#i am still foaming at the mouth and desperate for so many answers i may never get | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poptod · 3 years

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hi ! i absolutely love your work 🥺 i’ve been having a really tough time lately in life and your fics have really helped me stay sane. i recently watched the twilight saga for the first time, so i was wondering if you could do another benjamin fic where the reader is younger transman (ftm) brother of edward with psychometry powers?

Notes: hello! and thank you sm! i am happy to write this and i'm glad my weird fics could be of help lol. still haven't watched twilight but here we go again! WC: 2k

Besides Bella, you're the most modern thing in this temple. The arches that loom above every room are hundreds of years old, if not thousands, outmatched only by the altars carved carefully into every bedroom, there for any religious need any guest may have. You, though – you're about 16, both physically and mentally, as your transition had happened about three months ago. There's this joke you tell that absolutely no one gets; you say you're used to transitioning, and one more transition wouldn't hurt you.

He still doesn't know what it means.

For the most part you keep quiet, keep to yourself in your room where you do God knows what all day. It's a little funny – Benjamin is hardly ever in his room, but then again, he does have a rather strict training regime. Not that it's his choice, but it's something he must do nonetheless. During these times he thinks of the many guests in his home, joining his family during hunts, and studying in an extensive library that hides in the back of the temple.

That's where he finds you one day. Curled up on a tall ledge that you probably shouldn't be able to reach, with a large book in your hands that your face is entirely buried in. He shifts the elements around him for ease, allowing him to take a seat beside you on that tall ledge, carefully looking over your shoulder.

It's one of those books on the anatomy of vampires, one that he and his family consider a work of satire. You wouldn't know the difference, and for that he decides it's alright to interrupt, if only to give you the proper books for such knowledge.

"What is it that you're reading?" He asks, startling you out of your close concentration on the words.

"Oh, um, hi," you say, eyes switching rapidly between the book and the man beside you. "Just – just a book I found, on anatomy. I don't think it's quite accurate."

"This one isn't accurate at all," he says as he leans forward, glimpsing the front cover as if he didn't know what it was you're reading. "Would you like me to find a proper one for you?"

"That – that's not, uh, necessary. It's alright," you say with a sweet smile that brightens the anxiousness in your eyes.

He knows oh-so-little about you, he realizes, watching your mannerisms and the tone of your speech. These little things that he's gotten so used to knowing about people, it's made him accustomed to knowing the most arbitrary facts about everyone he interacts with. Now that he doesn't know, now that he's blind in his interaction – it spurs him on all the more to know you better.

The first thing he can note about you is that you're very kind, very polite, and very, very shy. He can taste your fear as he sits beside you, drifting off you in plumes that set his senses on edge. It's intoxicating, and you taste just like the hunt, the trailing hormones that follow terrified prey.

"It's no trouble," he says, taking the book from you and drifting higher, where an empty slot lay that once carried that book. Once he tucks it away he comes back down to you, helping you off the ledge and onto the ground, where the more important texts are kept.

"Thank you," you mumble, keeping your gaze on the floor.

"Of course. Now what questions are you seeking to answer?"

You freeze up and instantly your panic is overwhelming, so thick in your vicinity he swears he could faint. This taste is stronger than prey, sweeter than wine's blood, and more alluring than he could ever deem appropriate.

If this is what being around you is like, he never wants to leave.

"It's a little embarrassing," you admit in a soft voice, raising your hand to your mouth to bite at your fingertips.

"I won't laugh," he says, and that seems to be of some comfort to you, though it takes a little longer before you finally answer his question.

"... everyone here has these special powers, and I.. don't. And I don't know why. I want to find out," you say, hesitance claiming your every word despite you forcing them out.

"What? I'm sure you have something. You've only been like this for.. a month?"

"Three months," you say.

"That's no time at all. How about this; I will help you find your power, and you can... help me with a favor," he suggests, but is ready to notice any doubt in your expression.

"What's the favor?"

"Just a hypothesis I have. I'm sure you won't get hurt."

That is in no way comforting to you. You stand there for a moment more, chewing on your bottom lip as you contemplate your situation.

"Alright," you finally say, "but nothing too strange."

"Of course not."

He takes you outside, leading you in close steps towards his own training grounds. In the rough terrain of the mountains, the both of you stumble over loose rocks, latching onto boulders in order to push yourself up. The top of this particular mountain is a good place for training; not a living thing in sight, plant or animal, and no one from the ground can see you.

The waterfall running off the ledge of the platform is a perfect place to start, from the caverns filled with pools of water encased in crystals, to the waterfall itself, in constant swirling motion. He stands at the side of the falls and beckons you over, watching with a smile as you make an awkward running-walk to his side.

When he falls to his knee you follow, kneeling before the rushing water.

"Can you feel the pulse of this water?" He asks, holding his own hand above it. He can feel it – pounding in his fingertips, running like blood as he raises droplets of water into the air.

"I can.. feel the vibration," you say tentatively, staring at the water with a fixed worried expression.

Vibrations aren't indicative of a power, but it's best to fully rule something out before abandoning it. Thus he takes your hand, holds it right beneath his palm as he works his own magic, making it so droplets of water rise to your palm, only to fall like rain back upon the foam. A sort of cloud forms beneath your hand, rising through the gaps in your fingers like smoke from a fire.

"Try to contain the cloud," he says when he notices the wisps of grey.

You do your best, but in the end the control you have is nothing more than a mirage borrowed from Benjamin. Still, you look rather disappointed, and he frowns. He misses your smile already, and the hesitant eagerness of your original stature.

"It's very rare for vampires to be able to physically bend the elements to their will, so don't be worried," he comforts you, pulling you up with him when he stands.

You nod absently but say nothing.

"Should we try fire?" He asks, but the second he does so you tense up, and once more pheromones are flooding his system. He steps closer to you at some point – he doesn't remember doing so, but he's pressed up pretty close to you when he opens his eyes. That only worsens it, and your taste is tangible and thick on his tongue.

"I'm – I'm good with fire, I – um – I have a, sort of, thing against, um, fire," you stumble out, taking a few shaky steps back. It snaps him out of his trance, the unpleasant warmth of shame overtaking him as he realizes what he's doing.

"That's fine, uh," he pauses for a moment, wracking his brain for what to do next. "Here's.. an easier, um, trick. A fair amount of vampires end up with this power."

"Really?" You perk up a little and relief begs a sigh from him. He didn't fuck up.

"Yes, most have a form of telepathy. Connecting to different minds, or influencing the mind to perceive things that aren't truly happening, or simply ensnaring the opponent," he comes up behinds you, rests his hands on your shoulders and dramatically mimics grasping something far away, "to command them to their bidding."

You chuckle, and your breathing begins to steady once more.

"Right, and how do you check?"

The two of you were hardly ever close and never alone together before this point, but you knew some information about each other. You know his powers – the effect he has on the elements, and just how rare that sort of power is. He knows you as Edward's younger brother, a product of the modern world, a little confusing but all around worth being confused over. You know he won’t be able to show you true telepathy.

"Just concentrate deeply. Try and move that stone," he says, motioning towards one of the smaller pebbles near the stream of water.

Your eyes drift shut as you try to follow his advice, brow furrowing in concentration. He steps closer, till his chest is at your back, and though it breaks your train of thought for a second you realize he's trying to steady your breath. With your eyes once more closed, you follow the steady rhythm of his chest.

Nothing.

"Telepathy can be a little odd, as I'm sure you know. No two versions work quite the same," he says when he notices your shoulders drop. "Here, try this."

Instead he stands in front of you, hands square on your shoulders to force your attention to him. You wait intently with open eyes and ears.

"Try and connect to me," he says, and holds your gaze as you try your best. There's a strain evident on your face – you desperately want this, and every failure bleeds massive disappointment from your high expectations.

Can you hear me?

"Um.. y.. yes?" You answer gingerly, wondering if the words came from your own mind or his. By the way he beams you think they're his own words, and instantly a grin splits your face.

"Wonderful! That's a very helpful talent to have," he says, and you giggle, delighted by his enthusiasm for you.

Over the following hours – neither of you can tell the time with the sky so full of clouds – he goes over powers both common and rare. He gets you to try and manipulate the flame on the tip of his finger, but you can't do it. You try to create gusts of wind and it fails. In fact, the only victory you have is the mind telepathy, but it's enough to satisfy you.

As the sky begins to lighten ever so slightly, he decides time is up for now, even though there are several more things he wants to try. You tell him it's alright, but he insists; and of course you want to know more, so it doesn't take much to convince you.

He offers you his hand and says, "good work today."

You clasp his hand, but when he tries to shake you're stock still, completely spaced out. It takes a second before he even realizes what's happening, but once he does he shakes you out of it.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his brow knitted tight in concern.

"I... think I.." you pause, "I think I found a power."

"How so?"

From shaking his hand? That's.. not common.

"Well, um, I just felt a very strong.. surge of emotions, directed towards me," you say, clearing your throat as nerves get the best of you.

Oh shit, he thinks, and he knows you catch how his expression falls. He's got a reading power.

"Oh," he says, and the word sits there between you for a while. "You might have, um, psychometry. The ability to read things by touch."

"I – I have to go," you stammer out, but the second you release his hand you've vanished, leaving Benjamin atop the mountain alone.

He twists each way, scanning the area for any sign of you and finding none. It's either some sort of invisibility or teleportation, either of which he's sure would excite you. Still, it's hard to taper his own disappointment in himself, which drags on his mood the entire walk home.

#benjamin x reader #twilight benjamin #twilight

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coepiteamare · 3 years

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i am your ocean (your little mermaid)

pairing: taehyung x female!reader genre: angst? warnings: angst, implied sex, lapslock, broken hearts word count: 1.8k

drabble series: things you said: things you said too quietly summary: perhaps you’re fated to love him like the little mermaid, forced to pick between a broken heart and shattered one. (alt. everything blurs into a haze of heartbreak in the presence of tears.)

the pitter patter of raindrops against your windowpane, against the floor of your balcony, picks up in speed, blurring the view outside into a haze of lights, nondescript storefronts and smudges of colour from umbrellas as people avoid the rain. you watch the rain collect on your window, reaching out for other droplets and merging into one, picking up speed before falling when the weight of water is too much to bear.

it makes you think of the little mermaid.

the little mermaid was always your favourite disney movie. at age 5, it’s because you believe love conquers all, because you cry tears of crystal fairytales and bleed happy endings. at age 8, it’s because you too would give up worlds and your voice for a chance to meet the person you love. they’re out there somewhere, maybe separated a world away, but they’re there and one day, you’ll break barriers between worlds to hold their hand. at age 12, it’s because her hair is as red as her passion, burning bright against the blue sea as she cries “but daddy, i love him!” at age 16, it’s because you finally come across the original tale, learn how the little mermaid never gets her happy ending because she falls in love with a man engaged—in love with another woman—and despite her life on the line, refuses to give up on the idea of love. instead, she plunges a knife into her broken heart, hears the sad eulogy in the melody of his heartbeat entwined with someone that isn’t her, throws herself into the ocean and seafoam she becomes, each faint pop of foam a whispered reminder that for some, happy endings don’t come true. at age 16, you learn that sometimes love does not save you from the waves of reality, that some fates were written to end unhappy.

it feels a little like that now as you card your fingers through his sweaty locks, dyed red like ariel’s, bright red against the blue of both your feelings. “reminds me of the little mermaid,” you tell him, fingers gently brushing against his face, down his neck, back up to his hair. the breeze from your window settles into a cool chill on your skin, so you wrap the blanket around your naked body a little tighter and cling a little closer to his body, skin warm and still slightly sweaty.

it feels a little like love as his chuckle reverberates through the mattress and through the crevices of your bones, low and dark, void of humor. “not what i was going for, but i’ll take it.”

his hand settles on the small of your back, his face brushed with the white glare of his screen.

“do you want to talk about it?” you rest your chin on your arms above his chest. he momentarily shifts his gaze from his phone to you, eyes just as dark and stormy as the sky outside, and you pull your gaze away, an attempt to stop the swell of feelings you catch every time he throws a glance in your direction. you place your ear down instead, listening to the staccato of his heartbeat, just as bruised and battered as yours.

his sigh floods the air as he taps two fingers under your chin, a silent request, and you gently push yourself up to meet his lips.

he tastes like heartbreak and bad decisions, like half-assed texts and read receipts, but when he kisses you like this—soft and slow and sweet, all adagio against the speed of the city—the storm of your thoughts come to a halt. he makes it hard to not dive in headfirst, let the waves float with the waves away from shore. you sink into the kiss, lose yourself in the press of his tongue, distill the buzz of insecurities in the rush of your feelings. you let yourself forget that you aren’t her; instead, you submerge in the moment and feel the world dissolve on your skin as you pull him a little closer, closer, until the two of you are pressed skin against skin, space nonexistent as the kiss gains momentum.

until he gently drags his teeth against your bottom lip and pulls away, breaks surface tension, leaves you stranded in the sea of his being, shore miles beyond reach without a life preserver to cling on to.

you repeat the action, bite your lip between teeth to prolong the moment, drag every second to be longer. but time still slips between the cracks of your desperation like sand, filters through the fissures of your insecurities, and spirals out of your grasp faster. you’ve already lost him to the vibrations of his phone, a text message that lights up his eyes.

you brush your thumb against the hickey on his neck and feel the sadness crash over you, a loud tidal wave of quiet resignation: you can mark him all you want, but he’s not yours. never was, never will be.

but you, you are his. your heart is tucked behind your ribcage, but it beats for him.

because it’s so easy to love taehyung who feels things like the sea, wide and vast and open. taehyung who smiles like the sun on the horizon, warm and fuzzy and beautiful, always beautiful and always out of reach. it’s hard to not, even if the only times he comes over is when you ask, painstakingly typing over (and over and over) only to end up with the same message of, “hey can you come over?” even if he never stays long. even now, as he picks his clothes off the floor, slipping long legs through black pants and popping his head through a gray hoodie.

“not staying?” you sit up. it’s habit to ask at this point, even though you know the answer, know the sheepish smile and shrug of his shoulders a little too well, his mannerisms pressed into the mold of your thoughts.

“sorry,” he sounds apologetic, but you know he isn’t.

you know you won’t be the person he searches for in the sea of people, the person he spends his heart on, even if you spend every last cent, every wish, your everything on him. you won’t be her. but you peek your hand out of the covers anyways and reach out, grabbing on to the edge of his frayed hoodie. he turns around, eyebrow raised.

you open your mouth, but the words sink into your thoughts, distort like it’s filtered through water, and everything catches in your throat. it’s quiet: the pitter patter of raindrops against the windowpane, against the balcony floor.

stay with me.

you feel his eyes on you as you drop your gaze to the floor, to the toes peeking through the sheets your body is wrapped in, hand still gripping his hoodie.

don’t leave me here alone.

maybe your last page doesn’t end in happily ever after.

do you wish i were her?

“do you think the little mermaid was a fool for keeping her feelings to herself, not letting him know she loved him?”

he furrows his brows, mouth quirked in confusion. he mulls over it, chews on your words until the thoughts burst on his tongue. “i think she told him in the ways she knew how, in the ways she could.” he gently pries your grip off his sweater and holds your hand in his, mindlessly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “i think people in love are always expressing their love in one way or another. the other person may be oblivious to the intention, but i don’t think it goes unnoticed.”

“was she a fool for falling in love with someone already in love with another? for choosing them over herself?”

he chuckles softly, bemusement in every rise of his chest. you watch as he gently lets your hand go and tucks it neatly on your lap. “i think we’re all fools when it comes to love, but there’s no pause and play button, is there? we don’t really get to choose to whom we fall for or when we stop.” he squats down to eye-level as he drapes your duvet over your shoulders, fiddles with the edge, eyes never meeting yours. “but i do think she chose to do what she thought would hurt her less. she wanted to stay by his side, even if it hurt to see him with someone that isn’t her: it broke her heart, but i think it would have shattered had she stopped his. there are fates worse than death.”

the room floods with the sound of raindrops picking up in speed, pelting against the windowpane, against the balcony floor. the quiet settles around the two of you, just as thick and heavy as the duvet on your shoulders, and the two of you stay like that awhile, lost in thought.

there’s a ghost of a hand on your shoulder, a slight squeeze, before he plods towards the door.

you are the casualty from casual relationships, a willing prey caught in the trap of a hunter unwilling to kill. there is no pause or stop button in sight. no end to your story, no matter how many pages you turn.

you turn your gaze to the window. the raindrops cling to the window, becoming bigger and bigger. they tremble to hold on, to stay together, before collapsing, dispersing back into tiny droplets. they then repeat the process over and over and over again, tirelessly building before breaking apart.

“i love you” you say quietly. you let the words fall from your lips, dribble down your skin like water droplets, and dissipate in the ocean of your feelings. watch them dissolve into the seafoam of your being and sink down, down, down.

the wind doesn’t have a chance to deliver your words, message drowned in the sound of the rain coming from your open balcony. you see his reflection through the mirror--the way he shoves his feet into his slides, sticks his hands into his pocket--and watch him close the door, never once looking back.

everything blurs into a haze of heartbreak in the presence of tears.

you let your body fall into your mattress, pinned down by your feelings, and curl up, wondering if this is what the weight of her knife felt like. maybe he was right in that there are fates worse than death. perhaps you’re fated to love him like the little mermaid after all, forced to pick between a broken heart and a shattered one.

the enfilade of rain continues and pelts against the windowpane, against your balcony floor.

A/N: this took me 2 weeks to write for no reason other than i am dumb. i find it hard to write for tae: i’ve scrapped and rewritten this story thrice (it initially was supposed to be an actual little mermaid fic, then it changed to a siren fic, then it became this.) i still feel a bit iffy about it, but i’ve also looked at it for too long AND i have quite a few darlings in this one, so up it goes. idk why i’ve decided christmas/christmas eve is the time to post angst, but here it goes.

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenarios #bts fic #bts scenario #bts imagine #taehyung angst #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #bangtanuniversity #heartsforbts #violet dreams of violet gardens

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askteacupfollie · 3 years

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Hanahaki Disease

For the last few days Camilla and cuphead had noticed that mugman was coughing a lot and had chest pains..

He would excuse himself and go to the bathroom where he would vomit.. Red petals along with blood… He searched and from the symptoms he found out he had the hanahaki disease…

Hanahaki disease “those who suffer, their love is one sided” … Mugman loved camilla.. He didn’t know if she loved him back.. She’s been giving more attention to cuphead.. a few tears ran down his ocean blue eyes..

He laid down and cried himself to sleep..he didn’t want to die.. He loved her.. He didn’t want to leave his brother alone there were many things he wanted to do.. As he cried he fell asleep.. His tears on the pillow and some on his eyes.. Slowly running down his pale face.

Cuphead and camilla grew concerned.. They were in the kitchen talking.. They heard mugman slam the door and coughing.. That tickling sensation in his neck was annoying.. Very.. Annoying.. He coughed.. How he wished that Camilla will confess her love to him and end the suffering…but…

No.. No.. He HAD TO SUFFER… Red gold petals fell on his hands. He coughed a little more than usual his chest hurt the coughing was so strong he could feel his lungs tremble he could feel the damned flowers tickling his neck and chest.. More petals fell upon his hands he held his chest because it hurt..it..it..hurt…. The pain.. Unbearable.. And his heart? Broken.

Cuphead and camilla who were listening.. flinched everytime he coughed it sounded so painful and cuphead was sick of waiting he wanted to help yes.. He played it tough but deep down he loved his brother, he was caring not heartless .. He heard mugman coughing harder this time and Had enough..

Cuphead got up and told Camilla “stay here cam” he ascended the stairs and saw mugman leaving the bathroom..

Taking a closer look he saw his brother’s condition.. He was a mess.. when was the last time he had a good night sleep.. He had black circles under his eyes.. He was thinner.. Was he eating? Was he suffering and they were to blind to notice? Was he sick? What the actual heck was going on?!

He took a deep breath and asked him

“Allright mugs.. That settles it.. Tell me.. Whats wrong..” he crossed his hands in front of his chest and raising his eyebrow..

Mugman said nothing.

Cuphead grew impatient with Mugman’s silence.. He patted his leg impatiently.. “Well?!” he tried again.. Again he was met with Mugman’s silence .. “ANSWER ME!” he yelled and mugman flinched..

Seeing this Cuphead’s angry expression became softer he walked closer and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and said “Talk to me mugs.. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.. What’s wrong..” his face no longer angry but sympathetic, soft, caring.

Mugman looked at him and sighed “Come to my room.. And i will explain..” he walked in his bedroom..

Cuphead followed.. He had a feeling that something bad.. Was going to happen… His stomach clenched his heart heavy he felt a cold hand squeezing it!

Mugman sat on bed holding a folder inside there was this illness.. He patted the spot next to him.. Cuphead reluctantly sat down and he saw mugman handing him the folder.. He took it and read it..

Hanahaki disease the sufferer will die if his love isn’t returned… In order to cure the hanahaki disease your love shall be returned.. If not the victim will die of suffocation.. Flowers will grew from his chest and crawl all the way up to the neck.. Suffocating the victim.. Another way is to remove them via surgery.. But.. All the love for this person will be gone… Nothing but hate and apathy will exist..

Cuphead stopped reading “is this a kind of prank.. Because.. If so.. I don’t like.. It.. Mugs..” he said he was shaking his hands trembling and sweating.. Mugman looked at him tears ran down his face.. “no.. Cups… It isn’t a prank..” He said and held his chest he coughed and red petals fell on his hands…

Cuphead was scared. No. Petrified.. Why? Was he coughing red roses petals…? Am… Am i gonna lose my little brother? No.. No..

No! NO NO NONONONO!!.. He had to be joking..

He ran and rubbed his back…he fell on his knees coughing harder more red petals fell..

“Mugs? Does camilla know?”

He shook his head no and said that he doesn’t know how to tell her.. He doesn’t even know if that will help..

Cuphead.. Held his tears… He hugged mugman and said “We will find a way don’t worry.. Stay here and have some good rest i will check on you later..” He helped him up and laid him on bed.. He covered him with a blanket and as soon as he mug touched the pillow he slept.. Cuphead held his tears “I WILL help you mugs” he closed the door quietly

He left him and went to speak with Camilla…

Kai had come so when cuphead went to speak she had already gone.. she had left a note mugman knew…that.. His time… Wasn’t much…

For three days cuphead tried to speak to camilla… And failed… mugman’s pain deteriorated…

At some point they were eating… Mugman excused himself and left to the bathroom.. This time it was more painful.. Whole flowers fell from his mouth… His heart broken… Cuphead knew.. And he tried to tell her.. But she wouldn’t listen.. She would speak about Kai…! No matter how hard he tried to explain her.. She didn’t listen…

It was night.. Mugman had sensed that his time was coming.. He sat with them ate some food as much as his weak body could. He saw Camilla “Hey..” he said weakly camilla stopped and look at him damn.. She was so busy with Kai she had left the boys.. Now that she paid closer attention he wasn’t looking so good… “hey” she said “im sorry mugs I’ve been busy..” he replied “its.. Its okay may I give you a hug?"

"sure!” she opened her arms and he gently hugged her.. She felt something inside her as if something bad will happen hugging him she noticed that he had lost weight..

Mugman let go of her he caressed her cheek “Goodnight.. I… I love you.."

He then hugged cuphead goodnight love you bro

They went to sleep.

.. The next morning mugman didn’t appear he was always the first to get up.. Something told cuphead that something was wrong… Very.. Very.. Wrong.. He went to his room.. He knocked on the door.. no answer.."Mugman? You okay?” cup asked no answer “MUGS OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR OTHERWISE I WON’T HESITATE TO BREAK IT!!" again he tried to open the door but it was locked . He even used his shoulder and pushed /slammed the door but With his shoulder.. But nothing Camilla grew concerned she said.. "Mugs? You okay?please let us in"

"Stay back Cam” He said and shoot the door opened..

There before them laid mugman a red rose coming out his mouth gold red blue and green petals were everywhere.. Blood was on his clothes.. He held a letter in his hands he had blood with it..

His expression of sadness. Tears were on his face.. He still had some senses…

Camilla… Lost the earth beneath her feet..

“What’s wrong? ” she asked

“I’ve been wanting to tell you but you were so obsessed with Kai.. You forgot our existence… Cami… He has the hanahaki disease

Those love is one sided are destined go die. Unless their love is returned.” he said Mugman looked at them..he couldn’t breath.. His weak body would jerk as breathing became to difficult Cuphead felt sympathy.. He even tried to remove the flowers himself but that was impossible he was hurting him.. Mugman closed his eyes shut and squeezed them.. He winced and cuphead instantly stopped… He hugged him in his final moments camilla read the letter…

«Why don’t you love me Camilla? From the fist time I saw you i love you.. Camilla.. What did i do to you and you don’t love me.. Camilla… Im happy that cuphead doesn’t suffer the pain I suffer now… Camilla.. I could remove the flowers but my feelings for you will be gone as well.. I could never do it.. Even if its your fault.. I suffer… Even if you are to blame… I can’t blame you.. Even if I had to repeat this life or any other life again I would still love you with all my heart.. Forgive me.. For all the times I hurt you please take care of Cuphead and Elder kettle for me.. Promise me all of you that no matter what happens you will stay strong .. I will love you… Always..» she noticed that the ink in some pages was blurry implying that he was crying there were some blood along with petals

Camilla heard cuphead calling her name “Camilla? Please We don’t have much time!!” he yelled while shaking.. His tears ran down her face.. Mugman’s body soon relaxed blood along with petals were everywhere in the room he held his brother’s hand tighter more tears ran down their faces.. Mugman smiled.. Cuphead yelled desperately “ CAMILLA?!?! DO SOMETHING DAMN IT!!!” that scream was enough to pull her out of her thoughts she crawled and cupped mugman’s face with her trembling hands and yelled no… Confessed

“ I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MUGMAN I’M SORRY IM SORRY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! "

Mugman had closed his eyes a few tears ran down his eyes .. NONONONONO her tears fell on the flower and his face…

¡¡¡¡¡I DO LOVE YOU!!!!

The flowers disappeared slowly he jerked while in the process .. The flowers were gone and he could breath again "GASP” he gasped. His chest moving fast as he breathed hungrily. It took some time to come around but he managed, he coughed and coughed his breathing became stable and… Cuphead hugged him… “DONT SCARE ME AGAIN YOU BASTARD!! Mugs hugged him back , then Camilla hugged him” Im sorry mugs it’s my fault… Im sorry don’t scare me again like this! “ she kissed him the liquid in his head foaming and white hearts came out of his straw like smoke she then kissed cuphead as an apology, he melted under the kiss as well his liquid foamed and hearts came out of his straw like smoke

They helped him get up there was a happy look on their faces "Im sorry” she said “it’s okay just please listen to us” mugman said she nodded “of course" Cuphead offered "let’s clear up the mess and its a beautiful day outside let’s go and have a picnic” They nodded “that sounds great.. Um i will clean up the mess!” mugman said cuphead left to prepare the things they will need Camilla came as well to help cuphead.

“Im sorry i didn’t listen to you! ” she said “Im not that heartless yes i play it tough but.. I love him… He is my brother.. I can’t lose him Cam..” he said and with his sleeve he wiped away some tears.. “ I know.. Im sorry…!” she looked down “hey its okay he is alive now just listen to me the same way I and Mugs listen to you!” he said and she nodded

Mugman cleared the place changed clothes and was descended the stairs everything was ready they went to a mountain that was close to their home they played they danced, ate laid on the grass and seeing the clouds trying to guess what shape they are, they giggled and played in the river splashing each other cuphead lifted Camilla on his shoulders she playfully shrieked and dive into the water. They laughed Mugman and cuphead wrestled into the water and splashed each other then they picked flowers and made a crown Camilla did one with red flowers for cuphead and one with blue flowers for mugman the boys made flower crowns with colorful flowers and put it on her hair she put the one with the red flowers to cuphead and the other with the blue ones to mugman. They giggled. They all had a great time and they were happy!!

The End!

Hellooooooooo hehe one more fanfiction 💙💙💙💙💙💙sorry if this sucked! I hope you like it!! UωU 💕💕💖🤗 (🇬🇷)

RESPONSE

Mod- jesus dude lol

#teacupfolliefanfic #submission

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98prilla · 4 years

Text

To Catch a Selkie

What a fool, he was.

He liked to think himself smart, he liked to think himself clever, but he was anything but, currently.

Curiosity had always been his downfall, his failing, his one deadly fault. He would pursue answers to the ends of the earth, fascinated by a world that wasn’t his, that he had been warned time and time again was dangerous, but he hadn’t listened, had he?

And now, well, now his life may as well be over.

It was already fading, the memories of the sea, of ocean water, of slipping between the waves smoothly and sleekly, his pod around him. The pups playing, splashing, sidling up to the dolphins, the braver ones to the whales.

He had thought himself brave, once. But now he knew better. Reckless, that’s what he was, stupidly reckless.

He was cold. Cold was an unusual feeling for him. He’d never known real cold before. His coat always kept him warm.

But his coat was gone, now. Stolen. Just like every story he’d ever been told by his kin, every folktale warning of humans and their greed, he had succumbed to his own hubris.

He wouldn’t leave this beach. This was as close to home as he could get, just far enough away that the water wouldn’t touch him, the spray couldn’t reach him.

It was agony. It was torture. Watching the tide roll in, the gentle lapping of the waves, the spray of the salt, the clouded, windy sky, stretching out across that blue oasis.

He shivered, arms tightening around his middle, curling against himself, salty tears spilling down his face.

It hurt, stars above, it hurt. He could feel them calling to him, begging him to come home, to answer their calls, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t if he wasn’t touching the sea, and he could never touch the sea again.

“Hey! Are you ok? What are you doing out here?” He looked up at the worried voice, meeting green eyes and black hair, with white streaked bangs.

“What do you want?” His voice was flat, empty, exhausted. The stranger furrowed his brow, confused.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you’re barely wearing any clothes, sitting on the beach when a thunderstorm is rolling in, in the middle of autumn. Do you have a death wish, or something?”

“maybe. I haven’t quite decided yet, if it is better to die now or slowly waste away pining for the sea. Or perhaps my owner,” he spat the word, bitter on his tongue, “will find me and the last of my memories will fade until I have nothing left but an empty, yearning, desperate desire for something I can no longer name.” The stranger stared at him for a long moment, taking him in.

He was wearing ragged shorts, no shirt or shoes or anything else. His hair was smooth and silky, despite his constant exposure to salt water. His face was sharp and angular, what he supposed humans considered breathtakingly handsome, with his large, dark brown eyes and perfectly tanned skin. He supposed that’s what had got him into this mess in the first place.

He doubled over, clutching his head as a resounding, echoing cry keened through his mind, and he shot to his feet, barely restraining himself from rushing into the water, eyes wide and breaths heaving.

“no. No! I’m here! I’m right here, I’m not lost! PLEASE!” He screamed at the waves, knowing they couldn’t hear him, knowing they wouldn’t hear him, ever again.

Leaving him. They were leaving him. They were giving him up, they were migrating to new waters, they were marking him as lost, and the worst part was, as much as he hated it, as much as it tore him to pieces, they were right.

It was only logical. He had come ashore and not come back within 24 hours. It was too dangerous for anyone else to come ashore and search, not when they didn’t know what had happened, not when he might have been discovered, not when there could be others waiting.

Selkie coats sold for quite a fortune, after all.

So did the selkies they were attatched to.

He let out a harsh sob, would have collapsed to the ground if the stranger hadn’t caught him, lowered him gently to the sand.

He was doomed. His connection to the sea would grow weaker, his connection to his coat stronger, until he was forced, compelled, to go to it, to go to his master, to obey his orders.

And everyone knew what happened to selkies whose coats were stolen. Everyone knew what humans wanted with the alluring, beautiful, mysterioius sea folk.

Yet another loss, to shatter him, break him, soon his body, and worse, his mind, would no longer be his own. He was owned. Like a thing, like a toy, like a doll. Just the thought made him ill, truly, throwing himself into the sea and dissolving into the foam was the best possible option.

He was freezing. Or he thought he was. He was so cold he didn’t even feel cold anymore, a pleasant, fuzzy warmth filling him, as cold droplets began to fall from the sky. Each one left him feeling slick and slimy, like swimming through oil. It left him feeling dirtier than before, and he shuddered at the feel of it, bile rising in his throat.

The stranger was saying something, he thought. He couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in his ears, the cotton filling his head with fear/panic/pain/despair/longing. It was too much, it was too cold, it was too futile, and his brain shut down before he could drive himself further to madness.

…

Swimming. The water parts around him, as he swims. There’s a voice, calling him onwards, pulling him towards it. It sings with power, it glows with warmth, with the promise of all the answers he’s ever searched for, all the knowledge he could ever wish for, and he drives his tail faster through the water, towards the light.

Then it turns cold. Ice wraps around him, the water freezing, he can’t reach the surface, he can’t breathe, he’s running out of air. He thrashes, trying to escape the chains he can feel, dragging him down, words echoing through the water.

“Come to me.” Burns, it burns, he won’t, he can’t, he-

His eyes flew open and he let out a strangled cry of pain, squeezing his eyes closed and counting his breathes, shoving and fighting that voice until it abated, faded away into nothing, and he pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tight, still shaking from the call.

It was so strong, already. So hard to resist, though he had been asleep, which made it more difficult to fight, but still. How long until it was completely enthralling? How long until he lost himself forever?

With another jolt of panic, he realized he wasn’t on the beach anymore. There had been a blanket draped around him, he was on a couch, in a house, and he felt his pulse speed. Had he already been caught? Were they just keeping him captive until his owner arrived? He had to fight, he had to think, he had to do something!

He looked around the room, a coffee table sat in front of him, a bookshelf against the wall, photos sitting on a shelf, an entertainment set with a television, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing he could use.

He froze as he heard footsteps, eyes dilating, and he bared his slightly too sharp teeth, hissing a warning as the human came into view. His hands were held in the air, and he took a step back, eyes lowered to the ground. Everything about his body language screamed I am not a threat, I don’t want to hurt you, and despite himself, he let his guard down. It was the stranger from the beach.

“You stopped hissing. Does that mean you’re not gonna bite me?” That got a small laugh out of him, the innocence and pure curiosity in the human’s tone.

“I am not. Why am I here?” He asked, uneasiness churning in his gut.

“Well, you passed out on the beach, and it looked like you had hypothermia, your lips were turning blue, seriously freaked me out, so I had to get you indoors and warmed up. We’re at my apartment, right now. My friend is also here, but, um, we decided it was best I come talk to you, since you already kinda knew me.” Well meaning, then. “I would have called someone, for you, but you didn’t have an id or anything, so, we were just waiting for you to wake up.” And considerate. Not intent on keeping him hostage then, that was a relief. Not that it mattered much.

“So… you’re a selkie, yeah?” He shot to his feet at that question, teeth bared again, fists clenched, eyes flashing as he backed up against the wall, so no one could get the drop on him. How did he know that? Had he gotten him wrong? Was he just holding him here until his owner arrived? How else would he know?

“Remus! What did you do?!” He whipped his head as a new person appeared in the doorway, growl dying on his throat as he saw the new stranger. Dark violet eyes, pitch black hair, dark shadows around his eyes, pale and lanky.

A Night Sylph. A spirit of air, tied to darkness, helping to bring the night and protecting the creatures of it. He himself may not be a creature of air, but a Sylph wouldn’t allow anything to harm a mythical, not if they hadn’t acted against his creatures first.

“I apologize. I did not realize your friend was a Sylph. Not many humans could identify a Selkie, much less one without their coat. I was afraid…” He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say the words aloud, his shoulders slumping and hands relaxing, as he felt the Sylph’s concerned eyes on him, gaze softening.

“it was stolen.” The sylph said softly, not a question, but he nodded anyways, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, eyes watering again. “how long?” He took a shaking breath.

“36 hours and counting. My pod is already moving on. I give myself another 12 to 18 hours, before I have no choice but to go to Him.” He whispered, the sorrow washing through him nearly drowning him.

“That is not going to happen. We are not going to let that happen.” His eyes shot up, the Sylph’s voice fiery, his eyes glowing with his determination and fierceness. The human nodded, hand slipping into the Sylph’s, eyes just as hard and cold.

“We’re gonna find that coat. We’re gonna find that little bitch, and I’m gonna beat the shit out of him, for even daring to lay a hand on it.” His mouth was agape, looking between the two, confused, but feeling a small bubble of hope start to build in his chest.

“why?” his voice is so small, but he doesn’t have it in him to be any louder.

“Because it’s wrong! It’s slavery, and it’s hurting you, and it’s cruel.” The human replies, and the Sylph smiled at him softly.

“I’m Virgil. This idiot is Remus.” Virgil said, bumping Remus’s shoulder lightly, Remus rolling his eyes.

“Logan. You can call me Logan.” Virgil nodded, carefully coming just a bit closer as he looked over Logan.

“Why don’t we sit down, and you can tell us what you remember. That’ll give us somewhere to start.” He nodded, sinking into an armchair, knees once again pulled to his chest.

“Do you want anything to drink? Or eat?” Remus asked. He shook his head, and Remus sat on the edge of the couch, Virgil perching on the arm of it. Eating anything now would just make him sick, his stomach was so tied in knots he could barely breathe properly.

“I… it’s blurry. I was in town. I was in… in a park. I like to look at the plants, at the trees. I had my coat with me, obviously, I can’t go anywhere without it. It was wrapped around my shoulders, like a shawl. Then… then suddenly it wasn’t. Someone grabbed it, from behind me. I was stunned, I tried to chase, I only got a look from behind. Light hair… tall, I… he looked at me. Eyes, mismatched eyes. He didn’t try and take me, he knew he didn’t need to. Knew I would be forced to come to him, now that I’m stuck on land.” He shivered, remembering the glint in the man’s eyes, the smug smile on his face.

“What happens? If you go back to the water without your coat?”

“Remus!” Virgil hissed, but a wry smile crossed his face.

“I… die. I dissolve, into the ocean, into the waves, into nothing. As if I never existed. Not… not the worst option, truly. At least then I’d be home.”

“no. Logan, that is not going to happen. You won’t have to make that decision.” He flinched at the hand on his shoulder, looking up at Remus’s soft, kind eyes.

“We’re gonna find him, Lo. I promise.” He simply nodded. He knew the probability of them retrieving his coat in time was low, but he was willing to let them try. He didn’t have any other choice.

“I can tell it hasn’t left town. That’s all I know.” Virgil hummed in thought.

“Well, you got a fair description of him, not that many people have heterochromia. And we know he knew what you were, so it’s someone with knowledge of mythicals. Probably a collector, or someone who works for them. That narrows it down quite a bit. I’ll go scope things out, find a likely area. You’ll be able to feel it, if it’s close, yeah?” Virgil asked, and he nodded once more. “cool. Remus, stay with him. I’ll be back soon.”

“What should I do?” Logan asked, and Virgil softened further.

“Try and get some more rest. You’re still exhausted, and it’s only going to get worse the longer you’re away from the water. Build up strength now, while you can.” He didn’t think he’d be getting much rest, not with the fear and anxiety filling his every pore, but he acquiesced anyway.

“Are you cold?” Remus murmured, feeling his forehead. He let out a harsh laugh.

“I’m always cold, without my coat. Nothing else feels… right, or warm, everything else itches or scratches or…” He trailed off in frustration, raking his hand through his hair, surprised as Remus slid into the chair next to him, before pulling him onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

He was warm, stars above, Remus was warm, and he couldn’t help himself, as he melted into the touch, warmth surrounding him for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He didn’t understand, why it was so easy to surrender himself to this human, didn’t know why he felt safe, why it warmed him so deeply from the inside out, when so recently he had been irrevocably wounded by a human. He didn’t have the energy to care, though an answer niggled in the back of his brain.

Something about Remus being so passionate, barely knowing him, yet reading him as easily as a favorite book, the way he was so willing to fight for him, the way he didn’t for a moment seem to hesitate, in anything that he did.

He didn’t know him. Barely knew him for more than five minutes. But he’d somehow never felt more right.

“This better?” Remus whispered in his ear, and he let out a small hum of agreement, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth brought out the overwhelming ache for sleep in his bones.

Remus looked up in time to catch the small smile on Virgil’s face. Virgil saw him looking and shot him a thumbs up, before quietly vanishing out the door, a wisp of soft fog against the air as he shifted into his ethereal form.

…

The beach. Water lapping on the shore, sun shining warm and bright. He can hear his pod, off in the distance, can see the pups’ heads popping up through the water, splashing and playing. He calls out to them, wading into the water.

He swims towards them, but the faster and harder he swims, the thicker the water seems to get, the darker the sea becomes around him, his family vanishing into the distance. He tries to call out, but his voice is locked in his throat.

He can’t breathe. He is choking on the water, it is filling his lungs, it is dragging him down, blackness surrounding him as he sinks into the depths. He claws at the water around him, he screams, bubbles leaking from his mouth as his mind goes fuzzy.

“Come now, little pup. Stop resisting. You’ll feel so much better, once you just give in.” The voice is smooth and silky, sweet and warm as honey. He shouldn’t listen, he knows he shouldn’t listen, but he can’t quite remember why.

“That’s right, lovely. Come home-“

“Logan!”

He jolted awake, heart racing, unsure where he was, what was happening. He was pinned to the floor, wrists held down, and for a moment he thrashed, panic blinding him, before the soft tone cut through his haze, and he relaxed, head thumping back against the floor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Logan?” Virgil, from the doorway, he heard the door close. He must’ve just gotten back. Remus’s face came into view above him.

“You back with us?” He nodded, and Remus carefully released his hold on his wrists, supporting him as he helped him sit up. Instantly, Logan took stock of the scratches on Remus’s arms, the four bleeding cuts across his cheek, and he buried his head in his hands, shoulders shaking.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t…” He broke off, sighing raggedly.

“He was calling you. You couldn’t help it, Lo.” Virgil said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, feeling Remus wrap his arms around him.

“It’s not your fault. You scared me, more than anything. I could tell you weren’t… you. You were trying to leave, I had to grab you, and you just started clawing at me. Caught me off guard, but I’ve had worse than this, trust me.” He half laughed at that, the panic starting to settle into something a bit more tolerable.

“Did you find anything?” He asked, wiping at his eyes, looking up at Virgil, who pursed his lips.

“I think so. Rumors, an old warehouse, downtown. Strange noises, strange lights, nothing confirmed, but I did a quick flyby, I didn’t go close, Remus,” Virgil commented at Remus’s stern glance, “Just enough to get a sense, and there was a faint spell around it, to divert attention. Just enough to make it uninteresting to any humans, who don’t already know what to look for, anyway.” Logan got to his feet, a bit wobbly. The overwhelming need for the ocean was pounding in his pulse, pain in his chest, and it took a moment to steady himself against it.

“Let’s go, then. What are we waiting for?” He asked.

“Logan, pal, you’re in no shape for a raid.” He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Any longer and I will not be able to resist the next call. That one was so strong, I have a few hours, at most, before I will be completely incapacitated. And you can bet you won’t be able to find it without me, he will have hidden it, somewhere, hidden it well, if he’s smart. It is now or never, as I believe your saying goes.” He sounded more sure than he felt. A slight ache was pounding at his head, and he felt slightly dizzy, a bit off kilter, but he couldn’t let that stop him. This was their best chance, their only chance.

Virgil and Remus exchanged a glance, a silent conversation held in their eyes, but after a few moments, Remus nodded and Virgil sighed. Logan was right, and they both knew it.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

…

His pulse raced as he stared at the unassuming building. He could feel it, feel it, feel it. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted, eyes trained on the doors.

“Here?” Virgil asked lowly. He nodded, hands shaking with anticipation. It was close, it was so, so close.

Carefully, they snuck around the side of the building, managing to find an unlocked window. It was a tight fit for Remus, but Logan was slender enough he slid through easily, and Virgil simply flowed inside in his noncorporeal form.

They landed with soft thumps inside the darkened warehouse, and instantly, they froze at a soft, bell like sound.

“Kiddos, what are you doing here? Run!” A small, musical voice hissed at them. They turned their heads, surprised to see a small birdcage sitting by the window, a tiny, winged figure clutching at the bars, giving off a soft blue glow. Virgil’s eyes widened, and he was instantly examining the cage, biting his lip as he assessed the lock.

“Don’t worry, Spriggan. I’ll have you out in a jiffy.” Virgil murmured, eyes deepening in their violet glow, as air swirled around the lock. His gaze intensified, the air around him almost buzzing. Then the lock popped open.

The sprite gasped softly as Virgil opened the cage door, fluttering to the edge, almost hesitant to step outside.

“It’s ok. I promise.” Virgil whispered, and the sprite fluttered out, a quiet, disbelieving laugh ringing out as he flew a few laps around Virgil’s head, before settling on his nose and hugging his forehead as far as his tiny arms could reach.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Sylva. But you have to go! You have to leave, now, before he-“

“Finds you? Please, Patton, I knew they were here from the moment they stepped inside.” Instantly, the sprite was gone, buzzing out the window as fast as his wings would carry him, leaving the three to spin around and face the darkness alone.

Logan gasped, icy fear plunging into his heart as he met those gold and brown eyes, that arrogant smirk.

“Give it back. Now.” Virgil growled, and the figure laughed, a dangerously soft sound.

“As if you are in any position to bargain. You did just cost me my Sprite. Though I suppose a Sylph is a fair trade, an upgrade, even.” He mused. Virgil hissed, eyes flashing as he shifted incorporeal, a dark splash of smoke as he swirled up and away.

“As if you could catch me.” The stranger’s smile widened.

“Oh, you do amuse me. I think you will be a new favorite of mine. I will enjoy watching you struggle.” He snapped, and golden light flared to life around him, golden strings unspooling from his fingers, twisting and turning through the air. Virgil dodged and weaved, avoiding the threads that were spiderwebbing through the rafters, slowly closing in on him.

Remus growled, and charged at the man, who lithely stepped out of the way, as he stumbled past him. He felt something coil around him, sending him falling, and he looked up to see a huge, hissing golden serpent wrapping tight around his body. He jolted as Virgil cried out, and he saw him falling through air, landing hard on his back on the ground, gold thread squeezing around him. Then the snake bit into his neck, and the world blurred.

“Remus!” Logan lunged towards him, halting mid step at the soft glimmer he caught in the corner of his eye, slowly turning to face the sorcerer, eyes locked on the soft fur coat held in his hands.

It shimmered, gray and black, smooth and silky, and for a moment, Logan could feel the ocean around him, could see the endless waves, could taste the salt, could feel the cool relief of water.

“There now, little pup. Isn’t that better?” He purred. Logan couldn’t breathe. His heart was frozen in his chest, he couldn’t even bring himself to blink, the want, the overwhelming need filling his soul, his very being. Slowly, despite himself, he nodded.

“Logan… no…” a voice begged weakly. Distantly, he thought he knew that voice, but his coat was all he could see, the gold and brown imprinting into his soul, and his whole being relaxed, putty in his veins.

“Now, lovely, why don’t you come with me?” Emptily, he nodded, following the sorcerer’s directions, his hand on the small of his back guiding him into a small, dark, room, and he passively sat. His mind was fuzzy, soft, barely aware. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, but the feeling flowed over his head, lost in the heady buzz filling his chest.

Dimly, he felt something cold clamping around his ankles, felt something hard clamp around his wrists. He whimpered, trying to move, but a voice shushed him.

“None of that, now, darling.” A hand caressed his cheek, tilting his chin up to meet gold and brown. They stopped his breath, they sucked him in, and he was drowning in those hypnotizing pools, slumping weakly back against the wall. “Wonderful. Oh, you are a pretty one, aren’t you?” He felt those hands turning his chin, examining him, before stepping away with a dark chuckle. Logan’s head fell back against the wall, eyes blurred and unseeing, mind empty and buzzing with soft, hazy warmth. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing, lovely. Jussst sssleeep.” His eyes fluttered shut, the man's voice echoing softly through his mind, recognizing dimly the feel of a spell weaving into him, taking him into a dark, empty oblivion. He didn’t hear the door shut, the lock turn, didn’t notice the pure black darkness of the room. He didn’t notice or feel or think anything. Not anymore.

…

Virgil was dying. Or he thought he was. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t… there wasn’t any air, he couldn’t live without air, he was air, it was his being, he needed it. He gasped in a choking breath, managing to raise his head just enough to see. He was in a large, glass cylinder. He could see a grate at the top, could feel it, it was a vacuum, he was trapped in a vacuum, he was helpless, he was defenseless, he was trapped.

Roman. He could see Roman, through the glass. He was tied to a chair, he could see the sorcerer circling him, taunting him, if he had to guess, and he tried to do anything, tried to get to his feet, but he only succeeded in falling to his hands and knees, dizzy and gasping and consciousness fading, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t leave Remus to this mess all on his own.

But it felt like a thousand pounds of rocks sitting on his chest, it felt like the weight of a mountain pressing down on him, and he weakly clawed at his throat, desperate for air, any air, as his vision flickered, dimming.

Then, suddenly, shattering glass. He wheezed in a desperate breath, kneeling on broken glass, barely getting his bearings as another lungful of air filled him with power.

He didn’t have time to wait. He shot to his feet, eyes flashing electric violet, form dissolving and coalescing into a menacing, flashing cloud of angry black, shadows growing throughout the room, darkening everything. A low growl rumbled, like thunder, and then the room was filled with crackling, sizzling lightning.

…

Roman woke tied to a chair. He groaned, a bit surprised to be waking at all. He had thought for sure that snake was going to kill him.

“Hello there, dearie. Pleasure to meet you properly.” He hissed, struggling against the rope, glaring as those eyes came into view, the man leaning casually on the arms of the chair, too close in his space.

“What do you want?” He spat, not ceasing his struggle, even as the stranger tutted, tilting the chair back on its back legs as he circled it.

“You see, I was going to kill you. Just a human, just in my way, too much care and desperation to stop chasing me, not when I have your little pets.”

“They aren’t my pets. They’re my friends.” The man just chuckled, slamming the chair back down on all four legs, causing him to bite his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

“But then I realized something. You are not the simple human you appear to be, are you?” He froze, breathe catching, before his defiant mask slid back into place.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man tutted again, grabbing his chin and forcing himself to stare into those eyes.

“Liar, liar, little changeling. Why didn’t they want you, I wonder? Stunted growth? Crippled limb? Ah,” He snapped, “Crippled magic.” Remus winced, jerking his chin out of his hold, glaring at the ground. “Bit touchy, are we?”

“Fuck off.” He looked up, and spat directly into that smug face, enjoying immensely the expression of pure shock and outrage that twisted his lips as he wiped away the bloody spit.

“Oh, you will pay for that.” Then the room exploded in lightning.

“-us! Remus!” He groaned, slowly blinking his eyes open, blinking again as a soft glow of blue buzzed across his vision.

“Virg? What… what happened?” Virgil rubbed the back of his head, shooting him a sheepish grin as he helped him sit up.

“Got a little heated. Lightning went a bit haywire. Gave you a good shock, on accident.”

“How did you get out? And I thought you left us!” Remus accused, getting dizzy as he tried to track the sprite’s nervous fluttering.

“He left to go get help. Something you should have done before charging into a trap!” Remus groaned, looking up as someone reached out their hand, helping pull him to his feet.

“Really, Patton? You had to go get him?”

“You’re lucky he did! What were you thinking, Ree?” He shrugged, meeting the identical face of Roman, his changeling counterpart, the human that had been taken in his place and grown up with everything he should have had, should have been. Which, turns out, wasn’t actually all that great, so he supposed he actually kinda owed Roman.

Still, by the time they’d met, they’d both spent more time in each other’s realms than their own. Roman was more fae than human, and Remus was more human than fae, so they decided to keep their roles, their homes they’d made for themselves. They hadn’t even known what they were, until their early teens.

“we couldn’t wait for you. He’s a Selkie, Ro, we didn’t have time.” Roman softened a bit at the distress of Remus, sighing.

“you panicked. I get that, Remus, I do. It just… scared me. Seeing Virgil like that, seeing you…” Roman trailed off, shaking his head, wry smile on his lips. Remus’s eyes widened, gaze flying through the room, skating over the sorcerer, who was now bound to an upright support beam with shimmering, nearly invisible thread. Faery thread. There were very few things that could break it, certainly nothing the sorcerer had on hand. He didn’t care.

“Logan. Where…” His eyes locked on a door, and he sprinted over to it, growling as he tried the handle, finding it locked. He didn’t wait for Virgil to pop it, instead he kicked it with all his might, sending the door slamming open.

“Remus!” Virgil hissed, appearing at his side, but he barely noticed, instead falling to his knees, Logan filling his entire vision, fury clouding his mind at the chains shackling his wrists and ankles to the floor.

“Get them off.” He hissed, unsure who he was even talking to.

“Virgil, you’ll have to do it. They’re enchanted against magical meddling.” It took Virgil longer than normal to pop the locks, the enchantment making them a bit trickier to handle, but finally, they were all removed, and Remus carefully pulled Logan onto his lap.

“Logan… wake up, please.” He gently shook Logan’s shoulder, but the Selkie remained limp and still as a corpse. His face was too pale, his breathing deep and slow. He brushed back Logan’s hair, frowning at the warmth of his forehead, realizing too his skin was dry, flaking.

“he won’t wake up. He’s sick.” He looked helplessly up at Roman and Patton, who was sitting on Roman’s shoulder, wings fluttering nervously.

“We need to find his coat. Now.” Virgil muttered. Remus stood, still cradling Logan, snarling as he entered the main room, eyes aflame as he glared at the sorcerer, who was now awake, eyes glinting with almost amusement.

“What did you do to him?” He snarled, spitting, mere inches away. The sorcerer simply smirked.

“Whatever do you mean, little changeling?” Remus growled, would have punched him, if he wasn’t holding Logan in his arms, then Virgil was at his side, carefully moving him back, getting in his line of sight.

“Logan-“ Virgil shook his head.

“I know. But we will handle it. You and Patton go take care of him.” Remus hesitated, but his shoulders slumped and he nodded.

“alright. Just kill him for me, won’t you?” a ghost of a smile flitted across Virgil’s face.

“Oh, we’ll do one better. We’ll make him wish he were dead.”

…

Roman turned to face the sorcerer, hands clasped behind him, Virgil leaning against the wall in the shadows, still shaky.

“I believe I’ve heard of you. You’re a freelancer for ‘collectors’.” He spat the word, ash in his mouth. “Deceit, I believe you go by.” The sorcerer’s smirk didn’t drop, but something wary shifted in his eyes. “Usually you’re more careful than this, to my knowledge you’ve never been caught in the act, before tonight.” That seemed to hit a nerve, Deceit’s eyes narrowed.

“How many creatures have you ‘caught’? Torn away from their homes and condemned to torture and captivity and slavery? They have homes, they have families, they’re people!” Virgil spoke up, eyes electric, each word crackling.

“It you protected them better I wouldn’t be able to catch them.” Virgil recoiled, then surged forwards, flying around Deceit’s head so fast all the oxygen was sucked out of the air.

He finally pulled back, coalescing next to Roman, satisfaction rushing through him as the sorcerer coughed, wheezing in breaths.

“Where is his coat?” Virgil demanded, meeting Deceit’s glare with his own.

“Why don’t you ask your little selkie, hmm? Poor thing can’t find it? Oh, that’s right,” he snapped, “you can’t. And nothing you do will change that.” Roman’s eyes flashed, and the string tightened, causing Deceit to hiss in pain as the sharp strands cut through his skin. “You don’t even know what you have, do you? For all your self importance, you really are an idiot. Nothing in the world will make me give up that coat.” The strings dug in deeper, beads of red leaking through the torn fabric of his clothes, slicing through flesh like butter.

“Explain.” Virgil hissed. Deceit rolled his eyes, not saying a word.

“Fine. Hard way then. Virgil, tear this place apart. I’ll tear his mind apart. If there’s one good thing about being raised by seers, it’s this.” Before Deceit could move, Roman had pressed his hands to each of Deceit’s temples, mind foccused on one thought only. “See.”

…

“Well?” Remus asked, looking down at Patton, who was kneeling on Logan’s forehead, hands glowing softly. The sprite slumped back on his knees, exhausted.

“I can tell it’s a spell, some kind of sleep spell. It’s strong, too, nothing I can crack, but nothing that explains why he’s sick like this. Selkies don’t get sick like this, no matter how far from the water they are. I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Carefully, he scooped Patton up in his hand, setting him down on his shoulder.

They were sitting in the back of the van, Logan laid out across the backseat, his head resting in Remus’s lap as he nervously ran his hands through Logan’s hair. He didn’t understand, Logan had been relatively fine just a few hours ago, now he was burning up under his hands.

His eyes shot up at the sound of the door opening, gaze flickering between Roman’s sympathetic brown eyes and Virgil’s thin lipped stare.

“did you get it? Please, please, tell me you got it.” Roman wordlessly handed him a soft, silky seal pelt. Remus nearly sobbed in relief, wrapping it around Logan like a blanket, stroking his cheek.

“wake up, wake up, wake up.” He whispered, almost a prayer, searching Logan’s face for any sign of movement.

“remus. He’s a direct descendant of Sedna. That’s why he’s ill. He literally cannot survive on land. He’s… he’s dying.”

“Then let’s go! What are we waiting for?” He demanded. Roman and Virgil exchanged a look, one that he didn’t miss, sadness and something soft in their eyes.

“We’re too far from the ocean. We won’t get there in time.” A sob clawed its way out of Remus’s throat, and he shook his head.

“NO! No, we promised him we’d get him home, we promised him! So get in the car and FUCKING DRIVE!” He screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Remus-“

“Just do it. Please. We still have a chance, there’s still a chance.” He pleaded.

“Even if we get him back, we have no way to break the spell. He won’t survive.” Remus glared up at Virgil through watery eyes.

“We’re not going to just do nothing! Now get in and drive or I’ll do it myself.” Remus hissed. Virgil and Roman exchanged another glance, and Patton patted his neck in sympathy, but they complied without another word.

…

Logan was shaking. Chills wracked his body, and he was heaving in raspy, unsteady breaths. Sweat covered his hair, sticking to his forehead, and his face was paling even further, as the life drained out of him one breath at a time.

“Come on, Lo. Just hold on, just hold on for me.” He murmured, trying to keep his own voice steady and reassuring, trying to keep his own panic from swallowing him whole.

“We’re here.” Virgil breathed out, the car jolting to a stop, Roman not having bothered with the parking lot, pulling directly onto the sand, as far as he could. Instantly, Remus bolted to his feet, oh so gently lifting Logan into his arms, bolting for the water, tucking his coat tightly around him.

His shaking had stopped. As Remus ran, he realized Logan’s shaking had stopped, he couldn’t feel him breathing anymore, he couldn’t feel his heartbeat. They were nearly there, nearly to the water, he couldn’t die now, they were so close, surely he was still holding on.

He gasped at the shock of cold water, not stopping until he was up to his knees, Logan floating in the water before him, his arms holding him so his head was above the surface.

“Logan… come on, please, Logan, please, wake up, wake up, you stupid seal!” He shouted, tears streaming down his face at Logan’s lifeless form, limp and still, head lolling with the waves.

“Remus… he’s gone…” Patton, he had darted out to Remus had settled on his shoulder once more, looking back to Virgil and Roman, who were waiting on the shore. Another sob tore from his throat, and he shook his head, pulling Logan close, burying his face in the selkie’s soft hair.

“no. nononono we got him home! He can’t… he can’t… he can’t just steal my heart and then die before I can tell him, he can’t just leave, he can’t!” Remus sobbed, shoulders shaking, wishing for all the world Logan would open his eyes. He would give anything, for Logan to open his eyes.

“would you, child of fae, human in nature? Your kind are cruel, cold. What would you truly give, to bring him back?” He didn’t look up at the softly accented woman’s voice. He knew, some part of him knew.

Sedna. Goddess of the sea, mother of all of its creatures, guardian and vengeful spirit of the ocean and all of its depths. Logan’s biological mother.

“anything. I would give anything.” He whispered, meeting her deep, infinite dark eyes, that sparkled with all the mystery of the darkest deepest depths. He saw his own sorrow reflected ten fold there, though her gaze hardened as he met her unfathamoble eyes.

“Choose your words carefully, mortal fae.” His breath caught. He’d spent enough time around Roman, around other mythicals, to know that tone, that careful wording.

“What do I have to do? What do you need from me?” He asked, and the goddess actually hesitated, almost taken aback by his intensity. She held out her arms, and relunctantly, he let her take him.

“oh, my heart, my soul, my babe. What have they done to you?” She murmured softly, kissing Logan’s forehead. “but even still…” she gathered herself, looking up at Remus, something softer in her eyes now, a desperate sort of hope. “A life. Willingly given, willingly gifted. Only then can you hope to find him.” Remus let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any mirth.

“You had me worried there. For a second I thought it might be hard.” He met her eyes, once more, drowning in them, a soft smile tinging his lips. “My life, huh? It’s not much of one, I’m afraid, but you can have it. Willingly and no regrets. Not… not if it gives us a chance.” Sedna nodded once. He didn’t have time to even hold his breath, before he was pulled beneath the waves.

“NO!” Virgil screamed, as Remus was pulled under, in an instant swirling out to Sedna, his form blurred as he hovered above the waves.

“This is not of your business, Sylph.” She stated, not looking away from Logan, and Virgil hissed.

“Like hell, it isn’t.” She looked up at that, eyes sharp but sympathetic.

“It was his choice to make. If his love is pure, they will both come back to us. Have some faith.”

“If it isn’t two innocent lives were lost today.” He growled,

“Innocent lives are lost every second, Sylph. At least this has the chance of righting a wrong.”

…

He is sinking. He can just barely see a faint halo of light, but it is far, far, far above, and fading fast.

Where is he?

He tries to remember, tries to wrack his brain, for what this dark, endlessly sinking abyss could be, but the farther from the light, the blurrier it all gets.

There’s something important, he should be doing. Yes, there was something urgent, something he was looking for, but it is hazy now, and he doesn’t know what it is or was.

He doesn’t know who he is.

That should be worrying, but it isn’t. Not here. Here, it feels inconsequential. Everything seems small and meaningless, and he thinks he would be perfectly content to drift down and down and down in this darkness for eternity, thinking of everything and nothing, letting the darkness swallow him until what’s left of his awareness fades.

But something pulls at him. Something forces him to open his eyes, to take a deep breath, something he’s surprised to find he can do underwater. Or, he thinks he’s underwater. For the first time, he looks around.

He’s surprised to see shapes, in the darkness. Some have outlines of color, just faintly flickering, some are gray, and fade in front of his eyes, but all are drifting listlessly, down and down, and somehow he knows that the deeper they go, the more they fade, until nothing is left.

That sends a jolt of panic through him.

Logan. He has to find Logan.

He doesn’t know quite who that is, but the name lights something inside him, and though it takes all the will in his body, he forces his limbs to move. He forces himself to swim downwards, searching, searching, searching-

There! A faint flicker, a faint something, that tugs him closer. It was so dark, he could barely see where he was going, but he didn’t let up for a moment, not when his lungs began to burn, not when he felt his limbs start to go numb, not when he could see the outline of himself flickering in and out, his mind going hazy.

He pushed forwards, and suddenly he was there, grabbing onto the ethereal form of Logan, pulling him close, and without thinking, he pressed their lips together, exhaling all of his air into Logan’s lungs, breathing all of his own life into Logan, his eyes slipping closed as Logan’s dark ones flew open, his surprised gasp inhaling the last of Remus’s air, and the world blurred, his outline fading quickly to gray, and his last thought was the hope that Logan would live enough life for the both of them.

…

Remus gasped, coughing, heaving in huge breath after huge breath, vision blurred from tears, every part of him sore and aching as he choked on the air.

“Remus.” His eyes jerked up, and he met deep browns, that perfect, beautiful face, and Logan reached out, cupping his cheek, wiping away the tears slipping down his face, as he let out a small, desperately happy laugh. Then he leaned forwards, crushing their lips together, feeling Logan melt into his touch, hands tangling in his hair, and even after their lips parted, Remus didn’t let go, nuzzling against Logan’s hair, silent tears still falling.

“how… what…” he whispered, unable to form the words he was looking for. How was he alive, how was he here, how was Logan here, how had he lived, when he’d given his entire soul to breathe life back into Logan.

“You love me.” Was the somewhat awed, somewhat small answer from Logan, and he pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, a smile dancing across his lips.

“yes. I love you, Logan.” He replied, somehow melting even more at the soft, adoring gaze Logan was bestowing upon him, his lips quirked at the corners in a small smile.

“You were willing to give your life for mine. Even if you couldn’t live to live with me, even though I would gain everything and you would lose all, you would still have given it freely. That intent, was enough. It was a test, of sorts. And you passed, Remus.” Logan intertwined their fingers, and Remus couldn’t help it anymore as a desperate, relieved sob shook his frame as he fell into Logan’s arms, crying into his shoulder.

“you still have to go. You still have to leave, go back to the water. I’m still losing you.” He choked out, feeling Logan brushing his thumb over his knuckles. He heard Logan chuckle softly.

“Not quite. You still gave me part of yourself, part of your soul. And you now hold some of mine. We’re tied together now, Remus. Anywhere you step I can also. Anywhere I pass through so will you be able.”

“but… you won’t get sick? You won’t… I won’t keep you, I won’t make you stay, you don’t have to stay.” Just the thought of forcing Logan to stay made him ill.

“I know, Remus. I know you wouldn’t. I know you would never take my coat, I know you would never force me to do anything, I trust you. It won’t make me sick. We can spend time, between land and sea, there’s so much I can show you, Remus, worlds you wouldn’t even be able to imagine.”

They both looked up at the sound of hesitant footsteps. Roman was approaching, having kept his distance and given them space on the shore, where Logan had pulled Remus, just out of the surf. Virgil was still speaking to Sedna, form flickering with displeasure and anger, while she was nothing but calm and placid, the soft glow of Patton clear on his shoulder.

“Remus. If you ever do something like that again I will strangle you with my bare hands.” Roman muttered furiously, eliciting a high laugh, Remus soft as he met Roman’s eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them without a word needing to be spoken. “And Logan… take care of him. He’s a lot softer than he’d like you to believe.” Remus huffed in indignation, melting with a happy hum as Logan pressed a kiss to his cheek, causing the selkie to shake his head in amusement.

“I will. I promise.” With that Roman nodded, walking several yards down the beach before simply vanishing.

“He’s such a drama queen.” Logan chuckled.

“Nothing at all like you, I’m sure.” Remus snorted, tilting his head back, to look up at Logan, his Logan, His.

“We should get you indoors. You’re sopping wet, and it’s cold.” Remus nuzzled closer to Logan, gently butting his chin with his head.

“Good thing I’ve got you, then, keeping me warm.” And before Logan could argue, he had captured the selkie’s lips once more, lost in a different, amazingly beautiful kind of warmth.

#sanders sides #sympathetic remus #remus sanders #human remus #logan sanders #selkie logan #logan angst #remus angst #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #unsympathetic deceit #temporary character death #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #logan x remus

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itstimetotheorize · 4 years

Text

little nightmares , the ladys forgotten children

In my previous theory “little nightmares: Part 2: The daughters of the lady ” I explain how some of us had theorized that the lady of the maw adopted an imprisoned child that would one day be the next lady of the maw.

however, all the while I was thinking about this, something began to take over my mind...why didn't the lady just give birth to a child rather than adopt one by force?

as I thought about this I began to piece together the idea that perhaps somewhere in her life, the lady did try to have a child of her own, but later came to the horrifying realization that she never could....no....I’m not saying that the lady discovered that she was sterile, meaning her body was unable to have children...what I’m saying is, what if she did get pregnant and later gave birth to what she had hoped would be her beloved child....but soon realized that in the moment of birth, the child she wanted was not a child at all...but a monster!

to be capable of giving birth to an entirely new life, its no wonder many cultures around the world have referred to a woman's birthing ability as a “gift”. But if the lady really does have a demonic entity residing within her, then perhaps this god given gift... was no longer hers to keep..

In my previous theory “little nightmares, part 1:the past”, I , as well as other, speculate that perhaps previous ladies of the maw were all being possessed by a single dark demonic entity and where forced to do its bidding over the course of their lives. With each new generation, this entity brought each new lady of the maw an enormous amount of suffering in a number of ways. Where am I going with this? well, what if in addition to making the lady of the maws life a living nightmare, the entity within her also affected her ability to have children!, but in what way? well, what if the answer to that was already revealed to us in plane sight. And just where was this revealed? .....the pictures on the wall!

In little nightmares, various pictures can be observed on the walls of the ladys estate. These pictures help give us information as to what kind of life the lady revolved around as well as what kind of people were involved. Out of all the pictures seen, there were 3 that caught my attention, the pictures of three monster children.

sure, we could just think of these as just three pictures of deformed children, but considering that the creators of little nightmares like to leave information about the world as details in the game, rather than tell us directly, then maybe , just maybe, these children, were not just any children. Who were they? ...what if.... these were pictures of the ladys previous children!, if so, then what happened to them ?

In the “little nightmares dlc: the residence”, when the runaway kid comes across the lady in a room full of baby dolls, we see her holding one of the baby dolls, gently stroking its head as the music box next to her continues playing a lullaby, but why? I doubt a grown woman like herself would just stare blankly at a doll. No, By the looks of it, something else is going on here. With the way she is handling the little porcelain doll, its almost as if she is pretending to sooth it to sleep, almost as if it were a real baby!.

when it comes to the lady and dealing with kids, many of us have already theorized that perhaps the lady secretly did not want to kill children and instead chose to turn them into nomes as an alternate approach, should she come across one of them. Despite our theories, something doesn't make sense. Many of us had already theorized that the lady had been killing her guests by absorbing their souls/life force. But if she is fine with killing adults then what lead her to spare children? the staff of the maw clearly have no issue killing six once they catch her, or any other child for that matter, so then what happened in the ladys life that ultimately lead her to decide she would no longer kill children?

like I said before, if the lady of the maw really did give birth to her own children, and if these children were born hideously deformed, then odds are, the three children did not live long in the world they were brought into!. If the lady really does have a demonic entity possessing her, then perhaps its presence alone is what messed with the birth of her children, its demonic magic attacked the baby in her womb, devoured its soul/life then simply left them to meet their death upon birth

the lady having watched her first child be born a monster, then die shortly after , must have left her with an enormous amount of grief, but this clearly wasn’t enough for her to stop trying, after all there are three pictures on her wall, so maybe over the next few years, the lady tried to have a baby two more times, and every single time, that baby shared the same fate as its previous brothers and sisters. So yes, the lady did kill others, but maybe It was her babies deaths that lead her to decide to not kill other children.

after the third baby died, the lady must have been desperately looking for a way to cope with her grief, this coping mechanism could have been in the form of the baby dolls. And just where did these dolls come from?... from the pretender!

when it comes to “very little nightmares” many of us have theorized that the dolls the lady had were actually being sent to her from the pretenders estate. What make us say this? , in the very little nightmares game, many of us gather the idea that the pretender did not necessarily keep all the dolls seen throughout her home.

in one part of the game, the girl in the yellow raincoat falls into a box filled with shipping foam, upon closer inspection we see that the box is stamped with the same eye seen at the maw as well as the nest.

its this mark of the eye that made many of us conclude that the lady and the pretender knew each other to some extent and that it was through their connection that the lady later asked the pretender to have some dolls be prepared specially for her, then shipped to the maw.

the dolls served as the lady of the maws main source of comfort after the loss of her children. Whenever she began to feel haunted by their deaths, she must have made her way to the doll room, played the music box and pretend that the dolls were her real babies..... but was this enough? ...no, I don't think it was.

The lady must have tried everything possible to get her children back (more on this in another theory), and every single time she did try something, she failed. After a while, the lady finally gave up and accepted the possibility of adopting one of the children that were imprisoned under the maw. As stated in my theory “little nightmares Part3: the new sixes fate” that child she chose was the girl we would later know as “the girl in the yellow raincoat” from very little nightmares.

despite having been chosen as the ladys new child, I highly doubt that their relationship was anything but loving, what makes me say this? well, some of us had already theorized that perhaps the lady had in fact hated the children, she might not have killed them, but she still hated them, for what exactly?, their faces of course!

why did she hate their faces? because, in the DLC, we discover that despite her lovely appearance, the lady only appears beautiful to others. When she gazes at herself through a mirror, that mirror reveals her to be hideously deformed. When we see her gaze at her own reflection, we also hear her whimper and cry, telling us that this was definitely a sight that upset her to an extreme degree.

So yeah, she might not have killed the children, but she still resented them for having a proper face, unlike herself, and continued to have them abducted and imprisoned in the maw, leaving them to be dealt with in whatever way the maw needed.

and speaking of the children, of all the things that the lady could have turned the children into, I find it interesting that she chose the form of the nomes, with their little bodies, little feet, little hands.......their little heads covered by big pointy hats which perfectly hide their faces.

when the lady transformed the children into nomes, it might not have just been out of mercy, but out of hate and jealousy … so then...what happened to her daughter?. As far as we know, she is no longer in the maw. As stated in my theory “little nightmares part : the new sixes fate”, some of us speculate that maybe the adopted daughter of the lady ran away on a blimp and was actually the girl seen in the yellow raincoat in very little nightmares, but why did she run away? we can theories that maybe the girl caught onto the ladys way of life and decided she didn't want to have anything to do with it, but what if there was something else going on?. If the lady really did hate the children for their cute faces, then perhaps her adopted daughter was no exception. So what could have lead her to run away even more?...maybe the lady did something to her.....

if we look back at the three pictures of what could be the ladies deceased babies, you may find that in each of these pictures , each individual child is wearing the same yellow clothes, or rather.....the same yellow raincoat!

no doubt this yellow raincoat is the same one that the adopted girl is wearing,

so why is it that those three have it as well? it cant be that there is more than one yellow raincoat, unless...the children seen in the pictures are not three children, but rather, one person! ,who is this person?...... the adopted girl! If those three pictures really are just the girl in the raincoat then why does her face look like three different deformed children?.....unless....that's not her face at all, but rather the faces of the ladys dead babies!!

By taking a closer look at the three pictures, you may find that their is something very odd about their heads. The skin leading down to their necks appear to be loose and tied to the body by a rope, their eyes appear either hollow or glassy, and their mouths are pitch black, almost as if there skin is loose from the rest of their bodies.

If the ladys babies really did die during child birth then perhaps the trauma caused the lady to do very rash and unthinkable things. This world seems to be comprised of mainly twisted minds, so perhaps twisted ideas came to the lady on how to make her babies appear alive!

rather than burying her babies and accepting her loss, the lady might have preserved their bodies! what did she do with their bodies? well...if the lady and the pretender really do know each other, then perhaps the lady sent what was left of her babies to the nest to have their heads skinned and turned into masks!.

The pretender has staff that know how to skin living things, hence why in the nest the craftsman appears to be skilled in making leathers (which as many of us have already theorized, is actually the skin of children!).

If the craftsman really is making dolls out of children then its likely that making a mask from a head for the lady of the maw would be a simple matter to him. In the very little nightmares game, we see that the room next to the leather making room is filled with tools to craft the leather onto children sized mannequins!

heck, this was probably not even the first time he did an order like that for the maw. In little nightmares, when we come across the twin chefs, we discover that their faces are actually masks.

who made the chefs mask?, the craftsman from the nest!

and just what did the lady do when she received her masks? nothing pleasant that’s for sure, but if I had to guess, if the person in those three pictures really is the adopted daughter, then maybe the day that the masks arrived, the lady took them, walked on over to her adopted daughter, took her to a room with a camera set up, set her down in front of the camera.....then placed her dead babies face mask over her head! but why?! . Well, perhaps when her children died, the lady grieved over the various moments she never had the chance to have with her children, including taking a proper picture of them.

It was in this moment that, I imagine, gave the lady a sight she could only dream about, her baby standing up, in front of a camera, ready to take his/her first picture, even if it was fake. But was this enough? no, I don't think it was...

As if things couldn't get worse, it was theorized by many of us that the lady was in fact jealous of her adoptive daughters face and had hated her along with the rest of the children.

If this is true, then seeing her adopted daughter wearing a mask of her ugly dead babies gave the lady an insane amount of joy, joy for not only watching her dead baby have the appearance of being alive, but also giving her the pleasure of knowing her babies faces were just as imperfect as hers. Not only that, it was through her decision of forcing her adopted daughter to wear the masks that finally gave her the satisfaction of ridiculing her adoptive daughters pretty face, but did she stop then and there?, no I don't think so. Maybe the lady didn't just stop at having her adoptive daughter wear the skin masks as part of a photo shoot, what if the lady decided that she wanted her to wear the masks, all the time! but could even the lady be this twisted?!

Considering the twisted logic of this world as well as the actions of the people that inhabit it, its entirely possible that even the lady would resort to extreme measures . As for the girl in the yellow raincoat, well, being forced to wear a mask of her adopted mothers dead babies could have been the additional factor in the girls decision to runaway from the maw by blimp.

when she ran away, the lady could have just let her adopted daughter go and simply take another child from the maw, but what if the girl did something before she left, something that angered the lady to the point that she wanted her found and brought back?. Maybe, just maybe, that something had to do with the masks. In the game, there is no trace of these masks existing, but what if the reason we never see them is because they no longer exist, why?, because the girl in the yellow raincoat destroyed them!

if the girl really did destroy the masks, then this was clearly something that greatly angered the lady. It was through sheer anger that the lady must have refused to let go of the girls decision to runaway and instead sent out the word to have her brought back if found. A decision which failed later on, when the wrong child was returned to her, this child being of course, the girl that we now know as six from the little nightmares game! ...but hey, that’s just a theory, a little nightmares theory !

#little nightmares #little nightmares II #little nightmares 2 #little nightmares six #little nightmares mono #little nightmares the lady #little nightmares theory #little nightmares theories #six #the lady #mono

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cronquette · 3 years

Text

:four:

Disclaimers:

-Dedicated to Julia

-I do not own any of the Naruto franchise, I’m just making my SasuSaku dreams come to life.

-More personal notes will be situated at the end of the chapter

Enjoy!

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“Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost.”

― Erol Ozan

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

The dewy grass left trails of freshness that wafted towards her nose, for it was sunrise when she had approached the village. It was massive, buildings wrung with wood and stoned grounds, stalls brimmed with fresh, rosy apples or exotic, blooming flowers flung themselves at her every second, catching her cocooned curiosity quickly. Her dress was modestly masked with a cloak, in case the spring cold would make itself known once more, and torment her small being with its ever freezing bite.

Her footfalls scraped slowly as she wandered through the streets, not paying heed to much of the crowds or clamour for she wanted to check her surroundings at the very least; it was not as if she had anything physically to hide. Her most prominent feature that would glimmer daintily in the sunlight, her glowing pink tresses, were now concealed from prying eyes. And her jewel, the captivating viridescent rhinestone, was tucked away safely in her skirt pocket, where her hand had been tucked in, lightly grasping it for fear that it would suddenly disappear. The only thing that would hold people’s gaze would be her foaming green irises, but she had held her head away in her hood that it would be impossible to observe such globes with practically no sunlight to hover over them. They practically glimmered under the sun’s speculation.

Her strides were slow, and her chest heaved slowly. She took in her sights, savouring her surroundings as she walked further, and further, through the roads. Marketing was certainly a thing she’d caught on straight away, for there were a myriad of sellers, creating clamour for people to take a peep at the things they held in possession. Many were farmers, she took a guess, as they had all sorts of crops and vegetables, fruits and whatnots sitting in their respective baskets, just anxiously waiting to be eaten. Others seemed to have sewn fine clothing, or smooth, meticulously crafted pottery, lathered in clean coats of polish to finish them nicely and make them look quite presentable.

The domesticality was all new to her, a culture she wasn’t very familiar with. Living in a coven all her life, food supplies either discreetly and swiftly delivered or fetched as soon as possible. Residing secretly was something she was used to, the exception of the ritual she had just experienced, along with attending all the others. She wasn’t suited for such open marketing, which proved her uselessness currently all the more when she realised there was not one silver coin in her pocket. Even packed with all her clothes, food to suffice for just a few days, and scrolls to help her study, she wasn’t able to purchase one single thing. It was fruitless to whine and beg, she wouldn't succumb to such vulgarity. Her mentor taught her that, and even so, there was no way she would lower her position as a witch before those humans.

Even so, she couldn’t help but smile. Ino would enjoy this, she knew. The outdoors was just so suited for an out-going, confident girl such as the said blonde, and it was unfortunate she wouldn’t be accompanying the pinkette. The sun would be much entertained playing with golden locks, and accentuating such crystal eyes.

A new start was certainly refreshing, and she had a tingling feeling that it would be quite soon that she would be reaching new horizons and milestones

Wherever Sasuke traversed, a cold, sinister aura always accompanied him, But his firmness wasn’t able to intimidate everyone, so to say. There were, however, many who greatly feared him and the power he held. Those were mostly outside the palace walls, though. Within the elegant patterned pillars and marbled flooring, there was nothing short of being annoyed by the Uchiha. His servants, the dainty things they were, served him rightfully, not complaining unless amongst the company of themselves, and he paid no heed otherwise.

Hearsay was something not really familiar within the castle walls.

However, in the court, it was more than likely to be the everyday news.

Sasuke took his place at the old oak table, sitting comfortably at the head, his eyes steely piercing through the silence of the room. To his right, sat stiffly none other than Hyuuga Hiashi, in all his glory, arms crossed low around the biceps, his mouth achieving such a downturn it surfaced a memory of his own father doing such imposed actions. It made his brows knit deeper, before cooly turning to face frontwards.

“I take it you’re all well,” his words meant nothing; it was just procedure to stall a little before heading to the main topic, he had to remind himself. He’d seen many of his ancestors do so before him, and he wanted nothing more than to place his feet in their steps. A cold stand of wind shook the omnipresent tension this room always carried when such meetings took place.

Silent nods prodded him to continue, and so the raven folded his hands, leaning his elbows pointed on the table as his palms stood in front of him. He sharply inhaled: this conference would last an hour (as always), and so bringing different subjects to light at the right time was always something laying dormant at the back of his mind. He decided to start with the one that probed the nightmares that shook the living daylights out of him.

“Witches. And Warlocks. Those creatures still hang free,” He licked his lips in such a tantalisingly slow way it made one gulp.

“Why?”

His Adam's apple bobbed as the last word came out. His voice was a dagger, slicing the peace of the government before him in one single blow.

“Pardon me, your majesty,”

It was one of the further participants at the table who spoke, nevertheless, his voice wrung firmly, and his eyes, though pale like milk, shone with tenacity that they were quite nice to be held in.

“Those creatures may be vulgar, but they hold some sort of intelligence, sire. They’re hard to catch, and they certainly do not want to be found. I suspect they dwell in an abandoned part of Konoha’s vast forests, but it would be a matter of searches to see. Alas, you and I both know these follow ups have been taken before, and everytime, the result has always been futile.”

“Do you suggest that we abandon our searches entirely, Neji?” he gritted out with venom spitting from his teeth.

“I do not suggest as such, my Lord. However, there is only so much you can do; you’re not yet King of this land, you are Crowned Prince. The level of your status has merely succeeded upwards. There are still elders who have more power over you,” he fussed haughty, for his own clan leader was one of the few. The temptation to stomp over to his chair and rip his throat with the Uchiha’s bare hands was so enticing, but he had self control. He knew it was not the time to play like animals.

But Neji was truly a jackass.

“Hyuuga,” the domineering, stygian orbed male nodded to Hiashi, receiving his stern attention. The silence between them spoke louder than anything, for the elder knew exactly what the prince desired. And although it was something that was made to sleep for the moment, everyone in that room wanted nothing more than those chakra-wielding things to die. A common trait shared by all the civilians and warriors. Those of flesh and bone.

“You ask me to send out troops to find passages to where they lay, Sasuke,” he bit out gruffly. He cleared his throat, almost as if to show he had still a sort of superiority towards him.

“I can do so, but the most I can send is two troops of twenty. It’s a fleeting risk, however, all the more scarce that they will have to split halves in order to scatter north, south, east and west,” he answered. Sasuke refused to release the relieving breath he was holding, and instead flared his nose, as if to contemplate the proposition. It wasn’t much: ten of their men each searching thousands of acres, How long it would take to know of their return infuriated him beyond measure, but then again, less members meant more freedom.

They could move better in less numbers, so that was something that he could hold himself onto. Apparently, it was enough to convince him.

“I’ll take that chance,” his voice was hoarse from not trying to rush his words, an attempt to not sound desperate, for even in a room full of eyes his pride was bound to be torn like a ravaging pack of lions.

A small nod from the Hyuuga was all that he needed to know. Another search was going to be sent.

“Is that all you want to discuss with us, my Lord?” the aforementioned narrowed his eyes at the man who spoke. The lackadaisical, smart annoyance had his arms crossed behind his head, leaning comfortably on the back of his chair as if he had a care in the world. It wouldn’t surprise him if he didn’t. The audacity of the Nara didn’t disturb the Uchiha as much as before, so it only gave him so much as a twitch to his left eye.

“No, but most of the topics I am to discuss aren’t as much of importance. Feel free to sleep through the rest of this conference,” he spoke the last sentence sarcastically.

“May I but in before I snore then, your Highness?” he sighed.

The dark haired male shrugged, as if to say do as you wish.

“Some girl entered the village today,” he chided, “strange gal. Doesn’t look like she’s from here. We ought to keep an eye on her.” he proceeded to yawn, and leant back further, he looked as if to fall off his chair.

“Her appearance, Nara?” the young Hyuuga male inquired.

From his observation, she wasn’t very memorable, having been concealed through a cloak. The only thing that caught his eye was her eyes: the bright, emerald orbs they were.

Interesting.

It didn’t take long for Sakura to tire herself out through gallivanting aimlessly, padding her way through stones and pebbles on the ground, the sky’s heat accentuating through every hour, and the board weighted pack on her shoulders smally growing heavier by the minute. She wiped the swelling beads of perspiration that scurried down her forehead with the back of her hand, and released a breath of exasperation.

This village was immense in land expanse, and she hadn’t even gotten through to the heart of it, the place that made her mind twist with fascination-- the palace itself. In all its splendour, the building stood proudly in the heat, almost glimmering with pride: she could see it. But it seemed today was not one of which she could journey so far. She’d seen carriages steadily rocking bye, the horses trotting with such elegance she was entranced so much she stopped just to see them going by.

Oh, what a place this was.

She’d brought with her many of the scrolls containing the recounts of some of her predecessors’ experience, those--of course-- who’d made it out alive, and she pondered whether her experience would be deemed just as exhilarating. Or, gruesome enough to know she’d be burnt alive at the stake. She really didn’t know.

She then had encountered a bakery, blooming with warmth and delicious treats stacked at the window sill, enticing all who laid eyes on them. The pinkette frowned in despair as she knew she would not be able to purchase such a delicacy. Her stomach even whined at how imbecilic she was for not even bringing any coins to spare.

As she was about to move along, a voice caught her attention.

“Excuse me Miss, I can’t help but see how you’re looking at the pastries in our shop. Would you like to buy something?”

Unlike the Haruno, this girl wasn’t wearing a dimple, and so her chestnut locks gleamed hazelnut-like as she made her way towards her. Said strands were neatly folded round the top of her head to create two buns, only a ragged fringe framing her face. She dressed simply, with very few (maybe two) rosy petticoats that rivaled Sakura’s own hair. Not that it mattered-- it wasn’t as if she could see it anyway. She wore a slightly darker shade for her bodice, the tone drifting to a crimson, and her flat stomacher was an off-white, almost cream colour. She was a civilian, no doubt, but she seemed more dressed up than what would be necessary.

“Your shop?”

“Ah, it does seem like I’m not best suited for the occasion in this,” she picked up the thick skirts as a way of gesturing to her outfit, “however my family does own the bakery. You’re not from here, are you? I’m Tenten, a pleasure to meet you!”

Her beam was so bright and fulfilling it made the rosette pop a grin as well, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.

“Sakura, nice to meet you too,” she smiled softly.

“And I would love to buy something from your shop, it’s just that I don’t have any money on me right now. I’m very gratified at the offer, though.”

The brunette shook her head with a laugh, before grabbing the Haruno’s wrist and practically dragging her into the store. They were instantly met with the cozy smell of bread and sweet aromas, and the warmth of ovens burning with fervour.

“Oh, har har! Since you’re new around here, I’ll let you have a pastry for free! Your choice: pick one and it’s on the house,” she gestured to the room. The room was tantalisingly dizzying her with spells of temptation, and this girl was a civilian!

The pinkette smiled weakly and bit out a childish, nervous giggle. Not eating for a while seemed to take a toll on her.

“I couldn’t. Really, Tenten, I appreciate the offer, but I must get going-”

“But you’re new, Sakura! I bet you don’t even have a place to stay.” she wagged an accusatory finger at the aforementioned. The latter grew pale at the revelation, trying to scatter ideas through her head and pick out the most logical option. However, there was none. It really was inevitable. She didn’t know what to do or say, but opening and closing her mouth frantically in an attempt to let out words was an amusing sight to display.

“Aha!” The brunette smirked. She then proceeded to run behind a counter, and with a flimsy towel, she meticulously pulled out a small, hand-sized meat pie, with slow strings of steam wafting upwards. She pushed her hands towards the Haruno’s petite frame, and instantly caught a whiff. She swallowed, before acquiescing.

The inside of her mouth burst with flavour as she took a bite. Her tongue tingled as she chewed pensively, still captured in the eyes of a certain baker’s daughter.

“I-It’s good,” she commented.

She ended up eating another one after.

Shikamaru was always observant, his skills made prominent for the Uchiha’s gain, and although it was a trapping situation, he didn’t mind. His life always bore him no matter what he did, the most he spent doing was making out the shapes of clouds in his spare time. That, and help soothe the load of paperwork that had been flung on his shoulders.

As of this moment, the conference had come to a close, and he was free to roam as much as he desired.

Instead, he sat at a small bar stall, a metal mug of beer filled to the brim with golden alcoholic liquid, topped off with frothy substances bursting atop. One pint of the drink, and above all, his tobacco pipe puffed with intoxicating reels of smoke, making the man beside him choke in disgust.

“God, Shikamaru, do you have to smoke that crap?! It stinks!”

He would have scoffed at the said Uzumaki, who vexibly stalked him to this den after claiming that he needed some sort of relief off of all his errands as ‘Teme’s Right-Hand man’, and wanted some company. He still had no clue how the blonde was able to get away with that filthy nickname. But it wasn’t his place to judge their relationship, as the topic itself was something so obscure it confused even the two men in the involved party. And the Nara really didn’t appreciate getting himself into puzzling situations that twisted his brain unless he was forced to, or it was a pastime he participated in.

“If you don’t like it, you can leave, Naruto.” he sighed, as he took a swig at the beer in front of him, gasping as the bitter drink swelled down his throat. It was a bitter-sweet feeling, but he was used to it. It burned, but he relished in the pain.

“No way! I’m staying, ‘ttebayo. Oi, bartender! I’d like a pint sized mug of whiskey if you will!” she exclaimed, slamming his fisted hand on the sticky countertop. No one made enough effort to properly clean the wooden table, but no one complained.

Shikamaru shook his head, punching the blonde’s bicep rather harshly:

“I’m not taking care of a drunk you.”

He swatted his hand in the air as if dismissing him lightly, his nose wrinkling in laughter. As his drink was carefully handed to him, he recklessly bumped it towards the beer on the counter, slightly tipping the liquids together in an attempt to make some sort of toast.

“I’ll be careful, promise.”

The Nara was tempted to mutter something along the lines of ‘tis what you said last time’, but he held his tongue and instead sucked in yet another breath of tobacco, his mind slightly clouding in a sort of dizzy utopia. He heard a breathy exhale from his left before a slightly slurred sentence arrived, leaving his brows furrowed in calculation.

“Hey, heard from Sasuke that there’s a new girl in town. Do you know where she is, now?”

“What, are you willing to scare yet another one of the female species that resides in Konoha?”

The Uzumaki sputtered, leaving a smirk to cross the brunet’s features.

“Go to hell, Shikamaru!”

“And no, I just wanna meet her.” he lipped, pouting like a child. He was obviously highly offended, and that added to the other man’s pride.

In the end the two downed their drinks forcefully, not wasting one drop and yet attempting hard to sustain themselves from succumbing to the drunkenness. However their walking patterns seemed quite unsturdy and Naruto was easily daydreaming, so it wasn’t a good sign. In the end, they tossed their cash to the bartender carelessly, and stumbled around the village in search of a certain lady.

They found her, and quite simply too. The Nara remembered she was last seen, and where he found her, at the bakery he most frequented, since their baked goods were better than the others, it was a good travelling pace of exercise, and it was conjoined with a neighbouring weaponry store next door which they also owned. So, easily, they found her, although that was just going to be a place of questioning her whereabouts.

The bell chimed as the wooden door opened.

“Tenten,” Shikamaru respectfully regarded, a clumsy Naruto staggering behind. The shop was warm and cozy, and instantly scents of sweet and savoury adorned his senses.

“Tenten! Nice to see ya, we were wondering if you’ve got any information about where the new girl is-”

The brunet stopped in confusion at the sudden halt of breath from the Uzumaki. Something that he didn’t do often. Something in his opinion that he should do often. But that wasn’t the point.

He found the blonde gaping ahead of him, all sense of inebriation perished as his eyes glistened with a look of familiarity at whatever was behind him. Instantly, he turned around.

A small girl sat at the furthest table, shoulders squared and eyes wide with the same look of intensity as the male beside him. Her mouth hung lowly, as she was blinking frantically, as if they were an illusion she was trying to escape from. Her rosy brows knitted as she tried to find the words to say, but the whole room rushed cold as the two apparently came to the same sort of conclusion of words.

“Sakura-chan?!”

“Naruto?!”

--------------------------

Hi! Merry Christmas, or whatever you celebrate around this time. Can you believe it? 2020 is finally over, my God. My friends and I are deciding to go on a zoom call and play rick astley’s never gonna give you up as the end credits of this year. Seriously, it all goes downhill from here fnhdbkjdf. One of my friends is already stomping on 2021, don’t get me started lol.

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Please comment/review, as I really like to know that people still read my story, especially on ffnet and ao3. To those who have done so before, thank you so much! Every comment/review makes my entire day.

since my beta reader had something come up, until you read this, Julia! XD

Yours truly,

-Avis

#SasuSaku

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years

Text

Early Mornings (Thomas x MC)

Summary: Just an average morning in the Mendez-Day household.

This probably would’ve been up earlier, but I have a sick 3 year old niece at my house who is very clingy and needs constant attention and cuddles, lol. This idea was given to me by the lovely @akacalliope whom I am super grateful for because a girl was having major writer’s block. Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list (in general or for Thomas)

Fair warning, this story ended up being a bit smuttier than I anticipated, so by reading this you acknowledge you are 18+.

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @cxld-play @thefangirl-2001 @blackcoffee85

~~~

“How many more minutes until the alarm goes off?”

Thomas turns his head and looks at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “11 minutes.”

Marissa ignores the warm light that’s trying to peak through the curtains. She burrows deeper into the bed and sighs. Seriously, how did she ever live without an amazing memory foam mattress and down comforters? “Great. Wake me up again in 11 minutes.”

“You can’t seriously go back to bed, can you?” Thomas asks incredulously. “That’s not enough time.”

“Um, I’m the queen of power naps.”

Thomas chuckles and wraps his arm tight around his fiancé’s waist, pulling her closer to him. He plants a kiss on the back of her shoulder, before moving up slowly, peppering kisses up the back of her neck. “I’d rather do this.”

She shivers pleasantly at the feel of his lips on her neck. “That’s a nice gesture.”

“But is it better than going back to sleep?”

“Mhmm, I don’t know,” Marissa teases playfully. “You might need to do it again. For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course. I’m more than happy to oblige, madam.” Thomas’ finger slips under the strap of the tank top Marissa’s wearing and slides it down, exposing more of her shoulder. He teeth gently graze the flesh, before he kisses it. “How about now?”

“Definitely getting warmer.” Marissa turns her head so she can look at Thomas. “Good morning.”

“Morning, beautiful.”

Marissa tilts her head up and snakes her arm around the back of his neck and head, pushing him towards her. She captures him in a greedy kiss.

Thomas responds eagerly, his tongue sweeping past her lips and melding with her own. His hand leaves her waist and he skims the smooth expanse of her stomach until he reaches her breast, cupping one of them.

A low moan escapes the back of Marissa’s throat and she arches against him, pressing into his morning arousal.

“Marissa…” Thomas warns, growling into her ear.

“Yes, counselor?”

Thomas can’t hold back his own moan as the words leave her mouth. He squeezes her breast before taking one of hardened nipples between his fingers, rolling it. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I-If my memory s-s-serves me correctly, I’m not the one w-who started this.” The grip she has on the back of his head tightens, her nails gently grazing his scalp. “Let’s see how much you can accomplish in a 7 short minutes.”

“You’ll be surprised to see what I can do with a limited amount of time. And I’ll have you know something, Miss Day, I never shy away from a challenge.”

He grabs her face and kisses her again, harder this time, the urgency and desperation evident. He had never felt more grateful for the fact that he only wore boxers to bed. While the official reason was that he got incredibly warm in his sleep — Marissa constantly called him her own personal heater — Thomas couldn’t deny that it was extremely convenient for morning quickies. Taking a hand, he quickly shoves the boxers down and haphazardly kicks them away, not caring where they land.

He then hooks his thumb into the waistband on his fiancé’s underwear and tugs them. Marissa lifts her hips in order to assist. His fingertips slowly trail down her thigh, a trail of goosebumps left in their wake. “You’re so soft. It should be a crime.”

“Thomas,” Marissa exhales. “You’re being a tease.”

His breath is warm on her neck as he pants behind her. He chuckles deeply. “You have no patience, my love.”

“I have the patience of a saint,” Marissa argues. She flips them over so she’s on top of Thomas. “I’m just choosing not to exercise it.”

Whatever witty response Thomas has geared up on the tip of his tongue dies as soon as she lowers herself onto him. His eyes flutter shut at the feel of her completely enveloping him.

She rocks her hips forward, and Thomas lifts his up, meeting her halfway. After a few thrusts, they fall into a slow rhythm. Her nails rake across his chest, uncaring if she actually scratches him. Thomas doesn’t mind either. They enjoy marking each other up every once in a while‍‍. Besides, a well placed scratch or hickey makes for interesting gossip fodder for the PTA, and Marissa knows how much they love talking about her.

His hands roam every inch of skin his can touch — her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, her arms. Every touch of the skin only sets her on fire and spurs her movements on further. He drops his hand down between them, his thumb finding her clit, drawing slow, lazy circles. Thomas watches as Marissa’s eyes close and her head drops back with a shuddered moan.

Her thighs start to tremble and that all familiar ache settles in her lower stomach. “Fuck,” she hisses under her breath. “Thomas, I’m s-so...close.”

“Come on,” Thomas coaxes, his pace on her clit quickening. “Cum for me, Mari.”

A silent cries escapes her lips as her orgasm rolls through her. Thomas follows behind a few thrusts later, spilling into her.

Marissa falls forward, her head landing on his chest. The room was silent, save for their heavy pants, the couple trying to catch their breaths. Thomas places a hand on the small of her back, softly stroking her skin.

“Why don’t we do that more often?” Marissa asks rhetorically. As soon as the words leave her mouth, the shrill sound of their alarm clock goes off, startling them out of their peaceful bubble.

“Because we’re never going to get up early enough to do it often,” Thomas answers with a sigh. “And even if we ignore our alarm clock, we have two tiny humans that will wake us up.”

Marissa rolls over and gets out of bed. “True. Join me in the shower before we have to get the girls up?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

~V~

Forty-five minutes later, the Mendez-Day household is in fully up and ready to begin the day.

Thomas is getting dressed for work, while Marissa is in the kitchen with Luz and Ivy, making breakfast.

Ever since getting engaged and moving in with Thomas and Luz four months ago, the four of them settled into a pretty seamless routine. Marissa helped the girls get dressed for the day, they ate breakfast together, and Thomas reviewed their homework before dropping them off.

“How about just cereal for breakfast?” Marissa suggests. “I won’t have to cook, and that way I’ll still have time to do your hair for picture day. What styles are we going with again?”

“Braids,” Luz says.

“Ballerina bun.”

“Braids and ballerina bun, got it.” Marissa grabs a box of Cap’n Crunch from the pantry and pours two bowls.

“Don’t forget I have soccer practice after school,” Luz says, accepting a bowl of cereal.

“Of course not. It’s over at 5:30. And Ivy has science club until 5, so she’ll get picked up first and then we’ll swing by and get you.”

“Can you bring snacks for the team?” Luz asks.

Marissa checks back in the pantry, scanning to see if they had enough of one snack to feed a bunch of hungry kids. Nope. “I’ll head to the grocery store as soon you guys leave, and pick up Capri Suns and...trail mix. Is trail mix good?”

“It has to be cranberry kind.”

“You got it, dude.”

After breakfast and getting the girls prepared for picture day, Marissa grabs their backpacks, ready to usher everyone out of the door.

“Do you pack lunches or do the girls need lunch money?” Thomas asks.

Marissa adjusts Thomas’ tie and smooths out the lapels of his suit jacket. “I added lunch money onto their accounts last Friday, they should be good for two weeks.”

“Okay. And have you seen my briefcase?”

“In your car.”

“And there’s no permission slips we need to sign or conferences we’re forgetting?”

Marissa shakes her head. “No. Are you picking the girls up later or am I?”

“Will you be out of class by then?”

A few months ago, Marissa enrolled in the local college to finish her bachelor’s degree. Thankfully she was just a few credits shy, and only had to take two classes, one of them online.

“Class will be over at 1:30, I’m good.”

“Can you pick them up, just in case I end up staying a bit late at the office? I don’t plan on it, but sometimes they hold me hostage.”

“No problem.” Marissa turns to Ivy and Luz. “Let’s do takeout for dinner. Chinese food, pizza, or Thai?”

“Pizza!” The girls say in unison.

“Pizza it is.” She bends down to kiss both of their foreheads. “Have a good day at school, my little chickadees. Make good choices, be brilliant.”

“Bye mom.”

“Bye Marissa!”

Thomas wraps an arm around Marissa’s waist and spins her around. “I don’t get any love?”

“I think you’ve had your fair share for the day, Mister.”

Thomas smirks. “Nonsense. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.”

“Have a good day, my love. May you be the best lawyer at your firm, win all of your cases, and have easygoing clients.” Marissa obliges him and gives him a sweet kiss on the lips, ignoring the obnoxious sounds the kids were making at the display of affection.

“Okay, I’ve heard enough from the peanut gallery.” Marissa says once she pulls away. “I love you guys.”

“Love you too.”

Once the three of them are gone, Marissa dramatically plops down on the couch. She closes her eyes, hoping to get a few moments of rest.

As soon as she closes her eyes, her phone buzzes loudly. Her eyes snap open at the noise. Pulling her cell out of her pocket, she sees it’s her group text message thread, from the PTA, asking her questions about new fundraiser ideas.

She sighs. “No rest for the weary.”

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #mother of the year #moty #thomas mendez #thomas mendez x mc #ns*fw

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sounddrive · 5 years

Text

Reflections

Warning: Contains major spoilers for The Arcana: A Mystic Romance within. You’ve been warned.

They should’ve noticed that something was wrong.

They should’ve noticed when Death had disappeared.

They should’ve noticed when Justice disappeared.

They should’ve noticed when Temperance disappeared.

Fool didn’t know what to expect when Devil said he wanted to visit. Granted, Devil had also said he had something, in his words, ‘interesting’, to chat with them about.

For the occasion, Fool had taken most of several weeks to rearrange their realm for their guest. Settled on the edge of a cliff was a pergola, accented in their preferred floral patterns and green trim. Down below, far, far down the cliff was a sea of slow moving lava. Granted, it wasn’t hot at all. An illusion, truly, but Fool figured Devil would’ve liked something reminiscent of his own realm while he visited.

The Fool paused when a little white dog on two legs approached them, tail wagging and tongue sticking out of their mouth.

“Scout?” Fool inquired.

“It’s him!” Scout responded in kind, panting with excitement. “Can I go get him?”

Fool smiled. With their nod, the dog-headed guide raced off down the path to retrieve Fool’s guest.

***

Once Devil had started up the final bend toward the pergola, Scout dashed elsewhere, chasing some birds into the treeline behind them.

Despite the fact Fool themself had granted the Devil entry into their realm, in all the eons of both their existences, Fool couldn’t help but feel cold dread ripple through them as their friend approached.

There was a glint in his bloody pupils.

“There you are,” Devil cooed.

“Where else would I be?” Fool replied in kind. “I’m not going on another journey for another few weeks. I need my rest!”

They grabbed one of the chalices settled on a three-legged table just off to their right, using the drink to mask their expression, their rapid kaleidoscopical interchange of emotions.

There was that dangerous glint in his bloody pupils. They hadn’t seen that glint in-!

Fool picked up the remaining chalice, offering it to their companion. “Water?”

“I don’t touch the stuff, but thank you for the offer my dear,” Devil nodded. His smile was amused. Friendly, even.

Fool knew better.

With a wave of their hand, Fool summoned a pile of pillows to appear on the polished stone floor of the small pergola. They picked a few cushions and lied back on them, looking to the ceiling. A menagerie of vines and stems of flowers cross-crossed over the support of net trellises. The mess of multitudes of flowers seemed to be looking down upon the both of them.

“What flowers have you got there?” Devil approached, still standing. His gaze was centered at the messy array of flora overhead.

“I don’t remember,” Fool admitted, sparing a glance to him. “I just picked a random assortment and threw them up there."

“Evidently,” Devil teased, pulling a laugh out of the other.

For the next while, they sat together in silence. It was comfortable too, but...

“Devil, what was the something...‘interesting’ you wanted to talk to me about?” Fool finally inquired. They set down their now-empty chalice on the floor, it’s golden visage mirrored in the polished stone beneath.

For a moment, there was that cool smile on his face. His gaze turned down to the path leading away from their spot. Fool traced where his gaze went from there: towards one of the ever changing, meandering paths Fool’s realm tended to twist and turn into.

They were going to discuss this whilst on a walk, apparently.

Devil held out one of his clawed hands, pulling Fool to their feet. The latter reached over to the table, where their walking stick rested. The Devil took a few steps out from under the pergola, pausing to allow Fool to make their way toward the other Major Arcana.

Devil shorted his paces, allowing Fool to walk side by side with him. As much as Fool would rather lead in their trek with no destination, they needed to know what the Devil was up to.

***

“You can’t be serious.”

“You know I am persistent.”

“I thought you hated persistence.”

“Only when it’s not by my own accord or when mortals ceaselessly make deals with me; you know this, Fool.”

“How many times is it now?”

“Were you keeping track?”

“Should I start?”

“Tch.”

“...Devil, what makes you think it’ll work this time?”

“...”

“...fine. Keep your secrets.”

“There’s another question I need to ask.”

“Oh?”

“Two, actually.”

“...yeah?”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“...I don’t have a stake in your games, Devil. I’m not so sure about the others, though.”

“Do not worry yourself over me, Fool.”

“Who said I was?”

“May I ask the next question?”

“...Go ahead.”

“Whose face are you wearing?”

***

S h i t.

“?!” Fool’s expression was enough to draw a cruel laugh from their companion.

“I beg your pardon, Devil, but that’s fucking rude,” Fool replied, curt. They brought their walking stick closer to their person, only to firmly plant it into the ground between them.

“Temper, temper, Fool,” the Devil dared to chide, “I know you like to copy humans but...I have never seen you wear one face for long.”

Fuck you and your observant ass, you goat.

“Are you stuck on this human’s face, Fool? That would be a first; whyever for? It is not in any of our natures to get... attached .”

Fool didn’t offer him a reply, but that apparently was answer enough.

“I shall see myself out, then,” he stated with finality, that smug smile still on his face.

Fool could only nod at him, watching as the Devil turned his back to them. Smoke dispersed from the deep tracks he left in the ground. The metallic tang of blood arose with the smoke as it curled in on itself, surrounding the departing major Arcana in a great whirlwind before completely disappearing.

In the mock lava sea a ways away from Fool, it stilled.

All was quiet.

Nothing stirred.

As fast as it had stilled, great portions of it immediately exploded into jets of steam and spouts water. The glowing embers of black and red gave way to the blackest-blue of seas, trimmed in sickly white foam. The cacophony of the environment shifting violently in the realm barely covered the string of expletives Fool chose to scream at their now-absent guest.

Eventually the realm had settled back down, albeit everything was pell-mell and thrown everywhere it shouldn’t be. The pergola was destroyed, leaving only the now cracked, polished stone foundation the only thing somewhat intact.

Fool found themself sitting on their cliff. With their walking stick off to the side, and feet dangling over the edge, their gaze was off toward the hazy horizon.

A hooded figure head butted into their side, gaining Fool’s attention.

“Hi Scout,” they greeted the guide tiredly. The sight of Scout’s wagging tail peeking out from under their coat drew forth a small smile.

Fool opened up their arms, sighing in contentment when Scout softly settled into a hug with them.

“Better?” Scout inquired, eyes directed at Fool’s dour expression.

“...a little, but yeah,” Fool nodded. “Can you stay a bit, Scout?”

The other's answer was in the form of Scout bodily flattening themself over Fool’s lap, tail wagging blindingly fast as Fool petted the other’s furry head.

What to do, what to do...?

Days.

Weeks.

Months? Almost a human’s year?

Fool had found themself unable to shift out of the form they had taken on. It was disturbing; changing shapes was the easiest sort of magic! Why were they stuck!?

Fool removed the mirror from their storage locker. Removing the thin fabric of their hood that veiled their head, Fool frowned at the face that frowned back.

“You’re dead,” Fool spoke, their voice soft. “I wish it wasn't the case, but you are. You...you humans have the shortest little drops of lives. And then there’s you and so many others in Vesuvia. You all threw yourselves into that mess, wanting to find a cure. Why would you take such the risk? I could’ve kept you safe. You could’ve stayed with me; your magic would’ve been strong enough to pull that teacher of yours into here too, fear of magic be damned...”

A sigh escaped the Major Arcana. Pulling the hood over the face that wasn’t theirs again, Fool returned the mirror to it’s spot before locking it away.

***

Sometime later...

When Scout barked up a storm, far down the path from Fool’s seated spot on their cliff, the Major Arcana didn’t know who to expect. The one human that had been able to visit in any recent stretch of time was dead, after all.

Fool remained seated, but nonetheless twisted themself around to look behind them. They watched as Scout ran circles around the stranger that approached. There was a colorful feather tucked into a ribbon band around the base of the hat’s crown. The fabric of the red scarf circled around the human’s neck and over their mouth and nose was mottled and blotted. The damage on the fabric was from use and age, but evidently, it was well loved and cared for. Slung over the stranger's shoulder was a heavy leather bag, it’s contents clinking together.

The aura that exuded from this magician was powerful for one their age. Even if the magician was over 200 paces away, it was then that Fool realized exactly who the magician was.

The Fool thought it wise to pull the hood of their attire over their face, casting their visage in the darkest shadow. He had suffered enough, in their opinion.

There was no need to have the face of a ghost greet him.

Sometime much later...

I should have noticed that something was amiss.

I should have noticed when I was not the only one of us to be in attendance during the ritual.

I should’ve noticed that the magician, Asra, the very desperate, the very mortal Magician Asra would have done something as unprecedented as this. Humans’ emotions were easy to exploit, but...

Fool...

Fool, did you know what would have happened to you, after?

For what? The cost of what you have done, what you have sacrificed, just to circumvent my plans? Did you not realize the extent of what you had done? What you’ll never get back...?

No matter. No matter, in the least.

Entities of our kind are a patient sort, after all.

It’s only a matter of time.

It’s only a matter of time...

A/N: The fic was a labor of love and determination in 5 hours to get all this down (not including the editing). I've been wanting to work on something like this, especially with the big reveal about MC's nature during Nadia's route at the end of The Star and the beginning of the Moon chapter.

I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I had writing it.

#The Arcana #The Arcana spoilers #The Devil #The Fool #Asra #Scout #my fic #my work

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grvstnaya · 5 years

Text

God, the Devil and the Dead.

I know a lot of people, but none of them ever knew me. My entire life has been a huge collection of well-told lies on the most diverse subjects, this whole time I have been hiding secrets in the deepest place of my chest: secrets between me, God, the Devil and the dead.

The Devil rested his hand on my shoulder as God put his blade on my throat.

"It's a secret." I said.

The Fox arranged her hair behind her ear.

"I know,", she said. "It's safe with me."

It never is, I thought, but said no words.

When I left, the Devil glanced at her, as if he knew what was going to happen. God, however, left the room in front of me and didn't look back.

We walked slowly to the top of a nearby hill, where I sat down on the grass and watched the little people calmly following with their lives.

"I am sorry." I said to God. "It's not my fault."

"This may work with the others but not with me, kid." He answered. "You chose to be here."

"I was scared." I tried to argue. "My only other option was death."

"It was an option, wasn't it?"

I sighted, he never understood why I feared death. The Devil, on the other hand, seemed to understand, he once showed me this up close and I liked it.

"You still can leave." The Devil said. "But you don't want, am I right?"

I stayed quiet, everything he ever said was a way to get me in trouble.

"You don't fear death anymore. She walks right behind you wherever you go. You now fear me and what I will do when she stabs you on the back." He continued. "You keep trying to apologize to that guy right there but you should try and make me happy so I make things easier for you when it happens. You won't get anything from him."

It was past midnight when the fire took over the complex. The orange flames reminded me of her hair. The little people were now desperate, running in every direction but I had no sight of The Fox.

Finally, I saw her, jumping into buildings, evacuating people, exactly what I expected from such a gentle soul. I lost the count of how many people she saved before entering the blue building. It was completely empty, most of the complex were but there she was, running wild into the burning building. Some minutes passed and she was still inside when it collapsed, the air was taken by a gigantic black cloud of smoke.

There was not a single soul in the surroundings when The Snake approached me.

"The target is dead." He said.

"Good job convincing her that someone was still there."

I felt both the hand on my shoulder and the blade on my throat as I silently slid my own hand down to the dagger on my waist.

The Snake's smile was not kind or warm when he looked me in the eyes and kissed my lips.

"It's a secret, ok?" He said.

My eyes widened to the sound of his voice. I coughed and spit on the floor as I fell down on my knees. Suddenly, my entire body felt hot, I started panicking as my breath failed, I rubbed my lips and my tongue trying to get rid of the venom but I panicked even more when I first felt the white foam coming out of my mouth. My body trembled hard and my arms and legs didn't answer me and, when they finally stopped moving I too became a secret myself.

A secret between God, the Devil and the dead.

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 6 years

Text

Hurting From Someone Else’s Scars - fic

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Jon Kent, Damian Wayne Pairing: jondami Summary: He wasn’t there. He didn’t know him then. But Damian’s death still haunted him all the same. A/N: Jon and Damian are in their late twenties. Bruce was out buying himself ice cream in the middle of the night because he’s a simple old man who just wants to be fat.

Bruce found him on his sofa. Lying on his back, arm across his eyes.

In his boxers.

He stood in the foyer of his home for a moment, just holding the brown paper bag. Then he frowned.

“Jon.”

The man in question jumped in surprise, stumbling to his feet, hastily grabbing a nearby blanket to cover himself. He smiled awkwardly. Bruce just raised an eyebrow.

“…Shouldn’t you be…upstairs?” He deadpanned. “I mean, I am attempting to remain as far away from you and my son’s relationship as I can, but when you’re in my parlor half-naked, and without said son of mine…” He glanced towards the stairs. “Did you two have a fight? Because if you did, you should probably just go home. He tends to hold his grudges overnight.”

“What?” Jon blinked, then raised his hand to wave Bruce off. The blanket began to slip down his waist and he quickly scrambled to pull it back up. “No, no, no fight. I just…”

Bruce waited.

“I…I’m having a crisis.” Jon sighed in defeat. “And I…I don’t want to bother Damian with it.”

“Well.” Bruce exhaled himself. “I don’t have the best past with romantic relationships, but…you’re supposed to be able to lean on your significant other in a time of crisis. And Damian wouldn’t be bothered, I assure you.”

“Not bothered, but, like…” Jon looked around, like the words he wanted were sitting in front of him. “…It’s about him.”

Bruce curiosity was piqued now. “What?”

“I…” Jon seemed to shrink in on himself in some embarrassment. Fiddled with the blanket, pulled it up over his shoulders and cocooned himself. “It’s just…his scars.” Then a whisper. “I…I can’t look at his scars.”

Ah.

“At least. Not his death scar.” Jon looked away. “It just…hurts. And I know it shouldn’t, because I wasn’t there. I didn’t know him when he died.” He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut. Clutched at the blanket. “But it’s still proof that he did. Proof that there was a time he wasn’t in the world because someone violently murdered him. And that…that’s not fair, that someone did that to him.”

“…The world isn’t fair, son.” Bruce replied gently. “You’ve known that for a long time.”

“I know.” Jon nodded. Didn’t reopen his eyes, but swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know, Bruce.”

“That’s not to say I don’t understand, though. I do. His family and I similar…issues.” Bruce hummed. “He’s…been through a lot.”

Jon snorted in agreement. “That’s an understatement.”

“That’s why I’m glad he has you.” Bruce admitted. Jon glanced up at him. “The pain of his life follows him everywhere. Every day. But you appear to…ease that hurt for him. And I’m so glad.”

Jon blinked, and let a small smile fall onto his face.

“And it’d kill him to see you upset about this, about something related to him.” Bruce continued. The smile dropped from Jon’s cheeks. “So, if I may make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Talk to him about this.” Bruce said simply. “Come to a mutual solution. Don’t hide your feelings from him. He’ll sense something is wrong, and internalize it as something he did.” He paused, tilted his head. “Was he sleeping when you left the room?”

“Yeah.”

“No, he wasn’t. He heard you leave.” Bruce corrected. “And right now, he’s up there blaming himself for doing something to upset you.”

“But he didn’t-”

“If I were you, I’d just go back upstairs.” Bruce cut off quietly. “And remind yourself that despite the past, he’s here now. Lay with him, hold him as tight as you can, and remind yourself that he’s real, now. And that what’s happened to him in the past doesn’t matter. Not tonight.”

Bruce turned away, then. Taking his paper bag into the kitchen. Jon trailed him into the foyer, then watched from afar. He wondered, absently, how many times Damian’s family had done that. How many times they came home from a long night, and just held their brother. Held their son and squeezed their love and adoration (and apologies) into him as hard as they could.

He waited until Bruce disappeared, waited another minute more, then sighed, kept hold of the blanket around his person, and made his way back up the stairs.

The hallways were silent, though he sensed dear old Alfred the cat roaming them nearby, watching for any threats against his favorite charge (and his clumsy boyfriend, who tries – really – to not step on his toes so much).

He paused at the door, slowly put his hand on the knob. Didn’t know why, knew Bruce was probably right. That Damian was awake, panicking, blaming himself, but most of all – waiting desperately for Jon to come back.

Softly, he opened the door. Damian was lying in the center of the bed on his stomach, arms under the pillows. His hair was a comfortable mess, and his face was tilted towards the door.

The scar down his naked spine practically glowed in the darkness.

It was a starburst in shape, perpetually reliving the moment the tip of a sword burst through it over a decade ago. Faded, with so many more scars overtop of it. But always there, always bright. Always mocking them.

Always mocking him.

He inhaled sharply, felt that painful tightness in his chest as he walked forward.

He’s here now. He reminded himself of Bruce’s words. The past doesn’t matter. Not tonight.

He stood next to the bed for a moment, before dropping the blanket and plopping down on the side of the mattress, immediately reaching out to run his fingers through Damian’s hair.

Damian’s eyes slowly flickered open before Jon’s hand ever touched him. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards as he hummed, “You came back?”

“To you?” Jon snorted. And it was corny, but he meant every syllable. “Always.”

That ghost of a smile disappeared instantly. “Why’d…where’d you go?”

“Downstairs.” Jon whispered. “Just thinking about something.”

“And what was that something?” Damian slurred.

“You.” Jon answered honestly. That scar was in the corner of his eye, practically yelling at him. Look at me! Look at me!

He didn’t. He kept his focus on Damian’s face. On his sleep-tussled hair, and his bleary sea foam green eyes. On the furrow of his dark brows as he mumbled: “Me?”

“Mhm.”

“What about me?”

“Everything.” Jon shrugged, placing his hand on the other side of Damian’s back. He leaned down and kissed Damian’s cheek, then his jaw. The back of his neck, his bare shoulder. He hesitated there, closed his eyes as he kept his lips pressed to his skin, then brushed his lips towards his spine, and started a long, slow line of kisses down it.

Damian just shifted to watch him curiously, breathe almost carefully. Almost not breathe at all.

Jon felt the texture of Damian’s skin change under his mouth. Soft and velvety from fine hairs, freckles and moles, to smooth and raised of aged scar tissue.

And again he stopped. Left his lips on the center of that star he hated so much. Pulled his hands in to hold Damian’s sides, and gently stroke that soft skin again.

“...Jonathan?”

“…I’m so glad you’re here, Damian.” He breathed into Damian’s skin. Into that scar, into that memory that wasn’t his, into that fear and pain he had every time he saw it.

Damian didn’t respond at first. Just laid in silence, and let Jon worship him. After a few moments, he twisted slightly, and pulled his arm out from under the pillow, holding it out to him.

“Come back to bed, Beloved.”

Jon nodded silently, and left one more kiss to Damian’s death mark. He sat up, but just enough to twist his legs into bed. As he shifted, and Damian turned more towards him, he caught glimpse of the matching pale explosion on Damian’s chest. The entrance wound. Bright and terrible, just like the one on his back.

He didn’t dwell on that one, though. Would another day, surely. Probably in the morning, as they got dressed, but not now. Not tonight. Just dragged Damian against his chest as soon as he could. Held him as tight as he held anyone, anything, that ever mattered to him.

Damian grunted slightly, at the pressure against his ribs, but didn’t say anything. Merely reciprocated with an arm across Jon’s hip, and fingers gently stroking at his back.

“I’m sorry.” Damian whispered after a moment, kissing underneath Jon’s jaw in apology. Jon could have smacked him for it, but squeezed him tighter instead. “For whatever I did to upset you.”

Jon flashed a grin, just for himself. For all their angst and yelling and distance, Bruce still knew his son best, apparently.

“You didn’t do anything. I’m just…being dumb.” He sighed, let his hand wander back down Damian’s spine, to linger in the middle of that scar. He found himself wondering what it felt like, to be stabbed so thoroughly. Wondered if he’d ever ask Damian one day. Wondered if he actually even wanted to know. “I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.”

“Only if you stay.” Damian whispered. Jon smiled, and shifted his head downwards. Pressed their noses together, twisted his legs in between Damian’s.

“You’re stuck with me for the rest of tonight.” Jon swore. “And probably the rest of forever too, if I’m honest.”

Damian’s own smile was sleepy as he let his eyes fall contently closed.

But there was a frown on Jon’s face now, as he barely breathed: “Just promise you’ll stay too.”

Because no, Bruce was right. The past, right now, didn’t matter. But the future did. And Jon didn’t know what he’d do if he lost Damian. Once, ever. If he died or was killed. He just didn’t know what he’d do. He didn’t know what he’d become, if he ever lost Damian.

Damian stirred, mumbled, “Wha…?”

“I said goodnight, I love you.” Jon amended, kissing the skin under Damian’s eye. Damian merely pushed closer, keeping their faces centimeters apart.

“Oh, okay.” Damian hummed. “Good.”

Damian quickly dozed off, then, leaving Jon watching him for a few minutes. He waited until Damian’s fingers stopped stroking his side, before kissing Damian’s cheek one more time and letting his eyes close too, lashes brushing against Damian’s skin.

No, he didn’t know what he’d do if he ever lost Damian. But as he clutched at that starburst on his lover’s back, he decided – swore, if only to himself – that he would never, ever find out.

#jondami #jon kent #Damian Wayne #bruce wayne

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jimlingss · 7 years

Text

His Name [8 - Finale]

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 Words: 4.5k Genre: Angst, Multiple Personality!Au Summary: Jeon Jungkook is a puzzle with too many missing pieces from his past and too many sides. Somehow, it’s become your job to solve him. → Inspired by the Korean Drama - Kill Me Heal Me Warnings: Topics of mental health. Mentions of death, suicide and medical disorders. Mentions of physical and emotional abuse. Disclaimer: Although this piece of work required lots of in-depth research and was attempted to be as accurate as possible, at the end of the day, I am not a psychologist and this is fanfiction. Specific things may be altered or exaggerated for story-telling purposes. Please take all medical terminologies and procedures with a grain of salt.

The waves crash against the shoreline. The mist sprays against his face, drawing a grin that splits through the apples of his reddened cheeks. The tide sweeps away the markings and footsteps in the sand. Seagulls squawk from above, the sound of the foam fizzing out filling silence. The blue shimmers against the glistening sun.

A camera shutter clicks beside him.

“What are you doing? Ugh.” He whines, childishly stomping his feet as he raises his hand to block the lense. “Will you stop taking pictures of me?!”

Yoongi grins, bringing the camera down to skim through the photos. “There’s nothing else to take other than your ugly face.”

“Rude.” Jungkook mutters, rolling his eyes as he shifts close to his brother, also looking at the pictures.

There are hundreds of photographs. Shades of electric saffron or soft amber, vigorous hues that could belong in galleries. A few photos are of Yoongi’s sleeping face, taken by Jungkook as revenge when the older constantly zoomed up into the younger’s nose or only saved ones where he was mid-blink and his mouth agape. But most are of their vibrant smiling faces, standing side by side. Behind them are mosques, cathedrals, mountains; pyramids, skyscrapers and towers. They’ve reached every corner of the world, travelling companions who have stayed in countless cities, old towns and tranquil villages.

“Where are we going next?”

Yoongi shrugs, his lips pressed together in a smile. “There’s a road up ahead. I have to check the map. But I think there’s an inn there. ”

The two of them stay to stare at the boundless seaside for a while longer, wondering what adventures have yet to come.

As long as they’re together, everything will be okay.

“Yoongi?”

“Hmm…?”

The waves crash against the shores again. Jungkook inhales a breath of the humid, salty air.

“When was the last time you had a shower?”

“Are you calling me dirty, brat?!”

He backs away with a laugh, hands shooting up in the air from the accusation.

“I never said that.”

“I think you did. When was the last time you had a shower?”

“Hey! I can’t help it! There were no bathrooms back in the-”

Jungkook cuts off his own sentence, deciding to book it the other way as Yoongi approaches. The two of them scream and shout, chasing each other and threatening to throw the other straight into the ocean. His cheeks are numb from the grin, chest heaving as tears fill his eyes from joy.

If only his brother were still alive….

Jungkook wakes up from his dream.

He winces against the mattress before peeling back his lids, a tear rolling off from the side of his eye to the pillow. He pants, scanning the premise before he turns beside him. The body that he longs for has disappeared. An imprint of the person he desperately seeks is the only thing left.

You’re gone.

His phone is left with one voice mail. His hands shake as it presses against his ear. “Good morning Mr. Jeon Jungkook. This morning, we have received a notice that Dr. Y/N has withdrawn her contract. She didn’t specify any reasonings but her chief has stated his approval. Miss Y/N is no longer your therapist. We’re currently looking to find a suitable replacement. I’ll contact you immediately when I’m able to find someone suitable. Thank you.”

His heart drops down to his stomach.

A few days have passed since you’ve seen Jungkook. You’ve been adjusting to regular life, moving back into your old apartment. The white walls and small rooms are more of a temporary living space than a home. You’ve only ever used it when you had an extended break, passing out on the couch for a few hours. It’s not the tiny size that leaves you bored or the lack of interesting shows on the television that leave you wandering aimlessly. It’s not that you yearn for the bigger house or the luxury that you had let go.

You’re lonely. You miss him.

As you’re sighing, looking out the dirty windows that you have to clean, a knock on the door breaks your reverie.

Knock. Knock.

A firm two sounds and a ring of the bell before it goes silent. You look through the tiny peep hole, eyes growing large as a gasp escapes through parted lips.

Jungkook’s standing there, staring at the door; wearing a black hoodie, ripped jeans and old sneakers. His hair is a mess, cheeks and eyes puffy - completely unlike the first time you laid eyes on him when he was perfectly polished, without a flaw.

“Uh…” You stick your nose through the door, still baffled at his sudden appearance at your run-down apartment complex.

The corner of his lips tugs into a smirk but he still wears an impassive expression. “It’s Yoongi.” There’s a pause as he waits for you but upon zero reaction, his brow raises. “Can I come in or are you going to make me stand out here all day? If I catch a cold, it’s on you.”

“Y-yeah…” You clear your voice, widening the door. “Come in.”

He smiles at you, stepping inside to take off his shoes as the door closes shut. “Thanks.”

“Sorry…” You’re scrambling for the cushions that had fallen off the sofa. “I d-didn’t know...things are a mess in here. I-”

“It’s fine.” He eases you as he sweeps your surroundings with kind and genuinely curious eyes. “It’s cozy.”

“It really isn’t.” You lifelessly laugh. “It’s old and-”

“No.” He huffs out with his face scrunched up, tired of arguing with you. “It is. Trust me. It’s a lot better than the house Jungkook has that’s so needlessly big and empty. This is warm and comfy. It’s cute.”

“Thanks.”

“So…” A laugh almost floats from your mouth at how awkwardly he lingers, moving his weight from this foot to the next as he stands in the middle of your living room. “Have you had dinner, yet?”

You end up making dinner for the both of you. Yoongi quietly follows behind like a puppy, leaning to glance over your shoulder once in a while. He goes where you go. But when you ask if he wants to help, he scoffs and shrugs you off, declaring that his hands are only meant to play piano and nothing else.

You suspect the real reason is that he simply doesn’t know how to cook. He does, however, help you take the dishes from the top shelf when he notices that you’re reaching up on the tips of your toes; he stirs the pot, chops some celery in jagged shapes - all while exaggerating his complaints with a huge frown and pout.

He finally brings up the purpose of his visit when you’re seated across from each other at the table.

“Why did you leave?”

Yoongi’s looking down at his plate, meagerly picking at his food before he decides that he needs to nourish the body, taking a spoonful into his mouth. His chewing picks up the pace when he realizes how delicious it is, impressed at your skills. “You promised you would take care of him.” His voice holds no malice or resentments. He flickers his pupils up to meet yours. “Do you not want to be a part of his life anymore?”

“No...that’s not it.” You shake your head. “I made a promise. I never had plans on breaking it. Just...I needed some time to think.”

He nods, eating in silence. It’s a comfortable sort of quiet, one that you don’t feel like you need to fill with meaningless conversations. The both of you finish and he takes the dishes to the sink.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured. It’s not your job to take care of him, not beyond the professional aspect at least. You shouldn’t feel obligated. If you want to go somewhere, if you want to leave...he’ll get over it. You don’t need to feel guilty an-”

“Yoongi.” You interject, cutting off his nervous rambling as he stacks the plates onto the drying rack. “When I made those promises, I didn’t make it without the intention of keeping it. And I don’t feel obligated to do anything.” You shake your head. “I want to.”

He shuts off the water, wiping his hands. Then he abruptly turns to you, almost making you crash into his chest. He holds his strong gaze into your eyes, making your heart thump harder.

“Y/N.” Yoongi smiles, memorizing each feature and eyelash, softened brown orbs in yours.

“There’s no way I can get you to love only me...right?”

He asks despite knowing the answer. He asks with hope, that maybe the impossible can become possible. And as he expects, you can’t respond without breaking his heart.

Yoongi leans over to you, pressing his hand gently to your cheek as the pad of his thumb sweeps across the blooming hues of pink. Your lips part with an exhale and he flickers to look at them before meeting your eyes again in a gaze. He tilts his head, moving closer until his forehead is almost pressed against yours. The clock ticks, a moment so close and intimate that your heart swells inside your chest. He never looks away and neither do you. Yoongi wants to kiss you so badly….a desire that overwhelms his entire being….but he doesn’t.

He pulls away in the next moment, focusing downwards. “Do you really want me to go?” His voice betrays him, a weak cry that he covers up with a cough, chords cracking over the raw emotions of desperation. “I will if you do. If that’s what you want..”

“I’ll do it.” in a heartbeat.

“Yoongi. I-” You don’t even know what to say. It’s all tumbling down, a pain of his that you can’t mend or fix - perhaps it’s one that you shouldn’t even touch.

“Can I ask you one thing?” He looks at you with a smile, corners of his lips turned upwards. Each word he murmurs is spoken slowly with care as if afraid he’ll startle you and you’ll evaporate past his fingertips’ grasps. “Did you ever love me?”

“I love Jungkook…” You answer. “I love you too but…”

“But the person you really love is him.” He nods. “I understand. Just please…”

He begs you, a plea that shakes your core. “Don’t forget me.”

“I won’t.” His tiny smile widens at your firm response. “And he won’t either.”

The man blinks, disappearing out of consciousness, falling back into the depths. His body is left as an empty vessel until the original owner floats back, awakened as he looks around; completely confused until his eyes land on yours.

“Wha- Where…?” Jungkook clutches his head, praying that it’s not a dream. You’re really in front of him. “Y/N.”

“Jungkook.” You pull him into an embrace, digging your face into his shoulder. He eases, arms slowly raising to hold you. “It’s fine. Everything’s okay.”

“You….” There’s a long pause, perhaps thirty seconds or five minutes until he breathes out. His heart beats along his chest as he shuts his eyes tight, lingering in the feeling of your touch. “You left.”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper back to him. “I needed some time.”

He hums back, still unable to comprehend that you’re here with him. He’s not alone.

“I missed you.” You murmur, crippling all of his worries until there are none left. “I can’t stay as your therapist. I’m sorry, Jungkook. I can’t and I don’t want to.”

“Then stay as Y/N.” He asks, shaking his head. “I don’t need you as anyone else. Just Y/N.”

You smile against the fabric of his sweater. “If that’s okay with you…”

“It’s perfectly okay.”

“Good.”

He grins, sighing as his lids flutter shut once more. “I missed you too.”

For once there are no boundaries. There are no rules that you must abide by. As long as he wants you and you want him, the both of you can be together. There are no if’s, but’s, or what’s.

And for once, you’ve never felt more happy.

[A Year Later]

Orange is the shade of the sunset; the fall of the sun over the horizon in warm dusk light, the snapshot in time before stars set over the ink sky. It’s the crackling fireplace, the sizzle of heat that embraces your body. It reminds you of his eyes lit by the glow of the flames, you leaning on his chest as soft smiles and murmurs befall from your parted lips. It’s the creamsicle in your hand, the train station and tiny shops littering the town; the laughter that made your stomach squeeze. It’s the monarch butterflies that have taken home to the garden, kissing the planter box that is now overgrown in vegetation. It reminds you of the hue of sunflowers, the coral peony and the tangerine carnation that Jimin gifted to you.

You don’t hate the colour so much anymore.

“-and so I swear that prison guard has a total thing for me.” He smirks, nose raised into the air. “I can just see it, Y/N. The way her eyes gleam when she frowns, how she yells at me to get back into my cell. Even in prison I’m still killin’ it with the ladies.”

You laugh when he snaps his fingers. “You’re psychotic, Seonho.”

He smiles, eyes still bright as he stares at you. “So..tell me...what’s this about you leaving?”

Your lips fall into a straight line as you lean closer to the glass in disbelief. “Did Nayoung tell you?”

Seonho doesn’t give any reaction, waiting for you to continue. You laugh stiffly, shuffling in the chair. “Well...I’m going abroad, Seonho!” You announce to him. “I was going to tell you on my own but obviously someone’s beaten me to it. Honestly, I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for but-”

“Does he treat you well?”

You’re caught off guard by his sudden question. He looks at you without an expression, serious and unconditionally sincere. “Yes. He does.”

“Do you love him?”

You answer without hesitation. “I do.”

Your old childhood friend eases with a grin. “Good.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll come back and I’ll visit you and-” From the hasty words spewed from your tongue to sedate his concerns, he simply shakes his head.

“None of that matters, Y/N.” He cuts you off with his lips turned, orbs sparkling like the young boy you remember him as. He looks at you in genuine joy; relief as he tips his head to the side, still holding onto the handle of the phone. “You don’t have to worry about me. I just want you to be happy.”

Unlike the last time - this time you’re not leaving to escape the past. You’re not running away from the shadows that had been chasing you. You’re no longer held captive to regrets, limbs no longer changed to bitter anguish. The vicious game of ‘what if’ has finally ended.

“I’m happy.”

You’ve never meant it more.

The days pass, all blurring together in a mosaic of smiles and laughter. Jungkook is still recovering, now reigning a sense of control over his life. As for the others, you see them less and less.

“I’m going to go. I’ll be back in a bit.” He wraps the scarf around his neck, struggling with the mittens on his hands.

“Are you sure? I mean it’s just some documents and paperwork, I coul-”

He cuts you off with a gentle kiss to your lips, gone when you blink again. Jungkook grins at the flush that still raises on your cheeks no matter how many times he presses his lips against yours - even if it is the hundredth time. “I know. But you’re busy, aren’t you? You can rely on me. And I have an appointment at the hospital, so, killing two birds with one stone..right?”

“O-oh.” You blink before melting into a sheepish smile. “I’ll make dinner then.”

“Okay.” He pats your head once, looking at you again with fondness before he turns on his feet and out the door.

For a few moments you remain, staring at the space that he just occupied before you sigh with a smile, moving back to your office.

The two of you had plans to move abroad. A few months ago, you had encouraged Jungkook to apply to an art school. At first he was apprehensive about it, constantly worried that he wasn’t adequate enough. But through gruelling hard work and a portfolio worth being put in a museum, they accepted him. Fate aligned itself, finally allowing mercy in both of your lives; because you also had plans.

You were considering going back to school to focus your studies on childhood development. You’re not sure when it became your dream but you wanted to open a child psychology and education center. It’s something that you hope to do someday, a goal that you can’t give up on. The university abroad accepted you almost immediately. Luckily for the both of you, it’s the same area that Jungkook would be going to. It all worked in your favour.

Needless to say, Jungkook was overwhelmed with happiness; his worries dissipating into thin air.

It’s been nearly two years since you’ve first met him; when you appeared at his doorstep to help and he gave you nothing more than a cold glance. It’s been exactly a year since your relationship with him turned into something more; dates and interlaced hands, trials and errors.

The memory of her is still fresh in your mind, her figure standing in front of you; the sundress blowing in the wind and her shoulders slumped downwards.

“Inhye…”

She smiled sweetly with a shake of her head. “I already knew it wouldn’t work out. This engagement was set up by our parents anyway. They’ll understand. Take care of him, okay?”

You can still remember her smile, one of encouragement and faith. “I can see it in his eyes….how much he loves you.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be okay.”

With a grace and elegance that you’ll always be impressed by, she had let him go.

The pain of the past will always remain, history cannot change. The backdrop and change of scenery doesn’t alter the shadows that follow or the hauntings of dead ghosts. But we can choose to dwell and let them fester, growing into agony and anger, spiralling out of control. Or we can let release the resentments for our own selves, for the sanity we need to continue living.

“Jungkook.” His father surrenders the breath he’s been holding. He looks down into his clasped hands, holding in tears as the old wounds that have never healed under bandages rip off once more. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me. With everything I’ve done...there hasn’t been a moment where I stopped loving you as my son.”

“You have a twisted definition of love, don’t you?”

His father’s expression flashes with hurt and he winces. Jungkook stands, walking away.

Jungkook apologizes to his step-mother for bearing a grudge against her without reason. She simply nods, bidding him farewell out the door as she turns to her husband’s side. When she looks, he’s still seated in the chair, motionlessly, accepting punishment for what he’s done. And just like that, his only son left had severed ties with him.

There will never be a day where the hurt will lessen or the pain will disappear. But perhaps someday, Jungkook might be able to return. Someday, perhaps, he could look into his father’s eyes and not want to break down in tears.

The sunrays peek from the edge of the hill, setting a cool light over the luscious green grass. A few chickadee birds chirp, the breeze rustling the leaves of the trees. The cathedral stands tall a few feet away, serene and quiet, not at all eerie with the stones set in rows. Jungkook sets the bouquet of white roses down between the two headstones.

One of them read his mother’s name and the other is ‘Min Yoongi’.

You’re not sure why his last name was changed; maybe as a way to further erase the person known as ‘Jeon Yoongi’. At the very least, you’re glad his father had the courtesy to keep his first name and to lay him next to his mother; burying his body and not incinerating him to ash so many years ago.

“I loved him.” Jungkook whispers out, crouching down to wipe away the dirt that has covered his name. The flora that surround the memorial tells you that it’s been neglected for decades. “I still do.”

“He’s my brother. He saved my life and loved me more than he should have. I miss him. I miss him so much.” He chokes over his own tears, kneeling on the ground. You move your arm around his body, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry I forgot. I broke our only promise, Yoongi. Yoongi. I’m so sorry.”

Day by day, Jungkook is overcoming his inner demons and the past that used to haunt him. The both of you are, together, hand-in-hand.

Deep in sleep, he slips past the world of dreams. The surface ripples as they call out for him, sound muffled and muted like they’re submerged underwater. They reach their hands out, stretching with desperation to tug him down; into the innermost depths of his subconscious mind.

There he knows each of them by name, knows who they are and how much they care for him.

It’s there that they belong in their own separate bodies; different faces and heights, smiles and voices. It’s there when they aren’t one but seven.

“Take care of yourself.” Namjoon puts his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, a tender smile that creases two dimples on each side of his cheek.

Hoseok laughs. “Don’t mess it up with Y/N too badly.”

“I won’t.” Jungkook scowls out with a pout, peeling off Namjoon’s hand. “I don’t know why you guys worry about me so much.”

“We’ll always worry about you.” The corners of Taehyung’s lips turn. “We’re family after all, right?”

“We’ve been together for so long.” Jimin nods, standing side by side with his same aged friend. “Just remember - you’re not alone, Jungkookie. You were never alone.”

He eases, looking at each of their faces and remembering yours. “I know.”

“We’ll always be here.” Namjoon pipes up again. “Whenever and wherever you might need us.”

Jungkook downcasts his head, crossing his arms as he mumbles underneath his breath. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know….I can handle it.”

Jin giggles, throwing his head back as he watches the boy in adoration. “You’ll always be a child to us.”

“Oh~ He’s so cute.” Jimin reaches over, squeezing the rascal’s cheek with a half-moon smile. “When did you grow up so much to be this handsome and tall, I don’t even know.”

Taehyung grins, a box shape splitting his lips. “Adorable~ Just plain adorable. Now I know why Y/N likes you so much.”

“Ugh! Stop it!” He slaps their hands away, taking a step back. “Stop babying me!”

“Don’t beat me up!” Taehyung squeals, jumping up and running to hide behind Namjoon. “He’s scary.”

All of them laugh, for once being together. The six boys look at Jungkook; wondering how it’s possible that he grew up so quickly. It felt like it was yesterday that he constantly begged for help, asking someone or anyone to live his life for him. From the few feet that he used to be, now he stands almost as the tallest one. From cowering away, mumbling under his breath and tiptoeing around others - he became a confident, young man capable of living his life on his own.

Yoongi takes a step forward from behind the others. He takes another three wide strides before he engulfs the younger into his arms. Jungkook immediately reacts; the two hanging onto each other in a tight embrace. He digs his face in his brother’s shoulder, fluttering his eyes shut as he tries his hardest to linger in his warmth and remember this moment - capturing it forever like a snapshot of a camera.

He whispers out.

“I’ll miss you.”

Yoongi’s lips part into a gummy smile, he lifts his hand to stroke the younger’s hair.

“I never left, brat.”

The alters never truly leave. But they never appear in front of you again.

Rather, they leave traces of themselves.

When Jungkook doesn’t take care of himself, lost in another project without realizing he hasn’t eaten, Jin makes an appearance. On one occasion, you had woken up without him by your side only to find him in the kitchen with a million pancakes on the counters - Jungkook seemingly confused as you were. Sometimes when he’s stressed with work, Namjoon finishes it for him; an art research binder finalized overnight and the moving paperwork completed.

After you argue with him, flowers are always found in a vase on the table for you the next day. When Jungkook sprained his wrist, he blacked out and found himself in the hospital when he reached consciousness. In another drunk incident, he had suddenly pulled you in for a kiss and then laughed in hysterics with a boxy, guilty smile.

And sometimes….Jungkook just stares at you from across the room….his gaze softened…cold eyes that have grown warm...a gaze that shakes you to the very core. He would smile, one where his gums are shown, and in a lower pitched tone...a husky voice, he would tell you all too sincerely: “I love you.”

“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook laughs, breaking you out of your trance. “Are you ready to go?”

“O-oh. Yeah, I am.” You rise to your feet, sweeping your orbs over his house for the last time. All his furniture is packed into cardboard boxes. The two paintings that the two of you made will eventually be shipped over, the planter box was given to your mother and tucked safely in her garden. As white as the walls are, now it looks even more barren and empty.

It’s a perfect clean slate for new beginnings.

Jungkook grabs onto the suitcase handle, looking back at you with a wide grin as he opens the door. You grab onto your own suitcase, taking his hand in yours.

“Let’s go.”

You’re no longer Jungkook’s therapist due to a conflict of interest but from a professional point of view, he’s at the very last stage - phase three. The cure isn’t instant, that’s not how his disorder works. It will forever be a work in progress. For now, he’s gained a better sense of himself. He has control of his life. Jungkook has acknowledged the demands of his past and is working towards a better future. Perhaps the personalities might never be able to fuse together but a sense of calm inner peace has been achieved amongst all of them.

Some days are bad, some are good. But all that matters is that each and everyday, you walk with him together.

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts scenario #bts jungkook #BAM #WHAT A ROLLARCOASTER #WOWOW #I was pretty emotional editing this #I hope you enjoyed this series!!#Thank you for joining me on this wild adventure until the end #I really appreciate it

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libidomechanica · 3 years

Text

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#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #168 texts

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logan-are-you-okay · 6 years

Text

Anti’s Backstory part 4

Jack finally finished recording his video on his broken leg while throwing in a few jokes about what happened on the livestream on instagram. He even teased saying he might upload it to YouTube if he got the chance. However as he finsihes recording the video he turns to Schneeplstein.

Jack: “How’s that for a quick video?”

Schneeplstein just rolls his eyes, he started recording at around six pm, he didn’t finish till just now which was 11 o’clock at night.

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Okay it was quick, but it’s time to get some rest! No leaving this room till Friday, and I’m checking on you at every meal hour.”

So with that, Schneeplstein leaves the room turning off the light behind him. Plumiging Jack into darkness leaving on the cracks around the window for light. Jack then lays back on the medical pillow thinking about the should be doing something. Laying around like this wasn’t solving anything in any shape or form. Laying down was just making more problems and answers to solve any situation. But, with these thoughts occupying Jacks mind, his thoughts drift him off to sleep.

***

Jack suddenly wakes up in the middle of the night with a sharp pain shooting from the bottom of his leg to all the way to the top of his spine. At first he tries to ignore it by tossing and turning, but he can’t get his mind off of it. At one point it hurts so bad that he tries to call for Schneeplstein, but he stops himself. This was perfect! He could quickly go to his office, grab Anti’s notebook, and finish the last entree so he can finally get the complete story. However... how as he gonna get it? Usually if he was in this situation he would have asked a ego to help him, but he didn’t want anyone know that he had it. Also; he didn’t want to wake up anyone at night. That would be very rude and inconsiderate.

He finally decides just to stand up and walk to the office. It can’t be that bad right? Schneep said if Anti bent it any more it could have been ripped off, but he can make it to the office. He just has to be super quiet. He slowly and settlely swings his feet over to the side of the gurney only earning a small sting that felt like a kick in the back. He then raises himself off of the gurney, as he does so he pulls himself up with sends a major shock through his entire nervous system. Jack bites his tongue and breathes through his teeth to prevent himself from screaming. The pain was super unbearable, but he had a mission that he needed to do no matter what got in the way.

Jack lightly walks down to his office and walks inside. Once he gets inside, he didn’t realize how much of a train wreck he left it in. He grabs the handle of the door for leverage to it prevents himself from falling over. He then slowly walks across the wall gripping the foam that helped the sound not echo whenever he recorded videos. Jack then proceeds to the desk where he’s able to grab Anti’s journal from the bottom of his shelves.

As he goes to walk back to the hurt room, he collapses to the ground My from then pain. It was so bad he just wanted to scream and yell, but if he did he would get in trouble With Schneeplstein. He just decides to read the last page.

However... this last page doesn’t look like the rest. It’s only half a page, completely different from the usual full pages that wrote. Also the page is covered in dirt and soil, which made it very hard to read. The words also look like they were wrote in a hurry, almost as if he was... afraid of something.

Anti’s Journal: ‘I am in huge trouble! This is why you don’t go out on dates with girls!!! Ugh, we first watched a movie together, but the whole time she kept on trying to make me hold her hand. Which I was fine with, she just wanted to hold hands. Yet, later in the movie she kept moving her hand around touching me... she even tried sliding her hand into my pants so I pushed her away and yelled. Probably not the best thing to do in the theater, but I felt gross by it. When she realized I didn’t want that she grabbed my wrist and pulled me out to the car. We had a long fight about how I told her you can’t just do that! Then she called me horrible names saying that I needed to be a man, and it’s not bad when a girl does it to a guy. I was really mad, so I ended our date short and I started to drive her home. However this is why I’m writing. She insisted that we pulled over at the park so she could ‘powder her nose’ I agreed, but she told me to wait at the swings. So that’s what I’m doing, but this is the same exact park that guy on the phone wanted to meet me at. Also I’m writing this because I didn’t want to leave the house without it. It gives me relief from my anxiety. But! She’s still in there and it’s been an hour! How long does it take t-‘

The last letter looks like it would have been an O, but it was scribbled all over the page. Almost as if was being ripped away while the pencil was still on the page. Jack covers his mouth with his hand as he gasps. It can’t just end there! It can’t! He flips through the whole notebook trying to find anything to explain what had happened! Come on come on, he just needs to know!

As Jack gives up, he throws the journal down hard on the ground next to him. However, once he looks down at it, he sees a paper sticking out from it. It must have been stuck between the pages or something. He quickly pulls out the page, desperate to know more. On it shows a picture of Anti way back in 1983 with a missing sign on the bottom of it. It also has a park that the picture was taken at night from. It also happened to be a newspaper article.

Newspaper: ‘Six months ago to this day, Andrew McMarson disappeared Sunday night around 10 pm. Witnesses say that last time they saw him, he was on a date with Jessica Monroe. Head cheerlead of Akidemi High. “It was horrible, we had a fight right before he drove off. The date went well, but he got mad that I kept trying to kiss him. Which I don’t understand. Usually people love me.” Says Jessica when we were interviewing her. All that was left at the scene at this park was a journal labeled Andrew (Anti) McMarson. After a month of an investigation we have the journal back to the family as a condolence gift for the disappearance of there son. “He goes by Anti... he never was like all the other kids at school, so he wanted a name to go with it.’ Say Mrs. McMarson. Sadly one this day, people are gathering at the park to celebrate Anti, in hopes that one day he’ll return home. Police say that they will pronounce anti dead if he does not return by the end of the week.’

Jack then puts down the paper next to him, dumbfounded. Even before getting kidnapped he basically was walking on egg shells to not let people know his secret. Then that damn girl... ugh, that damn girl tries to pull something off like that. LYING to the police is one thing, but comeplelty disregarding the gross things she actually tried to do is rediclous. Also the story can’t end there! What made Anti the glitchy and blood thirty person that he is today? Why did the wound that he created on himself disappear, but a new one formed on the top of his head!? There are so many questions that need to be answered!

Jack: “Ah!”

Suddenly a sharp pain rises at the top of his leg knocking the breath out of him. But it doesn’t stop, it keeps getting worse as time passes by. It hurts, oh god it hurts so much! Tears start to run down Jack’s cheeks, he even hits the ground next to him because of it. God, why did it hurt so much! He’s broken bones before but never has it ever been this painful! He quickly grabs the notebook as newspaper and slides it under his desk, he needed to ignore the pain! He needed to! So why wasn’t this working!? It hurt so much, it felt as if all the bones in his leg were being ripped up out of his skin slowly but it felt like it was being burnt at the same exact time! In a fit of blind torture jack grabs the septic Sam that he head on top of the desk and hugs it as if it were a hurt pillow that they would give him when he’s gone to the hospital in the past.... god! He can’t take it anymore! It felt as if the whole world was pulling down on his leg, trying to rip it away from his body!

Jack: “Schneep! Schneeplstein!!! DR. SCHNEEPLSTEIN!!! Oh god! It hurts!!!”

He can’t take it! It was the worse possibly feeling he could have! He may have been killed by Anti in the pass, but all those times he has been half possessed by Anti. So it didn’t hurt that much at all!

Jack: “SCHNEEPLSTEIN!!! PLEASE! PLEASE HELP ME!!!”

Suddenly Schneeplstein busts through the door in only pants on. Cause, who slept with shirts on at night?

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Jack what are you doing in here!? I told you to rest!”

Jack: “I was just trying to record a video! Please just help me!”

Jack then starts gripping at his hair, the pain was so unbearable! He started to scream and yell, it hurt so much!

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Alright it’s okay it’s okay, calm down... we’ll think of something, we will. Just hold on.”

Schneeplstein tried his best, but he couldn’t think of anything. He wasn’t a licensed doctor, so no matter what he did would probably be wrong even though it seemed very logical.

Jack: “Oh GOD!!! Please just help me!!! Schneep I can’t take it!!!”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Alright Jack, lets get you to the hospital. I don’t think I can handle this here.”

So with that Schneeplstein picks up Jack, and carries him to the car. He leaves a quick note on the inside of the door explaining to everyone where he’s taking Jack. With that he drives Jack to the ER as quick as he can.

Once they finally reach there through the traffic and Jack’s desperate pleas of help, Schneeplstein grabs Jack out of the car and races him inside the building.

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Some one please help me! He keeps screaming, I don’t know what’s wrong!”

Quickly multiple nurses and Dr’s grab Jack as he keeps screaming and yelling. However he keeps yelling for His Doctor.

Jack: “Schneep! Please help me!!! Oh god damn it!”

A nurse walks up to Schneeplstein as the other people take Jack back into a curtained room.

Nurse: “What happened, what’s the patients name?”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “His name is Sean, but people call him Jack. He broke his Leg earlier today, but it seems to have gotten worse or something.”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “You need to let me back there, he needs me.”

Nurse: “I’m sorry, but no unauthorized personal is allowed back there.”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “But I’m a doctor! I can help!”

Nurse: “Are you licensed?”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “I’m in the process of it. But he’s screaming for me!”

Nurse: “Sit down Sir! We’ll let you know what ever happens.”

Dr. Schneeplstein: “Fuck you!”

He then makes his way to some the waiting around seats and sits down. This was torture just hearing the screams and not being able to do anything. Also, why the fuck did Anti just decided to do that to him. If anything happens to jack it’s his fault! Schneeplstein only has Jack now. After his wife left with the tennis player and kids, he needed his license to get them back. But he can ever get one by looking like Jack. Which he’s fine with, but Jack’s all he has left now...

#dr schneeplestein #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #backstory #it counts fanficton is still a form of art #septicart

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madewithonerib · 4 years

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World class answer to my doubts & fears, directly from GOD through the mouth of HIS chosen vessels:

Romans 8:30 | And those He predestined, He also called; those He called, He also justified; those He justified, He also glorified.

Romans 9:23 | What if He did this to make the riches of His glory known to the vessels of His mercy, whom He prepared in advance for glory—

Romans 11:29 | For God's gifts and His call are irrevocable.

Hebrews 9:15 | Therefore Christ is the mediator of a new covenant, so that those who are called may receive the promised eternal inheritance, now that He has died to redeem them from the transgressions committed under the first covenant.

“Now YOUR mercy has saved my soul” _____________________________________________________________

RE: This was amazing! I feel free to tell GOD what a nut-job I truly am, so HE can begin to work on each of my insecurities.

Much like Elijah, I couldn't admit the source of my anger/exhaustion because the Bible clearly states: Do not fear, like all the time; so much so I assumed it meant if we fear we have no faith & we're dead.

I've been gripped with fear of being rejected by GOD & going to hell -- I could not risk being honest about my doubts, confusions and questions. _________________________________________________________________

1.] You know what depression does?

It makes us keep telling ourselves mistruths that we end up believing. Our emotions can speak so loudly we start not only listening, we start learning that which is NOT TRUE.

Elijah was not the only one left.

It was not the nation that sought his life, but only one queen whose prophets he has just slaughtered.

The Lord asked, “why are you here?” which implies he is not where God wants him.

Yet Elijah’s reply is the rehearsed “I have been very jealous (zealous) for the Lord.”

This is not true & the wrong answer to the Lord’s question.

1a] EXCUSE: Instead of “I was afraid of Jezebel” Elijah answers with, “I have been doing everything I should!”

Herein lies one of the greatest causes of depression - a sense of over-importance based on performance.

I know this is hard to hear, but you are not defined by what you accomplish in life.

Even what we accomplish is often a mixture of the fruits of other people’s work before us (See John 4:38).

John 4:38 | I sent you to reap what you have not worked for; others have done the hard work, & now you have taken up their labor.”

Innate gifts inside us & the times and seasons in which we find ourselves.

Most of all, everything we accomplish is the result of God’s grace (See 1 Corinthians 15:10).

1 Corinthians 15:10 | But by the grace of God I am what I am, & His grace to me was not in vain. No, I worked harder than all of them— yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.

Listen carefully, if you want to struggle with depression, take the credit for all of your life’s work. _____________________________________________________________

2.] A Crisis of Faith: led by times when prayers were left ‘un-answered.’ 43m See the genius of discovering JESUS & what we know of HIM doesn’t always make sense to us.

It doesn’t always add-up to the way we think it ought to unfold, which can sometimes result in a real crisis of faith.

James 4:1-3 | What causes conflicts & quarrels among you? Don’t they come from the passions at war w/in you? You crave what you do not have; you kill & covet, but are unable to obtain it. You quarrel & fight. You do not have, because you do not ask. And when you do ask, you do not receive, because you ask w/ wrong motives, that you may squander it on your pleasures.

Jeremiah 17:9 | The heart is deceitful above all things & beyond cure—who can understand it?

Romans 1:22-26 | Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools, & exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images of mortal man & birds & animals & reptiles. Therefore God gave them over in the desires of their hearts to impurity for the dishonoring of their bodies with one another. They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, & worshiped & served the creature rather than the Creator, who is forever worthy of praise! Amen. For this reason God gave them over to dishonorable passions. Even their women exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones.

Ever wondered what it would be like to watch JESUS on a stake-out, as HE interacts with a variety of people & circumstances to see what HE does? 47m

John 3:16-17 | For God so loved the world that He gave His one & only Son, that everyone who believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.

In many ways that is what the 4 books of the Bible called the gospels are. They are eye witness accounts of JESUS in this situation & that & another... and it’s just fascinating to watch.

Today in this episode of discovering the genius of JESUS, what I want us to do is just watch a little bit of photage as we see JESUS engage with people of all different levels of faith.

You’ll see some who aren’t deeply convinced about HIM yet,

Others who are a little bit further along,

Some who have a lot of doubts about HIM,

And we just get to watch how HE responds to people who have both faith & doubt.

2a] Let me give you the ending first: As we watch JESUS interacting with real people with real problems with different levels of faith, here’s the conclusion we’re going to come to & I think you’re going to agree w/ this conclusion.

Crises of Faith Do Not Disqualify You From JESUS

>> Having doubts never causes JESUS to turn HIS back on you.

If you would join me on this stake out, until you reach the same conclusion:

2b] JESUS is moved by Crisis (regardless of the level of faith of the one experiencing it) 48:40m

JESUS is touched by our problems, regardless of how deep our faith

Matthew 8:5-6 | When Jesus had entered Capernaum, a centurion came & pleaded with Him, “Lord, my servant lies at home, paralyzed & in terrible agony.”

Matthew 8:23-25 | When He got into the boat, His disciples followed Him. Suddenly a violent storm came up on the sea, so that the boat was engulfed by the waves; but Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went & woke Him, saying, “Lord, save us! We are perishing!”

They were professional fishermen: Can you imagine the argument that went on? No you wake HIM! I’m not doing it!!

In the end they turned to JESUS because they were so scared, not because they had great faith.

2c] Next story, flip over to Mark 9:14-18, JESUS is coming back down from a mountaintop spiritual retreat & they see a crowd at the bottom together with the rest of the disciples that got left at the bottom.

JESUS asks what’s going on?

Mark 9:17-18 | Someone in the crowd replied, “Teacher, I brought You my son, who has a spirit that makes him mute. Whenever it seizes him, it throws him to the ground. He foams at the mouth, gnashes his teeth, & becomes rigid. I asked Your disciples to drive it out, but they were unable.”

Jesus asked his father, “How long has this been happening to him?” (v.21)

Father of child: “From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.” (v.22)

And Jesus said to him, “‘If you can! All things are possible for one who believes.” (v.23)

Immediately the father of the child cried out & said, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (v.24)

Common thread in all these 3 stories? CRISIS (53:37m)

Do you see it? It happens over & over again. And here’s the point: Crisis comes to everyone, to you & to me.

And people in crisis often find they go to JESUS.

How does HE respond?

Do the really faithful ones get better treatment, & the other ones shunned away?

Do those with doubts get discarded?

1.] We’ve got a Roman soldier & he’s not even of the Jewish faith, yet he’s got remarkable faith.

2.] Then you see JESUS’ disciples, who ought to have the most faith—they’re closest to HIM—& they’ve hardly got any faith.

3.] Finally we have a dad, who’s just so desperate that all he could say is, "if you can help, please..” (tiny faith, mixed in with doubt).

In other scenes if you don’t turn the camera off, & some of you have heard the story in the NT: There’s one lady who’s just so desperate she doesn’t even dare speak, she been sick for so long.

“If I can somehow just touch the hem of his garment.” [Matthew 9:21]

There’s blind men who hear JESUS is in the area, & they were calling out. [Matthew 9:27; Matthew 12:22; Matthew 20:30; Matthew 21:14]

Leapers who are not allowed to come close, shouting, “JESUS have mercy on us!” [Luke 17:11-19]

Do you see it? HE’s moved every time!

Let me put it this way: You don’t need to deserve JESUS, you just need to need HIM.

You don’t have to make yourself good enough for JESUS to help you. You just need to be humble enough to ask for help.

it’s not about coming perfectly with all the right words, or right quota of faith, & your life all in order.

It’s just about coming at all; it’s why JESUS died.

A couple of weeks ago, I tried to call out to one of our apps that turns on the lights, it was a gift from our daughter. So I called: “Suri turn on lamp 2.″ Nothing. I tried it again, saying it louder, still no response. This time I thought, I better turn the t.v. down, so the ambient noise isn’t distracting her: “Suri! turn on lamp 2!!!” Nothing, maybe lamp 2 is burned out, “Suri! turn on lamp 1!!” Still nothing. Now I’m starting to get ticked: “SURI! You’re useless!!!! TURN ON LAMP 2!”

Absolutely nothing.

All of sudden it hits me, there I am yelling at Suri, the apps name is Google.

I’m just doing it all wrong, & so now filled with very contrite & humbly I whispered: “Hey Google, please turn on lamp 2.″ And there was light!

That’s a lot of people’s theology, a lot of people think that JESUS is just like that home app, & you gotta approach HIM in just the right way with just the right terms with just the right formula & just the right amount of faith.

You’ll never see that in the photage of JESUS.

All you see is people desperate for JESUS & HIM always moved by the crisis.

The genius of JESUS is you just need to admit that you need HIM.

Come humbly to HIM.

QUESTION: In whatever you are facing, have you come to the end of yourself—to the place where you are desperate for JESUS? If you do, you’ll discover HE doesn’t turn HIS back on you. _____________________________________________________________

3.] Both DOUBT & FAITH are magnified in Crisis & JESUS engages both. 59m

Both move into the spotlight in life’s valley experiences.

Most of us don’t live in a crisis of faith everyday. But when the hard times comes, the dark moments, in the deep valleys what you either believe or struggle to believe, it’s like a big magnifying glass gets placed on us.

Again JESUS responds, not just when that focus is on our faith, but even when it’s on our doubts.

3a] Notice our same 3 stories again, notice the crisis.

In Matthew 8:5, in that era Rome had the power & Jews were subservient. This is not a level playing field, & this guy is a Roman army centurion, whereas JESUS is the son of a Jewish carpenter. Desperate times cause people to do desperate things. And so desperate, you’ve got a Roman coming to this young Jewish man urgently imploring HIM for help. Been there? So desperate that nothing else matters? Not your status/reputation/pride, nothing. JESUS responds: I haven’t seen this kind of faith anywhere & here I’ve got this Roman who’s come to ME. Then I just flip across in my Bible, here’s “What great faith” then I kept reading in my own personal time & I come across on the other side here (exactly across the page) the disciples in the boat & JESUS looked at them: “Oh you of little faith.” Great faith...little faith, side by side on the same page. JESUS doesn’t say: “OK you get what you want, & you guys Aww come on, you get a little wet first.” HE meets them both.

Then the dad with the son in Mark 9, you know I don’t ask you to memorize stuff very often, but I really encourage you to memorize 1 verse from that story. JESUS had said, “Everything is possible if you believe.” This is the dad, “I do believe, help my unbelief.” [Mark 9:24] 1:03:16 Faith & doubt in the same person, at the same time. I love that guy, no pretense, no bargaining—just gut wrenchingly honest in the face of crisis. JESUS I believe that’s why I came, this is my boy! But my faith is only this big. JESUS said, “that’s enough.” I believe, help my unbelief.

Do you see how crisis exposes both your faith & your doubts, and that it’s okay? Give them both to JESUS.

HE’ll deal with it.

One other time in the NT, JESUS said, “If you faith is only as big as a mustard seed, I can work with that.” [Luke 17:6] “Just give it to ME.”

I think the genius of JESUS is that HE doesn't sent people away because their faith doesn't measure up.

>> JESUS embraces us all; HE engages them, then from the point of struggle HE invites them to come on a journey—where their faith will grow & flourish.

These crisis can be incredibly formative for our faith— regardless what level it’s currently at.

“This is George again I just called about the burglars, (yes George I remember), I thought I should tell ya that you don’t have to be in a rush anymore because I just shot them. Says, “you come on over whenever you get here, they’ll be here, everything’s fine.” As you can imagine within moments police cars are swarming down, ambulance/swat team/cop cars, & they caught the burglars red handed. As they led them away, the Sargent comes up with a stern look on his face & said, “I thought you said you shot them.” With a smile on his face, George says, “I thought you said no one was available.”

To quote Henry Shaw: “Sometimes extreme circumstances, calls for extreme measures.”

Like causing a Roman soldier to ask a Jewish rabbi for help.

Like causing disciples to wake-up their mentor admitting to HIM that they’re scared in the face of a storm—even though they’re professional fishermen.

Like causing a dad to be so desperate that he puts his son on full public display—so that JESUS wouldn’t be able to miss him.

Church I don’t know what you’re facing today, I’ve openly shared what Arlene & I have been wrestling with & the crossroad we’re at making decisions for our life.

But the reality is that these forks in the road, these crisis moments, they tend to magnify both our faith & our doubt. And we’re all filled with what-if questions. What if this LORD? What if that doesn’t work? Both just come rushing to the surface.

If there’s one thing that you take away from this message, what I really want you to notice is: In the video photage of JESUS’ life:

The doubts that you have never disqualify you from HIM; HE will embrace you even if you offer HIM just a little seed faith. HE sees our doubts & our faith, and engages both.

I wonder how many of you, right here right now: You need to pray the same prayer that that dad prayed.

“JESUS, I believe, would YOU help my unbelief.” [Mark 9:24] Because I got a little bit of both going on. _____________________________________________________________

EXERCISE: Make 2 lists & offer them both to JESUS

(a) areas of faith you'd like to affirm, (this is what I believe) (b) areas of doubt you struggle with (this is what I’m confused about)

I think you’ll discover, HE’s not going to turn HIS back on you. _________________________________________________________________

4.] JESUS always honours small steps 1:09:52 You don’t have to have life all figured out. You don’t have to get to the end of the path.

>> Just take a small step in the right direction, & you’ll find HIM moving toward you every single time.

The Roman centurion just started with the humility to ask for help, & oh-man it grew to “Just say the word.” You see JESUS was Jewish & for HIM to enter the house of a Gentile would have meant that HE was ceremonially defiled. And this guy was saying, “I’m not going to do that to you JESUS.” >> Just say the word, I’m a soldier I know what commands are. You want to talk about great faith...

Then HIS disciples, they’re struggling. We’re quick to put these guys down—right after being close to JESUS for so long... I want you to notice where they were. They got in a boat to follow JESUS, & in the larger context, this was just after JESUS preached a sermon about the high cost of following HIM. And it’s that phrase that HE uses, “birds have nests, foxes have dens, but the Son of Man has no where to rest his head at night.” If you want to follow ME, you’re going to have to leave everything, father/mother/wife/children, it’s a huge cost if you want to follow ME. “Then HE got in the boat & HIS disciples followed HIM.” [Matthew 8:23] They were there, they had taken a step.

Then in Mark 9, this guy is one of my all time heroes. JESUS I brought YOU my son. All you parents in the room, is there anything more than can be said of that? I brought you my child, I trust you with the most precious thing in my life.. If you can, please help.. What do you mean “If I can?” Do you see this guy? One little step here, another little step.. Then the only prayer he can say is: I believe, but I still got doubts will YOU help me? AND it’s enough! JESUS took these small steps in each of these guys & HE met them. And HE worked with them & took them beyond where they ever thought they would go.

LAST QUESTION for you to wrestle with: What’s my next small step?

What have I been hanging on to on my own, that I need to be able to trust JESUS with?

I promise you, if you take a small step towards HIM, you’ll discover that HE’s already moving towards you.

WHAT’S THE GENIUS OF JESUS: There are a lot of people on the borderlense of faith/belief. People who have a strong hunch there’s something real, but who have not yet found it realized in a meaningful way. They’re just dipping their toes into the sea of faith.

The genius of JESUS? HE meets us there.

#doubts & fears #Romans 8:30 #VIP #God's grace #we are predestined to good works #follow the trail of breadcrumbs #Mark 9:24 #James 4:1-3 #John 3:17

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