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sardonicallys · 3 years

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𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸, 𝗻𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆 | 𝗰��𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝘄𝗼

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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Jaebeom + Female!Reader

𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: Corporate AU, Mature, Smut, Angst, Enemies to Lovers

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Cursing, sexual content, mentions of trauma

𝗦𝘆𝗽𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: You don't like to think of the word "workaholic" as an insult, but rather as a title of prestige. Everything you have accomplished in your career has been reflected as a glimmering treasure in your trophy case that doted on your work ethic and undying tenacity to put your best effort in everything you have involved yourself in. When you're transferred to what feels just a step away from a demotion, rewritten as an opportunity to "help" the new CEO, you find yourself in a predicament when you realize he's an unbearable nuisance.

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 10,072

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲: This chapter took forever to write, for literally no reason at all.

[ chapter one ]

The coffee tastes like water.

What you noticed about pondering is that it somehow took all the energy from everything else and redistributed it for its own selfish purposes, in this case you were left wandering your snapshots of last night while your tongue savored liquid that was mute. You wouldn’t necessarily call your behavior appropriate but it was concocted not from pleasure, rather delivered from revenge. It was resentment that fueled your desire — sexual gratification could not fulfill this hunger — it was about power. It was about control. It was seizing back every ounce of pride you let your good for nothing chief of executive operations put out like a lousy cigarette on the ground after you had offered humility. These murky thoughts were the reason you felt no regret for your actions, but you were still subjected to the over seasoned yet tasteless rice balls and the coffee that emulated muddy rain water on your tongue. You felt like shit, essentially, but in the complexity of things you had won. Grinding the ball of your foot into the pavement as rock scraps rolled beneath your sole, you slouched into the backing of the bench while listening to the sprinklers douse the grass, quietly piecing together what you were going to do.

What were you going to do?

Now without a job from a company you bent backwards and jumped through flaming hoops for, your mind raced with the anxious reminder that you were going to have to build your way back up. Convincing yourself it wasn’t so bad because you had attempted, and succeeded, was becoming a struggle every passing second. The flood of contemplation had you wondering if you should have accepted the offers that were given to you while you were being scouted by other companies who wanted to poach you from the market. Had you known you’d be assisting a living piece of shit, you may have resisted less.

Honestly you always wanted to live simply, at least amongst the standards of society. A small one bedroom apartment in the city but not on prime real estate, a middle manager job at a branch of a main company with opportunities, a stray black kitten turned cat, and you, the whole of these extensions. You always did your best and prided your perception off these little views into the whole reflection of you, regardless of what the outcome was because in reality, you expected only this much. This was simple and humble living, and this is all you wanted. You worked hard and you minded your own business, so what kind of karma did this entail exactly?

Pushing yourself off the bench, finally grappling with the sore result of your body, you felt the weight sink to your ankles as they balanced between carrying you and keeping poised on your heels. The walk of shame carried a different meaning to you, and it was that you were unemployed for the first time since university started. Discarding the remnants of your tasteless excuse for a breakfast, you brisked through the park and back towards your neighborhood where you could finally wash yesterday down the drain and start over, perhaps through job hunting. Just a block away from your building, you practically planted into the ground at the sound of your mobile phone as it erupted in your purse. Fishing it out, you squinted at the unknown number and somehow between the second you saw it and the second you answered, you hoped it was a pleasant coincidence that maybe someone you knew was looking to hire. Or perhaps a friend of yours recommended you and someone was reaching out to see if you were interested in a new career path? Better yet, that friend opened a company and needed you on the team for a start-up. Anything, desperation chimed, anything.

Anything but the sound of Mr. Im’s voice that oozed with impatience, instead, surfaced into the canal of your ear, “Why aren’t you in office?”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, completely in disillusion to the point where you pulled the phone away from you just to check if you were starting to hear things all on your own. After a brief pause, you curtly responded, “…Because I was terminated?”

There’s silence before a sarcastic laugh sparked from the receiver, “I don’t have any official documentation of that, you need to work until we find a replacement.”

A long pause, “Or did you not know that.”

The last comment was made to be a complete fucking asshole, you knew he was provoking you. Inhaling deeply, assuring not to allow the noise of frustration earn the exact reaction he was seeking, Mr. Im spoke once more, “I’ll see you in fifteen.”

And the line cut off.

Sometimes, you had a habit of taking too shallow breaths and you spoke to a few doctors to which they deliberated that you may have had some form of anxiety that lie dormant between the physiology of your being. Mostly because during these questionnaires, you had a bit of trouble answering honestly and it wasn't that you weren't aware of what you were doing, but you couldn't bring yourself to say the words that were on your mind. Instead you vaguely referred to them, like a directory more than an explanation. You assume the psychiatrist you met with saw through this, but knew how to communicate without causing a catalyst to exacerbate the symptoms. Besides, it wasn't abundant enough for medication but it wasn't quiet enough for you to go through your day to day without feeling a stammering worry that plagued every atom of your body. You remembered reading some time ago that there was a man who had some disease — common or not — and he committed to these breathing exercises that extended his life expectancy tenfold. That was what you wanted, right now in this moment, just to breathe enough to survive this because you were not going to crumble here, not when you were going to prove a point.

Turning on your heel, you started charging back towards the main street only to halt to a stop. But why should you return? It was already decided, just moments ago, to start anew. Right? You had made your resolution the second you slipped your clothes back on and disappeared from the room you shared with Mr. Im that you were going to rebuild this but better. There was no reason to go back to that fucking office to suffer the berating existence that it was to be a secretary of someone who had very little respect for you. There just wasn't. You barely realized how tensed your shoulders were until you exhaled deeply, feeling your muscles release your bones.

I'm going home.

But you can't seem to move because somewhere in the depths of your overthinking, riddled with holes and passages that descended down to nowhere, labyrinths of darkness that encased your every motive you wondered, what if he screws your entire career? What if, being a heavy hand in your industry, he crushes every possible pathway for you and you're left with nothing? Because he knew how much this whole thing meant to you, if it wasn't enough that you were willing to miserably put up with his shit the day before, then at least your work record could prove that much. The worry filled your being, as if someone was pouring water and it was already at your knees. Before you know it, you feel the water climb up your throat and now you're sprinting through the subway as you bite back your tears of frustration because you had never, not once felt that you lacked this much control in your entire life.

Entering the building, the embarrassment crashed into you like a flood, your head hung as you balled your fists up, creating crescents of your nails into your palms, wearing the same navy chiffon dress that adorned you the day before. The several years of pride that you built on your appearance, work ethic, and upstanding quality were crashing down onto you in just a matter of days and you could barely bring yourself to take the elevator up to your floor, the brief glances of your peers and coworkers feeling as if you were scrutinized — regardless if they had noticed your disheveled appearance or not. You're absolutely disgusted as you dropped your things at your desk, no time to even peer at yourself in a mirror, and threw Mr. Im's door open, not bothering to knock.

"Great, you're on time," he doesn't even bother to look up, but you're not surprised. Parting your lips to speak, he finally lifted his head and you could feel his revolting gaze scan over your appearance, causing you to feel nauseated and hold your speech which allowed him to interject first, "You didn't even bother to change?"

There were no words that you could find, or at least, no single formed sentence to use that could have described the frustration that coursed through every vein in your body. Your breathing turned shallow again, reflecting on how your superior had cleaned up — hair slicked back and a freshly dry cleaned suit, the collar of his shirt starched and ironed perfectly to press against his neck. The piercing and judgmental gaze gripped your lungs, forcing you to keep your composure, "...I didn't have time this morning. I had assumed—"

"Your affairs outside of the office aren't my business," sneering your name, you could see half a smirk appear on his lips as he continued, "but it seems you must have had a long night if you were irresponsible enough to show up...Like this."

Leaning back in his chair, you have to program your nerves not to let your jaw drop from his comment. The back of your neck warmed instantly, creating a trail to a migraine as you repeated to yourself breathe breathe breathe because you could feel your throat closing up quicker now.

"My apologies," through gritted teeth, you managed to surface a cruel smile, "I promise it won't happen again."

Rather than wait for his direction, you turned and slammed the door behind you before striding towards your desk, dropping your weight into your chair while quietly gasping for air. I shouldn't have come back, head tilted back as you attempted to ease into steady breathing. As childish as it was, you wanted to blame the whole of this on Jaebeom, every last fucking bit of it. But you can't and perhaps that's what created even more friction, because you knew that this wasn't his fault, at least not entirely. You created this situation yourself, and had you not selfishly decided to seek revenge for something as egotistic as pride, perhaps you could have walked away with your hands clean. This worked in tandem with the arrogance of your boss, of course, but he didn't do anything that was outside of your expectations. You earned this and so you attempted to recenter yourself by focusing entirely on work. There would be no time for your wandering thoughts and regrets, so long as you did what you did best and that was to work. Surprisingly, this is successful, and you managed through most of the day without feeling the combustion of frustration you had that morning, even avoiding Mr. Im as he had several clients to see to that day — all of which did not line up with your schedule, to your relief.

Just as the last two hours of your work day were resolving, greeting you every hour closer to your escape, you suddenly saw one of the sales associates frantically dart towards your desk with a heavy binder in her hands. It's a long explanation you can barely fathom through her shaky sobs, but you managed to piece together that a backorder she had placed had an exponential amount of quantity in contrast to the original form and she wasn't sure where to redistribute it. Apparently she heard you were a savior for these sort of situations at the branch, and now you were her only hope. Perhaps you pitied her tear stained face, and how could you possibly let her be fed to Mr. Im after he put you through the wringer this morning? Assuring her you would fix the mistake, you sent her home and began revising her work. Overtime wasn't new to you, but you hadn't thought this would to be a commitment as someone who was only an assistant. In some ways, you were relieved you were still seen as helpful, and that was honestly the ego boost you needed.

The office was empty, Mr. Im long gone due to some client meeting, the only sounds were your nails clacking away on the keyboard and the hum of the air conditioner every so often to keep the printing room cool. Occasionally, you'd hear the ice maker in the break room, but otherwise you were savoring the paradise of peace you were draped in while you began sorting the order. The work wasn't difficult but tedious, as you sent several notices to the global order management team, making them aware of certain changes you needed to override and why it was so sudden. The familiarity of work offered a sense of comfort to you, so much so, you didn't realize the figure hovering near your desk, "You're still here?"

The recognizable tone rekindled nausea as you focused on your screen, not bothering to look at the owner of the voice, "Yes, why are you here?"

"A meeting got moved and I thought I'd work on something..." the tone is flat and suddenly your vision blurs, fingers cold and unmoving, wondering why he's still looming before he suddenly grabbed the bottom mount of one of your monitors, turning it towards him. The silence indicated to you that he's probably reading, and you prepared yourself to hear him blast you with his uninvited criticism.

"...You know for someone who was at your managerial level, but unable to delegate, it's no wonder why you're a secretary now huh?"

"Excuse me?" Turning your head to look at him for the first time, you felt your blood pressure spike, "You do know you're in charge of overseeing the sales associates right?"

"It's not my job to clean up someone else's blatant mistakes, and it isn't yours either," turning the monitor back, he spoke his words firmly, "But someone who can't create a boundary on what their job title is..."

Sucking in a breath between his teeth, he folded his arms across his chest, "Certainly will do the work for them, huh?"

"Maybe, if you knew how to do your job better, they could follow," folding your fingers together, you leaned across the table, offering a sickeningly saccharine grin, "That way there wouldn't be any mistakes to clean up, don't you think, Mr. Im? You are only as strong as your weakest link."

"That's why you have to learn to strengthen those links, not baby them and do their damn work for them," leering at you, head tipped down, you have no other comments to make and there isn't time for it, because Mr. Im took his leave almost immediately after. It takes everything in you not to throw the monitors out the window behind you, use the computer itself to break through Mr. Im's door to trash his office, light the chairs and shelves lining the walls as a starter for a fire that would burn the building to a crisp. It takes everything in you not to boil over and cry every tear you had been holding in all fucking day. You pace back up to speed while continuing your work, still struggling to breathe.

A mug is delivered onto your desk by the devil's spawn, and you can't help but offer only disgust as he sips his own coffee. You dream a hundred different ways to splash the hot beverage at him as he lies in waiting, you assume, for you to take a sip, "Please tell me you put poison in it."

"You really think too highly of me."

"Trust me, I don't," rolling your eyes, you scanned through the worksheet, scrolling down towards a row in question.

"Drink it."

"No."

"Drink it and don't show up looking like you did again this morning."

Glaring at him, you begrudgingly took a sip before slamming the mug back down on the desk, holding your eye contact. If he was anyone else, you wouldn't have been so aggressive, stubborn. You would have certainly expressed your gratitude, but because he wasn't anyone else, you would never let him hear a single thank you for the rest of your life. It's close to midnight when you finish, and you depart without saying anything, letting the blur of catching the last train and of how you get home consume you through the sticky night air. You can't even recall a hint of how you washed up and got into bed, so drained you don't even notice when you fall asleep.

Water is the most pure and present representation of neutrality, a concoction that occurs only as a reaction. Though many physicists would argue otherwise, its state is a result more than a stable initiator. The temperature of water is adjusted due to exposure of heat, an outside conductor, its movements are recorded through the tectonic plates that grapple against one another hidden beneath the earth’s surface, another outside conductor. With the ability to control small increments in the human hand, it can also be a significant abundance and in mass amounts, water could flood whole cities, countries. Water brought life just as easily as it swept it away and as you float in an endless sea that had no horizon, blended to reflect the ash sky above, you wonder just how much of this is a reaction to you.

Though you were never particularly good at swimming, you could at least float. Fingers parted while exploring the viscous space, head bobbing just above the surface, the water that filled your ears and kept you recording your breathing in silence, soft licks of waves creeping beneath your inhales. Your body must have acclimated to the temperature since there was no particular differentiation when it came to heat and chill. Dipping down as you closed your eyes, you held your breath but soon realized while being under just slightly and seemingly too long, there was no reason to be doing so. Soft dancing bubbles escaped your nostrils as you looked up to see the dim light cadence against the reflective surface, glimmering for your return.

Instead, the urge to sink into the dark abyss intrigued you while you curled up and felt your weightlessness create some form of mass that drifted your being down. Lulling your eyes closed, the shadow depths began to creep over your skin as the gentle shifts in the water turned and rocked you at its will. Each breath you drank let no salt touch your tongue as you listlessly floated through limbo, no particular attention towards anything yet all things, all at once. Opening your eyes once more just to observe how far you fell, now in utter darkness. A deeper smudge of obsidian seemed to cloak your vision the deeper you descended, something stained the water, and what was once faulty oxygen in your lungs surged as you observed the surface growing closer before you broke through the ceiling. Gasping suddenly as the flesh of a palm cradled you in its confines, you were horrified to watch as the fingerprints began to unravel, skin coiling and peeling back. The nails decayed in slivers and crumbled into the water, ribbons of the epidermis effortlessly withering away as the imagery instilled panic — not because you would revert to sinking once it had completely peeled apart but the rotting flesh itself was enough. Ready to abandon ship, you felt your ankles locked in place as the vibrant crimson began crackling in desperation, forming vertices through the bone structure before dying the boards of a small paddle boat to carry you in. It happened so rapidly, vividly, your unease became a beacon of confusion once more as the vessel gently turned in a counter clockwise motion.

Suddenly, you're shivering. You weren't the least bit cold earlier, but between then and now, there's a draft. Craning your head back to peer up at the sky for clues, you notice not even a change in the cloud's structure has budged. It's as if air had no presidence here, not a requirement for you and certainly not present. Left without an oar, you clenched your teeth and leaned over the edge of the boat before scooping water towards the direction the head of the boat was pointed in an effort to escape. Hands cupping the frigid liquid, as if freshly melted ice had made its home in your hands, you continued to part your way before seeing a dark object in the distance. It swayed heavily and must have had some weight to it, creating its own ripples that licked at the bottom of your boat. Flicking the water off your hands as best you could, you squinted while shielding your fingers around your eyes as the vessel drifted closer. It's sinking now, whatever was peeking at the surface began bobbing lower and lower, circumscribed by the buoyant surface of the sea as it swallowed up the mass. When it finally broke the pendulum swing, it sunk and the fibers of protein that warped as the clear reflection finally imprinted on your gaze had you fully forming the inference.

It was Jaebeom, and he was sinking.

Humans like to think — in a hopeful sense — that we could independently peruse this lifetime without a need for others. It's the selfish and human thing to do. But in reality, we all pour from our cup, to another's cup, to another's cup, and to another's cup. We pour a little of our responsibility, our support, the love we share, our sanctity, and humanity all in different people's cups whether we like to acknowledge that or not. In a way, no matter how selfish an individual is, there is somehow a rift created from them that inherently has helped someone else, and that's the beginning and ending of it all. Because of this human response to how we accept the traumas that we experience through others, it really is no surprise that you didn't hesitate for a moment as you stood at the edge of the boat and screamed his name.

Im Jaebeom.

There's no sound. Gently reaching your frozen fingers around your neck, you amplified with what you could, kicking your diaphragm up as you felt your throat quiver in desperation. Still no sound. Panicked, you plunge into the water on a whim, swimming with what clumsy form you could remember — what your body could remember — as your fingers grasped through the intangible material with haste. Every time you reached to propel yourself forward, you realized that the image of Jaebeom would crystalize and somehow turn into fragments before resorting into one whole piece. At first, you assumed it was the water that was claiming your vision, but it wasn't, it was as if his entire existence was shifting before you. With each paddle, his physical being was disintegrating. As you grew closer, seeing the unconscious body drift lower and faster, you reached forward in an attempt to grab him as your mouth opened and struggled to claim any kind of volume you possibly could.

But somehow every time your fingertips drew forward, he was reeled backwards just as far. Kicking your feet faster, harder, aggressively attempting to bring yourself closer, you continued to desperately shout into the abyss, no water and certainly no sound departing or returning. A shadow from above began to cloak over as you watched the onyx shade creep up from behind the descending form in front of you, screaming even more frantically now.

Wake up! Wake up!

Every nerve in your body jolted forward as you sprung from your mattress, awoken by the perilous screeching of your own voice before desperately gasping for air. It was just a dream, but that doesn't comfort you as you felt an overwhelming chill bite at your skin while your alarm ripped through your bedroom walls.

Were you appreciative that you were still employed? Sure. Were you desperately looking for a way out? Absolutely. Wanting nothing more than to escape this reality you had little to no control of, you decided on your commute that you would create a deadline for yourself that would shape the rest of your time as Mr. Im’s assistant. That is, if he didn’t throw some fit and cut your contract short. Though confident in your work and abilities, on the off chance you could not make your way out, you would leave when the allotted time was up. It was a way for you to look forward to something, anything. Settling in your chair as your rolled it towards your desk, one of the sales managers strutted towards you, her elated but professional grin painted on her lips. Though you couldn't recall her name, how could you forget the most gorgeous employee at the main office? A stunning beauty, you were half surprised when you were introduced and told that she was responsible for many of the large trades and shipments that were from overseas; she looked more like an actress or movie star than another one of the pencil pushers here, like yourself. Residing with the top numbers for countless months, she was easily one of the top sales managers after her training period.

Resounding your title and last name formally, she gently placed a hand on your desk as your gaze followed her beautifully glazed nails up her neatly ironed dress, engaging in her glance finally as she spoke, "Is Mr. Im free today? I would like to discuss something with him."

Typically, you recited — like some kind of voicemail message — that he would be unable to take any appointments and you'd have him take a look at whatever was the subject of said request when he was free and return the documents or inquiries after the fact. This was, of course, full of shit and he really just didn't want to meet with anyone and especially not a woman one on one. After what happened the other day, you couldn't really blame him. But you could blame him for the past few hellish days where you listened to his condescending tone beat into your skull and insult any sort of work you did that didn't follow his organization — which you realized was a lot more picky than you initially suspected. With a saccharine grin, you beamed at her, "I am sure I can find some time for you. What did you want to discuss and when would you like me to pen you in?"

The expression that plagued her every feature was priceless, absolutely appalled that it was that simple because in the past, you were sure whoever was the makeshift scheduler refused to have anyone meet the CEO without obstacle and challenge. Leaning into your desk, a patient and friendly smile masquerading your expression, you tilted your head as she stuttered through her words, something you never imagine you'd witness, "...It's just some numbers with a new brand we're working with, just to double check."

The end of her sentence faded into the air similarly to how her tone wafted away, an almost sheepish grin now forming on her lips. It was made clear that she may have had a crush on your boss, how funny. This would make for an interesting meeting, you began jotting down buzzwords that held seemingly more importance than what she was spouting about. Nodding vaguely while she spoke, you peered up at her, "He's free in an hour, if you're available, I can have you meet with him then?"

With that, she fervently thanked you before departing back to her desk. What could you say? You told Mr. Im you were good at you job, which included but wasn't limited to, helping him grow and supporting him. If that meant you were going to help him through his phobia — or condition? Whatever it was — why wouldn't that be considered growth and support? Chuckling to yourself, you mentally began the countdown to your most exciting encounter of the day.

Or so you thought.

Somehow — and you had a feeling that the sales manager must have let that elation loosen her lips — you had a ton of inquiries from every female identifying human in the building to see Mr. Im. What a surprise. You let them come in and deliver him tea, host meetings with him in person and not over e-mail or some poorly streamed video, bring his mail to him personally, and even do their presentations in his office. The rest of his week was fully booked with more or less, mundane and useless appointments with the women of the office who wanted to court him. The current quarter was always notoriously slow, so it's not like you were sabotaging anything of importance. Rather, you filled his time with your very own unpaid therapy and for that, he should be thankful.

By the end of the week, you could tell he was on his last leg, his expression depleted of energy and yet somehow it roused with rage and frustration you knew was targeted at you. Feigning innocence, you went by each day carefully avoiding him in spaces where he could scold your behavior, even going as far as having your lunch out in the courtyard. You were as close to paradise in hell as you possibly could have experienced, as if you had begrudgingly crawled through a desert — famished and dehydrated — and somehow the mirage in the distance had fabricated into a tangible scenery, why hadn't you decided to floor him earlier? Forget fucking him, this was a hundred, no ten hundred, times more satisfying.

Honestly, you expected him to call you into his office at some point, though you were surprised how patient he seemed since he picked Friday and right before you were about to clock out. This may have been his own oversight though, based on the fact that he knew he'd be dipping right into your weekend. Just to add to your misery, why would he not eat up your time?

"Are you insane?"

"...According to my health records, no, not clinically," pausing, you let your eyes wander a bit as you hummed, creating an illusion as if you were thinking through something. Scoffing in response, palm resting at the edge of his desk, you watched as his fingers curled around the margin. Gripping the furniture, you wondered just how agonizing his week had been while his knuckles surfaced an alabaster tone that was wreathed by a rush of blood beneath his skin. Honestly, you only complied to the last minute meeting just to have him relive his entire week through the festering wound you created, "You have got to be fucking crazy."

"Well you aren't a doctor, are you? So what do you know?"

He shot you a look as you smiled at him sarcastically.

"I didn't tell you all of that in confidence, but I didn't think you'd act smart with me," wedging his lip between his teeth in frustration, he finally released the desk as you barked out a laugh. It's the first time either of you hear this curdling trill, and it's rather frightening because you never once imagined that you'd be laughing in the presence of Mr. Im and he certainly never thought he'd be hearing it either.

“...You know, for someone who’s got some kind of issue around women, you seem to know how to fuck them,” lulling your head languidly to the side, you eyes traced over the features on his face as they contorted into a strange expression, “…I said I didn’t know how to interact with them, not that I didn’t know how to have sex with them.”

“All the more reason you should thank me for helping you,” shrugging your shoulders, a smile graced your lips, implying directly that you did him a favor. Which he obviously did not consider. Exhaling a halfhearted laugh, one that does not fill its full resonance, he grit his teeth as he spoke, “Do you have any idea how stupid that sounds?”

“Do you have any idea how stupid it sounds that you know how to have sex with women but not talk to them?”

Silence. Because it was stupid.

"...It makes a lot more sense than you imposing your so called help onto me," folding his arms over his chest, he narrowed his eyes while glaring at you, your smile never leaving your lips. You learned, in a matter of days, your actions held more weight than your words. It started on the very first day and his impression of your preparation, it was as if he complimented you when he arrived at expressionless silence. And it also didn't help that the language you both used seemed to be littered with spite alone. It was how you adjusted his schedules so he wouldn't constantly be parked at his desk for twelve to sixteen hours a day, or how you knew that he liked to stand on the right side of the elevator when you accompanied him to meetings. Even how you arranged his pens and documents in the morning to suit his left handed preference, all these little actions that created a warped way of understanding that held no flames to how you responded to him or would call him by his first name as an insult. It's how Jaebeom worked.

"I'm here to guide you Mr. Im, don't question my methods. I'm supposed to be both your support and mentor," placing a hand at your chest, fingertips gently grazing your necklace as you played victim, your sarcastic tone dug right into him as he sneered.

"You're doing a shit job at it."

"Well, I haven't been terminated yet have I? So I might not be so bad," wandering towards the bookshelf beside him, you peered at the generic picture frames that were made into partitions before glancing over your shoulder.

"Well don't get too comfortable," Leaning into his desk, arms still crossed tightly, his stoic expression reeked of rage as you mimicked his stance arrogantly. It really was all about action with him, and it had a lot to do with how well he read others. Watching his eyes roll as he exhaled yet another frustrated breath, your gaze incidentally found that his condition was acting up. Forcing your laughter back down your throat, you decided on a whim to instead, provoke him first, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You really have to ask? Don't get comfortable where you're at."

Realizing that his exasperation to your behavior must have circumvented any other physical response, the receptors in his head simply overworked by the onslaught of cortisol it must have been pumping this whole week, you discern that he had no idea he was straining in his slacks.

"...Speak for yourself," a stride forward, and you impetuously tucked a finger into his belt before pressing your other palm up against his very obvious erection. The sudden tension that plagued his face leaked down every feature until it dripped down his body, his skin instantly searing beneath your touch, "You're getting a little too comfortable, don't you think?"

The impulse trip kicked up again as you squeezed him through the fabric, guiding yourself just a breath closer. Just as you inhale, you captured the blunder of tobacco and pepper cease your senses before feeling the familiar hand grip at your hip, his thumb finding the slope of your protruding bone.

"...That's your best apology for the bullshit you did this week?"

But, that's how Jaebeom worked, his actions were always alluding to his true intentions. One curved revolution and your positions were reversed, your back creased along the edge of his desk as he trapped you with his hands along the margin. Unflinching, your pupils must have been flooded as you locked your gaze with his, fingers gliding up his silk tie before you gripped the fabric and yanked him a little closer, "That's the best you're getting from me."

In one deft motion, he hoisted you up onto the edge of his desk while dipping forward, the perimeter between the two of you filled with only anticipating breaths. It was as if you were both expecting the other to give in first, a quiet war that sparked a flint that was igniting a swarming fire that could be used to burn the other. But in some ways, you were the guilty verdict, and you took that as a victory rather than a loss. Palms settled behind you, you were ready to recline as you abruptly felt Jaebeom's hand press into your spine to restrict your movement, "As much as I'd love to watch you crack your head on the edge of one of my monitors, I'm not really in the mood to clean it up."

It half surprised you that he read your motion even before you committed to it, but he was always a little too observant anyways. Narrowing your eyes at him, the grimace on your lips deepened when he drank in your expression, his fingers gripping the plush of your cheeks as your mouth rested at the valley between his thumb and index. Crooning in the most unbearable tone you had ever heard, you rolled your eyes at him while he spoke, "Don't be a brat, aren't you supposed to be apologizing to me?"

A brat? Wrinkling your nose, you sneered at him, "Takes one to know one, huh?"

Forcing his thumb into your mouth, you were half tempted to bite down — you heard that all it took was the pressure of splitting a small baby carrot with your teeth to detach it from its joint. You decide against it belatedly as you heard sharp droplets littering the wooden surface before rolling onto the plush carpet, peering down at the lost buttons of your blouse, you groan in displeasure before using your tongue to push out his finger, "You fucking idiot, how the hell am I supposed to go home?"

"Not really my problem," shrugging, a shit eating grin plastered over his mouth, he continued his own handy work as he dove into your shoulder while reaching up to cup your breast in one of his hands.

"You're such a fucking jerk."

"Mhmm," savoring the way your jasmine infused perfume clung to the cotton of your shirt, he reached around and unclasped the hooks of your bra as the garment fell. Pushing the sleeves of your shirt away and discarding your bra along with it, you begrudgingly yanked on his tie — harder this time — as you drew him in and pressed your forehead against his, "Are you really not going to apologize for ruining one of my favorite blouses?"

"I don't remember you apologizing to me yet," and he sealed his sentence onto your mouth as his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, causing you to freeze up, brows furrowing, "...I told you not to do that."

"I told you not to schedule anyone without my permission."

"It was important."

"You want me to believe you thought it was that important?"

Lies were always a struggle for you to vocalize, they just never seemed to fall from your lips without some sort of awkward contradicting action, and even now you were fumbling with the silk fabric around Jaebeom's neck as you tried to pull it loose, "It could have been."

Sliding his index finger into the knot, he pulled the loop with one swift movement before grabbing ahold of your chin to induce eye contact, "But it wasn't, was it?"

"...I wouldn't know, I wasn't the one meeting with them."

The snarl you heard blossom in his throat had you flinch, Jaebeom taking advantage of your staggered movement by gripping your wrists and bringing them to his belt as he began carefully slipping the buttons of his shirt through their respective holes, "Then I can assure you, they weren't. So no more scheduling useless appointments, right?"

The tone he used put you off, and your decision to push him came into fruition almost immediately when your thumbs simply line the leather and silver plated buckle of the logo, as if memorizing the design. You weren't so keen as to drop your hands, but they certainly were not moving at the pace of his impatience. With your jaw in his hold once more, the empty eye contact held your silence between the two of you, as he articulated with more emphasis, "Right?"

"...Right."

Rather than succumbing — much to his desire — you instead only respond to give him the answer he was seeking, because in all essences, you were the one in control. If Jaebeom wanted to create an opulent fantasy where he could overrule your decision, he certainly had not learned about you the way you had learned about him. Pressing the hook through the hoop as the plate and metal hinge knocked against one another — the only sound that seemed to be reverberating between the short and shallow breaths you both shared — the belt came apart in your hands, a touch of fabric against the suede lining whistling in your ears as you let it descend. The dull thump of the heavy buckle hit the carpet as you kicked your heels off along with it, struggling to shimmy out of your own slacks before feeling your weight lifted up. Tucking you against his sturdy frame with one arm, he effortlessly helped you out of your pants before setting you back on the desk unceremoniously, "You're slow to undress, even this time."

"...You just always know what to say, don't you?"

"I'm rather good with my mouth," the smart comment instantly invoked a heavy desire of wanting to redress yourself and leaving without a single word more.

"Are you? Jokes are only funny when you're not lying."

"Do you think I'm lying?"

You weren't sure what your initial intention was but that was a threat, you were sure of it. But a threat you were tempted to see through. There was a prominent suggestion swirling in your mind as you contemplated whether to guide it into vocalization or to simply continue and slice through his ego, perhaps gaining a more intense result if you committed to the latter. The performative action of how you uncrossed your legs decided for you, "I don't believe things until I see them."

"Since when did your apology turn into me doing you a favor?"

Mouth agape, you feigned shock, "A favor? Mr. Im, it's only a favor if it's good."

And you receive the response you were eager to be in through the presence of a brute and concise expression of competition that riddled the perimeter of his whole face. Though he seemed to be composed, you realized early on that Im Jaebeom was a competitive bastard and a few carefully plucked nuanced words were all you needed to get his ignition going. You also realize, in the few moments where you let him finally rid you of the last garment on your body, he doesn't know how to take a joke the same way he delivers them and when he flattens his tongue ardently against your bundle of nerves, you suddenly realize what they meant when they said there were 8,000 of these endings in the clitoris alone. Dipping backwards, you winced as you felt Jaebeom yank your hips closer to him, skidding along the smooth wood and his teeth sinking into your inner thigh as he spoke into your skin, "I told you to be careful your hard head might crack one of the monitors."

The only noise you could utter in response is a groan as he stiffened his tongue back against you, causing an instant slur of moans to escape your lips. As much as people liked to credit the heightened experience of alcohol induced sex, there honestly was no comparison to sobriety, not when you felt every fervent breath between the calculated way Jaebeom used his tongue against you. Even the gentle brush of his teeth against your skin caused you to squirm in absolute delight, feeling yourself drip over every lick you received. Pure euphoric noises passed your lips as your fingers threaded through his hair the moment he slid a finger into you, and even he noticed how hard you were clenched around him. The labored breaths that sunk your lungs was his indicator that you weren't going to last, unraveling at his hands as he pulled away, timed perfectly before your uncoiling. Gasping desperately, you peered at him with a dazed expression as the words fell out on their own, "Why did you stop?"

"To check if it was good."

The violent desire of having his mouth meet your fist was all that roused your thoughts as your hazy expression began to take a tumble, absolutely speechless at his childish action. But he reassured you that he was simply the same asshole, nothing quite so new, you thought he was when he cleared his throat, "...If it was, you can tell me, and I can finish the job."

"So you got a praise kink, now?"

Earning yourself a deadpanned eye roll you can't help but expel an amused laugh, watching him hover over you with an acrid and unimpressed expression, "I mean, I wouldn't be surprised...What with you being an only child, mommy and daddy showering you in all their attention, right?"

There was a fleeting spark of something that crossed over his eyes, just for a moment, and if you had not been staring directly at him you may have missed it. It was a strange chill that emulated an emptiness you had not felt in ages, but you don't address it as he readjusted the banter back towards a boundary you had not meant to cross, realizing you may have not learned all you thought you did, "Call it whatever you want, but unless you say it, you're going to be the one dealing with your own mess."

"Mess? At least when I put my pants on, it doesn't look like I have a weapon on me."

"...So you think it's that big?"

Sucking in your lips, you held them in place with your teeth, a tight line bit down desperately when you realize your words were getting clumsier the more you spoke. Though he wouldn't be lying, you weren't willing to disclose that information with him just yet, "...You did good."

"That's it?"

"Very good," your eyes turned like a dial as you nudged your knee at him, "Are you going to let me cum now or what?"

"I don't know, it doesn't feel as convincing when you say it..." The provocation is supported by a warm growl that you recall from several nights back, a sound that easily caused a kindling and lust filled response. Typically, he spoke with a natural timbre and tone that even the occasions when he cleared his throat to speak during presentations caused your mind to stray and wander far from your reality. You let him win the round, "Could you please? You were right, your mouth is not just for talking shit."

You couldn't help the latter, honestly. But instead of taking offense he bellowed a laugh of disbelief, "Are you seriously begging and insulting me in the same breath?"

"Will it get you to go down on me again?"

"If it was that good, I thought you'd be more desperate."

Pride in humans was such a complex concept that molted and formed where it needed to, and it found a home between your legs at this moment, your knees kissing to relieve some of the tension you had pent up inside you, "...I need you to do it again, please? It was good, and I honestly don't know if it will feel the same if I try and get myself off."

The words jumbled when you attempted to feed them back into your own ears, the sound of distance in your own voice causing confusion in the strange tone and desire that lost to your human will. But the moments you have to feel any last shred of embarrassment is dispersed as soon as you felt Jaebeom's grip on your thigh, spreading your legs once more before continuing his ministrations. Pleasure instantly washed over you as he worked his middle finger back in, lips encapsulating your swollen bundle of nerves as he worked in tandem to let you meet your peak once more. Convulsing as your abdomen tightened, your fingers card back through Jaebeom's messy hair as you gripped hard and bucked your hips forward. When he referred to how apparent your arousal was by calling it a mess he should have simply referred to you instead, your reaction was intrinsic but your movements and inherent being were falling apart before him. A final exhale and you choked out his name while a high pitched moan managed to gather and release from your tongue.

The moment you found to steady your breath is the same one that Jaebeom used to turn you over on his desk, your chest against the wood surface as he propped your knee up at the edge. Hissing as you attempted to adjust for comfort, he selfishly began pressing against your overstimulation as your arms gave out from your position, "Why are you always so impatient?!"

"Can you not comment once in a while, I let you cum already."

Your hips react differently to the way he lined his tip up and down your folds as opposed to your tone, back arching to meet his touch with wanton abandon as you shuddered when he finally entered you. If you were still in the mood to tease him, you liked to think you would have turned around and retorted some well thought out remark, but even then that could have lost to the possibility that the results would be the same. You had him inside of you recently, but somehow it felt like the first time again, the stretch sudden but coercing adrenaline in a way that blinded any initial soreness by raw pleasure. Fervent fingertips traced up your hips and finally to your waist, you plant one hand to pitch you up on the desk but the other curled around his bare wrist — if you grabbed his watch, you knew you'd leave a bruise on him with how tightly you're holding — giving it a squeeze. With no surprise or hesitation, Jaebeom took his cue and pushed his length entirely into you as you moaned.

The pace is slow for only as long as you can sneak a respiration, but his rhythm easily picked up to suit his impatience, and the string of obscenities that left your lips was growing in volume and length. Dousing the back of your neck with his breath, your sensory overload had you losing the last bit of control you had, submitting even your pleasure over to him as he thrust into you with perfect strokes, back and forth. The only focus you had left was to not cum too early and give him new ammunition to use against you, because he seemed to take pride in what he could manage to squeeze, whether that was a reaction or a way to beg him to fuck you, you now learned.

Without intention, you managed to complete his request of not commenting, simply relinquishing noises of delight and pleasure. Reaching for your neck with his free hand, he gently wrapped his fingers around your throat as you felt your skin blister from anticipation — it was sick how much he must have paid attention the first time if he noticed that you got off with how he choked you. Refusing to react, you simply pushed your hips back at the same rate he fucked you against the desk before his grip fused against your skin, pressing the column of your throat to capture your breath. You quietly thanked him for having turned you around because you weren't sure what kind of face you were making, lost in bliss the way every inch of his cock stretched you and how his rough hands were keeping the last bit of controlled ownership to himself.

Stifled moans are the last emission you can manage as you feel the quick snap of your core, completely unwound as Jaebeom crashed his hips into yours. By now, he knew exactly what you felt like when you were cumming, clenched around him and he'd be lying if he said there wasn't an insatiable desire that caused him to chase it every time. Not slowing his pace, he released your neck while pulling you closer towards him, his warm skin greeting your own while you rode out the last bit of your orgasm with soft whines, "You've cum twice and I still haven't gotten an apology."

There it was. But you don't have the energy to argue rather, you languidly reached around and draped your hand over his neck while catching your breath, peering up at him, "...I'm sorry I let all the nice and pretty girls in the company bother you this week. Don't be too mean, they just think you're cute."

Your words snuck between labored breaths as your half lidded eyes shut, your body still drowning in a post high you weren't quite sure you would come down from. There isn't any effort from you as he continued to thrust up to meet your hips, a smudged bout of laughter leaving his throat, "Never thought I'd hear you actually apologize."

"Then why'd you mention it."

"Just to mess with you."

"...You're such a fucking jerk, you know," while you mumbled, he moved his fingers that were originally inside of you against your lips, allowing you to taste what was left of when you soaked his skin and it's enough to make you want to cum against his cock again. You still hadn't figured out why he lasted so long and you decided it was because of his reverse erectile dysfunction, it had to be. When you managed to finish catching your breath, reality no longer lapsing you between a euphoric lust led fantasy, you alternated between how tightly you squeezed him with each thrust — hoping this would usher him to his end, but he doesn't react how you expect, instead his hands traveling over every inch of your skin and causing you to shudder.

It wouldn't be right to cum again, you keep telling yourself, but the way he's groping your breasts or how his fingertips were dug into your thigh was convincing you otherwise, "...I'm gonna cum."

You think the admission is at least better than not mentioning it at all, now for the third time, but you decide it's much worse once his lips pressed against your neck — just below your ear — and he whispered in a tone so gentle that the way he said it probably was what caused you to unravel rather than the way he fucked you, "Go ahead, cum."

Instant gratification was at his disposal as you leaned forward, only held in place by Jaebeom's arm around your waist as anything below your hips grew hot then numb, your toes curling in response to your body's reaction. Mentally you chant and beg for him to finish because you can assure yourself you're not going to be conscious for much longer, and though he could read others well, you started to wonder if he pretended he didn't know your intent especially when you felt his finger against your clit, "Wait!"

The yelp is instant as you shivered against him, torn between a mix of succumbing to every pleasurable desire you ever had being fulfilled or stopping to catch up with how your body’s reaction. Jaebeom, of course, ignored your request as you puddled out moans from your throat. Teeth in your shoulder, the onslaught of sensations were overwhelming every one of your receptors because it really did feel that good yet you couldn't savor any particular moment because it happened all at once.

Lost in a haze, your body felt as though it no longer belonged to you, every extremity inherently detached from the organic state and so heightened by pleasure and tension that they were simply extensions hanging from a frame. If begging could get Jaebeom to finish, you would have done it but you didn’t have the slightest idea how to coax him to cum. What was so intricate about the male physiology, anyways? Yet, through contradiction, you were the one spent over and over. The sudden rough grip on your breast forced you to hiss as the erratic tempo of Jaebeom’s thrusts offered a possibility of an end — finally — while your eyes pooled, festooning your cheeks with tears that were gifted from overstimulation.

The ragged breathing into your skin was your relief as you felt his sudden pull, but in your panic — especially from his disorganized way of spilling and leaving behind his mess — you gripped his wrist, “Just cum inside.”

“What?” A disgusted expression plagued his face as he seemed to lose his rhythm, “You really are fucking cra—”

“I’m on birth control so get over yourself and it’s gonna get on the carpet and your desk,” narrowing your eyes at him, you spoke quickly through your breathy pants. With a contorted expression, he rolled his eyes as he simply nodded, and not a breath later you could hear his painstakingly elongated growl. Shivering at the tone and how he held your hips in place, you finally released a sigh of relief before reaching over the desk to grab the tissue box near his keyboard. While his grip loosened, you secretly savored the warm and viscous feeling of how he filled you.

Watching your fingers tremor as you carried the cardboard container, you realized just how tense you must have been the entire time. Focused on gaining a proper grip back, you witnessed a flash of white as Jaebeom snatched several sheets and did the cleaning himself — much to your surprise and a tinge of embarrassment. You'd mostly expected to have done it on your own, and though this was already the second time you were allowing yourself to be completely naked and blissed out from being fucked by him, something about this action had induced some form of shyness. Gentle swipes over your skin and you listened to him discard the sheets as you whimpered while removing your knee from the desk, a heavy red mark along your thigh and your hip searing with initiated soreness.

The marks and fatigue would fade into an ephemeral glimmer, the same way your high would only last those fleeting moments more, but now in your sobriety you were left with an impression you weren't quite so sure would emulate the same transience. Several nights ago, you barely remembered how you managed to get your dress back on, how you purchased your breakfast, or even how you ended up at the park. Now, with full clarity, you were pulling on fabric over your skin with amplified sensory, listening to how every zip and clasp reattached itself in utter silence. It left your mind to wander once more, why you let this second time even ensue, better yet with your initiation. Two for two, right? You hadn't felt such a deeply mortifying realization until this moment as you awkwardly attempted to figure out how to wrap your blouse so you wouldn't be committing some form of public indecency.

How the hell were you supposed to get home?

all work, no play series masterlist

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freddiekluger · 3 years

Text

i love the "mike seeing the ghosts" idea SO much in general, so i've interspersed the main cap headcanon with some ones for the other ghosts- i love mike sm so thanks for requesting!!!

it started as a tickle in his throat, but come evening mike comes down with a serious chest infection. alison drives him to the doctor's in time to grab some antibiotics, but they've got a function at button house this week so for the most part alison has to keep her distance- can't afford for both of them to get sick, especially considering how many repairs, decorations, and vendor meetings still need to be sorted. mike pops a couple tablets before passing out.

the next morning, alison has to go out to run some errands, so mike finds himself stumbling to the kitchen for breakfast the next day. julian's already there, doing his trademark lunges while listening to the horse racing (it's become his ritual whenever the races are on- he's insufferable otherwise, so alison lets him keep the radio). they share a nod, and it's not until after mike sits down with his cereal that he realises he's just nodded at a dead politician with his balls out. between that and the phlegm in his chest, it was a rough start to the day to say the least.

after he gets over the whole "ohmygodicanseedeadpeopleholyshit" (and at least one reenactment of the hospital scene from the sixth sense), along with greeting the various ghosts he encounters on his way back to bed, via the loo (both him and mary got quite a shock when she "peeked on him at privy"), mike collapses onto the bed.

a pillow over his head, mike lets out a few substantial groans before hearing a cough that, surprisingly, doesn't come from him. he slides his head out from under the pillow and sits up to see a greying, slightly awkward figure in period military dress standing in the doorway. he assumes this must be the captain.

captain:

mike: hi?

captain: oh, hello. i was just on my way back from my morning run* and mary mentioned that you can, well, see us now.

mike: yep. [coughs] that's pretty much the deal. not sure why though

captain: oh that'll be the antibiotics you've got there. strong stuff, eh? anyways, i thought i'd stop by and say hello. hello

mike: hi. i would say nice to meet you, but [a coughing fit ensues]

captain: ahem, quite

[silence]

mike, holding up a video game casing: well, i was just gonna play this, if you don't mind?

*this is technically true. the captain is indeed, on the way back from his morning run, except his morning run finished half an hour ago, and he's been waiting for the right time to introduce himself to mike. unlike thomas, he doesn't expect anything to lead anywhere, but that doesn't stop him from wanting to be alone with the rather handsome buffoon.

mike's holding one of those war themed combat games, the kind with a vague plot but mostly battles and button mashing. the captain's temporarily distracted from staring at mikes arms, and starts quizzing him about the game itself. by the time the loading screen is done, mike's already gotten the impression that the captain doesn't want to leave for a few different reasons, and it's not like you have a WW2 army captain of hand to help you work out strategy every day, so they pretty quickly end up teaming up- long gone are mike's days of button mashing (or, mostly long gone. "sometimes it works!"). the only condition was that the captain had to stop calling mike 'michael'- mike said it reminded him of his grandad too much.

- the game has moments where your character can romance any of the other characters, regardless of gender- mike's a dirty player, the captain gets rather awkward when mike decided the best way to achieve his immediate goal is to seduce all relevant characters into giving up troop information, and mike would be lying if he didn't find it at least a little bit entertaining to watch

- in between levels, and when waiting for lives to replenish, mike asks cap about his time in the war, and the captain loves having someone to listen to all his stories (even if most of them are second hand). he keeps having to remind himself not to stare, because mike can actually notice his eyes wandering, but of course that just makes him even more aware of it and the cycle of awkward noises and obviously-not-looking continues. alison has let slip to mike that the captain is likely a bit of a bender, and is relatively flattered by the possibility of cap liking HIM (not to mention not wanting to accidentally send him into a toxic 40s shame spiral), so mike just keeps the friendly conversation going to keep cap feeling comfortable. the captain's crush migrates to the left, and by day four or five him and mike really are friends more than anything else- if there's one thing the captain couldn't stand, it would be turning into one thomas thorne, although he still gets a few butterflies when mike compliments his strategy after a tough level. (it's not every day you have the attention of a handsome man who thinks you're a genius- especially when you're dead)

- it warms alison's heart to see the captain having the closest thing to fun he's had since they arrived, and the whole ghost set up works well for her and mike- mike needs the company, and alison can't afford to get sick or fall behind on jobs

- kitty loves mike (not romantically, she just thinks he's neat!), and eventually joins him and cap for their video games. cap was dismissive of her at first (one part possessiveness over mike's time, one part disbelief that kitty could be a good player), but kitty ends up rivalling him when it comes to strategy. after one too many nights locked outside and having to break back in to her own home, she's become an expert at espionage (even if she won't admit her experience was anything other than a fun childhood game.) with cap and kitty helping him out, mike makes more progress in a single day than he had in a week of gameplay. not to mention, kitty could really use the confidence boost from mike's compliments which he gives to both of his gaming partners frequently, although he draws the line at kitty's georgian cough remedies

extras:

- fanny ignores him as overcompensation for Redding Weddy. well, i say ignore, but she's somehow always the first one to volunteer when alison asks one of the ghosts to check on him

- mike considers going down to the cellar to get a look at the plague ghosts. mike heads to the door. mike remembers the sheer amount of skeletons when they dug up the plague pit. mike pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders and heads away from the door.

- obviously, thomas avoids mike wherever possible. mike barely even knows what thomas's voice sounds like by the time things go back to normal

- mike feels bad for humphrey, and keeps trying to pick his head up and place it amongst the action before remembering he can't actually touch him. he also feels bad for screaming everytime he sees humphrey's body stumbling around. it was in the bathroom one night, and let's just say it was lucky there was a toilet nearby.

- pat invites himself to watch mike, kitty, and the captain as they tackle the final levels together, on the proviso that he doesn't make a sound. pat's rubbish at tactical planning, even if he can plan a mean scouts activity, but he's just happy to watch. it's nice to see the cap really having some fun, and see kitty included. it'll be sad for everyone once mike finishes his course of antibiotics

- thing eventually do go back to normal, and the captain misses mike's company far more than he thought he would. mike's still around, but not being able to properly talk to him is tough, and the captain realised that he was maybe more fond of mike than he convinced himself (mike will still make a thomas thorne out of him yet). mike strangely misses the funny soldier, and the georgian 'battlemistress' (kitty chose the title herself), and alison finds herself constantly passing messages between them. they're currently testing out all the ghost-communication equipment under the sun (within a reasonable price range) to see if they can find a better solution

thanks sm for this one, and so sorry for the delay! i've been battling with hardcore brain fog, so it's been difficult to create totally new stuff with words- hope this was up to scratch

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts headcanon #mike ghosts #the captain #the captain ghosts #bbc ghosts ask #ben willbond #lolly adefope #kiell smith bynoe #six idiots

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eatersgrin · 2 years

Text

The Guns Of Love Disastrous

An Empirics One-Shot

{X}

The bullet blossoms into a terrible flower as it tears the cape's face off along with a chunk of skull. There was a reason dumdum rounds were generally outlawed before the turn of the twentieth century. That was to make war civil between men.

Capes are not men.

Moonlight pours in through the tinted office windows and lightly paints the scene in silver accents. It was my distaff counterpart, Hobbes' idea to dress up like a Plague Nurse and Doctor. The elongated white masks double as our disguise and gas mask, our black and white uniforms hiding layers of ballistic weave material, and stab vests.

She does her level best sighting her villains and a gout of flame from her shotgun lights up Papercut. The Case 53 flails around but it only spreads the flames to the rest of their accordioned limbs. When my partner levels the shotgun's barrels onto our third target she's suddenly tearing her mask off and violently retched on the floor.

A lithe figure clad in black sporting a black hat tosses a hefty paperweight at my leg. My knee goes left and my leg goes right but only my ego is really bruised. On one leg I keep my balance and empty a few rounds from both my pistols, shots they narrowly avoid.

The Figure in Black roadie runs between desks and knocks down a full coat rack in the open office floor plan. I always hated that kind of distracting environment in my old work placements. I finished emptying both clips into them as they dashed slower this time between cubicles. They keel over on their side, their hat tumbles free and it's actually a midsized potted plant with a jacket hanging off the back of an office chair.

The Woman in Black is all up in my business driving her elbow into my solar plexus. I double over and try to gasp but she turned these lungs of mine into a pair of panini still in the press. My already reduced vision goes dark in starts, not like in tunnel vision or a simple fade out. My last glimpse before I pass out is the ruined face of Cold Fish, the enterprising pisces themed blaster we'd flushed out by burning their safe houses in town.

The sharp sting of smelling salts wake me to the sight of an elevator filled with me and Hobbes. Fat drops of sweat slip out from under her mask from dragging me here I assume.

"This is the second time that bitch in the hat kung fu'd us before we finished killing all the capes", I barely made that out through her exaggerated motions.

Hobbes isn't one to stress or cry over a mission gone FUBAR. The interfering woman speared her hand just below Hobbes' lower ribs and caused her to puke. Hobbes hates puking, she hated it after we spent all those nights of drinking and she hated it during her pregnancy. So I chalk it up to stress from an involuntary bout of nausea.

I'll draw her a purple heart later.

I fixed my mask back in place and my leg best I could yet stayed on the elevator floor as it pings its way up to the roof. No use wasting energy standing plus if anyone is waiting for us at the top better to offer the smallest target possible when the doors part open.

The door pings, announces the floor, and the doors open to a hallway of half lit darkness.

"Upside daisy", she gestured then yanked me to my feet.

We rush to the end of the hallway, its doors leading to the actual roof, and the air of Brockton Bay has a harsh mugginess this night. Smoke billows and the cloud cover catches firelight as several buildings rage with flames across the city.

She touches my shoulder and draws my attention to the closest flaming hidey hole for Cold Fish and her gang. "Makes me think of the scouts. Camping. You know, making smores with Jack."

I lie and nod in agreement. It made me think of our son's time in the Peace Corps, and the video the locals posted online of the area's Warlord making him into an example. Their point being that Parahumans ruled that part of the continent, any help for their people would solely come from the power they wielded.

Hobbes hands me a parachute and straps hers on.

"For luck", she signs, lifts her mask and kisses me with a trace of bile still on her lips.

I recheck the straps on my prosthetic leg, then my chute, before making a countdown with my fingers and both of us jumping. Of all the things our old PRT and military training prepared us for, base jumping from a burning building was not one of those.

Rappelling, yes. This, no.

Below us is the van, Hobbes collects the parachutes and tossed them in the back while I got the van going. It's a chonky vehicle, decked out to look like a conversion van for retirees wanting the RV experience and price without the hassle of losing your roof at the drive thru. We use it to hunt down capes who hurt our own, who the Protectorate seems to want to protect more than the officers that have to clean up the cape messes and talk to the families victimized in the aftermath.

Our direct network is tiny but when word spreads of a Cape targeting PRT or Wards and no one bats an eye. We make a visit and we take no prisoners. And our cover is terrific, who'd suspect a one legged man and a deaf woman to be vigilantes. We don't have powers and we don't advertise.

We've been pretty spot on making things look like jobs gone wrong or gang war fallout But lately we've gotten ambushed by heavy hitter capes twice and The Woman in Black twice.

Nothing comes up on PHO on the woman and the heavy hitters wear nondescript costumes but clearly are known villains and heroes based on their powers. We've been pretty good at shaking off or scaring the capes but that Woman fights with the efficiency of water filling space. Loss is part of war and what we're doing is sending a message that humanity won't back down.

We've had too many generations killing the planet and each other to let jumped up evolutionary dead ends try to wipe us out. Neanderthals,. The Cro Magnon, and now Parahumans. All bigger, meaner, nastier but not as inventive. No one handed humanity solutions to our problems like Capes get, no we learn the hard way how to fix our troubles.

I drive us off into the twilight of Brockton Bay. Word is the ABB has new leadership, cape leadership, and they're prepping for something big. They're growing an army out of the poor, the desperate, and even children.

Hobbes hums a familiar lullaby and motions for me to find somewhere to park so we can sleep. I smile and nod, lying again. I won't be getting any sleep, not while capes spread across the fields of Armageddon like a plague.

{X}

#parahumans #fanfic #worm #fanart #digital art #the guns of love disastrous #Contessa

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mcgrillzdumpinc · 3 years

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Meeting with Masks

Summary: Nie Huaisang is beyond excited when he is invited to a Jin party including Carnival masks. He doesn't expect to catch feelings at the party, but it's not so bad. Written for day 7 of SangCheng Month - First Meeting!

ao3 link

Pairing: Sangcheng, mentions of NieYao Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of queerphobia Word count: 1811

“The Jin invited us to a party.”

Nie Huaisang looks up from his phone just as Nie Mingjue tosses a letter on the dining table. The envelope is crisp and cream, the flap decorated by gold filigree. Nie Huaisang pulls out the invitation, which matches the envelope perfectly, and reads. The party is actually a ball being hosted at the main Jin mansion, intended to celebrate Jin Zixuan’s twenty-first birthday. Dress code is formal, drinks will be served, blah blah blah. What really interests Nie Huaisang is the text at the bottom of the invitation, several font sizes larger than the main text and bolded to emphasize its importance—

Bring a Carnival Mask!

Nie Huaisang lets out a low whistle that quickly turns into giddy laughter. “Da-ge! Update the scoreboard! The Jin are less crappy than the Yao now!”

“Because of the masks?” Nie Mingjue guesses very correctly because he is the best big brother ever.

“Yes! Oh my god I’m going to have so much fun making your mask, da-ge! Do you want to go intimidating? Sexy? Mysterious?”

“All white,” Nie Mingjue replies as he takes a black dry-erase marker to the scoreboard on the refrigerator. “This party is stupid, anyway.”

“Booooo!” Nie Huaisang declares as he stands up, arms thrown into the air in protest. “You’re boring! The most boring da-ge!”

“I still get ass,” Nie Mingjue says with a smirk.

“Gross!!!!!”

~~~

Thankfully, the Jin (probably only Guangyao) had the foresight to send the invitation a few weeks in advance, so there was plenty of time for Nie Huaisang to research Carnival masks and start making one of his own. To Nie Mingjue’s great pleasure, there was even a mask that fit his boring requirements. So on the day of the ball, the Nie brothers arrive in hand-made and impeccable masks.

“Do you think anybody will recognize us?” Nie Mingjue asks as he readjusts his cape. Yes, cape. Nie Huaisang made him a bauta mask and Nie Mingjue, in his full jock-nerd glory, decided to wear the full historical garb, tricorn hat and cape and all.

Nie Huaisang rolls his eyes. In contrast to his nerd brother, Nie Huaisang has opted to dress a little slutty in tight-fitted dress pants, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, and black corset vest. His neck, fingers, and wrists are decked out in green and gold jewelry, all polished to shine in the light. He’s decorated his white mask in a similarly lavish fashion—gold lips, black eyes, gold and black filigree at the sides and top, and below the eyes is a series of gold hexagons that lead into teardrops. “I hope not,” he responds to his brother. “It’ll be way more fun surprising people.”

Together they walk up the many, many steps into the main Jin mansion. After temporarily removing their masks to prove their identities, they slip inside. The foyer is already alight with revelers, most of them likely entertainment hired to hype up the guests. It’s only 7 p.m., after all, and only a select few people would be this drunk so early into the evening. Unless the food or drink is spiked, in which case Nie Huaisang needs to find out for himself before he lets Nie Mingjue have a taste.

“Be careful with the food,” Nie Huaisang advises as he takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

Perceptive as always, Nie Mingjue replies, “A-Yao knows the diet my doctor recommended. He wouldn’t poison me.”

Maybe in the past he would have, but Nie Huaisang is pretty sure Jin Guangyao has a more vested interested in his Nie Mingjue’s health now that they’re dating. Hopefully. It’s hard to tell when it comes to the Jin.

“Still, be careful. Yao-ge could’ve missed something.”

Nie Mingjue stares at him. Even beneath the heavy mask, Nie Huaisang knows his brother is giving him a disbelieving look.

“You never know!” he defends as the duo reach their destination.

The ballroom is massive, large enough to house the entire population of a small town during a natural disaster. True to pompous Jin nature, Jin Zixuan is seated at the far end of the ballroom on a stage. Nie Huaisang knows it’s him because of the way he sits—the body posture of somebody who absolutely does not want to be there. Twenty-one years and the poor guy is still not used to the way his family does things.

Nie Huaisang can sympathize. He’s pretty different from the rest of his own family, too.

“I’m going to go find A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue speaks up over the orchestra music.

“Okay. Make sure he taste-tests your food!” Nie Huaisang exclaims as he raises his mask to take a sip of champagne.

“Shove off!” Nie Mingjue scolds good-naturedly.

Nie Huaisang waves off his brother before heading into the crowd. Looking around, there’s nobody he immediately recognizes. There’s one guy in bright red wearing a plague doctor’s mask that keeps catching Nie Huaisang’s eye, but he quickly decides that tonight is not the night to bother with the crazies. It’s generally good advice to follow when in Jin territory.

In time, Nie Huaisang finds himself a wallflower. He’s not the most easily sociable person. Friendly, sure. But he’s never been good at approaching strangers. He would have gone up to Jin Zixuan, but Nie Huaisang has no idea if the guy would lose it the second he saw a friendly face. Which would be an entire headache if that did happen. So, wall.

It’s been at least thirty minutes since he finished his champagne and he’s not feeling even slightly drugged, though. So that’s good news for his brother.

Just as he’s considering finding the buffet, a stranger joins Nie Huaisang at the wall. The stranger is tall, at least 8 centimeters taller than Nie Huaisang, and cuts an intimidating figure with broad shoulders and large hands. Their loose, black hair is long, falling to about their shoulder blades, contrasting starkly to the orchid purple button-up shirt they wear. The waistcoat they wear is a darker purple with black buttons. Slung over their right arm is a formal jacket that matches the waistcoat. Interestingly, their choice in bottoms is a pair of orchid purple pants, with the left side covered by an ankle-length black skirt. Nie Huaisang finds himself smiling at that detail—as a person who’s still questioning, he can appreciate a challenge to the gender binary.

He looks up to meet the stranger’s eyes. The stranger is looking back at him with a lovely pair of brown eyes. It’s a shame that the rest of this handsome stranger’s face is hidden by what Nie Huaisang would call the creepiest of the traditional Carnival masks—a moretta. Pitch black and perfectly round, it’s like a void has replaced the rest of the stranger’s face. In the bright lights of the ballroom, Nie Huaisang cannot see any ties keeping the mask up, so the stranger has opted for the traditional way of wearing the mask—a button between their lips. Even if they can talk, they have rendered themself effectively mute.

Still, though. Nie Huaisang likes a challenge. He introduces himself with a bow.

The stranger bows silently in return.

Nie Huaisang laughs to himself. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks.

The stranger rolls their eyes.

“Yeah, Jin parties are like that for me, too. They care way too much.”

The stranger raises their champagne glass, as if to say Cheers to that.

Nie Huaisang finds himself smiling. “You know, I really wasn’t expecting a moretta mask, of all things. It’s unique.”

The stranger doesn’t respond.

“Not a bad thing,” Nie Huaisang clarifies. “But I’m curious. Join me for a trip to the buffet?”

The stranger nods. Nie Huaisang offers his arm and, after slipping on their jacket, they take it. Together, they leave the crowded ballroom for the crowded hallways and manage to get themselves lost a few times before finally finding the buffet.

“Why the hell would they put it so far away from the ballroom?” Nie Huaisang grumbles as he moves to wait in line. He hears the stranger laugh. “I hope you remember the way back. I’m terrible with directions.”

The stranger reaches up to remove their mask. Underneath the void is a strikingly handsome visage, with sharp cheekbones and shapely lips. Nie Huaisang very much wants to ravish them immediately. “Don’t worry, I do,” they say with a rumbling, deep voice.

“Fuck you’re sexy,” Nie Huaisang utters with absolutely zero forethought. Realizing his mistake, he slaps a hand over his mask’s mouth. “I’m so sorry! That just came out!”

The stranger looks equally flustered, their eyes avoiding Nie Huaisang’s as they mumble, “It’s okay. You don’t seem like a creep.”

“I promise I’m not,” Nie Huaisang says as he removes his mask. “Which I know sounds exactly like what a creep would say, but scout’s honor! Not a creep!”

The stranger stares at him for a long second before saying, “You’re not so bad-looking yourself.”

Nie Huaisang manages to hide his fluster by announcing, “I better. It took twenty tries to get this eyeliner right.”

The stranger snorts. “Jiang Cheng, by the way,” they introduce themselves.

“Oh, shit. You’re pretty important, huh?” The Jiang hold a near-monopoly in all water-based trade in and out of their city. Nie Huaisang’s parents have pretty regular contact with Jiang Fengmian and his wife Yu Ziyuan in the interest of not losing some important trade negotiations. But, last he heard, Jiang Cheng was the Jiang’s son. “Can I get your pronouns?”

“Any,” Jiang Cheng answers.

Ah. “So the moretta mask is pretty symbolic, huh?”

“I’m out as genderfluid, but I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Jiang Cheng tells him with a notably flat affect.

Nie Huaisang frowns. “That sucks. I’m still questioning, but my family is pretty supportive.”

“My siblings are, too. Supportive, that is.” The duo reach the banquet table. Nie Huaisang receives Jiang Cheng’s mask as the other starts preparing two dishes of food. “My parents are trying, but you know how some people take queerness these days. Anyway, should I not refer to you with he/him?”

“I’m still comfortable with those pronouns,” Nie Huaisang easily responds. “Oh, get me some sausage.” Jiang Cheng obliges. “Honestly, I might just be on the gender-nonconforming side, but I’m not sure yet.”

Jiang Cheng smiles. It brings an ethereal softness to their features that Nie Huaisang would love to kiss. But he keeps his hands to himself as the two of them reach the end of the buffet table and hurry to find a spot to eat. “It takes time,” Jiang Cheng says as they trade a plate of food for their mask. “Hey, after this, want to dance?”

Nie Huaisang offers them a smile in return. “Absolutely.”

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #sangcheng #sangchengmonth2020 #sangchengber #sometimes i write

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oediex · 4 years

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49 Questions You Have Never Been Asked tagmeme

I got tagged by @jarakrisafis a while back and since I liked theirs and @felassan‘s replies so much, I figured I’d do it.

Uhm, I guess I’ll tag @blarrghe, @lovegoesalongway, @sleepbeliever, @localwhiskeylez, @silverslitherer and @spontaneoustangent. If they’re up for it. Always fun to get to know people better.

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

Well, it’s bamboo, so I guess it’s light brown. It’s completely worn, though, I need to get a new one.

2. A food you never eat?

Animals.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Neither! I guess I know how to dress myself? When I sleep, I’m usually too hot though.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Feeding my babies.

5. What is your favorite candy bar?

I... don’t have one? I don’t eat candy. Love chocolate, though. As dark as it gets.

6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?

No. I find it quite boring. Would have more fun doing the sporting myself.

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

Telling the dogs to come back inside so I could go back to my nap.

8. What is your favorite ice cream?

Chocolate-flavoured and cruelty-free.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink?

Orange juice! I usually drink orange juice with my meals because it helps with iron uptake from my food. :)

10. Do you like your wallet?

I do, actually. One wallot, for my cards, is actually a little sleeve that once held sugar beans, which are given in Belgium when a child is born. And the wallet that holds my cash is a little sort of folding coin pouch with a clickety lid? Kind of like this. But with a different pattern. It was probably a gift or a souvenir at some point in my teenage years? My previous wallet, which was made from a drink carton and given to my by a couchsurfer, (and that I really really liked as well, by the way) truly started falling apart at some point (I really held on to it for a long time but then my coins started falling through the holes, so I had to admit that was the end), so I needed to find a new wallet and didn’t really want to buy one. And then I found these two little pouches that I’d kept around for a while without using them but thinking they’d be useful someday, and I found that one was perfect for my cards and the other for my coins! Wow, who’d have thought this question would get the longest answer???

11. What was the last thing you ate?

I made gazpacho for lunch. :) And then I had some ‘fun cereal’ (as my ex-housemate used to call his unhealthy cereal) as a sort of dessert.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

No. I haven’t bought new clothes in years. I buy almost all of my clothes second-hand. If we’re counting that as new clothes ... yeah, it’s still been a while.

13. The last sporting event you watched?

Ha! Like, on tv? Okay, I guess a couple of years back, when I lived in England, a friend invited me to come watch the finale of Wimbledon? I think?

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

There’s no such thing.

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to?

My dad. My parents came around to bring something on their way to the zoo that’s around my corner.

16. Ever go camping?

We used to go on a camping vacation every year when I was a kid. I don’t really do vacations anymore. I enjoy being at home. :)

17. Do you take vitamins?

Is iron a vitamin? I take those sometimes. I’ve also taken vitamin D in the past and in the winter I might take some once a month. So far, I haven’t had to take any vitamin B12, somehow my body has enough stored or something? We’ll see what the test says in a couple of months. Last year’s blood test, my doctor also said something about my calcium being a bit low, so might have to take that one soon as well, if that’s still the case.

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?

No. Never did. Technically I’m catholic but I don’t take communion anymore when I’m in a church for weddings or funerals.

19. Do you have a tan?

Omg, no. I’m so pale people often ask me if I’m feeling okay.

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?

PIZZA. The cruelty-free kind. I don’t mind Chinese food, though, especially since I’m vegan. Give me all the vegetables!

21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?

I don’t ever use a straw.

22. What color socks do you usually wear?

I rarely wear socks because I’m usually barefoot... When I do, they are a variety of colors and patterns. Usually, when I need some new ones, I put them on my Christmas/birthday list and see what my family comes up with. Once, when I was a teenager, my parents bought me Harry Potter socks and to this day, those are the coolest socks I’ve ever owned.

23. Ever drive above the speed limit?

I don’t drive, so no.

24. What terrifies you?

The fact that I’ve started lowering the dose of one of my antidepressants. I’m very very scared to fall back into a depressive episode. I’ve been episode-free for 2 years now.

25. Look to your left what do you see?

The back of the couch I’m lying on. The book Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks is lying on top of it, because I’ve just finished it. It was excellent.

26. What core do you hate?

So, I think this is meant to say “what chore do you hate”, so I’ll just answer that question. I don’t enjoy cleaning the bathroom. It’s a lot of work. The rest of the house is fine.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

Well, currently, as I’ve been watching The Good Place with my housemate, it reminds me of the part of that show that takes place in Australia.

28. What is your favorite soda?

Soda is a soft drink, right? I really like cola. But I drink it rarely. I prefer the organic kind they have at the farm where I get my vegetables. I really like Coca Cola too, but I don’t like the company so I try to avoid buying that.

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive through?

I never ever go to a fast food place.

30. Who was the last person you talked to?

The dogs that live in my house, when I told them to come back inside. See question 7. I mean, in a way, those two questions are kind of the same?

31. Favorite cut of beef?

The kind that doesn’t exist.

32. Last song you listened to?

Pfoo, probably something by Billy Lockett?

33. Last book you read?

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks! It’s a book about a village in the 1600s that goes into quarantine (voluntarily!) when the plague arrives from London in a box of cloth. It’s based on real events! The village’s name is Eyam. Look it up. :) Next book I’ve already started is the last book in the Earth’s Children series by Jean M. Auel, The Land of Painted Caves. I started the series about a year ago!

34. Favorite day of the week?

All days are the same to me. :) I guess I like weekdays, because then I have the house to myself (well, excluding the dogs that live here and the foster kittens that might be hanging around too.)

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I can, actually. I once had to do this as a challenge at a Scouting Summer camp and I can do it ever since. In English I’m a little slower than in Dutch, though.

36. How do you like your coffee?

Non-existent.

37. Favorite pair of shoes?

No shoes. Barefoot is the best.

38. At what time do you usually go to bed?

Around 10pm.

39. At what time do you normally get up?

Around 8 or 9. I bring my housemate’s kid to school.

40. What do you prefer - sunrises or sunsets?

Sunsets, because I’m usually not around for sunrises.

41. How many blankets are on your bed?

Currently, just a duvet sheet (without the duvet) and one blanket. By winter time, I want to have figured out how to use multiple blankets instead of a duvet, because I always get so hot while I’m sleeping and I hate it. So I want to get rid of my duvet.

42. Describe your kitchen plates?

Well. Only one of the kitchen plates here is mine? All the others are my housemates’. So the one that is mine has a ladybird on it. It was a gift once. I like ladybirds.

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?

Wine. Mostly red. Sometimes white. Never rosé.

44. Do you play cards?

No?

45. Can you change a tire?

On my bicycle, I can. I don’t do cars.

46. What is your favorite province?

Can’t say I have one.

47. Favorite job you ever had?

Teaching philosophy at university. :)

48. How did you get your biggest scar?

Well, when I was about 8, I was cycling down a hill with my dad on my way to a Scouting meeting. For some reason it was just me that day - I guess my sisters didn't have a meeting that day or mine was on a different day than usual. And so we were cycling down the hill and going very fast, like in the 30s km/h. I remember my dad commenting on that. And at the bottom of the hill, a pedestrian path was reintroduced, where beforehand there was only a cycling path. So as I was a kid, I moved to go cycling on the pedestrian path. And there was a little difference in height and somehow my wheels slipped and I fell really hard on the sidewalk. I remember sitting on the doorstep of a house there with my dad. I was crying very hard. And I had cuts and bruises all over. One of those bruises was on my hand, on my wrist. About the size of a £2 coin, but oval, not round. It wasn’t bleeding, but it was grazed pretty deeply and you could see the blood was just underneath the skin. We cycled on to the Scouting meeting place, because it was pretty close by, where they cleaned me up. They asked if I wanted to stay then, but I didn’t, so we cycled back home and I spent the rest of that day resting in the garden in the sun. I vividly remember this. Anyway, long story short, that became a pretty big scar. A part of my skin that was always a bit darker than the rest. Kind of looked like a birth mark. Now, at 31 years old, it’s pretty faded, but since I know where it is, I can still see it a bit.

49. What did you do today that made someone happy?

Well, I’ve mostly been home alone. But, I did make my foster kittens pretty happy by feeding them. :) And they make me pretty happy with their cuteness and cuddles.

#tag #tag meme #fun!#I think this is the first time I've ever done?#about me

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msb-lair · 4 years

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Dragon Fashion Show

Most of a year now since I last did a fashion show, and that was showing off accents on gaoler; last real fashion show was over a year ago. I blame the advent of ancient breeds for my lack of one in the intervening time. So pretty. So much lack of any sense of fashion since they can’t wear apparel.

Anyway, this morning I completed the last bit of a new dragon’s outfit, and just had to show him off, so here’s him and a bunch of other additions from over the last year:

Oronte: my latest Middle Earth fandragon. His apparel is a huge mix of things, including pieces from the scout’s, ranger’s, mage’s, and shabby sets of apparel. I just love how well everything blended together, especially all the bits picking up on his coppery eyes (ember sylvan headpiece, dusty pauper locket, glowing gold clawtips, a couple of teardrop citrine pieces, and the guinea pig and spaniel).

Mahal: another Middle Earth fandragon. Lots of fire and gold in his appearance, including fire primal eyes, a primal banner, and both the conflagrant halo and kilt. And the Will o’ the Ember, too, which I spent stupid monies for because he so clearly needed one.

Varda: and one last Middle Earth fandragon, who started out as one of my lingering For Sale hatchlings whom I randomly tried out the Shepherd’s Beacon accent on when checking them out on the first day of festival, fell in love with the look of it on her, and then obviously had to keep. She’s mostly wearing golden silks with a golden sage sash, ember sylvan headpiece, and luminous halo.

Searra and Seahawn: A recently added pair of fossil dragons, both XXY of oilslick, wearing suitably worn and tattered outfits. Searra’s is based around mistlurker’s garb and shabby spats, while Seahawn’s is bloody bandages and humble tea. They both have a heatherbed lily and magician’s cobwebs. They also each have a piece of birdskull apparel - a necklace for him and a legband for her.

Bloom and Blight: a pair of Lycaon dragons (dilute sentinel morph). Anoher fairly recent addition to the lair. Bloom is mostly wearing faerie rose thorn tangles, with some daisy apparel, and Blight is in a much wider range of individual pieces, based around a bramble mantle and dusky rose thorn wing tangle. They’re both in witch’s cobwebs.

Lockdown and Lazaretto: named as a nod to the recent global pandemic. Lazaretto was a primal eyed hatchling that wasn’t selling, and then I was playing around with him in Predict Morphology again and hit a combination of genes I loved on him, so ended up keeping him for myself, and finding him a mate. His outfit is mainly based on kiwi plumed and marigold pieces, while Lockdown has a nice brown plague doctor mask and copper steampunk goggles, paired with bits from the magician’s, witch’s, druid’s, and viridian apparel sets. She’s in the Tiger Tiger accent while he has Zenith.

Terrarium: He’s a case of loving an accent (Araceae Seviera) and then going looking for a dragon to wear it. He’s also in this set to show off his pet Terror Toad, who inspired me to add a noxious colony and some marigold pieces onto his apparel. It was mostly based around four of the new “small feet” apparel pets, a witch’s staff, and some forest’s edge vines prior to that. yay for familiar matching!

Speaking of showing off familiar matching outfits, here’s another couple of matches I’m really happy with. First is Celeste and her Leatherback Wave Sweeper. Yes, she was purchased and dressed up (mastly in nebula starsilks) specifically to match this familiar, but only because I’d had a dragon like her show up randomly on loading predict morphology earlier that day and was already inclined to getting a dragon with those general colours; seeing the leatherback among the newly available pets felt like a “the game gods hath spoken” moment:

And finally is another fossil dragon, Lamellar, who has been in a fashion show before for her outfit. I was tickled pink when I paired her with the recently released Sanguine Multimist and saw how well they matched:

#Flight Rising #Dragon Fashion Show #Familiar Matching #Apparel #Accents #Orome Dragon #Mahal Dragon #Varda Dragon #Searra Dragon #Seahawn Dragon #Bloom Dragon #Blight Dragon #Lockdown Dragon #Lazaretto Dragon #Terrarium Dragon #Celeste Dragon #Lamellar Dragon #Fandragon #Fandragons of Middle Earth

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cthulhu-lulu · 4 years

Text

The Miscreants

Nymphadora (Adora/Dora) Bell

Drow/Cleric (Grave Domain) AC: 18

STR: 18(+4) DEX: 16(+3) CON: 12(+1) INT: 14(+2) WIS: 16(+3) CHA: 16(+3)

Plague Doctor with Morticia Addams Aesthetic when she’s not working

Silver tongue comes in handy when Team Dumbass’ shenanigans inevitably go south

Married to Desiree, the two have been through a lot, but have finally managed to be reunited after many arduous years

Has published a series of smutty novels that have sold quite well

Raven familiar named Nigel Hoots (“I wanted an Owl”) who delivers cryptic messages to Dora in a language she can’t understand

“Digging one’s way out of a mountain of corpses after watching one’s wife be experimented on by deranged wizards does tend to limit one’s tolerance for bullshit. Now move aside.”

“Don’t fret, my lovelies, I’m a doctor”

Spiritual Weapon takes the form of a Teapot

Distinguished Lesbian

Desiree Bell

Drow/Cleric (Grave Domain) AC: 16

STR: 19(+4) DEX: 12(+1) CON: 19(+4) INT: 9(-1) WIS: 14(+2) CHA: 13(+1)

Former researcher/botanist

Insists that she used up all the luck she had when she met Adora, and has been happily married for 89 years.

Team Dumbass founder

Likes shopping for frilly dresses, botany, going with her wife to fancy brothels, and getting into fights in taverns

Raven Familiar named Percival Periwinkle the Duke of Purple Pearls

The party has watched Desiree pull some of the weirdest objects out of her Bag of Holding (“Is that a clockwork Raven? Why do you have that?”, ”So Percy has a friend!”)

Spiritual Weapon takes the form of a Teacup

Disaster Bisexual

Lavish

Tiefling/Bard (School of Glamour) AC: 13

STR: 7(-2) DEX: 15(+2) CON: 13(+1) INT: 17(+3) WIS: 13(+1) CHA: 20(+5)

Nymphadora’s publisher/editor who now travels with the wives on their adventures

Acts as the groups accountant, and keeps plenty of gold in the budget for paying off guards and city officials to forgive any mischief Team Dumbass finds themselves in

Goes with Adora on spa dates

Works tirelessly to keep the party from letting their egos get too big

“No, no, Dora, let them go, I want to see where this leads”

(to Team Dumbass) “Now, what did we learn?”

Can burn you down to your foundation with a cutting remark

Distinguished Gay

Aurykke

Fire Genasi/Cleric (Forge Domain) AC: 19

STR: 12(+1)/19(+4) DEX: 16(+3) CON: 15(+2) INT: 9(-1) WIS: 14(+2) CHA: 10(+0)

Former blacksmith turned adventurer after being hired by Adora to rescue a merchant’s son from bandits

May have caught feelings for Adora after watching her literally pound a bandit leader’s head through a stone table with her bare hands.

Starts fights that she knows she can’t win herself, but knows that Team Dumbass always protects their own!

Acts tough, secretly craves all the cuddles (which the party is more than happy to provide)

Spiritual Weapon takes the form of a pink anvil

Functional Bisexual

Coriander Bride-Stealer

Half-Elf/Paladin (Oath of Redemption) AC: 21

STR: 11(+0)/29(+9) DEX: 16(+3) CON: 13(+1) INT: 7(-2) WIS: 11(+0) CHA: 17(+3)

There is a popular song about her called ‘The Paladin Thief’ which tells the tale of an evil paladin stealing away an elven princess from a human prince (It was actually an arranged marriage, and the princess begged Cora to help her escape, which she did)

She really hates that song

Forgets that being sneaky means she can’t keep using Thundering Smite to dispatch enemies, proceeds to do so anyway

Ride or die for her friends, tries really hard to steer Team Dumbass towards good decisions, fails spectacularly

Is doing her best

Disaster Lesbian

Ol’ Banjo

Human/Barbarian (Path of the Totem Warrior) + Wizard AC: 18

STR: 19(+4) DEX: 17(+3) CON: 20(+5) INT: 14(+2) WIS: 10(+0) CHA: 12(+1)

Former farmer, Wife passed away a few years ago after 60 blissful years of marriage, decided to live out the last of his days adventuring and living life to the fullest, believing that he will be reunited with her when his time on the mortal world comes to an end

Has 13 daughters, 3 adopted sons, and 26 grandchildren. Remembers all of their names

His eldest daughters spent years teaching him how to read and write, now writes each of them letters every week to practice. His eldest (Willow/Wizard) gave him a spellbook, which he works tirelessly to fill with fun spells to show his grandkids

Team ‘Loving your Wife’, Honorary member of Team Dumbass

His grandchildren decorated his straw hat and glaive with pretty ribbons and flowers, which he is immensely proud of

Plants fruit trees in every town he visits and along every road he travels, in memory of his beloved wife (‘Always give to those whom have less than you do, so they may prosper’)

Loves Bathhouses and spa dates with Adora and Lavish

Distinguished Bisexual

Boos the Newt

Lightfoot Halfling/Monk (Way of the Drunken Master) AC: 18

STR: 11(+0) DEX: 18(+4) CON: 15(+2) INT: 9(-1) WIS: 17(+3) CHA: 16(+3)

Punches Good

Kicks Good

What more do you need?

“Ask your doctor if These Hands™ are right for you”

Disaster Gay

Mud

Firbolg/Fighter (Champion) AC: 12

STR: 20(+5) DEX: 11(+0) CON: 16(+3) INT: 5(-3) WIS: 11(+0) CHA: 10(+0)

Full name Asmodeus, former chef who wound up in jail with Boos after a particularly wild night at a fancy Inn, bailed out by Desiree who was looking for a cook to hire at the time. Travels with the party because ‘Y’all seem like decent folks’

Heart of Gold

“Uh, ma’am, you’re usin’ an awful lot of fancy words there…”

Team Dumbass Mascot

Amazing cook

Just a Cow-Boy riding along with his friends

Sexual preferences set to ‘No thanks’

Berlana the Bunker

Hill Dwarf/Rogue (Scout) AC: 14

STR: 13(+1) DEX: 17(+3) CON: 19(+4) INT: 15(+2) WIS: 10(+0) CHA: 7(-2)

Hired by Adora to help explore a cursed tower, ended up sleeping with Aurykke after the quest was complete. Decided to keep traveling with the party because Adora pays really well, plus medical and dental are free.

“I’ll find every trap in this place, intentionally or otherwise!”

Honorary member of Team Dumbass

Can drink anyone under the table, insists that she can ‘Make better ale than this with my eyes closed!’, Has gotten the party banned from A LOT of taverns

Insists she’s keeping records of all her expenses, and will present them to Adora once her employment is complete. She isn’t

Functional Lesbian

@sugarskullgrin @likeabirdinflight

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airanke · 5 years

Note

20. “Always yours, always mine.” - For Volita! :3

Vol’jin x Amita20. “Always yours, always mine.”

Vol’jin had dragged himself through the years. He was as hollow as he felt. Relinquished his hold on the title of warchief because it was too much to bear. Stepped down from his position as chieftain and given the role to Rokhan, opting instead to disappear.

This must have been how Amita felt when she had received the news of his death in Pandaria, but unlike then, this was real. She was gone. No amount of praying or hoping or dreaming or begging was going to bring her back. There was no bargain Vol’jin could offer any of the Loa that would be enticing enough; no bargain that wouldn’t result in one of them being left behind.

Vol’jin wandered. He crossed paths with Jaina during the many Legion assaults, and for a time, they kept each other company. Found comfort in each other’s pain. Found solace in their shared suffering. Both had lost their midnight sky. Both were still alive because of her. The roots Amita had laid still stood strong on the Broken Shore, coiled around the portal spires, breaking them apart.

He was hard-pressed to leave her, but Jaina insisted that she needed more time alone, and Vol’jin only agreed when she whispered, “and you need more time to grieve. You loved her so much. You look– lost without her.”

To which he had replied, voice choked, “she was a lamp unto my feet.”

The two parted. Vol’jin wandered once again, taking the most comfort in Val’sharah. The winding trees, and druidic presence kept him from missing her so.

But the Nightmare clung to him like sweat. It feasted on his pain, revelled in his grief, and once Ysera was slain, Vol’jin had no choice but to leave, and he drifted once more. Illidan was restored. The heroes trekked to Argus itself. The Legion was defeated.

Not too soon after the return home, tensions between the Horde and the Alliance rose again. Vol’jin caught winds of the plans for Teldrassil, and was there evacuating civilians under the guise of a worgen not long after. As lost as he felt without the moon to guide him, he couldn’t give up on his life.

Amita would never forgive him for that if he did.

He had practiced his disguise voodoo until even Rommath could not tell that the new blood guard in their ranks was Vol’jin himself.

Teldrassil’s burning left him weeping.

‘This is my fault.’

He followed Rokhan, and Thalyssra to Stormwind to ensure they made it out safely.

‘This is my fault.’

He stowed himself away on the boat to Zandalar, always keeping himself just out of sight, refusing to reveal himself when Talanji’s Loa informed her that a powerful shadow hunter lurked in the darkness. She had called out to him. He merely shrunk back further.

Once again, he wandered. He explored Vol’dun, helping wayward heroes where he could, regardless of their faction. He avoided Bwonsamdi like the plague in Nazmir, forfeiting sleep in favor of not having the angered Loa descend upon him in his dreams. Avoiding the Loa of Death in his waking hours was difficult enough.

Vol’jin was there when Rezan fell.

And he was there when the Zandalari discovered new worshippers in their midst. They had descended on Dazar’alor in a fervor. Two had morphed into dragons, fending off Mythrax tooth and claw alongside the Loa themselves, and their efforts were not in vain. Even if the huge being had managed to destroy the third seal, Mythrax fell.

Others still tended to the fallen, and when Talanji and Rastakhan attempted to have some questioned, they disappeared as silently as they had arrived.

“Please, Vol’jin, if there be anyone who can be finding a new Loa, it be you.”

“… what makes you be saying that, Rokhan?” Vol’jin inquired, running a whetstone along the length of his glaive.

“Because I know you. Don’t go thinking that ol’ Rokhan doesn’t know you’ve already been asking around,” Rokhan offered Vol’jin a lopsided smile when the red haired troll finally looked up at him.

For a while longer, Vol’jin was silent. He’d been asking around, yes. The best information he had gotten was from the trolls in Zeb’ahari. They’d come across the temple before, hidden away in the mountainside, beneath a massive waterfall - at least, part of it was. The water cascaded from the top of the mountain, to the roof of the temple, and over the sides - or so they claimed.

They had also claimed that there were already guards stationed there, dressed in luxurious silks, brandishing glaives and scythes with dragon motifs. Their armor included more dragon motifs, along with floral ones.

Particularly the peony.

It had taken every ounce of Vol’jin’s self control not to run blind into the mountains to try and find this hidden temple himself.

But, he had refrained.

“They say the Loa is called Mother of Triumph, or Bringer of Forgiveness,” Vol’jin found himself saying, and he tried to hide the shake in his hand by continuing to sharpen his blade, “or Loa of the Exploited and Overburdened, or Loa of the Purposeless…”

Rokhan scrutinized Vol’jin as he trailed off, and soon prompted, “or…?”

“Moon Dancer.”

It sounded so strange rolling of his tongue. Moon Dancer. Moon Dancer.

The shadow hunter would be a liar if he claimed that he had not made an attempt to try and contact this new Loa the very evening he returned to his quarters in Dazar’alor.

He had been terrified, and right as he had felt the familiar pricks of a more powerful being trying to make a connection, he panicked. Opened his eyes. Sat upright, and once again, refused to sleep.

“Vol’jin…” Rokhan’s voice was filled with trepidation. Vol’jin shook his head.

“Go find it.”

“I–”

“At my behest, as chieftain of the Darkspear,” Rokhan interrupted. Vol’jin knew that twinkle in the older man’s eyes. The hope. The eagerness;

“Go find the temple.”

The trek was arduous. One of the witch doctors in Zeb’ahari had told Vol’jin that she had anticipated his return, and gave him far too specific of directions for this new Loa to be some kind of hoax. Along the way, Vol’jin encountered Zul fanatics.

Apparently they too were looking for this new Loa. Vol’jin had barely managed to avoid detection by a patrol group, and he listened in on their conversation.

“Relatively new.”

“Should be weak, easy to corrupt.”

“Easy to break.”

“Has already amassed an impressive following; her worshippers should not be trifled with. We’ve already lost two scouting parties to the ones that call themselves Dreadnoughts. The dragons.”

“Did you hear? One of them is truly a dragon, from the blacks.”

“I heard there were others. One from the greens, and one from the blues.”

Vol’jin opted to sneak past the camp that evening. Engaging them, he felt, would be foolish. He was too exhausted by his self-induced insomnia, and they were all sleeping soundly.

Unfortunately for Vol’jin, just when he had found what looked to be a hidden path - as described by the witch doctor - the fanatics caught up with him.

For a moment, the lone shadow hunter and the group of trolls stared at each other. Vol’jin was too distracted by his discovery to be immediately aware of the danger he was in, and the group was too shocked at his presence to make any attack.

They recognized him.

Vol’jin, of course, was uninterested in combat. He bolted up the narrow pathway instead, holding onto his swift serpent form as long as he could.

Arrows pelted the ground around him, and one went through his arm when he was forced back into his troll form. The path went on. He dropped his serpent totem, and paused only long enough to send off a few arrows of his own. One Zandalari he felled with a powerful blast of lightning magic - and then he was on his way again, weaving left and right, ducking into the jungle, trying to lose them.

He found his way back to the path, sliding under a broadsword. Vol’jin glowered at the troll that had swung the weapon - but instead of doing anything, Vol’jin continued on his way along the path. It twisted and curved, and the further along he went, the darker it became.

And now, as Vol’jin continued to evade arrows and other attacks, he could hear the distinct roar of a waterfall.

He faltered.

Arrows pierced his flesh. Vol’jin stumbled forward, barely feeling the pain.

Wind and gravel kicked up around him, and the shouts of the trolls pursuing him turned to cries of fear.

Obvious dragon feet wrapped around Vol’jin’s torso, and whisked him away, while another released a ferocious battle cry that clung to the leaves. Vol’jin was deposited gently onto the ground right in front of what looked to be the temple entrance. He stared at it, noting all the flowering bushes - roses, and peonies, specifically.

Not plants that normally grew in the lush jungles of Zuldazar.

The sounds of a swift battle was lost in the deafening roar of the waterfall.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the dragon-esque being that had been carved of stone, undulating atop the temple roof. Moss, and star flowers covered much of the rock that made up the entrance - both varieties of star flower, Vol’jin noted.

A Kul Tiran human and Zandalari stood guard at the entrance, their armor radiant golds and silvers and oranges and pinks. Further in, Vol’jin could make out a dark doorway, and such a variety of races that he wasn’t even sure he could name them all in his current state of mind.

One individual was approaching swiftly. Vol’jin stared at him blearily, then leaned forward, eyes narrowed as a dragon flew over his head. Naturally, the dragon shifted to their mortal form and–

Vol’jin had thought that the fanatics were rumor mongering when they had said one of the followers was a black.

This many had the tell tale signs. Bright red eyes. Black scales. His armor reminded Vol’jin of Pandaria. Mystical dragons coiled around his arms, fading in and out. The mortal form he chose was a dark skinned blood elf - or perhaps Vol’jin should say high elf.

“Vol’jin!”

The other man that had been approaching, the shadow hunter found he recognized, “Zelun’jin. Never though’ ya could be making all dem colahs work.”

The younger troll scowled at him, then proceeded to begin breaking the points off the arrows that had gone through Vol’jin.

“What brings you here?”

Vol’jin narrowed his eyes at the black dragon, choosing not to answer, if only because growls escaped him as Zelun’jin worked to remove all of the arrows.

“Odaniar,” the black dragon continued, unperturbed, “Dreadnought of the Moon Dancer. What do you seek - what sent you to us?”

Vol’jin rose to his feet, shrugging off Zel. The other followers seemed content with letting Odaniar deal with this newcomer - either that, or they knew better than to come between a black and their prey.

‘Which I certainly consider myself to be. Can never trust a black,’ and Vol’jin shook his head, “I be here at de behest o’ de Darkspear chieftain.”

“Is that not you?”

Vol’jin flinched, “no.”

Another obvious dragonkin came up alongside Odaniar - but her scales were blue, and her horns were more prominent. She gazed at Vol’jin with worry in her eyes, “you are seeking. You would not have come here for any other reason.”

“I be directed.”

“Asking directions is a requirement when one seeks what would rather not be found,” Odaniar said. His bright eyes were pinched inward, “you are missing something.”

“You be seeming ta know a lot about me,” Vol’jin snarled, frustrated, “so I’d be appreciating it if you stopped beating around the damn bush, Odaniar.”

Odaniar exchanged looks with the blue next to him.

Finally, he spoke;

“You are the sun.”

Vol’jin felt his heart drop into his stomach. He was sure the shock was written all over his face.

“And the moon has been missing from your sky.”

Moss dressed the dark halls. Starlit roses decorated the path, offering guidance to those that walked. Odaniar had moved, and Vol’jin had followed.

Small lights hung, high and low, throughout the final chamber Vol’jin had been led to. Of course Odaniar had pointed out various other paths: “this hall leads to the followers chambers, above and below us”, “this one leads to the kitchens”, “this one leads to the herb gardens outside, and that one leads to the alchemy stations”, “the room we left was for worship and offerings, I should have informed you of that sooner”.

But this chamber. Vol’jin was afraid to look around. All the lights looked like stars suspended in a sky of moss. He recognized many of the species of trees as the ones from Suramar, and despite being so deep in the mountain side, the chamber was warm. Water trickled from somewhere, into a pool.

Vol’jin would have sought the pool, but the figure lying on a bed of flowers before him demanded all of his attention.

The Loa sat up.

She smiled lovingly at him.

“Hello, sunshine.”

Hot tears streamed down Vol’jin’s face. He sunk to his knees, heaving broken sobs into his hands. Her hands were soft when they came to cover his.

“Leave us,” Amita’s voice was gentle.

There was so much Vol’jin wanted to say, but he couldn’t find his voice. Footfalls went further and further away, and Amita pulled Vol’jin’s hands from his face.

“Ami–” he began, but she silenced him with her lips.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against his mouth, “I wanted to tell you, I was so excited when you be tryin’ to reach me that one evenin’. What be scarin’ you?”

“That it might be true,” he admitted, “that it - this might actually be you.”

“It be me, sunshine,” Amita purred, nuzzling her nose against his. She pulled him to her bed of flowers, and Vol’jin couldn’t stop a short laugh from escaping him. As she had at her home in the Barrens - the place he now called home, refusing to let anything happen to what Amita had worked so hard on - Amita had pillows and cushions and blankets to lie on.

“I want you,” she groaned, tangling her legs with his. Vol’jin slid his hands under her sheer, iridescent top. He’d hardly given himself the time to admire what Amita was wearing, and though she giggled at him and his eager hands, she grasped his wrists and brought one hand to her face.

“Not here, bal’a; not in my temple. If I be requirin’ it of my followers, then I best be an example.”

Vol’jin had to chuckle.

“You be dedicated.”

“I be.”

“Have the… other Loa been giving you troubles?”

“Rezan be advisin’ that I be focusin’ on buildin’ my temple first. As I be mentionin’, I be wantin’ to see you. The moment I be findin’ out I be a Loa, I wanted to test how far I could be goin’, but after the events of the Broken Shore, I be too new to be leavin’ Zuldazar.”

“So you be here this whole time?”

“This whole time,” her eyes danced like the stars in the night sky, “make me your Loa, Vol’jin. Be mine; be my champion.”

Vol’jin’s mind swam, “you be asking much of me, Moon Dancer.”

Amita beamed, unrelenting, “be my night warrior.”

His eyes widened at this, “a night warrior? But that–”

She pressed a finger to his lips, eyes glimmering with mischief, mouth pulled up in a smirk.

“Who do you think made me a Loa? Or did you forget, Vol’jin of the Darkspear, that I be a druid, and that we all shared a goddess?”

Vol’jin inclined his head to Amita’s shoulder. She carded her fingers through his hair.

“Vol’jin.”

“Hm?”

“I am always yours,” she ran the back of her nails along his cheek, “and you are always mine.”

“Always,” Vol’jin agreed, wrapping his arms around her waist, “but when can I be having you?”

“Whenever you want,” she shifted against him, pressing her lips to his forehead, “I be needin’ to make my presence known in Dazar’alor. I be strong enough now.”

“I suppose being your champion also be meaning I’m your speaker?” he questioned, and Amita shook her head.

“No, that be for Landrida - she be a green. You be brought here by my black, and blue - Odaniar, and Ulriegosa. Landrida presents herself as a Zandalari. She be with new worshippers.”

“I have so much I be wanting to ask you.”

“I have all the time in the world to be givin’ you answers, heaven.”

Vol’jin pressed his face harder against Amita’s neck, “I believe you be heaven, moonlight.”

“Ahh, there it be,” she purred, running her fingers through Vol’jin’s hair once again, “and if I be heaven, you be earth - but, you will always be my heaven, Vol’jin.”

She pushed him onto his back, and laid on top of him, “tomorrow, we go to Dazar’alor. I be takin’ my place among the other Loa, and if Bwonsamdi wants you, he has to fight me.”

“Amita, I don’t be thinking that be wise.”

“It be okay. I’ll just be eatin’ him,” she grinned when Vol’jin laughed.

“Tomorrow.”

“I can–”

“Time for the sun to rest, Vol’jin. Sleep. I will be keepin’ you safe.”

(( I also borrowed @lolygagger ’s bby Zelun’jin for this to make a brief appearance. ))

#Air writes #written prompt #Transference prompts #Vol'jin #Amita Dakini #Loa Amita #WoW #World of Warcraft

26 notes · View notes

belzinone · 5 years

Text

verses

This is a running list of all the verses I’ve written for bel. First are her fanon (canonical) verses, followed by modern, fantasy, crossover, other fandom verses, & lastly, her Wallflower verses (+ link to a more in-depth description of my concept). I’m more than happy to create a verse that is compatible with your muse, let it be giving her a new modern occupation or adapting her to your muse’s universe (if you’ll be patient with my learning ) However, I’ll be applying her to new universes selectively because I’m not a fan of everything nor do I always have the energy/patience to invest in it.

hello it’s mz. hyde . undetermined // verse

~FANON VERSES~

HELL IS FOR CHILDREN . underground child // verse

a bright, curious, cross-dressing child who goes by the name “bailey” & gets into more trouble than her mother & older brother can handle. in attempt to control her behavior, risa lets her stay with a trusted doctor in town (former colleague of her late father) & he starts teaching her basic medicine & biology (which quickly turns into epidemiology come the shiganshina outbreak). she proves gifted with the material, a trait she shared with her father.

BIRD IN THE CAGE . underground citizen // verse

past adolescence, a teenage bel selectively relents to the feminine gender role designated by her mother as the small Zinone family works towards building a large enough fortune to buy surface citizenship. she does her homemaking & continues to pursue her medical apprenticeship while at home & in the clinic, but occasionally dons drag to explore the rest of the city under her family’s nose. when her brother enlists in the scouting legion for a vast sum of money (to those in poverty), he takes the light behind her eyes with him.

SLAVE TO THE GRIND . shiganshina citizen // verse

a languid young adult who maintains a modest medical practice as well as helps with her mother’s homemaking business. she makes the occasional secret trip to scout hq to volunteer her medical expertise, where she momentarily rediscovers her lust for life.

TWIN ROSES . garrison soldier // verse

giving up on her dreams following the year 845 fall of wall maria, bel dons twin roses & secretly composes her plans for 3dmg modifications. she lives a quiet, uneventful yet peaceful life with her mother & squad members.

LA GUILLOTINA . sentenced to scout // verse

having lost the majority of her squad during the year 850 battle of trost & committed murder to defend her mother during the retreat, bel finds herself with a accolade she detests, but would decide her fate as she faces her sentence

& TO DEATH WE SAY ; NOT TODAY . medical officer // main verse

bel settles into the scouting regiment & lives out her dream of saving lives on the front lines. this verse leads up to the uprising arc.

FAMILIAR TASTE OF POISON . war criminal // verse

the uprising arc. forced to face the demons of her mother’s past as well as her legion being marked a criminal organization, she is also forced to come to terms with taking lives rather than saving them.

GRACE PERIOD . scout redemption // verse

this verse spans the time between the resolution of the uprising arc to her amputation. the scouts experience renewed glory as they return the rightful heir to the throne & prepare to reclaim shiganshina.

LA TRAVIATA . retiree // verse

soon before the return to shiganshina, bel loses her foot to the leader of the underground mafia & is forced to retire from her military service. she departs for the snowy mountains of the north to research titan spinal fluid.

alternatively, she’s crushed by a boulder during one of the preparatory expeditions & amputates her foot to save her life either single-handedly or with the help of another soldier, i.e. yours?

LA RESORTA . amputee // verse

bel hangs up her lab coat & returns to her soldiers, where she comes to rediscover is where her heart lies.

RED SWANSONG . postwar // verse

paradis is clear of titans & the world is free of war. bel retires her military service for good & continues to care for the remaining military veterans while mourning the fallen. she dreams of settling with a family at this time.

~fanon divergent verses~

FELINE TITAN . shifter // verse

bel reawakens with the memories of a former queen who once ruled humanity before Paradisian allocation. her 10 meter titan is skinless, spotted, & sports long claws. [aimless meta]

AS ABOVE SO BELOW . noble // verse

instead of being born in the underground to a poor homemaker, bel’s born in the sina capitol to a rich socialite. she nonetheless dreams of becoming a scout soldier & practicing medicine like her father.

~modern verses~

CODE BLACK . emergency responder // main verse

as used in los angeles county hospital, “an influx of patients so great, there aren’t enough resources to treat them.”

G. O. M. E. R. YOU P. I. T. A. nurse // verse

nurse slang for “get out of my emergency room, you pain in the ass”

LIONESS . mother // verse

bel becomes a mother, let it be via adoption or a fertility miracle.

SO CLOSE ; AND STILL SO FAR . medical tech // verse

bel leaves medical school & lands a less than satisfying job

GLORY AND GORE . clinical doctor // verse

a cutthroat doctor who rose to her status by playing the game of the social ladder.

PRETTY HUGE DICHOTOMY . medical student // verse

bel studying for her phd & finding a stark divide between clinical & the average life.

BETA EPSILON LAMBDA . undergraduate student // verse

although not part of a sorority, the lack of social life experienced by this iteration could very much use a pledge.

VAGABOND . homeless // verse

after dropping out of high school, bel leaves her family & takes to the streets, convinced that she is better off on her own. she makes a living through stealing, odd jobs, & street performing.

YOU LOVE ME FOR EVERYTHING YOU HATE ME FOR . escort // verse

bel engages in transactional sex to survive.

RED LIGHTS PAID SIGHTS . sex worker // verse

cam girl, stripper, exotic dancer, nude model: bel engages in all these things & more, finding comfort in sensual attention.

SICK INDIVIDUAL . high school student // verse

a rebellious young woman spends her days challenging authority inside & outside the classroom while maintaining grades reflective of her interests.

IF IT AIN’T BROKE; IMPROVE IT . mechanical engineer // verse

rather than pursue medicine, bel finds a rewarding career in her other passions.

IT’S SUPPOSED TO HURT . personal trainer // verse

bel makes a living out of training others to thrive.

BODY LANGUAGE . professional dancer // verse

she started out as a street dancer before making her way through club after club & finally landing a contract with mainstream talent. belly dancing, burlesque, & pole work are her go-to styles.

~fantasy verses~

ABERRANT APOTHECARY . witch // verse

a life witch or necromancer? this woman manipulates the energies of life to do her bidding.

SEIS SEIS SEIS . concubus // verse

unbound by position & generally unaffected by a thirst for intercourse, this nonbinary asexual demon finds thrills elsewhere.

DON’T FALL ASLEEP AT THE HELM . merfolk // verse

a rather terrifying as opposed to conventionally beautiful mermaid, bel passes her time defending her territory & rummaging through shipwrecks

conversely, she’s an obnoxiously colorful mermaid that makes an easy target for predators

HURT LIKE HELL WHEN I FELL . angel // verse

bel’s an angel much like those from cw’s supernatural sans the dryness

SINGED FEATHERS . caladrius // verse

this magical bird takes blight unto herself & flies into the sun like a phoenix, dispelling the plague & curing her benefactor. feathers naturally sprout from various parts of her body. she uses a cloaking spell to appear human, but she nonetheless sheds feathers.

~crossover verses~

ONE STEP CLOSER TO THE TRUE WORLD . the115project // crossover verse

Commander 115′s army lands in Paradis & brings a new battlefront to the island (original multiverse concept from the115project)

FELINE FAUNUS . rwby // crossover verse

the transition from Paradis to Remnant brings out cheetah-like characteristics similar to her titan form her aforementioned fanon divergent verse. human skin with full body markings, ears & a body-length tail with fur

~other fandom verses~

MITOTIC REGENERATION . naruto // verse

a failed student of a legendary shinobi & excommunicated from her clan, bel wanders the ninja world in search of a way to revive her fallen brother as a missing nin from tsukigakure. she specializes in poison art jutsu, is developing her own version of mitotic regeneration, & agnostically practices jashinism.

GOLD DUST WOMAN . rwby // verse

subject to the discrimination of being a faunus, bel finds herself a member of the White Fang but begins to question whether their endeavors are really what’s best for her kind. her semblence is life transfer & manipulation while her weapons are dual-wield blades similar to those from her snk verse.

I WANT TO BE CONNECTED . sarazanmai // verse

bel, a fresh Wallflower devotee, soon throws herself at the mercy of the otters to save her brother, a police officer who died on duty. as punishment, she’s made to keep an eye out for kappa activity but maintains a dual relationship with those duties alongside her obligations as a Wallflower agent. she keeps her loyalties to the otters blurred while seeking to protect the sara trio as an undercover school nurse.

FAIRY; WHERE ARE YOU GOING? . fairy tail // verse

bel’s a caster mage from the Wallflower dark guild & specializes in disease & organic link magic

GRAND DUCHESS . anastasia // verse

anastasia (1997 film) plot inspired

FACE DOWN IN THE DIRT . fruits basket // verse

her work as an international Wallflower brings her to the Sohma clan, a hotbed of mysterious cries of abuse from its most closely guarded family members. quickly recognizing the fragility of the job, bel takes a much lower profile during her investigation. she takes on whatever role she must to get to the bottom of the sohma family curse & support its victims.

HALF GOD; HALF DEVIL . bnha // verse

[fandom verse profile]

THE DEAD SHALL SPEAK . atlus trauma team // verse

inspired by dr. naomi kimishima. bel’s a medical examiner that can hear a victim’s last words upon interacting with their body.

DANCING ON GRAVESTONES . dnd // verse

tiefling, bard, necromancer, commander of life energy & tells stories through percussion & dance. she uses magic to mask her tiefling features in order to escape prejudice & avoid scaring away her audience.

-wallflower verses-

BAD GIRLS’ WORLD . wallflower // main verse

[about] this verse traverses all universes, from fandom to modern to fantasy as well. i use it to designate her criminality/gang affiliation & the belief system she was raised in. whether or not she remains loyal to her cult (as well as the severity of the cult itself) will vary greatly by thread.

LA MADONNA HYDRANGEA . wallflower madame // verse

bel reigns over the wallflowers as madame, presiding over an immense, international criminal underworld.

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avengers-nextgen · 6 years

Text

Prometheus XVI

It had been a conversation that lasted well into the night, but at last after years of pain the Odin family was at peace. Thalia was to work with her father on rebuilding a new safe haven for Asgardians. Loki could wander about in search of new ones however he pleased. Thalia was also allowed to move freely between her parents however she pleased. Sif would be journeying as well in search of others, though she was more keen on hunting any enemies that may have fled too.

A regrowing empire was at it’s weakest during its production stages. The last thing anyone wanted was the dream to be killed before it got a chance to thrive.

And so, the pool party was a chance for parents and kids to relax completely for once. There was no tension, and the kids were thriving in the environment.

Nathaniel was showing off his diving skills which consisted of numerous belly flops into the enormous pool. Enzo was rating them on a scale of one to ten but he was simply enjoying the show.

Scout was lounging on a floaty but his reign was thwarted by a mischievous boyfriend and his accomplice Piper Stark who flipped him over. Meanwhile Thalia was learning how to grill thanks to Steve’s guidance. Siyanda worried about the fire but she figured there was a pool so it couldn’t be too much of a risk.

Natasha and Bucky were in a sniper battle with water guns and both had recruited their children to help. Bianca and James poked their heads around the waterfalls at each other and took cheap shots. Penny was happily eating watermelon while Arthur tried to make a balloon animal. He was failing miserably.

Penny tried too but after popping six she had given up. It was for the best- Arthur had teasingly replied. Chloe was sitting on the deck dressed to swim should she choose too but otherwise content with watching.

“I got potato chips, barbecue chips, these chips, these ones, and these too!” Tony announced stepping outside with his arms full of purchased air bags with saddeningly low amounts of food.

“Barbecue!!!!” Orion yelled excitedly. In his distraction Scout took back his throne.

“Sheesh.” Tony shivered, “kid scares me with his enthusiasm sometimes.”

“Drinks.” Came a yell from inside. Arthur nearly pissed himself as a portal opened on the table where numerous liters of soda dumped out.

“DAD!”

“Sweet.” Penny smirked, taking an entire liter for herself.

But while some were thoroughly enjoying themselves others were less sure. Fox sat perched nearly out of sight on a cooler in the corner. She was undistrubed until a jet of water pegged her in the chest. “Hey!”

“Were you hiding?” James smirked.

“I’m not interested in playing.”

“Awe come on.” James grinned spraying her again. “Why not?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Hey, no one said you had to put on a swim suit. Just wear an old shirt and shorts.” James replied seriously. He was beginning to understand her insistence on remaining dry and fully clothed.

“I don’t know...” It seemed like she hadn’t considered that idea.

“It’ll be worth it. When’s the last time you had a family barbecue?”

“Never, actually .” Fox frowned.

“All the more reason to participate.” James encouraged. After a moment of contemplation and a bit more persuasion, James finally won Fox over. “Great. Now take this weapon and shoot my uncle in the face.”

“He has a recruit!” Bianca yelled.

“Damn it. We’re outnumbered.” Bucky laughed. “Clint! Help me!”

“Cheater!” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Hey, Nathaniel-“

“That’s my son you can’t do that!” Clint argued, grabbing his own squirt gun having been armed by Bucky.

“Before anyone shoots it’s time to eat!” Steve held his hands up in surrender. “You can continue later.”

“Awe.” Bianca and James whined.

“No whining,” Steve smirked, ruffling his son’s damp hair.

“Okay.” James sighed, setting the water gun down.

“Out of the pool.” Pepper managed to draw Orion’s, Scout’s, and Piper’s attention away from their fight for control of the floaty.

“Barbecue chips.” Orion squealed, swimming as fast as he could to the side and scampering out.

“I’m more of a plain lays kind of guy.” Scout explained upon seeing Piper’s amused look. “Not him though.”

“Well, obviously not.”

“Thalia you start with one.” Stephen said pointedly looking at the blonde.

“Can I have two?” Peter asked. He’d been conspicuously absent until food had been mentioned,

“No. If she doesn’t get two to start with you don’t either.”

“Ha!” Thalia laughed.

“Rude.” Peter pouted, sticking his tongue out at Stephen.

“James where’s you’re sister?” Natasha asked doing a swift head count.

“Inside,” James called over the noise as Siyanda chucked the salt down to where Nathaniel was. Natasha went to retrieve any stragglers while the others dug in.

— — —

“Drinking Doctor Pepper is so wrong.” Gen frowned, watching Piper chug her second can.

“I’ve heard that joke my whole life.” The youngest Stark noted, “just because my mom’s name is Pepper. But you know what? At least I know Pepper is good. A good mom, good drink, and good seasoning!”

“You’ve had too much caffeine.” Arthur frowned. “I think that’s enough.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Piper said matter of factly.

“He can- it just doesn’t mean you have to listen,” Chloe piped up smugly, earning a playful glare from her brother.

“Let the war begin.” Nathaniel had collected the forces once more and the sniper battle continued.

“If I get shot I’m literally murdering someone.” Sage growled, having been dragged outside by Enzo.

“You’ll be fine. Come on. The water’s nice and we’re trying to dethrone Scout.”

“Just use magic.”

“It’s not as fun.” Enzo replied.

“So?”

“Please? Will you play?” Enzo clasped his hands together and batted his eye lashes.

“You’re awful.”

“I know!” Enzo winked. Then, without much warning he shoved his sister into the pool and jumped in after her.

“You’re so dead!” Sage growled. Enzo squealed and swam for his life. Bianca took the liberty of trying to shoot Sage with her water gun forgetting all about the family feud.

“On guard.” Thalia had been equipped with pool noodles and was reigning down punishment on any and all unsuspecting swimmers until Orion challenged her to a duel.

“We need music for this!” Piper sprinted only to come back with a speaker blasting Pirates of The Caribbean.

The pool noodles clashed with hollow thumps as the two giggled moving across the top of the water fall. Orion held his own for a while until Thalia slapped him in the side. Orion clutched at his rib cage before staggering off the top and flopping into the pool.

“That was epic!” Penny applauded. “Do it again!”

“My turn!” Enzo collected a weapon of his own and went to challenge his cousin.

“I was murdered and you won’t avenge me?” Orion gave Scout an incredulous look.

“It was a very dramatic and glorious death.” Scout assured him. “You should win an Oscar.”

“I should shouldn’t I?” Orion smiled smugly.

“Cocky much?” Scout rolled his eyes and pushed down on Orion’s shoulders. The other boy happily escaped by slipping underwater. “Little shark.”

“I hate little siblings.” Sage clambered out of the pool and shook herself off like a dog.

“He is a little enthusiastic.” Scout agreed.

“No kidding.” Luckily for Sage, Siyanda chucked a towel at her to dry off with. “Now I have to change.”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Arthur advised, “he’ll probably be back again later.”

“Wonderful to know.” Sage replied but she knew Arthur was right.

“Just borrow a swim suit I’m sure someone’s your size,” Wanda offered, cleaning up the table.

“Pffft.” Sage only laughed as she headed inside.

“Mom. She’s a bean pole. No one is her size.” Scout laughed.

“I was trying to be nice.” Wanda jokingly tossed an apple at her son which Scout caught with ease and took a bite out of.

“Well, thank you for the snack.”

— — —

The night wore on and the kids didn’t seem to be getting tired. They alternated between snacking and swimming for nearly two hours before things started to wind down.

Scout was attempting to build a card tower with Piper on the table while Orion watched and attempted not to knock it over. Enzo was lounging in a chair chatting away with Penny who was still amped from sugar.

Thalia had changed into a comfy set of sweats to sit in Siyanda’s lap while they played a few games on one of the Stark tablets. Arthur and James were retrieving things from the pool to be put away while Chloe had moved to the grass. She intended on remaining dry the rest of the evening.

All was quiet and she was content in her little spot until she noticed Alex sitting cross legged picking away at blades of grass. Chloe studied the blonde with care. There was something different about her. Something Chloe knew very well. When one nearly died fear took hold of everything-even the joy. Moments that usually made someone smile were instead sad and melancholy because in the back of their mind they knew-every moment was potentially their last. Staring death in the face-it made everything feel like a ticking clock. And it was hard not to fall into the trap of despair. Often times Chloe found herself wondering when exactly her ticking would run out. It seemed Alex was plagued with the same sense of understanding she’d come to. It was a sad sight-but Chloe knew, or she had for some time, that even Alex as resilient as she was couldn’t deny the futility of fighting.

#avengers #avengers next gen #prometheus #marvel #black widow #captain america #mcu #natasha romanoff #pepper potts #romanogers #scarlet witch

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scoutsbonksoda-blog · 6 years

Note

Headcanons for the mercs when their s/o cuts please?

Extreme Warning for self harm and mentions of suicide! Please proceed with caution. I will put them under a read more.

And if you’re self-harming or feeling suicidal, please talk to someone! If you need me, I’m always here.

Last warning, please be careful!

ScoutOh jeez oh jeez. He doesn’t know what to do, blubbering out comforting words and doing his best to understand. He ends up just breaking into tears, begging them to stop because he loves them so so much, please stop.

SoliderHe’s shocked for a few moments before he goes to dressing the wounds properly, asking who or what made them feel this was necessary. He asks all the questions that need to be asks and reminds them he’s always there for them.

PyroHe’s not sure what to really say. He washes them for his s/o and sticks some rainbow unicorn bandages on them and tells them never to do it again. He knows it won’t stop urges but he vows to be there.

HeavyHe’s familiar with sad thoughts. He talks calmly with them about their troubles while cleaning and dressing the wounds and sits with them in bed until they’ve said all they have to say. He keeps a close eye on them.

EngineerHe has a small outburst, asking why they would do something like that and sounding angry. He apologizes after, taking care of them and telling them to talk to him.

DemoYeah, he knows the feeling. He reminds them to be strong, that it’ll get better and he’ll be there to help them move forward as they go. They’re never alone.

MedicHe goes right to work, properly cleaning the cuts and going into doctor mode. When he’s done, he asks them why and how long. He listens to their story and what they have to say. He promises to stand by their side until it gets better.

SniperHe doesn’t ask for the why, the when, the how long. He holds them until they want to talk. If they don’t want to talk then it’s fine, but he keeps a close eye on them.

SpyHe reminds them that they’re stronger than whatever plagues them. He’ll fight too, stand by their side until they’ve defeated the monsters. He defends them for weeks after that, afraid to leave their side.

#tf2 #tf2 headcanons #solider tf2 #scout tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 medic #tf2 engineer #tf2 scout #tf2 heavy #tf2 demo #tf2 sniper #trigger warning: self harm

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stained-carmine · 5 years

Text

A Record Erased ~ Nesa

Having spent the last few days investigating the town, scouting the perimeter for anything out of the ordinary, talking to local residents, and observing the people as they went about their daily routine, you’ve concluded that whatever is causing this epidemic does not appear to be any sort of documented disease. Even more than that, contrary to the word used to describe it, it’s hardly an epidemic. It doesn’t appear to be a sickness passed from person to person, else you yourself would have found yourself wandering the streets aimlessly thanks to your contact with that man you had helped the first day you arrived here.

In fact, you had gone back to the clinic earlier today to check on the amnesiac, only to find he was released. Talking to the doctor, you found out that his memory had returned to him this morning and he had made a full recovery. In a hurry to return to his wife, his discharge was rushed and he had left shortly before you had arrived. Thanking the doctor for the information, you tracked down the man and asked him if he knew anything. Unfortunately, he hadn’t any more of a clue as to what had caused his amnesia than you did, so whatever lead you might have thought you had quickly ran into a dead end.

With the possibility of it being a contagion eliminated, and now armed with the knowledge that the amnesia was not permanent, you turned your attention to the most likely scenario that remained.

If it isn’t passed from person to person, and is only occurring in a localized area, without extending beyond the scope of this region, then it likely had something to do with something in or around the town. Add to that the fact that when isolated from outside influence in a sterile environment, a patient had made a full recovery, that only left one possibility. Contamination.

With this in mind, you began to keep a close eye on what was coming into or going out of the town. You carefully monitored the produce sold in the town, and observed those buying it to see if they would contract this inexplicable amnesia from consumption of imported foods. After several days of no results, you concluded that the source wasn’t something being brought into the town, but something that was already here.

You made sure to be careful as to what you ate and drank, so as to not fall victim to this memory loss that plagued the area. By the fact that you hadn’t been infected, you concluded that it wasn’t an airborne contaminate either. Which left only one possibility. The water.

Having arrived at this conclusion, you traced the water back to its source, an aquifer a few hours outside of the city’s perimeter that supplied the water for the town and outlying areas.

After a lengthy trek into the hills that laid beyond the verdant valleys rich in soil and perfect for farming, you had come to a rather small mountain of sorts. If the source of contamination was runoff that came down into the valley and seeped into the aquifer, this would be the most likely source.

After a thorough search of the area, you located the mouth of a cave in the cliff side several feet up. Seeing no indication of wolves or bears in the immediate area, nor any way for said wildlife to even reach the cave, you decided to investigate. Carefully making your way up, you peered into the darkness.

The opening was large enough for a person to fit with plenty of room to spare. Taking out a light, you illuminated the interior of the cave. It appeared to be a tunnel heading into the heart of the mountain. Making sure there was nothing that called this cavern its home, you’d cautiously step into the darkness.

After about a half an hour of wandering through the empty cavern, you let out a sigh. It seemed like this tunnel went deeper than you had initially thought. Glancing back the way you came, you’d be met with darkness. You wondered if this was nothing but a waste of time, and if you should turn around and head back to the town. Surely if something is tainting the water supply, filtering or boiling the contaminants away would solve the problem right? A frown creased your lips as you weighed your options, turning to look at the path ahead of you.

That was when you noticed the faintest of glows, nearly missed due to the light you carried. In fact, if not for your intuition and better judgement, you would have thought yourself to merely be seeing things. Turning off the light you held, you’d peer into the darkness ahead of you.

Indeed, there was a faint glow from up ahead, some sort of light perhaps? You were certain that you hadn’t made it through to the other side of the mountain. Was someone living here? A hermit perhaps? If someone did live here, this far out of town, perhaps they might know something about the surrounding area, and perhaps be able to give you a new lead to follow. Deciding to continue forward and investigate the source of the light was the best course of action available to you at the moment, and was preferable to having come all this way for nothing, you started walking further into the cavern.

As you strode deeper into the cave system, the once faint glow slowly grew more prominent. Not needing your light anymore, you switched it off and put it back in your pack. After a few more minutes of walking, the tunnel opened up into a large cavern.

Laying your eyes upon the sight before you, your mouth hung open in awe. At the center of the room was a large crystalline altar. Swirling streaks of black and white joined the two crystals at the center, merging two monoliths into one. An arch spread from the altar, branching out in opposite directions. Where the arches met the ground, pools of black and white liquid settled in depressions on the cave floor.

You had never seen anything like this before in your life, it was amazing. Crystals of such size were extraordinarily rare in nature. So then was this altar constructed by human hands? It didn’t appear as though the crystal was comprised of multiple segments, in fact, it seemed to be one solid piece. Even where the two crystal monoliths fused together, there was no seams, as if they had simply melded together through natural processes.

Taking a few steps closer to the altar, you’d reach out a hand, intent to place your palm upon its smooth surface.

“Who’s there!?”

The sudden shout made you flinch and pull your hand back. Taking a step away from the twin monoliths, you instinctively reached for the hunting knife at your thigh. Eyes darted about, searching for the source of the voice. As you glanced about, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Turning your gaze in the direction of it, you fixed your attention on the other side of the cavern. Slowly taking steps around the crystal altar, you’d move to the other side.

Sitting on the cave floor with her back turned to you was a girl with long white hair. Steeling yourself for whatever would come next, you called out to them.

Turning to look in your direction, you’d be met with empty white irises. Like a blank canvas, nothing was reflected there. Long unkempt hair was strewn about, a large strand falling across her face before tucking behind an ear and rejoining the rest of her pristine locks. She wore a plain white dress that lacked any sort of patterns or colors. With the exception of her skin, which was fair and unblemished, she was entirely monochromatic.

Your mind went blank as you gazed upon her colorless visage. White hair was a rarity for one as young as this girl, but those blank white eyes? They were truly bizarre, inhuman even. Not only were they devoid of any sort of emotion, but the light didn’t seem to reflect in them. It was surreal.

Tilting her head to the side at your speechless stare, the girl would frown slightly, before speaking up. “Um...Who are you?” She asked, snapping you out of your trance.

Regaining your senses, you’d gather your composure and give her a name. Not your real one, but an alias. After all, your old name belonged to a dead woman now. You’d been so focused on finding out the truth that you hadn’t come up with a new name for yourself. Perhaps once things have settled down a little, you could give it some thought.

“I see.” The girl said bluntly. She paused for a moment, tilting her head to the other side as if mulling it over. “Nope, doesn’t ring a bell.” She said with a small sigh as she turned her attention back to you. “Why are you here?”

You explained to her the situation, the epidemic that plagued the nearby town of Venerix, the amnesia, your findings, how you concluded that the source was most likely water contamination. As she listened to your story, she’d merely tilt her head to the side as she stared at you blankly.

“Venerix? Where is that? I don’t think I’ve heard of that before. Is it nearby?” She asked.

By now you could tell something wasn’t right here. After all, Venerix could be seen from this very mountain, so how could she not know where it is? You told her about the town, how it could be seen from here, and asked if she had ever been there.

“Mm...No, I don’t think so.” She said as she shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve been anywhere but here.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Looking around, you saw no signs of anything one would need to live out in the wilderness. No hunting gear, no fire pit, nothing. Just this girl and that strange crystalline altar.

“...You asked me my name, so would you mind telling me yours?” You asked as you turned your gaze back to the girl.

“My name? Oh, of course, My name is—” She paused mid-sentence, mouth agape as her brow slowly furrowed. “What is my name?”

As you suspected, she couldn’t remember anything. Perhaps she had wandered out here and took a drink from a contaminated stream? Had she gotten lost and sought out shelter in this cave? With that thought in mind, you stepped closer.

“Are you here alone?” You asked her, to which she nodded in response. “Maybe you got lost? Would you like me to take you back to town?”

“I...don’t know. I can’t leave.” She said, turning an unblinking stare to the ground.

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean by that? Are you waiting for someone?” The girl shook her head. “Then what’s keeping you here? Your family is probably worried sick about you.”

“Family...?” She repeated the word as she titled her head to the side.

“Yes, your mother and father. They’re probably looking all over for you.”

“Mm...No, I don’t think there’s anyone like that. I don’t remember having any parents.”

“That’s because your memory is messed up. Once we get you back to town and to the clinic, you’ll be back to normal in no time.” You said, giving the girl a smile meant to reassure her.

Staring at you for a moment, the girl would look over your features before speaking up. “...But this is my home, isn’t it? This place is the only one I know.”

“That’s because you got sick and found yourself here. This isn’t where you belong.” You said as you knelt down beside the girl.

“It isn’t my home...?“ She said, blank eyes locking with your own. “Then where? Where am I supposed to be?”

Extending a hand to the girl, you’d give her another smile. “Come on, We’ll figure that out once we get you out of here.”

The girl looked down at your extended hand, tilting her head slightly as her mouth hung open. Brow furrowing in confusion, she’d lift her head to look you in the eye, giving you a questioning gaze.

“Here, take my hand. I won’t hurt you.” You said with a gentle tone and a warm smile. “You can trust me. I’ll make sure to get you home safely.”

With some reluctance, the girl slowly reached out, placing her hand upon your own. As you were about to pull her up to her feet however, you noticed something strange.

Her hand had no warmth.

Brow furrowing, you’d look down at your hand.

Letting out a faint gasp, your eyes widened at the sight before you.

Her hand was partially through your own.

Pulling your hand back, your mind began to race. What the hell was that? Her hand...it was sinking into mine...how is that even possible? It’s like she’s a gho— Your heart skipped a beat at the thought. Lifting your gaze to look at the girl, you’d be met with a confused look, as if she didn’t understand nor realize the panic that had filled your mind.

“Is something wrong? Why’d you pull your hand back?”

“A-ah...” You were at a loss for what to say. Scrambling to come up with an explanation for what you had just seen, you’d make up an excuse. “I was just thinking maybe it’s not such a good idea to move you, I don’t want to disorient you. Maybe it’s best if you stay somewhere you’re familiar and comfortable with...” It was a weak excuse, but hopefully it would be enough to satisfy the girl.

She just stared at you for a few seconds before frowning and lowering her gaze. “Oh...I guess so.” She said solemnly. “So you’re going to leave me here...”

Feeling bad for what you’d just done—for getting her hopes up and then betraying them so quickly, you’d speak up to try and reassure her. “Why don’t I come back tomorrow? It’s getting late, and I should really be going.”

“You’ll come back?” She said, looking up at you with wonder.

“Y-yeah, I’ll come see you again, so don’t worry.” You said with a forced smile.

For the first time since you had met this strange girl, her face would brighten as she smiled at you. “Okay! I look forward to it!” She said as she beamed at you.

Heart torn between fear and guilt, you would nod as you averted your eyes from the girl before bidding her a farewell. Hurrying out of the cave, you’d exit the tunnel to be greeted with the sun sinking below the horizon. It’d be nightfall before you made it back to town. You’d have to be careful on your way back.

Making your way down the cliff side and heading in the direction of Venerix, your mind was ablaze with a flurry of thoughts. What was that? That cave, that crystal altar, that girl...I’ve never heard of anything like it...Was she a...a ghost? No, that’s impossible. Ghosts aren’t real! There’s no way they could exist...If they did we’d know about it by now! So she can’t be...that can’t be...

With your fears and anxieties to keep you company on your journey, you’d eventually make it back to town, hurrying back to the inn and to your room.

Slipping into the bed after a much needed shower after your trek into the mountain, you’d lay down and close your eyes. Despite how much you wanted to, you had a feeling you wouldn’t get much sleep tonight. Thoughts still racing, your mind would keep returning to the same question.

What is she?

#A Record Erased #Notes of a Mysterious Researcher #Drabble #The Phoenix #This is probably gonna be a longer story than I originally thought #Fuck-#Narrative #World Building #Original Story #1300th Post

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