasy take away and dull looking food your body was craving something healthy. It just so happened that you strolled past a fruit store on your way towards the center of town…well what you assumed was the center. You’d decided that the giant casino was the middle of the city but you could be wrong, not that you really cared. This place was just a pit stop on your way to the coast. You grew up in the mountains and always dreamed of a trip to the sea. You wanted to watch the sunrise over the ocean to make a brand new day and to feel the cool water and sand between your toes as you did.

Your parents had always turned their noses up at the idea of a seaside holiday, the air was too salty down there apparently. Try as they might, they never dissuaded you from your dream holiday and as the years went by, your desire to visit the ocean only grew. Your parents did their best to try and change your mind (not that you ever understood what their problem with the ocean was), always telling you horror stories of the city that you’d have to pass through before you could get to the coast. A city that would corrupt and deceive you. A city that was full of dark alleys and people with secrets. These stories had the opposite effect than what was intended - now you wanted to spend a few days in this supposedly evil city. The storied made you interested in the corrupt nature of man and made you wonder about the cityfolk. Would they be cruel and jaded or kind and misguided?

Above all your father had told you never to trust the people you met between the city and the sea. He told you that they would manipulate your kind heart and twist you in ways that you wouldn’t realise until it was too late and he would not be able to protect you. If wasn’t for the worried look in his eyes when he spoke you would have thought nothing of his warning but something about the way he spoke and looked at you in that moment made you treat his words with the seriousness they deserved.

After three days in the city you could definitely agree with your parents about the cruel nature of man but not in the ways they might think. The residents of the town, as far as you were aware, were an even mix between the hardworking, honest folk and the scheming degenerate and power hungry rich who ruled the place. You’d seen things you couldn’t explain, things you couldn’t unsee and heard things you never wanted to hear again as long as you lived but even with the hidden dangers, the city had charm. It lured you in and made you want to stay just one more day…which is how you were still here after three days.

In the mountains you bartered with farmers and traded goods with neighbours but down here haggling was a much more intricate sport. Still, you were going to try with the fruit store owner because of how good those cherries looked in the front window, and the peaches. You passed through the door causing the small chime to sound as you entered. A short woman with kind eyes emerged from the back of the store and asked what you were after. You complimented her on the quality of her produce, chatting about where she sourced it from since there were no farms in this urban jungle and she was more than happy to chat away to you about the lovely gentleman who grew all sort of produce in his orchard between the city and the sea. When you told her of your childhood in the mountains she took great interest in learning about why you have strayed so far from home and if you were safe in this city. She reminded you a lot of your parents with her concern for your well-being and cryptic messages about the unsafe parts of town.

“Girl, I will make you a deal,” she began. “I will give you some of my fruit free of charge if you tell me two things.”

“What things?” You asked, puzzled by her odd question.

“Why you dream of the sea and what your name is.” He responded, her expression giving away nothing.

“That’s all?” You asked.

“Yes dear.”

“You can call me Jan-” You coughed midway through saying your name. Something told you not to give out your real name and before you could ponder your reasoning you found yourself giving the kind old woman an alias. “Iseul, you can call me Iseul.” She smiled. Then you proceeded to tell her about why you so strongly desired to visit the sea. True to her word, she gave you a small basket filled with peaches, cherries and apples.

“Go my dear, thank you for brightening my day with your stories and remember, though darkness may lurk around every corner it’s the man in front of you that you should be wary of for sometimes the wicked will say things just to confuse you.”

You left the little shop with your fruit basket, waving to the owner as you closed the door behind you. What a strange woman you thought to yourself. She had been kind but she had said many confusing things that now replayed through your mind.

As you made your way back to your hotel you were so consumed by your thoughts and the old woman’s words that you didn’t hear the man from the casino calling out to you until it was too late. The fading sound of “Watch out! Hey! Stop!” and the blurring image of the seaside and the casino and blonde haired man who tried to get your attention brought you back to your senses, only to make you think you’d been drugged.

The world swirled around you until you were engulfed in salt water. The floor fell out beneath you as you struggled to stay afloat. You’d never learned to swim - you’d never run the risk of drowning in the ocean up in the mountains after all. You gasped for air as you felt yourself slipping beneath the water. How the hell did this happen? Did that old lady drug me? Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming… and if I die in my dream I’ll wake up right? Your mind was racing as your lungs started to burn with the need for oxygen but you couldn’t get back to the surface no matter how hard you tried. When you had sunk further down your foot and somehow become stuck. You let go of the fruit basket and tried frantically to release your foot from the net it had become stuck in before you drowned, the very real fear of dying finally settling in.

Nothing worked. Your lungs felt like they were on fire as you tugged at the net, trying to loosen its hold on you. You knew you wouldn’t be able to prevent yourself from trying to gulp in a breath, which would only serve to fill your lungs with water and bring you closer to drowning to death. This was the exact opposite of your dream of being in the sea. This was a nightmare.

Realising that there was nothing more you could do you thought of your parents, of how you’d miss them and the little home you grew up in in the mountains. You’d miss your father’s lame jokes and your mother’s persistent nagging about how you should really hurry up and pick one of the farmers sons to wed. None of that would occur now, not when you were second away from blacking out from lack of oxygen. Unable to hold out any longer you open your mouth and water pours into it as you try to breathe, knowing full well that it will not work. The last thing you feel is the burning of your lungs and the salt water as your whole world fades to black. A glint of gold is the last thing you see before you bid the world adieu.

***

“Find out how she got here.” A voice commanded. The voice was male, that much you knew, but it had that tone that people in power get. Unrelenting and lacking in empathy. “There must be a tear near the border.” What the fuck is he talking about? Is this the afterlife? I sure as shit hope not because this guy sounds like a jerk and I do not want to be stuck with him for all of eternity. Your thoughts raced as you slowly regained consciousness, remembering walking on a street…then water, lots of water… then drowning? You were pretty sure you’d drowned and it had been awful. “She appeared in the East Sea and I do not want to see either of you until you find out where that tear is in the city. For all we know spies have been getting in again.”

Whoever it was that he was speaking to mumbled their response, making it too difficult for you to hear but you caught every second or third word. “Prince… Court… hunt… soon…”

This seemed to please the first man for a few moments. You decided it was as good a time as any to let them know you were conscious. You coughed and very slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes before opening them and looking around the room, if you could even call it that. It was a massive sprawling room with ornate carvings, there were windows all throughout the room that allowed the sunlight and pleasant sea breeze to flow through. You had been lying on the floor at the base of a small set of three stairs that led up to a dias. On the dias was an incredibly intricate wood and coral chair that could only be described as a throne. There was a man standing next to you and another man seated in the throne. You blinked a few times and shook your head, not believing the sight in front of you.

Before you could open your mouth to speak the seated man spoke. “How did you get here girl?” His demanding tone grating on you.

“I don’t even know where I am so how am I supposed to know how I got here?” You responded curtly.

“Who are you? Surely you know that much.”

You bit your tongue because whilst this guy seemed to be a grade a jerk, he was sitting on a throne so you figured you’d give him a few minutes before you gave him a piece of your mind. “My name is Ja-. Iseul. My name is Iseul and I’m a tourist. Who are you?”

The man next to you scoffed. “You should address the Prince with more respect human.”

“Sorry, what?”

“I forget that humans are slower. I. Said. You. Should. Address. The. Prince. With. More. Respect.” He enunciated each word as though you hadn’t heard him the first time. You rolled your eyes at him before speaking.

“I heard you clearly the first time, there’s no need to be a dick about it. I said what because I clearly just gave my name so I have no idea why you decided to refer to me as human…like who does that? Weirdo, and secondly, Prince? Of where? Of what? I just told both of you I had no idea where I am.” You snapped.

The man next to you turned away from you, staring daggers at the supposed Prince. “Are you just going to let this…this human disrespect you like this?!”

The man on the throne couldn’t look less interested in the scene playing out before him if he tried. He lifted his gaze to the man and spoke in that flat commanding timbre. “D.O, I believe I gave you a job to do. Did I not?”

“Yes.”

“Then go do it.” When D.O doesn’t immediately take his leave he adds “Unless you want to answer to me when more strays or enemies come through into my land.”

With a hasty bow he takes his leave.

“I apologise for my emissary. He can be quite,” he paused. “hotheaded.” The man turned his gaze to you, his gaze pinning you to the spot. “Now. Do you truly remember nothing about how you got here?”

“This room? No I don’t. I remember going to the fruit store and talking to a strange old lady. Then I was walking back to my hotel along the street when everything swirled and then I was drowning. That’s all I remember.” You weren’t lying, you really had no idea how you had gotten here. You were sticking with the being drugged explanation because honestly? Nothing else made any sense or even seemed possible.

He sighed. “Which city were you in?” You described the city to the best of your abilities, which was mainly surface details since you were only a tourist - hotel, fruit store, odd streets, the casino… There wasn’t really any way you could know the truth of the city.

“Lankhmar? I think that’s how you say it.”

Upon hearing the town name the prince held up a hand to stop you speaking. He then called out for a messenger. When one appeared, bowing and gesticulating far more than was necessary, he gave them strict instructions. “Go to my emissary before he leaves and tell him to check the mortal plane as well, the tear must join to one of the districts in Lankhmar. One of my brothers must not have properly sealed the rift upon his return.” The messenger resumed his excessive bowing as he backed out of the room, you could hear the quickening of his footsteps as soon as he was out of sight. Seriously who in the hell was this guy and why was everyone treating him like he was the ruler of the world?

“Who are you?” You asked.

He raised a brow at you. “Very bold of you to ask me questions like that.”

You were growing exasperated with this pointless exchange. “Listen. I’m thankful that you didn’t let me drown but I honestly have no idea where I am or who you are or why everyone is walking on eggshells in your presence. Give me something to work with here. What do I even call you?” You needed something tangible to cling to, anything to keep you from thinking that you’d either died and that this was the afterlife, which if it was - it could do with a severe attitude adjustment, or that you’d snapped and gone crazy.

“You fell through a tear in reality,” Ok so you’d gone crazy, at least you could come to terms with that now. “And you appeared in my court, Luskan, though it is more commonly known as The Summer Court,” You’d gone crazy and fallen into one of your childhood fairytales. It could be worse, at least the weather was pleasant here, like a beach holiday… maybe this was the old woman’s fault after all, she’d banged on about the sea and been all weird and cryptic after all. “If I’d allowed you to pollute my pristine waters I’d have hell to pay with the seafolk.” Did the mania induced creation of your brain have to be such a dick though? “What’s with your face Iseul?”

You froze when you heard your name. Looking up at him you noticed the perplexed look he had on his face. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had to interact with mortals, is something confusing you? I forget how simple your kind are.”

You scoffed at him. “You’d think you’d be more relaxed given you live in paradise but so far everyone I’ve met here is a complete jerk. And what’s with this mortal crap anyway? We’re all people. Or are you some sort of elitist rich jerk who thinks everyone is beneath him?”

“This is going to sound crazy to you, but it is not my fault that your parents decided to shelter you from the truth. It’s actually a miracle that you’ve survived this long while being this blissfully ignorant. Humans make up roughly 60% of the world’s population. The remainder are improvements on the species.” The way this man could say so many words without providing you with any answers was starting to piss you off.

“Is this your way of telling me that magic is real? Summer Court? What are you, a fairy prince?” You scoffed.

Your words must have hit a nerve with him since his next words were ground out through gritted teeth. “Do not call me or my kind fairies.” He took a shuddering breath to try and regain his composure. “The supernatural are real. The books you were read as a child about fantasy lands and monsters? Those are history books, dumbed down for your kind to understand.”

“What?” Surely he was lying. Magic wasn’t real. Fairies weren’t real. No, all of that was from your bedtime stories. This was all in your head, it had to be. Why would your parents hide this sort of information from you? They wouldn’t lie to you, you knew them, trusted them. This man, however, you absolutely did not trust.

“I don’t have the time for this. Follow me, and keep up.” He turned on his heel and briskly left the room. You scrambled to follow. He weaved through the outdoor corridors of what you could only refer to as a palace because, it was fucking huge and well, there were servants so you had to assume he was royalty of some sort. You followed through the terraces that were lined with plant life and glittering lights, silk draping from gazebos, flapping in the light breeze. Truly, it was like a little Mediterranean fairy tale come to life and you could only compare it to the images from your storybooks but you didn’t dare use the ‘f’ word again since it got his hackles up last time.

He came to a stop in front of a set of double doors made of driftwood, held together with golden twine. “In here is my library. You will remain here until I send my emissary to fetch you. I would suggest that you use that time to educate yourself on the working of the world that you live in. I’ll provide only one hint. My kind never lie, but we don’t always tell the whole truth.” With that he ushered you in and closed the doors behind you. You didn’t hear them lock but they wouldn’t budge when you tried to open them.

Resigned to your current fate you decided it couldn’t hurt to sift through some of the books. Books were friends, they never led you astray. It was people you’d always had issues with, never books. You wandered through the library, awestruck by its beauty. It was a mixture of ornate fixtures, gold threads and salvaged wood and plant matter. It was unlike anything you had ever laid your eyes on before.

“A Brief History of Everything” seemed like as good a place to start as any. It started much like the stories from your childhood, only with more war and bloodshed. It spoke of a great war between humans and the supernatural. The war was multifaceted, with the supernatural beings also fighting against each other. Vampires, demons, fae, changelings, ghouls, elementals, witches and wizards were just a few of the mentioned species, it was a lot for you to take in. If this information was to be true then you had to question your whole upbringing. You closed the book and searched for another. “A Breakdown in Species - The Complete Beastiary” was your next pick. This one told you the features and builds of each race and how they most commonly fit into the mortal world. Unlike the fae, most of the supernatural resided in the human world, only the fae and elementals could exist between the planes. Demons still had the netherworld but only the highest ranking could travel at will.

You continued to look through tome after tome, collecting as much intel as you could. It didn’t matter if this world was real or not, you decided, you just had to play by its rules in order to survive and if there was one thing that you excelled at, it was research.

***

“Why is the human still here?” D.O asked when he brought you down to the edge of the palace, to a small pool that met the ocean.

“The human is right here, and she has a name.” You bit out.

He ignored you as he waited for the prince to respond. You almost laughed at how frustrated he was at not being answered immediately, the prince was otherwise occupied. He was waist deep in the water, tending to a turtle. He might be a jerk but you could not deny that he had a nice back, not that you were staring. “The human shall remain in the palace until we can determine the source of the tear and patch it. I’ve yet to determine if she is a threat to the court.”

“Why not throw her in the dungeons if you think she’s a threat? Why treat her like anything that has worth?” You were pretty sure you hated this emissary. Out of the two of them, he was the bigger jerk. He seemed to want nothing to do with you and you were pretty sure if the prince was distracted long enough, that he’d kill you. Somewhere along the line he’d either been taught to hate humans or one had hurt him so much that he felt the need to take it out on every other human he ran into.

The prince turned to face the two of you, and if you thought his back was pleasant to stare at then the sight of his chest and torso was a delight. Focus. The sunlight reflected off the water, highlighting the droplets of water glistening on his skin. Focus of his face, not his abs, focus on his fucking face! He looked calm as he stood before you, as though the water was centering him. “Until I decide that she is to be treated as a prisoner I will keep her in the palace, where I can observe her. Did you know that her parents neglected to inform her of the existence of any other intelligent life?” He smirked at his emissary who scoffed and continued to look as though he wanted nothing more than to dropkick you into the ocean and never look back. “Was your time in the library enlightening?”

You nodded. “Yes, I think I’ve learned the basics. It seems there has been a lot omitted from my understanding of the worlds history. There is a lot to catch up on.”

“Su- Your Highness, can I take my leave? We have a lead on the whereabouts of the tear and I need to gather the team so that we can patch it.” D.O waited for the prince to respond.

He nodded. “You may go. Report back to me when you return.”

The emissary wasted no time, you weren’t sure if he was just eager to do his job or if he hated being around you that much that he had to disappear that quickly. “So,” You started. You’d decided you were going to attempt to breach this topic the next time you spoke. “You’re Fae.”

“Rudimentary deduction darling. Did my books not teach you anything of worth?”

“Cut me some slack, I’ve only been learning for a few hours.” He cocked a brow at you, waiting for you to continue speaking. “There are seven courts in the Fae lands. There was conjecture about the number of princes, some texts cite seven while others cite nine, though from what I could work out there are seven princes and two emissaries. Each prince has an elemental affinity, though the true nature of those affinities is not recorded but they require you to attune to the land and your presence helps it to thrive. You rule the Summer Court, and since you rescued me from drowning plus the whole expensive seaside palace aesthetic you have going on here, I figure you have a water affinity. How am I doing so far?”

“So far it would appear that your time was not wasted.” He replied as he lowered himself in the water up to his shoulders. “The texts don’t include much information on the affinities because they differ for each prince. Attuning to the land can be done in multiple ways as well. For example, I’m attuning with the land right now, as I was earlier when you startled the turtles in their nesting grounds when you appeared, and did your very best to die.”

“Hey! I had no choice in the matter, you know this.” You huffed.

“I do, the turtles however, did not. I’ve since explained the situation to them so that they could shift their nesting spot until we repair the tear that you fell through.” He dove under the water, a tail, shimmering and covered in scales that glittered in the sunlight, appeared, shocking you. It must have been written on your face as clear as day because when he surfaced much closer to the edge of the pool that you stood at, pushing his wet hair back and resting on his arms against the side of the pool, his tail shimmering beneath the surface, it was like a slow motion scene from a movie and you had to shake your head to bring yourself back to the present, he smirked at you. “What?”

“Get fucked. How can you be fae & a merman?” You blurted.

He laughed at your outburst. “It’s part of the affinity. I can change shape at will in a large enough body of water. I’m not one of the merfolk, they live on the outskirts of my court, odd bunch. The tail is simply more practical for me to move around the aquatic areas of the court.”

“Show off.” You muttered as you sat down by the edge of the pool.

He grabbed your legs and pulled you into the pool, pinning you between the wall and his body as he glared at you. “I’m showing leniency since this is your first day knowing about the existence of supernatural creatures but don’t be fooled into thinking that you can be so cavalier with me in the future. I am the ruler of this court, you’d be wise to show more respect.”

Your brain told you to shut up, baiting him further would likely result in him drowning you and you’d had more than enough experience with that for one day. You hated the way he and his emissary spoke to you but your sharp tongue wasn’t going to keep you alive if you let it get the better of you. He trailed his finger down your cheek, under your jaw and lifted your chin, tilting your face up towards him. “I think for now it would be better for you to be a little more subservient.” He leant in, his lips pressing against yours as he kissed you. All logic told you to pull away but something about his lips was intoxicating. You gave in to his kiss and felt a pulse wash over your body, leaving a strange tingling feeling. If you were smarted you would have known that the fae could control you in many ways, intimate contact was just one of the more enjoyable ways for them to do so.

***

Days blurred together after you kissed the prince. All you wanted to do was be near him, please him and make him happy. You didn’t even think about returning home. You were blissfully ignorant of the dangerous situation you’d gotten yourself into. He’d held back from further physical contact after that first day. He saw how instantly devoted to him you were and he relaxed, you would not be something he had to worry about for the time being. Unless he gave you a task to do you would follow him around like a lost puppy. He tested you by having you sit with him during one of his meetings, telling you to remain next to him but to keep yourself amused while he worked. Afterwards he questioned you, happy when you admitted that you hadn’t paid attention to the meeting, on the verge of tears when you thought that admission would upset him.

You played along as the spell wore off, keeping up the charade as best you could while you learned about how he truly felt about you. He didn’t care for you, he hardly even thought of you. No, you were simply a new toy for him to play with and you knew that you needed to find a way out before he grew tired of you. Things went swimmingly until he noticed you becoming more aware of your surroundings. He couldn’t have you learning too much about him or his court, not that you would ever leave this place alive. He thought that after the initial kiss you’d remain under his spell but it appeared that he would have to reinforce it for it to last. That night he’d brought you to his chambers and made you cum so many times you forgot your name.

When you dreamt at night, your brain would try to remind you of the life you’d left behind, of what you needed to return to and the dangers of the prince’s court, but by the time you awoke he washed those memories away as he made your body sing in ecstacy. You spent most of your time wrapped in bedsheets, writhing beneath the prince as he used your body for his own pleasure. You learned his name was Suho, he got off on hearing you beg for him. You were addicted to his touch, eagerly awaiting his return to his chambers so he could have his way with you again. You were certain that he craved you, that the sweet nothings he would sometimes whisper in your ear were true. After all, he had told you that the fae can’t lie. You were too drunk on him to realise that these words were not romantic, they were simply appreciation for how your body felt and reacted to him, nothing more.

When you had to leave the bed you loved so much you were barely dressed in anything that could be referred to as clothes. In your mind you felt liberated and sexy, desired and loved when in reality he was parading around his plaything for the rest of the court to see. The sheer pieces of fabric he adorned your body with left little to the imagination. He didn’t care for you but under the haze of his spell, one he made sure to strengthen every night, you truly thought that he loved you. He hadn’t had a human plaything before, he’d alway thought it was beneath him but his brothers had often insisted that having one was an immense amount of fun.

He was beginning to see the truth to his brothers words. He recalled the words of the Autumn Prince “When you grow tired of fucking them, the new game is breaking their minds and watching them beg for death. They are truly pathetic creatures.” He’d remembered how his brother had laughed at how one such pet had begged for the mercy of his fire to end her life, because if he didn’t love her then how could anyone?

“Suho, I have an update for you.” D.O’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“What is it?” He replied.

“The tear has been patched, it was located in the demon district, right near The Cardinal. The seven deny any knowledge of the tear but unlike our kind, they are well known for their lies.” He paused, sneering at the mention of the demons. “Regardless, it is sealed and warded on both sides of the tear. I sent word to the other courts to see if any of our brothers had visited the area but everyone who has responded has been less than polite about telling me that they would not be stupid enough to jump planes in any district other than the fae controlled one. Sehun & Xiumin were most recently in the mortal realm but they both used the bar as their means of travel.”

“Who hasn’t responded?” He asked.

“The solar courts. I sent word via their emissary but Baekhyun, Chen & Lay have not answered us. I’ll check in with Kai tomorrow. Until then, is there anything you need?” He asked.

“If they don’t answer by tomorrow we’ll have to pay them a visit.” He had no desire to see his brothers from the solar courts, they were much more eccentric than the seasonal court princes. “I’ll have you visit Chen. I’m not in the mood to be electrocuted again, no matter how funny he thinks it is.I’ll see to the other two.”

“I would normally object to setting foot in the Night Court but Chen is the least bothersome when compared to the other two.” He shuddered as he recalled his last encounter with his Day Court brother. “Will you be bringing the human?”

Suho pondered bringing you along. He was pretty sure his spell over you wouldn’t wear off before he returned, and as much fun as it would be to distract his brothers with his human plaything, he needed them to focus. “No, she’ll be too much of a distraction for them. I’ll never get an answer out of them if she’s there.”

“I’d say she wouldn’t survive Lay, but we both know that he’d restore her physical body once he finished having his sadistic brand of fun.”

“His gifts come in useful during times of conflict.” Suho reasoned.

“You’ve never had to be healed by him have you?” D.O asked. His brother shook his head in response. “He can heal all wounds in a matter of minutes, that much is true, but he can only heal wounds that, if left untreated, would kill you.” He paused, taking a breath to calm himself. Suho waited patiently for his brother to continue speaking. “In order to heal me, he had to bring me to the brink of death first and he gets very creative in how he does that.”

The two brothers continued to plan out their potential journey. Agreeing that if they had to visit the solar courts, it would be smarter to visit Day & Night separately and tackle Dawn together. Without the help of their other emissary travel would take longer. By the time he got to bed that night Suho was too exhausted to be bothered with using you for pleasures of the flesh, sleep sought him out the moment his body connected to the mattress.

When no world came from Kai the following day they wasted no time in preparing for their journey. Suho had far too many things to organise before leaving, ensuring the palace ran smoothly, leaving instructions with his second in command to leave you in his room. He was sure that his spell would not wear off in the two to three days that he’d be gone.

What he was unaware of, due to his ignorance, was that the influence he had over you would normally take weeks to wear off, given how often he had been fucking you, but it diminished at an accelerated rate the further away from you he was. The first day he was gone you did nothing but roll about in the bed, imagining the ways in which you could service him upon his return but as night crept in you started to waver, finally feeling curious enough to wander back to the library.

In there you found books on fae spells and how they had a long history of toying with humans. It made your skin crawl. For the first time in weeks you started to think that maybe he didn’t care for you, maybe he was just using you. The thought was too depressing for you to dwell on, after all, you were stuck here, and if you were going to be stuck here you might as well believe that it was by choice.

You tossed and turned all night, dreaming of home and of the strange woman you had encountered all of those weeks ago. She’d asked why you dreamt of the sea? Now the thought of it made you sick. You needed to explore, to find the one area of this court that was not by the seaside.

In the early hours of dawn you fled the palace, thankful that all of Suho’s guards paid you no attention, thinking you were wandering about in a haze. At least he’d had the decency to tell is guards that you were off limits. You were his plaything and he did not like to share. You wandered down corridor after corridor, weaving your way down to the ground, then begun your journey West. To the East was nothing but ocean, and you figured if you headed West you would eventually find a spot where you couldn’t hear the sea or taste the salt in the air.

You hadn’t realised how weak you’d become, but the lack of proper nourishment made itself clear the further you trekked. You felt dizzy and hot but you pressed on until your body gave out on you, collapsing into the soft grass at your feet. Grass, not sand. If you’d had any liquid left in your body you could have cried. You never thought you’d be this happy to see grass again, it was almost sad. You curled up, hoping that you were safe, though not really caring, and waited for some of your strength to return. You knew there was no way you’d make it back to the palace before Suho returned and once he worked out that you’d strayed from his bed… well you couldn’t be sure how much longer he’d keep you around. You’d like to think that if he cared at all he’d forgive you and let you visit home but you would be foolish to believe your own lies.

***

“You look like shit.” The voice startled you. You couldn’t even pretend to still be asleep because you’d felt your body jump at his words. Slowly you opened your eyes, expecting the worst. What you hadn’t expected was to see that it was now night time and that a short, but respectful distance from you sat a man draped in an intricate robe, tending to a small campfire. He tossed a blanket towards you as he began cooking something over the fire. Your stomach grumbled at the sight of the meat roasting. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous for a human to be out all by herself in these lands?” He asked.

You sat up, wrapping the blanket around yourself as the thin flimsy fabric of your clothing no longer felt liberating but rather, you felt too exposed. You stared at the man, trying to work out what he was and if you could tell him the truth or if that was just likely to get you killed. His eyes met yours but you did not see any malice in them. All you saw was kindness and wisdom. This man had to be older than he looked but you got the feeling, one you had no way of reasoning out logically, that he would not harm you. “I had to leave the palace.” You started.

“The clothing, or lack thereof kind of gave that away. I am not here to judge, and I am not a member of this court. I’m only here because certain plants grow here and I needed to restock my stores. Will you tell me your story in exchange for a meal and advice?” His tone held no judgement and you felt oddly at ease. It could be another trick but you were just so tired of having no one to talk to that you decided to throw caution to the wind and accept this strangers offer.

You nodded and moved closer to the fire to warm yourself. “I was visiting Lankhmar, I don’t even know how long ago… it feels like months now, and I was on my way back to my hotel after visiting the market when I fell through a tear. I landed in the ocean to the East, near the palace and started to drown. Something or someone saved me and when I came to the prince and his emissary questioned me.” You paused, unsure of how much to tell, unsure of how much you wanted to have to admit was true. “I was kept by the prince, I thought… I thought that he cared for me b-but now I’m not so sure. I left the palace. I don’t know why but I just needed to find somewhere that didn’t smell of salt, somewhere I couldn’t hear the waves crashing.” You were shaking by the time you finished telling him your story. He’d go back and ask further details as he slowly pulled the whole thing from you.

“The fae are tricky creatures. The princes especially. Some are twisted beyond repair, using and discarding human playthings with ease. Others, like the Summer prince, have not been known to use humans so for him to have kept you, he must have felt something for you. Now this is not to say that he hasn’t abused his power over you or that he has treated you with care, because he hasn’t. He has used you to satiate his own needs but clearly he did not realise that his influence over you would wear off faster when he was away.” He sat back and handed you a skewer of meat. You waited a few moments before you gave into your hunger and began eating, careful to not burn your mouth on the food.

The meat was unbelievably delicious and tender, you only wished there were like ten more skewers. The man handed you a bowl of broth and tore you off some bread to have with it. As he ate he ruminated over your current situation. “I can offer two options to you, but ultimately, the decision is yours to make. One, you can stay here and leave with me tomorrow. I can return you to Lankhmar and you can adjust yourself back into life there, or, option two, I can provide you with a charm that will negate the princes hold over you. It will not last for more than a few days but it will show you if he truly cares for you or not. I will only be in these lands until the sun sets tomorrow, after that the tear I came through will be sealed.”

“Who are you?” You asked.

“I’m just an old mage who isn’t a half bad cook.” He chuckled. “You can call me Siwon.” He smiled warmly at you.

***

You trudged back through the hills the following day as you tried to keep your tears at bay. You’d been stupid, hoping that if you gave him a chance that he’d tell you all of the things you longed to hear. The mage’s charm worked and for the first time you truly saw how Suho treated you behind closed doors. He was not soft or loving, he was selfish, taking what he needed and not caring about your desires. You’d made one simple request and he had denied you. You knew that you needed to leave, this place would be your grave otherwise.

You arrived at Siwon’s campsite with moments to spare. The sun was beginning its descent in the sky, casting a pinkish glow across the sky “Please,” you puffed, having pushed your body to its limits to get here in time. “Take me back, I can’t. I can’t. I ca-”

“Shh child. I understand.” His voice was calming. He took a step towards you and wiped the tear that had started to fall from your cheek. He spoke gently. “I’ll return you to Lankhmar but understand that it will take time for you to readjust. Food will taste bland, the colours will seem dull and you will feel empty. Time heals all wounds. I’ll ward your room against danger and I’ll leave a protection charm with you in case they come for you. I might be old but I’m not useless.” He held out his hand and waited for you to take it before stepping back through the tear.

***

Either Siwon’s protection spells had worked or no one had bothered to try and track you down because after a month of constantly looking over your shoulder as you wallowed in your heartbreak, you’d finally started to move on. You weren’t expecting the heartbreak, especially since you knew he’d used you but regardless of the spell you’d been under, you’d fallen for him. There had been moments, fleeting moments but still, the existed, where he had shown kindness to you. It was those moments that you struggled to let go of, hoping that there was a shred of decency in him.

You’d been gone for a little over five months, and when you returned you’d viewed the city in a completely different way. Before he’d left Siwon had told you how to spot tears so that you didn’t accidentally fall through one again.

You’d caught wind of a local P.I who took on cases that were too odd to be real. Most people thought she was a shark, taking hapless fools for whatever money they threw at her for their unsolvable cases. Some people even thought the cases were made up. When you heard of the disappearances of young women your interest sparked. How many of them had fallen to a similar fate as you? You spend weeks trying to find the P.I’s office, less than impressed to find it right at the border of the demon territory. You had been avoiding them almost as much as you’d been avoiding downtown. You were never going to set foot there if you had any say in the matter.

The fact that the door was unlocked should have been your first warning sign but at the time you figured if a human was investigating the supernatural then standard human locks weren’t going to be high on her list of things that would keep her safe from danger. Sophrosyne - Private Detective. No case is too strange or deranged. You chuckled as you passed the bold lettering on her door.

The office was empty, which wasn’t necessarily odd. She might have been out on a case. You wandered about, trying to find a business card to at least get a phone number so that the trip wasn’t an entire waste of your time. You just wanted to help shed some light on the missing girls. If they were taken by the fae then you might be able to provide valuable information that could help get them back. You were proof that people could return from the fae lands and you refused to believe that you would be the last.

When you couldn’t find a business card you amended your search, trying instead to locate scrap paper and a pen. You’d leave an email address, a phone number was too traceable and you didn’t want to leave the hotel’s number in case any fae were sniffing around for you.

You were so absorbed in your search that you didn’t notice the blonde man enter the office. He leant in the doorway, watching you for a few moments before deciding to make his presence known. “What are you doing here?”

You jumped, almost hitting your head on an overhead cupboard. You turned and watched him carefully. He wasn’t human, no, there was something other about him. Power seemed to ripple off him, a kind you hadn’t felt before but had been warned about. The flash of black in his eyes confirmed what he was to you. “Demon!” You exclaimed.

“I have a name for fucks sake.” He growled before straightening up and plastering a fake smile on his face. “If you’re here you’re looking for a P.I. What seems to be your trouble, I’m sure I could be of assistance. For a price.” His tone dripped with honey, meant to draw you into his web of deceit before tricking you out of your soul. Siwon’s charm had little effect here but it did pulse as a way of warning you against the danger you were stepping into.

“Please, drop the act. I am not in the mood. If the P.I isn’t here then I have no business with you.” You turned to leave, not willing to engage with the demon further. You only hoped that he was a standard demon, if he was one of the Seven then you might not leave here unmarred.

He stalked towards you, each step smooth and calculated. Like a lion stalking its prey. “Well aren’t you just no fun. Honey, no one makes the trip out to Syn’s office just because they want a chat. Only the desperate come here. Why not reconsider my offer to assist?”

“Sometimes the wicked will say things just to confuse you.” You deadpanned.

“At least you’re not as dumb as you look.” He sighed. “If you’re looking for Syn, she’s not in right now. She’s busy being a martyr, or a fucking idiot, who knows. In the meantime I’m here.”

“And what do I call you?” You asked hesitantly.

“Avarice.” He grinned, setting all of your nerves on edge.

A/N: Thank you for reading, comments are always appreciated! They keep me going, I’d love to hear from you.

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heyyylittlemo · 4 years

Text

Ask game

1. Where did you hide the body??

Me: *pause* No, where did you hide the body—

*police stare at me with disbelief*

Me: there’s no—there’s not a single body here—well stop looking at me like that, you’re the cop! You should know! Why are you asking me for! Body? Whaaaaaat. Ahaha.

*cops shake head*

*whispers to my friend* Guys I think I pulled that one off

Police: you know we can hear everything you’re saying

me: 👁👄👁

2. Favorite rock? The 1975. Dominic Fike. Arctic Monkeys. Bad Suns. The killers. Pale Waves. Etc. That good good shit 👌

3. Most aesthetic season? Fall. Love them orange colors. The leaves falling. Though spring is also neat if you have a bunch of flowers bloomin in shit and winter is only aesthetic when it’s snowing. Boring ass summer tho just be heating me up.

4. When texting do u shorten words or spell out? I used to write stuff out all the time mostly but now it’s like half and half bcuz its just faster and nobody got time for it 🤣🤣

5. Vintage stuff? Hell yeah, but maybe not anything too expensive since some old stuff IS hyper expensive.

6. Colors that pop or blend? Not sure I understand what u mean abt them blending ahaha u mean like when they’re so similar to another?? Well I think it’s nice but honestly I prefer a pop and a bang, y’Know?

- At this moment I realized I was answering the last few questions from a completely different ask and felt like a dumbass 😂 anyways the actual number we’re on is three so imma just kickback

3. Worst dream u have ever had? I had sleep paralysis but was imbetween that and a lucid dream. At first I was paralyzed and could see my bed but my eyes felt closed and open at the same time?? A giant dark demon looking dog had towered over me and began to tear at my neck. It looked and felt very real I started to try to scream and it felt like a scream was coming out but no sound exited. Then I went into a lucid dream where I was being chased by this dog and running for my life I was running by and nobody could save me nobody in the dream when it caught up to me I was back in my bed and it was trying to eat me again. I was so terrified I couldn’t sleep for a whole week.

4. Lyric that comes to your mind? “And I don’t think I can be there. I’m paralyzed,I’m terrified of being alone. When you said I deserved what had happened.”

5. Blood make u uncomfortable? Yes, I passed out once when getting my finger pricked and a VERY small blood sample and another when dissecting a fish.

6. Even or odd numbers? Well I like the number 5,7,9, 3 so odd. (Like me 🤣🤣)

7. Something I hate that I love? Anything I’ve ever loved becuz love can be frustrating. Bruh.

8. 1st initial of someone I hate? Hmm...do I hate someone tho? Not that I can think of...

9. *Skipping down the lane* NOPE

10. Corn dogs? It’s funny cuz when I think of corn dogs my mind will always go to when we first moved to our current house because at our initial town we never had Sonic and while we were getting the house fixed up and moving stuff we use to always get Sonic since it was the closest to us most times to eat and that was a bunch of corn dogs and hotdog days 🤣 so thnk u corn dogs for ur service

11. I’m not a huge movie person so...I looked up movies from 2005 and movies Inlike from this time are Brokeback mountain bcuz it’s gay af, Shark Boy and Lava Girl damn I rewatched the shot out of it when I was younger, Narnia and the Chocolate Factory(although it low key creeped me out as a kid, and idk why).

12. Least fav music genre? Most country, most EDM, dubstep, screaming/really hard rock, some pop music, mumble raping.

13. As someone who waits on tables, my job is my least favorite restaurant experience 🤣🤣 just dealing with ppl...like ok, I’m half Hispanic right?? But I look white. Well, I work at a Mexican restaurant and so sometimes racist costumers will say shady shit just bcuz I guess they think it’s appropriate to say it to me just bcuz I’m not Hispanic in their eyes?? But it pisses me off and I feel like I can’t say anything without causing a drama which I hate and when the “costumers always right” it can be hard to budge and stand up and say “bitch wtf did u just say??” And there’s just folks who take things the wrong ways or ask too much at once or give u a hard time or just say something that sticks onto you for the whole day. One bad move can turn my whole day upside down.

14. 3 things never come near me? Cockroaches, Needles, and close mind ppl

15. Worst way to die? With regrets. Something really brutual, random, or where something just happened to go wrong (accident). Being killed by someone u love.

16. Unusual habits? Doing a Michael Jackson esque “hee-hee” after every sneeze I make, being extremely clumsy and making every task 100% more difficult, having the ability to talk as if I have an accent that comes from nowhere in particular just stupidity also I can’t speak my own language half the time 🙃getting words confused or misusing them in a sentence so I sound dumb having a very weird imagination and thoughts, I swear it like I never went to school and don’t know how the world works, plus many many more

17. Clothing style u want? I want to dress in a way that screams who I am and is a blend of both femininity and masculinity. A little vintage. Grunge. Urban maybe?? What do I know abt fashion 🤣🤣

18. Song or artist that deserves more? Dijon, hands down. I love his stuff. He’s like Frank Ocean meets light-singing beautiful lyricist with a more rock vibe?? Hidden gem. I also think Durand Jones & the Indications needs more love along with BadBadNotGood they sound like old-times but are new!! Oh, and Pale Waves is like a female The 1975 and kicks it. Bad Suns is a good alt rock band that no one seems to recognize :,D Toro y Moi too! His song with Flume “The difference “ is a banger!! Kid Cudi is my man when I want a blend of rock and rap. Also Dominic Fike,King Krule, and Roy Blair, who are all amazing!! Ok I need to stop 🛑

Duck I answered the past questions from a different post I’m sorry 😐

17. Emoji never used? There’s a bunch since I reuse the same over and over again. Lmao

18. 3 sentence Gatorade horror story? A faint quiver overtook the small freezer the Gatorade lay in; no one had come by in days, hours, weeks; when was the last time he met the lips of a thirsty body? They’d forgotten about him, as his last sips remained glued to his hollowing entrance. ‘Help, ‘it wanted to say, but it’s frozen lips could not be moved; It’d stay here, die here...just like the rest.” What am I doing with my life 🤣🙏

19. Do u know what an old bay is? A bay that is old? And old ocean? Idk!!!

20. Can u dance? Sometimes I dance when I’m alone but nothing spectral lol

21. What first comes to ur mind when u see ropes? 2 extremes. Sex and death. Hm. Ok. Moving on.

22. Make an obscure reference. “Even a bra couldn’t hold these nipples” *Holds a water gun to chest*

23. Fav balloon color? Pink or yellow.

24. If u were in court would u be innocent or guilty? Depends, what am I in court for 🤣 lmao jk honestly idk bcuz I don’t think I’d wind up in there

25. Are u hungry ? Nope

26. Unlucky number? Hm I don’t think so but I have a lucky number “123”

27. What’s “JMD”stand for? I’m guessing...Jamming my d—- 💀lol jk ahaha why am so dirt

28. Random inside joke? *chirpy squeak* I’m making a double batch of cookies

29. What sends chills up ur spine? Seeing disgust food or smell disgust or talking abt disgust things like gore

30. How many questions are in ur inbox? A pathetic zero ahaha no one want to ask me anything 😂

31. Someone real who scares u. 2 of my ex friends. One when I was 10 said disturbing things and I was kinda forced onto the friendship and everything they said make me fear for others lives...and then a different ex friend who seemed normal at 1st but became both low key psychopath cult leader type stuff and I booed out of there—-.

32. Run or hide? Uhh probably hide because I’d say even if ppl say “u can run but u can’t hide” u CAN just hide! that’s the point of hiding they not find u xD also why not combine them? Hide then run somewhere far away once I got them off the trial.

33. Last person who made u angry? A frickin beetle that flew at me and pinched me in the middle of singing in the shed xD also my autocorrect

34. What’s going on in ur head? I should probably pee soon—

35. Little thing that makes u Smile? A lot of little things bruh.

36. Are u a descisive person?

Not sure.

*pAuse *

Ok, I guess I’m not then 🤣

37. Would ppl say I’m paranoid? Hm maybe about certain things social situations, singing in front of others what ppl think abt me etc etc

38. Store least likely in? Any southern clothes shop, Abercrombie & Finch types shit, lol

39. Do I like hats fave type? Hm not wear many hats but I think they’re cool any type is cool for different ppl and their aesthetici just can’t rock a hat.

40. Bow ties or ties? Don’t really care but now want to see more bow ties

41. Who? You.

42. What? Reading this shit

43. Where? In ur ass

44. When? Now.

45. Why? Not even u know why.

46. How? We all want to know

47. Do u collect anything? Vinyl records.

48. What tome is it? Time to get a watch

49. Fav transportation? My car or walk is possible

50. Would u ever kill someone to save someone? Don’t want to think about that

51. Make a joke. Yo, it’s time to make a joke—so the other day I was working. And I was practicing my Spanish, yes? Anyone whose trying to learn anew language k n o w s that sometimes words can be so close to another u just confuse then! So apparently churros in Spanish is a desert but if u say it more harshly (it literally sounds almost the same) it makes a whole different meaning—diharrea, but like I didn’t know that so I legit just walked up to this person and asked if they would like some shit to eat. So yeah, that was great. Let’s not forget that I mixed up blood, watermelon, and sangria which is a wine. I legit once said I had mixed wine in my vines and another time watermelon 🤣

52. I’m really confused so I skip

53. Would ur dash be confiscated SFW? By dash do u mean this account? Um not 😬

54. Do I like to cuddle? Hell yeah and manhandle ppl all the time it’s my affection

55. What makes u angry? Close minded ppl or ppl who jump too fast to conclusions, strict schedules just dumb stuff that people try to force when I just want to be carefree 😭✌️

56. How many voices are in ur head? 😐

57. Do U consider urself mentally stable? 😐

58. Are u easily offended? Well U just called me mentally unstable and asked it there was voices in my head!!

59. What’s wrong with taking the backstreets? Uhm...

60. Any questions u want ppl to ask u? Nothing in particular but it’s be nice if someone care to ask me something abt me from personal question to my opinions on shit to 19 days fandom related junk 😌

Woooo I’ve finished this game! Thanks to @seiji-amasawa for introducing me to this ^^

#tag game #game #ask #19 days #19days

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