#is it better to have one die to inaction or have them both die in order to be morally correct and play hero | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drak3n · 3 months

Text

THE NEMESIS

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: love and hate are so close to each other for a reason.

ꨄ. CONTENT WARNINGS: slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, friends to strangers to lovers, neglectful parents, love triangles, high school drama, fights, swift mention of a bloody & bruised nose, reader was a misunderstood bully, makeup sex, breeding kink, unprotected sex

ꨄ. SENA'S NOTE: sorry for my inactivity y'all, a lot has been happening lately. anyways, this is over 5k words long so enjoy!

bold italic quotes = letter excerpts

PROLOGUE. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

ˏˋ°•*��➷ ♡•°`.

“it’s embarrassing to admit this, really. after all this time we’ve been apart from each other.”

atsumu and you didn’t always hate each other.

truthfully, you had started off getting along really well, even better than you’d gotten along with osamu. it was something no one could explain, until it all fell apart.

your story went all the way back to your second year of middle school, where the miyas had to move due to the twins’ mother having found a job on the other side of the prefecture. that meant the twins had to transfer schools as well.

it wasn’t like either of the two had difficulties at adapting to their new environments, given that they were quite popular because of their athleticism and their looks. even at their new school, their talent for volleyball made them climb up the ladder of fame in no time.

this is where you came in. a mean, popular girl who had no qualms about making other kids feel worse about themselves. everyone was careful not to cross paths with you or get on your bad side, afraid of your wrath.

the twins had been warned about your presence that lingered like a devil on the school grounds. “she hates boys who are loud and eccentric,” a classmate had told the two, and the younger twin shot a pointed look at the older, which made him glare back at him.

“the hell are ya starin’ at me for, samu!?”

“nothin’.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you were the first person to approach me, although you knew what others thought of me. we were kids back then, but i haven’t forgotten.”

it was both a blessing and a curse to be avoided by everyone. you had your peace and no one was there to mess with you, but at times, it was really boring.

lunch breaks had to be the worst. if you ate your lunch at the hall, everyone would avoid you like the pest. you’d have a table that ten students could use, for yourself.

it was cold outside today, but you still sat on the bench in the yard, ignoring your growling stomach. your mother hadn’t been packing you lunch in a while, and you couldn’t find anything to shove into your bag last minute in the morning.

counting the coins you found in the pockets of your thin coat, you determined with a frown that it was nowhere near enough to buy even a cereal bar.

you could just bully some of the juniors into giving you money or their lunch. before you could stand up and march towards an innocent group of schoolkids playing tag on the other side of the yard, someone sat next to you.

your eyes narrowed at the sight of one of the new kids. you had no idea which of the two it was, given that you couldn’t distinguish a difference between them, and frankly, you didn’t really care. neither of the two shared a class with you anyway.

“hi, i’m atsumu, the older and cool twin!” he introduced himself, running a chubby hand through his thick, brown hair parted on the right. come to think of it, their hair was parted on different sides.

“whad’ya have for lunch? wanna swap? you can have my vegetables and cheese sandwich.” your eyes wandered down to the open box in his lap, filled with delicious bread and vegetables that made your mouth water. you haven’t even had breakfast this morning.

“why are you talking to me?” big, brown eyes widened at you dismissing him, when other girls would die for his attention. “i’ve already eaten.”

the loud growling of your stomach made you clutch your upper body, cheeks flaring in shame as the brunette grinned.

“liar! ya can have mine, y’know. here ya go.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you were so obnoxious and insufferable to most, but i didn’t see that. i couldn’t care less about what you were like, when you were so nice to me.”

it hadn’t taken you too long to finally notice other differences between the twins. because sometimes when standing in front of either of them, you couldn’t quite tell if the part was on the left or right.

osamu’s eyes were a dark gray, while atsumu’s were brown, like molten chocolate. atsumu would always sound excited, his voice distinguishable from miles away, while osamu was more reserved and preferred calmness.

except for when the two were together, of course. atsumu was quite against introducing you to him, complaining to you that people always ended up liking his brother more, much to his chagrin.

but you were so alone all the time, so he dragged you along to watch him practice one day.

“hey… is that that girl?”

your body language was tense, the discomfort written all over your face as you gazed holes into the floors of the gym, where teammates of the twins were whispering among each other.

“i don’t think they want me here.” you didn’t look sad when you said it, nor did you look upset, it seemed like you’d already accepted it. atsumu had known you for weeks, and osamu had just met you, but it was the first time the two stepped up to defend someone instead of bickering at each other like they did all the time.

“hey, ya pricks! are ya not ashamed to be pickin’ on a girl?”

it had resulted in a fight, with the other members of the volleyball team complaining loudly about how atsumu was such a loudmouth despite being new, telling him to shut up.

it was the wrong timing perhaps, because punches started being thrown, but as you intervened and kicked the boys who dared to lay a hand on either of the twins, a feeling of fuzzy warmth spread inside of you as you could only think of the boy who shared his lunches with you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“sometimes, i wish i could go back to relive those days. what i wouldn’t do to have you share one of your lunchboxes with me or have you include me in your life one more time.”

middle school seemed to pass in a blur, and you three graduated together, already knowing you’d be attending the same high school.

neither of you had the best grades or the best reputation, but at the end of the day, you happily held the certificates in your hands, having the twins’ parents snap photos of you three. one of those photos that had been taken that day, with atsumu and you shyly standing next to each other, would soon be framed and placed on your nightstand.

your parents didn’t attend. the sight of all students being hugged, kissed and celebrated by their families, while you were on your own chipped away at your heart.

“hey!” atsumu’s loud voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts, and he pointed at his parents looking through osamu’s report while smiling. “what’re ya bein’ so gloomy for? my parents are waitin’!”

with furrowed brows, you stared at the brunette, not quite understanding what he meant by that. you were going to head home, why would mr. and mrs. miya be waiting for you?

“we’re goin’ to this great barbecue place at the mall!” atsumu had told you about it before, the miyas had a tradition of going there for birthdays or other celebrations. it almost made you envious, because you didn’t have that.

“is that so?” you smiled at him, “have fun, tsumu. i’ll see you after the holidays.”

before you could turn around and leave, the boy tugged at your sleeve, pulling you back and towards his parents. you were stunned.

“i saved up all year to pay for yer meal! made my parents reserve an extra seat for you!”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“it all went to hell when my pride got in the way. when you started hanging out with that girl, and i felt threatened by her.”

it was in your second year of high school when things had started shifting between you two. you were more than used to the fans who went crazy for the two, which progressively started getting unbearable at some point.

flooded lockers with letters and chocolates they’d share with you, countless confessions you’d hear and see, and girls bombarding you with favors of getting them closer to either of the twins.

you could live with that. after all, they weren’t popular for no reason. they were handsome, very much so, and they were volleyball prodigies, scoring countless points for inarizaki at each game.

there was one girl who had gotten atsumu’s attention as much as he had gotten hers. they were in the same class, too. it was osamu who told you they had started hanging out when you were surprised about them going to get lunch together, with him nudging her side and making her chuckle.

you had woken up half an hour earlier just to prepare a lunchbox you could share with the blonde. but at the end of the day, you sullenly sat at the same table with osamu and the rest of the team, staring at the untouched food. the atmosphere was awkward, and the boys exchanged glances, clueless as to if they should speak up and ask you what’s wrong.

“that looks really good.” of course suna was the first to talk, narrow eyes peering over at your lunch. “why aren’t ya eatin’ it?”

aran shook his head at the middle blocker’s directness, and osamu frowned when you shoved the pink box towards suna, no more having an appetite after watching atsumu and that girl sitting together. “you can have it.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“jealousy is truly an ugly thing. so is love. it makes you do questionable things. but all i wanted was to protect you from heartbreak, even if it was at the expense of my own heart.”

the more time atsumu spent with her, the more worried you got. especially since there was some sort of sixth sense telling you that she was bad news.

you hated her for taking atsumu away from you, yes. but if she had been good for him, you would’ve accepted it, no matter how difficult. it was just that you knew she was no good.

“‘samu, i heard her talking to her girl friends in the dressing rooms after P.E.” you had bolted to osamu’s desk before the class would start, hair disheveled from the former class, and you were out of breath.

the younger miya quirked a thick brow at your words, “emma, you mean?” you nodded frantically, “she’s just using him for popularity. said she wants to dump him when he gets famous after high school, and she does too.”

osamu wasn’t really interested in entertaining any drama, especially when it came to his annoying brother. he could see how concerned you were for him though, and he couldn’t blame you for it. atsumu was very important to you, after all.

“are ya sure?” it wasn’t like he didn’t believe you. he just thought it might be a stretch. how was emma going to lead atsumu on for over a year, and how could she be so sure that he was going to be famous after high school?

“maybe she was just kiddin’. are ya sure you’re not just jealous?”

you were biting your lip, looking truly troubled. you did not want to ruin things, but you had to help atsumu get away from that bitch. you could not allow her to ruin him.

“‘samu, i—”

“atsumu is 17. neither of us should have t’tell him what to do. he has to learn himself.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i had never planned on taking osamu’s advice from the second i heard it. in my mind, the only reasonable thing was to make her stay away from you.”

it was exactly a week later after gym class that you cornered the same girl against the lockers. no one else was around, and with a hand against her mouth, you made sure she didn’t call for any help.

“what are you—” a surprised squeal left her lips when you slammed her back against the locker one more time, to make her shut up. with wide eyes, she looked into yours that were void of any emotion.

she knew who you were. the twin’s childhood friend, atsumu’s close friend. too close for the brunette’s liking.

“listen,” you warned her, glowering at her like she was your worst enemy, “i know what you’re plannin’. i will tell you this this just this once: stay away from him.”

you thought it would have been enough to seperate those two, to keep atsumu safe. to have him back.

of course it wouldn’t be. you couldn’t have known. it wasn’t until the very next day that it all backfired. when you entered the school grounds in the morning, school bag thrown over your shoulder and lunch prepared in hopes of getting to spend time with atsumu today after a long time, you soon noticed that something was off.

everyone was staring at you, whispering and gossiping. it was an all-too familiar sight to you, it was nothing new. ignoring it all, you proceeded to your locker that was next to atsumu’s. just to be greeted by emma leaning against yours, arms crossed in front of her chest as she wore a hoodie you’d recognize anywhere. it belonged to atsumu.

“move,” you gritted your teeth as you forced your eyes away from the hoodie, ready to shove her aside. “or what?” she feigned a pout, kicking against the locker to get everyone’s attention on you two, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “gonna threaten and hurt me again to get what ya want? because you can’t handle that he never wanted you?”

everything around you got quiet, students looking at each other in disbelief, and your hands clenched into tight fists. still, you kept quiet, knowing it would be bad if you caved in first.

“oh wait, could it be?” she suddenly clapped her hands together, chuckling while you deadpanned at her, seemingly unaffected by her attitude, when in reality, you were boiling from the inside out. “did you really think he’d choose you over me? he would never stoop so low! in fact, he actually told me you were not—”

everything happened fast after that. she was on the floor before she could blink, screaming as your enraged self was on top of her, seeing red. it was when you were at the principal’s office with cotton up your bleeding and bruised nose, and the scratches on your cheeks from when emma’s friends had dragged you off of her, that you finally realized what you’d done.

it only filled you with regret when atsumu came to cradle a crying, hurt emma in his arms, yelling at you to never, ever look at either of the two again.

maybe you should have listened to osamu, after all.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“school after that was hell for me, understandably. i couldn’t blame anyone for not talking to me anymore, most of all, you. i didn’t have the right to be hurt by you taking emma to that barbecue place with your parents after high school graduation… but i cried a lot that day.”

osamu had tried to get atsumu to talk to you again. to not be so mad at you. but the blonde was blind to the eyes and deaf to whatever his brother would tell him, so he eventually gave up on that, too.

you were too prideful and hurt to approach atsumu either, pretending that you hated him for having done this to you. he was the cause that you were a loser again. that you lost the only people you had in your life.

couldn’t he just have treasured you more?

it was on the day of your high school graduation that you asked the younger twin to talk for just a minute. gray-haired boy looked down at you, round eyes blinking multiple times as you offered him a small smile.

“i just wanted to let you know that i’m moving to tokyo for college.” he just stared at you, knowing very damn well you weren’t in the mood to smile like you were doing right now. “i heard you’re opening a shop soon. maybe our paths will cross again one day.”

when osamu didn’t say anything, you took it as a hue to leave, again having neither of your parents to share your success of having graduated with you. you rummaged in your bag before you could leave though, holding a letter in your hand that your fingers were itching to hand to him. “can you just give this to—”

actually, no. it didn’t matter.

with glassy eyes, you dropped the envelope back into your bag, zipping it shut. “forget it. take care, ‘samu.”

you cried on your entire way home, until you went to sleep that night.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i regret not having given osamu that letter to this day, even years later. i’ve just recently added these paragraphs, because i’ve made up my mind to make this letter reach you anyway.”

the volleyball match playing on the tv served as background noise while you went through the cleaned kitchen at the hotel restaurant you’d worked at. everyone else had left already, and all that was done was to check the inventory and make sure everything was where it should be.

while checking off certain tasks you had to make sure were done, you halfway listened to the interviews after the match was over. it hadn’t even dawned on you that it was his team that had played today.

“is there anything you want to tell your fans after the great victory today, miya-san?”

your entire body froze, pen dropping on the list as your tired eyes wandered to the television. he looked breathtaking as ever, even when he was covered in sweat.

“i wanna say somethin’ to a certain someone, actually.” his grin made your heart stop, baring his pearly whites as his voice was slightly hoarse from all the yelling on the court. “i’m sure she’s watchin’ this right now.”

the reporter looked at atsumu with a curious, bright smile as she waited for him to continue, microphone right below his panting mouth. “who’s the lucky woman?” she questioned, which made him beam at the cameras.

you didn’t feel addressed, too certain that he had another lover he wanted to say something to. about to turn the tv off and announce your work as done for the night, you were stopped when he opened his mouth again.

“my nemesis, you could say,” he took a deep breath after answering the shorter woman’s question, “i got your letter. you know where i’ll be!”

this couldn’t be a coincidence. you had missed today’s airing of TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE, and they had confirmed that atsumu had gotten the letter. it had to be you, there was no way he meant someone else.

after a quick research, you found out that the match was indeed aired live and had taken place in hyogo, where both of you had grown up in. where you had moved back to after college, because tokyo wasn’t your home, hyogo was.

you knew exactly which place atsumu hinted at, and like a flash, you passed by the hotel lobby to speed towards the location.

it hadn’t even taken you ten minutes to arrive at the school gates of inarizaki high school. it had been a stupid pinky promises between you two while you were still on talking term; to meet where things ended, shall they ever end.

standing at that spot made your gut churn with negative and positive feelings. things had ended indeed, heartbreakingly so. but perhaps this was a chance to make up again. to start from zero.

you waited for at least an hour, you were sure. time didn’t seem to pass like this, and the more you grew aware that it didn’t, the more agitated you became.

what if he didn’t show up?

what if he showed up, just to tell you to go fuck yourself?

“what am i even doing?” you laughed breathlessly, fiddling with the car keys in your pocket. you should just leave. this was absolutely stupid and delusional of you, to actually hope you were going to make up.

“hey.”

stopping in your tracks, you grew aware of the person dressed in black, standing in front of you. they were wearing a mask and had a hood over their head, and they could’ve just been a criminal about to rob you of your money, but you’d recognize those eyes and that voice from anywhere.

this time, you didn’t wait. you didn’t let your pride hold you back as you ran into his arms, dwarfed up by his massive body that had just gotten even bigger over the years. his arms caged you in his form, swallowing all your sobs and cries in his fluffy, black hoodie as he stood still, rubbing the back of your head in soothing circles.

he was there. atsumu actually came. he came to see you. he didn’t hate you anymore.

“i’m so sorry,” you cried for the fiftieth time in five minutes, barely able to pull away as snot and tears ran down your exhausted face. his heart broke at the sight, his own eyes blurring with a wave of tears. “i’m sorry for everything, ‘tsumu. please, please forgive—”

with gentle, warm hands placed on your damp cheeks, tracing over the scars that had been left on you from that fight, he shushed you. “it’s okay.” you hated the mask for muffling his beautiful voice, and you felt your heart crack when a tear slid down his eye, disappearing under the mask. “i’m the one who should be sorry. i was the worst to you. you didn’t deserve any of it.”

he started sniffling, and your mind went blank, eyes wide as you grabbed onto his hands, shaking him softly. “no, no,” you begged him, “i don’t want you to cry. please don’t cry. i made a mistake, i messed it up, not you!”

the setter found himself melting at your touches, letting you pull off his hood and pull down his mask to reveal his face under the night sky. his lips wobbled, nose and cheeks reddening as tears fell from his big, brown hues.

“i deserved your hatred, ‘tsumu.” your hands were cold on his skin as you wiped his tears the second you saw them. he shook his head, “don’t say that. how could i ever hate you?”

with your fingers interlaced, both of you still in a daze, squeezing each other’s hand so tightly to realize that this was real, you took him to your place. because neither of you wanted to let go.

atsumu could cry when he saw the picture of you two from your middle school graduation in one of your cupboards on the wall next to the tv in your living room. what did make him break down was seeing that one hairpin he’d gifted you on your 13th birthday right in front of the framed picture.

“‘samu never stopped talking about you and how sad you looked at our high school graduation.” his reddened eyes didn’t leave the picture even when you stood next to him, almost as if he was too ashamed to look at you. “i’m really sorry. i truly am.”

you smiled up at him nostalgically, like you’d always do back then. he caught it from his peripheral, and it made his heart skip a beat. “we were teenagers, ‘tsumu,” you assured him while your hand traced over his broad shoulders. “things happen. i think i had to lose you to grow up and realize things.”

his body finally turned to you to face you. his hair was a softer, lighter blonde now, nearly white. it looked fluffier, too. his cheekbones were more sculpted, and you could feel the slightest stubble on his chin.

no matter how many years would pass, you’d always be in love with each and every version of atsumu.

“realize what?” his features were soft, thick eyebrows raising in question while you looked away bashfully. you’d written it in the letter. he just wanted you to say it out loud, because he was dying to hear you say it.

“atsumu, i…” you started, playing with the collar of his hoodie. he stopped breathing. “i’ve been in love with you since forever. since the very first time you shared your lunch with me.”

the cat was out of the bag. you exhaled a shaky breath, and before you could muster up the courage to look back at the now professional athlete, he beat you to it. atsumu was always bold. he took what he wanted, with no shame. he made you realize this once again when he planted his lips on you immediately after tilting your face up.

one short kiss was enough for you to ask more. now that you had him in your arms again, you wanted all of him. you had waited so long for the impossible to happen. and now that you finally had it…

“‘tsumu. kiss me again, please.”

so he did. again and again. to show you how sorry he was, to show you that he hadn’t meant any of the crap he had pulled on you years ago. he was a dumb prick, and he won’t ever forgive himself for what he’d done. he had missed out on so much with you, and he saw that one more time when you were seated on his lap in the dim living room, hovering above him needily.

you were all he ever needed. it felt like now he had you back again, a gap had been filled inside of him. one that nothing and no one was able to fill. no one could ever replace you, no emma, no girl, no one.

every kiss and touch was followed by him muttering apologies into your skin, worshipping your skin like it was holy. handling you with utmost care like you were made out of porcelain. he watched you fall apart from him just fondling you through your clothes.

“p—please, i need—” you sucked in a breath when you felt his bulge pressing through his sweatpants, prodding at your slacks. “need you, please. want to be yours.”

atsumu hummed into your neck as his strong hands carefully took off your blouse, revealing your bra-clad chest. “y’look so sexy in these clothes,” he mumbled, admiring the sight of you shakily unbuttoning your pants. “wanna see you in them every day when you go to work and when you come home.”

you whined at his lowly spoken words, letting him help you take off your pants. your clammy hands tugged at his hoodie and sweatpants that were soon gone as well, pooling at the floor.

atsumu’s body looked absolutely gorgeous. the second it was revealed to you, you traced your fingers over every ridge and cranny of his arms and upper body, sucking marks on and kissing his supple, firm skin that was still so soft.

“baby,” atsumu huffed, feeling his cock twitching at every single movement of yours. you were driving him crazy. “lemme do the rest, kay? i want tonight t’be all about you.”

nodding softly, you waited with bated breath as atsumu unclasped your bra and let it thud to the floor, joining the rest of your clothes. the way he licked his lips and groaned made you soak through your panties. moans and whimpers freely spilled from your glossy mouth once he latched his soft lips onto one of the mounds, while his hand paid attention to the other, twirling your hardened nipple between warm fingers.

“perfect tits,” he panted into your chest, looking up to meet your gaze as he licked his wet lips. “yer perfect, darlin’. everything about you is.” stammering pleas for atsumu to continue while you ran your fingers through his soft strands, you shuddered upon his unoccupied hand wandering down your stomach, until it settled at the hem of your lace panties.

“want me to go on, baby?”

his eyes were blown wide in lust and desire, fingers digging into your skin enough to leave marks. you bit your lip, whimpering through your teeth as you nodded. “yes, please, atsumu...”

atsumu knew you were wet from how you’d soaked the front of his light gray boxers, but actually feeling how aroused you were made him utter curses. it was so much, and you produced even more slick with just a single touch. how fucking adorable.

“so, so wet,” he groaned as one of his fingers slipped inside your clenching hole so easily, “fuck, so tight n’ warm. yer gonna make me cum, princess. fuck…”

he couldn’t wait to feel you around his cock. couldn’t wait to be engulfed by your warmth, to feel all of you. with big, wide eyes, he watched as you came undone on his fingers in just a minute, clutching his bare, sculpted shoulders while you creamed on his long digits. it was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted more.

“‘tsumu—” your thighs were shaking, and you kissed his jaw sloppily. “wan’ me to suck you off?” you couldn’t be serious. atsumu was literally seconds from creaming in his boxers, and you offered a blowjob to him so sweetly? he had to physically keep you in place to stop your hips from moving.

“no, i wanna feel your pretty pussy ‘round my dick,” he panted, and you obediently reached your deft fingers to pull at the waistband of his boxers. despite both of you being very desperate and impatient, you still took the time to take off each other’s underwear.

it was the need to be connected without anything disrupting you, rather than to ravage each other. although you were aware that if atsumu wasn’t going to dick you down in this very moment, you were going to explode.

you saw a glimpse of atsumu’s girthy and gorgeous cock before it started disappearing inside of your awaiting cunt. his hands gripped your hips tightly, keeping you still, while you mewled and sighed into his neck.

“how d’ya feel, angel?” atsumu’s voice was serene, calm, as he enjoyed the warmth he was buried inside of to the hilt. he was never going to let you go again, ever. “f—feels… so full,” you whined, raising your head from his shoulder to look into his eyes. “y’re so big, ‘tsumu. so warm. love it.”

leaning back against the back of the couch, the blonde started a sensual and slow pace, and you felt so overwhelmed that you didn’t know any better than to kiss him. moving your hips back and forth with his hands guiding you, you swallowed each other’s moans of passion and love, tongues clashing and lips molding together and becoming one.

atsumu and you were made for each other. you were made to be with him. you were each other’s destiny.

“i love you,” you started crying when the sensation started building inside of your gut, threatening to snap. “love you s’much, ‘tsumu. i love you so much.” atsumu kissed your tears away, listening to you babbling confessions and apologies as you kept clenching around him as if you wanted him inside of you forever.

“i love you too,” he grunted, punctuating his words with harder and faster snaps of his hips against your heat. the sounds of squelches and moans echoed across your apartment that had been empty and devoid of life and love for years. “will never let you go again. i’m so sorry.”

atsumu knew he was nearing his release, and his eyes frantically looked for yours, sweat clinging to his forehead and body as his hair stuck to his face. you were cross-eyed, digging your nails into his shoulders as if you wanted him even closer.

“need t’cum inside of you, angel,” atsumu hissed the more you tightened around him, nearly trapping him inside of you. “can i fill you up? please, please…”

nodding mindlessly, you wrapped your arms around atsumu’s neck, working you both towards a release. you were the first to cave in, hips stilling as you let out a high-pitched moan while waves of white came crashing down.

with a slack jaw and eyes rolled back into his skull, atsumu started releasing spurts of his warm seed into your womb, cock twitching until his balls were empty while you relished in his warmth he had shared with you.

neither of you moved, not even minutes later, feeling like you have melted into one body. the silence in the apartment finally felt peaceful instead of haunting, the second pair of eyes in it filling you with a sense of home.

atsumu’s fingers combed through your damp hair while you laid your head on his built chest, listening to his calming heartbeat. it was a matter of time till this tranquil moment was going to vanish.

“i must say, thinking about you having fought for me is really hot—” you cut him off by pinching the tender skin on his chest, which made him yelp. “ow!”

“i hate you, atsumu.”

you knew damn well you didn’t.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

346 notes · View notes

maniacwatchestheworld · 2 months

Text

DPxDC story idea prompt thing #12

Dr. Victor Fries had swore both to himself and his precious wife, Nora, that he would find a cure for the both of them. He would do anything to save his wife from her terminal illness and had been keeping her in a frozen state until the day he could cure her. His precious snow angel. His most beloved ice princess.

But time is a crueler mistress than even the cold. Victor had been apart from his sweet Nora for years now, and he was no closer to finding a cure for her. For his part, Victor Fries was hardly the same man he had been when he and his wife agreed to have her cryogennically frozen until he could save her all those years ago. Victor- better known as Mr. Freeze these days- understood the cold that Nora was trapped in all too well now... But where she rested in her timeless winter slumber, Victor stayed awake.

It had been a freak accident that forced Victor to have to live this cryogenic suit or die. And he would not die. Not until his wife could be saved from the grips of death. He may have been doomed, little more than a frozen corpse spurred on to keep living for the sake of his wife, but if there was even a chance of his wife being cured and able to lead a normal life again, he would take it. There would be no cure for him. No. He didn't want one anymore. Once Nora's life had been saved, that would be enough for him. Once Nora was safe and healthy once more, he would be happy and permit himself to die at last. He often dreamed of feeling that warmth again. The warmth of Nora's hand against his skin. A feeling he could only experience when death finally came for him.

Meanwhile in the Ghost Zone, in the reaches of the Realm of the Far Frozen, something was forming. A core of ice, touched with an undying love that had never ceased nor hesitated for a moment over the long, frozen years. And from that core formed a woman, her frozen form in death just as beautiful as she was in life.

She collapsed into the soft, powdery snow, groaning as she slowly opened her eyes for the first time. "Victor...?" She asked into the air. She may have just formed, but she could feel that something was... Wrong. Like she wasn't entirely there... She shivered. She was cold. She was so, so cold... Why did she feel cold? Somehow in the center of her being she knew that this was her element... And something so dear to her shouldn't be able to hurt her... Right...? And yet she felt cold...

She looked up, but found that only one of her eyes could see. It somehow felt as if her other eye was closed and she could not open it no matter how hard she tried, even though she could feel with her fingers that her eyes were both open. No matter. "... Where am I...?" Nora asked aloud as she searched around her for her Victor. Where was he? Where was her Victor...? Had he found a cure? ... A cure for what...? ... Who was Victor?

Note: Just an idea that I came up with. Basically, Mr. Freeze is still doing his Mr. Freeze things in Gotham, but Nora has been frozen for so long in this pseudo-dead state that she half forms as a ghost in the Ghost Zone. I don't know how ghosts get born (or what the fanon says about that), so I'm making shit up here. Just roll with it. :p Nora is technically still "alive" where Victor is storing her... Or rather, she can be brought back to life relatively easily. But her illness isn't gone either, and by all accounts, she's technically dead as all of her biological functions have been perfectly frozen and are inactive. So she's both dead and not dead, you get me? So since she's technically half dead pretty much, I just wondered... What would happen if she somehow managed to form as an at least partial ghost while in this state!!!? Please use this idea and play with it all you like. I just... love Nora so much. Nora my beloved.

#dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp prompt #victor fries #victor freeze #mr. freeze #nora fries

253 notes · View notes

veala2 · 1 month

Text

ʟᴜꜰꜰʏ’ꜱ ᴀʟᴘʜᴀʙᴇᴛ.

One Piece Fluff Alphabet: LUFFY.

CW - Luffy being Luffy and a little goofy, nothing serious or demeaning!

A/N - It’s spring break for me! I love spending time with family and friends so I might just be more inactive than I already am. Don’t worry though, Zoro’s is coming soon.

ʟ - ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏɴᴇꜱ: ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ?

Let’s be honest here: Luffy is a child himself. His childlike sense of wonder and massive amount of pure energy already leaving him seem much younger than he actually is.

We’ve already seen how Luffy is around children on different occasions. Whether he’s kind and gentle, loving and reassuring, or his same rambunctious self he can relate to a child pretty easily. The young emperor of the sea won’t treat a child like their some whining creature. Rather, he views everybody the same and won’t discriminate no matter who you are.

All in all, he’s fun and friendly with children! And if their his own in the near future, he’ll do everything in his power to support and protect his children.

ᴜ - ᴜɢʟʏ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʙᴀᴅ ʜᴀʙɪᴛꜱ?

We all know some of Luffy’s little habits. He tends to get loud at times where it’s no good. He eats whatever he wants, whenever he wants. But, his worst habit is more like a flaw.

Luffy is a selfish person. Ever since the day he proclaimed to his brothers that he was going to be king of the pirates. He’s been taking what he wanted since the beginning of his journey. Yes, it’s safe to say Monkey D. Luffy is a selfish person. But, he’s not a selfish person for selfish reasons.

He does what he wants, but still helps other people. Kingdoms, countries, islands. It doesn’t matter who it is he will help them. Selfishly. And that’s what makes Luffy so great.

Is it a habit? Honestly, I thought this was better than saying he only takes 1 bath per week.

ꜰ - ꜰɪᴀɴᴄE: ʜᴏᴡ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ?

How do they feel about commitment?

Luffy is a go with the flow kind of person. He doesn’t do plans all that well, and can barely keep himself from straying off to the other pay. So, having a ring on his finger that’s meant to stay there until the day he dies is not too appealing to him.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves you like crazy! He’d never even consider cheating on you. But being in a relationship, “tied down” he’d say, is something he would have to get used to.

But- in the end- he’d grow to love the simple ring that’s snug on your fingers. A symbol of the love between you two, and the adventure of life you’ll share together.

ꜰ - ꜰɪɢʜᴛ: ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴇ ᴇᴀꜱʏ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ?

Luffy is Luffy. He wouldn’t change who he was for a second, even if he was going to die. His emotions are his and he will be who he is without any hesitation.

However… Luffy tends to say and do things when he’s angry that he wouldn’t mean. Remember Water 7? That fight between him and Usopp was powerful. The emotions set free and eventually drove Usopp away.

It might take a while to forgive Luffy. But he really does care about you and regrets what he said in the moment. After he explains himself and proves that he's sorry, I think it’d be pretty to forgive him.

ʏ - ʏᴜᴄᴋ: ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ?

What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in their partner?

In general, I believe that Luffy wouldn’t like someone who’s afraid and cowardly. Maybe just cowardly, seeing as you can be afraid and still be courageous. Thinking back to multiple examples of him saying he doesn’t like people who act like scaredy cats.

In a partner, I think he wouldn’t like- or would either deter them from him in general- would be not pursuing a dream. Luffy takes pride in his dream that he’s been working towards since he was a boy. And he respects those who have a dream that they’re going for, too. So if his partner won’t follow their heart, he would simply feel disappointed and discouraged with them.

Luffy’s goals are very precious. To both him and his crew. He’s willing to sacrifice everything for your dreams, so why not follow them and achieve what you’ve always wanted?

#one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece x you #one piece headcanons #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy headcanons #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy

119 notes · View notes

dark-elf-writes · 6 months

Note

I just woke up from a very short dream where Konoha was peaceful after Naruto took over and as kakashi got older and the fighting stayed inactive, he noticed his stomach get a bit of squish to it. Just him poking his stomach in front of the mirror and realizing he doesn’t have like washboard abs for the first time since he was capable of developing muscle mass. And finally realizing the peace will last. Has lasted. That he hasn’t been sent to kill for years now and won’t be ever again.

THANK YOU UNCONSCIOUS BRAIN! That was a magnificent idea.

Kakashi doesn’t really notice it at first, how could he when he’s making sure his former student settles into his new role and staying close by just in case he needs help or advice or anything really. Not that he looks like he’s hovering, sprawled out over a couch Naruto had moved into the Hokage office and pretending to read as he listened for any threat. Shikamaru rolls his eyes whenever he sees him. Naruto never kicks him out though. He does, however keep pushing water and tea and food into Kakashi’s hands, griping about him not being allowed to starve himself in his office.

Everyone seems to be pushing food on him, he realizes later. Guy dragging Kakashi out for dinner, Sakura bringing two bentos when she stops by for her weekly bitching session report with him and Naruto, Anko giving him a stick of dango as she bemoans her eyes being bigger than her stomach. Shikamaru keeps pushing water and tea at him as well as Naruto. Says something about how both of them would drop dead of dehydration if he wasn’t there. While that was probably true Kakashi preferred to believe the Nara was slowly trying to drown them one glass of water at a time.

He doesn’t notice until Pakkun points it out one morning as he walks around his house without a shirt (without a mask. When did he start feeling comfortable with his face uncovered even in his own home?)

“You look better with more meat on your bones. Less like you’re going to die if you miss a damn meal.” Kakashi blinked, looking down at himself and poking at the soft skin of his stomach.

There was still muscle there of course. He would never stop training even if peace lasted until the day he died but…

He looked more like Guy now he realized, just as strong but without the definition. He thought he liked it. Liked not being able to see the clear cuts between his muscles. Liked looking a bit softer. Still,

“Maa, are you telling me to go on a diet, Pakkun?”

The ninken bares his teeth at him, waiting for him to settle onto the couch (an exact copy of the one in naruto’s office. a gift from Sasuke with a deadpan expression and humor glinting in his eyes) before jumping up to lay on his stomach, making sure his paws dig in just a bit to hard to prove his point.

“No. You’re far more comfortable now.”

Kakashi hums as Pakkun settles down for a nap and decides that the village wouldn’t fall if he took a day off from lurking around his student’s office before settling back into the cushions to join him.

#the elf talks #naruto #kakashi is the last person to know he retired tbh #and everyone around him is trying to make up for years of him not sleeping eating or drinking enough #guy in particular is probable thrummed to see a bit more fluff on kakashi he would go feral over that man with a belly #or god for it Kakashi got more weight in his ass and thighs Guy would never let him go

121 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 days

Note

I know you are tired of being reminded of the whole mess that’s been going on. I had no idea what was going on until foxyanon told me cause I asked. The shock that went through me when I was reading ems post. I was decent friends with bel and interacted a lot with her. Had no idea how vile those bloggers are, just damn right disgusting and rude. But I told em as well that I have nothing to do with what’s her face. I’m always here for you! This fandom needs some serious work done and rethinking. I’m screaming the biggest f you to her! I love your content even though I don’t say anything much. You’re wonderful and deserve better! 💗💗

Thank you for reaching out, and treating me like a human being. It is more than I currently deserve. I will place the rest of my response beneath a cut, as it will be quite long and I'd like to give people the option to scroll past, as they are doubtless tired of all of this, and rightly so.

Yes, the behaviour of that group is despicable, but I cannot downplay the gravity of my own in that.

I had a longstanding block with two users (I am not going to use their online nicknames, I do not deserve to), arcielee and sylasthegrim, I said disgusting things about both of them - the screenshots of my messages regarding them both on the post you have doubtless all seen are real (so is the final screenshot where I mention an anon I had received telling me to die in my sleep, the rest of the screenshots in that post have been falsified, doctored or snipped heavily out of context to make them appear hateful - the doctoring has been confirmed by two individuals well versed in Photoshop)

I hold my hands up and apologise to both those people, and the people that have seen those messages and been harmed by them. They are inexcusable, indefensible and were guided by a false belief that those two people were being hateful in turn about me, and actively going out of their way to harm and spite me. I am unsure what Bel thought she had to gain by exacerbating the animosity between me and Em and those two women, regardless, we should have done the mature thing and reached out directly to them. I will say, that I have never once sent anonymous hatred to either person. The extent of my vitriol was confined to that group chat.

Bel also used slurs in the group chat (I would like to point out that myself, Em and Fae did not). I won't repeat what these were. I do not want those ugly words on my page. They made me uncomfortable and I called her out any time she used one in particular, but she always laughed off my discomfort and carried on anyway. She is mixed race, I am white, in my mind it is not my place as a white person to tell an ethnic minority what is racism and what isn't. There are enough white voices shouting down others in online spaces. I know better now. I should not let my own discomfort silence me. I will call out hatred, bigotry and discrimination in every instance that I see it. My past inaction is embarrassing, it's offensive and I am devastated by the hurt I have caused to others. I am so deeply sorry.

I didn't speak up for a long time, because I have seen what these people are like when they have a grudge against someone. It's frightening, I was a coward. Yet despite staying silent on all of it, I have been doxxed just the same. I suppose perhaps that's karmic retribution?

I appreciate that people have felt my response has been lacking, however, I was out of the country, away from home, from the 14th until the 22nd, with only my phone at my disposal and with the expectation from my husband that I would enjoy the vacation we were on, and not be online dealing with all of this.

I would like the opportunity to atone for my behaviour, to make amends. Currently, I feel I am not going to be given the opportunity to do that, and understandably so. Emotions are high, people are raw from what they have learned and they do not feel comfortable being around me.

Seeing the screenshots of the people in their group passing around my personal photos and saying incredibly vile things about my appearance triggered a lapse with the eating disorder that I am in active recovery for. I then had another a few days later. I need to take some time away to get myself well, as the fear and anxiety of all of this is taking its toll. I also need the space to deal with the legal action I will be exploring with regards to Chris having doxxed me. I am not running away. I simply need to get myself into a space where I am stable enough to handle all of this, be accountable, and take responsibility without my own emotions diminishing other people's.

I know people hate me right now, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself. I am so very sorry for allowing this to happen.

#asked and answered

34 notes · View notes

saintsenara · 7 months

Note

1,8,18,21,22

thank you very much for the ask, @ashesandhackles. let's see how these go down...

[choose violence ask game here]

1. who is the character everyone gets wrong?

the last time i answered this question i said sirius - both fanon sirius and dark!sirius - and i stand by it, so this time, let's say... dumbledore.

and, actually, i think this for many of the same reasons which inspired my sirius answer. i really dislike dumbledore bashing, since it’s so frequently based in a complete misunderstanding of his character and the role he serves within the series’ narrative conventions - above all, the fact that the omniscient vibe he gives off in books 1-6 is not actually omniscience at all, as book 7 reveals; dumbledore doesn’t know that sirius is innocent, or that moody is barty crouch jr., or that kreacher is passing information to voldemort, because he’s just a human being. far too many criticisms of dumbledore don’t take this into account, ascribing to malice what is clearly just fallibility.

but, with this said, i dislike the anti-bashing turn in dumbledore-centric fics just as much, because many of these pair the idea that dumbledore is fallible (good and correct) with the idea that he is - for want of a better term - harry-ish. and this is just as bad a misreading of the character. dumbledore is not impulsive or reckless or radical - he holds radical views, but he does nothing to actually advance them in society (this is a man who is at the heart of the establishment for half a century, who does nothing with that power to dismantle the oppressive social structures which drive wizarding politics and prop up blood-supremacy). dumbledore is a hypocrite - he’s happy to be depended on by fudge, he is appalled that fudge might depend on lucius malfoy. dumbledore lives in an ivory tower. dumbledore projects his shame and self-loathing onto others in a way which is detrimental to their own happiness. and so on.

none of these things preclude dumbledore being courageous, but his ‘gryffindor courage’ is remarkably un-gryffindorish, and a lot of pro-dumbledore writing is surprisingly unwilling to confront this.

[also, there’s the other layer of pro-dumbledore writing i dislike - when authors make him hyper-whimsical. the man is stylish, rather than dressed like he ran into a charity shop and fell over. his sweet tooth is an incidental detail - and a trait which harry also shares - rather than his entire personality. he is not dithering and indecisive - he is a creature of inaction, but he tends to have settled on a single ‘right’ course very quickly in his mind. he is not silly. he is not a blushing fool in his relationships - all evidence is that he had just as much power over grindelwald as grindelwald had over him. he is not particularly emotionally demonstrative. he is physically strong. he is taller than voldemort. and, crucially, his mask of benign good humour is fake. all of his ‘whimsical’ traits are part of the act, the real dumbledore is ruthless and damaged and a nerd who loves reading and it’s iconic. let him be that way.]

8. what is the common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about?

there is no such thing as canon compliance.

by which i mean that ‘canon compliant’ is a useful tag to have on ao3 as an indicator of chronology - it’s a good shorthand for ‘the people who die in the series will die in this fic too’, ‘the main events which happen in the books will be mentioned here’, and so on. but i’m not sure that i think it goes beyond that.

and the reason for that, is that i have never seen anything which purports to be canon compliant beyond chronology - including my own work - which actually is.

there are several reasons for this:

the first is something which, if you’ve read other posts on this blog, you will know is a common refrain of mine - that the series is bound by specific genre conventions. if authors are transferring the action into a genre different from the ones the series makes use of, they are not writing something which is canon compliant, but canon coherent.

the second is that if authors are filling in gaps which are missing from the series - above all, the marauders-era or post-war-pre-epilogue timeline - they are doing something which is materially no different from writing a non-canon ship. i.e. writing exactly what they want. if your fic is crammed with original characters, or your marauders listen to cool muggle music, or you’ve spent more than twenty seconds thinking about the wizarding political or legal system then i love that for you - this is good and everyone should do it. but it’s not canon compliant. it’s canon coherent.

the third - and undoubtedly most controversial - is that you cannot write something canon compliant and hold the principle that the author is dead. because we know exactly how jkr thinks that canon should be interpreted, and this is often in ways which are - to borrow a phrase from ursula le guin - rather ethically mean-spirited. jkr’s views on fairness, violence, class, motherhood, love, and - of course - gender weave themselves into the narrative in ways which cannot simply be written off as ‘oh, it’s just harry’s perspective.’

i believe we have a moral imperative to know what she thinks and to interrogate the ways in which this appears in the canon text. i also think - obviously - that we don’t have to agree with what she thinks in order to write things which feel close to canon. and i don’t agree with her - not only when it comes to her views on trans people, which are actively harmful - but also when it comes to things like the fact that she’s clearly someone who’s rather vindictive, but who believes that this vindictiveness is really a strong sense of fairness (look, for example, at the dichotomy between how the text presents violence against people it thinks ‘deserve’ it - harry using the cruciatus curse on amycus carrow being a great example, neither harry, nor mcgonagall, nor the narrative give a fuck - and those it thinks don't). or the fact that her own experience of both motherhood and daughterhood - an experience which was clearly very traumatic for her (her mother died of multiple sclerosis, her first husband was violent towards her, she has an extremely difficult relationship with her father) - drives the series’ prioritisation of sacrificial motherhood, criticism towards mothers who don’t make their children the focus of their entire world, and certain coolness towards fathers (especially absentee ones - who will be blamed by the narrative for being murdered by their own sons). or the fact that she has extremely narrow views on cisgender women, even before her views on trans women are taken into account, which turn up again and again in how female characters we are not supposed to be sympathetic towards are written.

i am not, of course, suggesting that writing a fic which is heavily based in canon means that an author supports jkr’s views. what i am saying instead is that fics which engage with questions such as how harry understands violence against the bad guys in ways which go beyond ‘lol, lmao’ or which write lavender as a person whose fondness for stereotypical femininity doesn’t make her insubstantial or which point out that the narrative blaming merope gaunt for dying directly justifies everything voldemort believes are canon coherent.

and, actually, i think that this broader term - canon coherent - is a better one to talk about the non-chronological aspects of canon compliance. because the dividing line between canon compliant fics and canon divergent ones is incredibly arbitrary, and often doesn’t take into account how close to canon the writing in otherwise canon divergent stories often is. after all, if someone writes a story in which harry feels exactly like his canon self, except that the romantic partner he ends up with isn’t ginny, that is arguably more canon compliant than a piece of happy-ever-after hinny in which ginny is a doormat who gives up her career to be harry’s bang maid and harry speaks like he’s had twenty years of therapy. but only one of these pieces will be welcomed onto canon compliant rec-lists and into canon compliant discussion spaces.

[and it’s worth mentioning that plenty of canon compliant only spaces do allow flexibility - above all in being open to interpretations of characters such as james, harry, and hermione in which they are not white. this is good and they should continue to do this, but we can go further, especially in accepting queer interpretations of the main characters into canon compliant discussion.]

i also think - and i’m aware this may sound cruel - that thinking in terms of canon coherence, rather than compliance and divergence, would be good for everybody’s ego. i can acknowledge that plenty of people who diverge from canon can be dicks about it - and i think that the criticism people who prefer the canon endgame ships often get for being ‘boring’ (and, in the case of ships such as remadora, ‘homophobic’) is bullshit - but the canon compliant girlies (gender neutral) are, in many cases, no better. it is not harder to write something ‘canon compliant’ - not least because, as discussed, you’re not - and it is not evidence of an author engaging more seriously with the text and its themes. there is a tendency i have noticed in the fandom spaces i inhabit, many of which feature people whose preference is for the canon ships etc., for non canon pairings to be treated as - essentially - crack ships, especially in stories which are light or whimsical in tone. but when i say that writing on tomarry or snarry or snack or snapemort or drarry or riddledore or wolfstar or what have you can deliver characterisation and worldbuilding and narrative construction which feels infinitely more plausible than many ‘canon compliant’ pieces of writing, i mean this entirely seriously.

and i think it would be good if the dividing line which leads many people to say ‘i don’t read canon divergent fics’ or ‘i don’t read canon compliant fics’ was instead blended into a preference for fics which are canon coherent or otherwise. we would all learn something.

18. it’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

delphini.

another reason why canon coherence over canon compliance is valuable is it means that one can pretend the cursed child doesn’t exist.

but i would like to make a case for the fact that delphini as a concept (so, nothing like the way she’s written in that play…) makes sense and is a character i’d like to see added to more stuff. she works within both voldemort and bellatrix’s canonical arcs, she gives rodolphus something to do post-war after he spends canon being futile, imagine how funny it would be if teddy had a crush on her, george-michael and maeby style (truly les cousins dangereux), imagine how funny it would be if she is the spitting image of her muggle grandfather and her dad’s having a crisis every time he sees her, imagine her trying to parent trap voldemort and bellatrix into actually falling in love…

you can do serious things with her too - in fact, i have - but, as someone who thinks anything is improved by someone spindly and vaguely sinister, i think she’s a hoot and she deserves to turn up in more things.

21: what part of canon do you think is overhyped?

my eyes were bone dry when dobby-ex-machina died.

22: what is your favourite part of canon, which everyone else ignores?

that harry is a luxury boy. let my man buy his solid gold cauldron, hagrid, don’t be a narc.

[in general, i don't love versions of harry which show him as really abstemious or austere - he's pretty careless with his possessions and he doesn't regard the expensive things he owns as something to be unusually protective over. in his adulthood, he's 100% making sure his shed is stocked with the best brooms on the market and buying himself a little treat whenever he's feeling spenny.]

#choose violence ask game #albus dumbledore #is chill and i'll defend him #canon compliant #is bullshit #delphini riddle #is real #all the takes this morning #asks answered

76 notes · View notes

fullscoreshenanigans · 1 year

Photo

I’m never going to be over Ray and Emma both having visions of Norman when they both desperately needed the comfort of his presence.

I could have gone with manga panels for both of these for uniformity, but yet again CloverWorks takes advantage of the medium shift to add such beautiful nuance to (hallucination!)Norman and Ray’s exchange in the S1 finale—Norman speaking to Ray so, so gently in both the English and Japanese dubs with his final remark featured here, Ray being so overwhelmed by everything that’s happened in the past hour already and now topped with seeing one of the two people who was most important to him reappear, after he thought he’d never see him again, that he nearly cries at his words. I can’t express how much I adore the way they handled this scene.

By turning out to be a hallucination/dream as opposed to a ghost, we’re shown Norman’s departed spirit isn’t actually guiding them as its own independent entity with an agenda in another incorporeal form, but instead how they both internalized his character and personality and, most importantly, how they wished to see him again that manifested his appearance (see this post for further differences between their perspectives of him on this particular night).

Ray has spent over half of his life utterly loathing himself for the choices he made in order to save Emma and Norman. So much so he built up a bravado around the act of his self-immolation for years, resulting in the manic fervor he displays when giving his speech to Emma in the few minutes before the clock strikes midnight on his officially listed birthday (this is also fueled by his fraught relationship with Isabella, but that’s for other posts). He not only believes he deserves to die for his actions and perceived inaction, but that he should do so in a violent, agonizing way.

Ray knows Norman, knows his sense of rigid morality well enough to account for him discovering his alliance with Isabella and using that to his advantage, to further push Norman away so he’ll be more comfortable with using him (he even chides Norman for not keeping his original plan to do this a secret) and so his death will hurt him and Emma less. And for roughly the entire back half of October 2045, Norman did genuinely hate Ray for his betrayal in the same way he hated Isabella, his reaction so visceral at being deceived and hurt by people he had loved all his life. He would have been willing to sacrifice Ray if not for intervention from Emma, which opened him up to directly confronting Ray and, in turn, led him to discover Ray’s true motives. He was so humbled and taken aback by the depths of Ray’s love and loyalty he returned to his original categorization of him: a dear friend who needed to be saved from his intended fate in their cruel world. Even if saving him came at the cost of his own life; even if he desperately wanted to live.

One could argue Ray hallucinating Norman up on the wall was to assuage his own guilt at being unable to save him as he originally planned (something that, on his darker days, I think Ray himself would believe), but I prefer to view it as the final marker of his truly internalizing one of the deepest desires in his heart that he had locked away for so long. After living under that oppressive reality of dehumanization and exploitation and believing that there was nothing else for him, that this was all there was, that things would never get better and after everything he did up to that point, he didn’t deserve better, on top of Isabella throwing him completely off balance by shipping Norman out early and just being this incredibly conflicting and painful presence in his life, to have his siblings come together for this escape plan and without putting it explicitly in words convey “you’re worth saving, Ray, and we love you,” and that they gave him hope back

(Chapter 36)

it fucks me up something fierce.

Emma’s hallucination of Norman is much more brief during this time.

No words are exchanged, but none are necessary.

(Chapter 31)

After two and a half months of grappling with the real, palpable grief she felt at his death, seeing him around every corner and hearing his voice, and sublimating it into her efforts to ensure the success of the escape, she’s able to find solace in her vision of him before the wall.

(Chapter 119)

It’s why she sheds no tears for him until their reunion nearly two years later.

(TPN Light Novel 1: A Letter from Norman - “The Day Emma Cried”; translated by @1000sunnygo)

But up until that point, she repeatedly draws strength and comfort from his memory.

Even before chapter 93, she’s unconsciously reaching for him in her fevered dreams.

(Chapter 45 Side Scene)

Him and Isabella, predominantly in black due to her belief they’re dead, and Ray and the rest of the escapees who she hopes are still alive, predominately in white.

(Chapter 50)

Though she had to compromise on their original plan by only bringing along those over five at its outset, she’s committed to their end goal. She was the spark that pushed them to strive for the ideal outcome instead of settling for the safest one that would be tinged in regrets, and he gave up everything to facilitate it.

(Chapter 53)

The three-panel overview of her thought process ends on her final handshake with Norman. It’s painful enough for this man to be insulting her living family, but when her thoughts drift to the boy who had given his life so they would have a chance to live freely, who came to believe in all those things the man was disparaging, it’s the final straw that breaks her silence. She won’t stand and let her family be disregarded so casually or let Norman’s memory be desecrated like that.

(Chapter 64)

She eventually brings him up to Yuugo in an attempt to connect with him over lost friends, and her framing of it is interesting because while viewing Norman as having agency in making his choice (as much as they can have under the circumstances in that he went willingly, which isn’t much, but from her perspective as a traumatized child), she states simply that she let him go. (Shoutout to the way SKATES delivers said line in the manga dub. Wonderfully heartbreaking. </3)

(Chapter 30)

After she and Ray both knew how much he wanted to see the world beyond their walled existence and live on with them.

So when we get to chapter 93 where she’s on the brink of death, having visions of all the suffering experienced on the grounds of Goldy Pond before finding refuge and strength in visions of her family, the one who catches he when she begins to sink is Norman.

Unlike with the hallucinations at the end of the escape arc that were meant to obfuscate his fate, at this point we as an audience know he’s alive at Lambda, so this is all coming from the perception of Norman Emma holds deep within her heart. Even from beyond, even if it meant being separated from her longer, she sees him guiding her out of the unknown, murky depths so she can continue fighting to actualize their plan. (To say nothing of the way she imagines him delicately intertwining their fingers upon reaching her as the way he catches her. The association with safety and gentleness is always present and yet another valued refuge in light of the violence she’s in the middle of.)

Minor tangent to end on, but it’s interesting to me how when Emma brings up Norman’s name among people she misses, during the only time they privately mention him, Ray takes a beat to gather himself before focusing on what’s still obtainable in this life.

(Chapter 55)

There’s zero chance she blames him for Norman’s shipment, but he’s still not ready to look her in the eye and delve into it where they could potentially draw attention from others when he considers it a failure to his two most precious people after years of meticulous planning.

(Chapter 65)

But Norman’s still in his thoughts too as he adamantly refuses to fail Emma again.

(Chapter 93)

Though he comes very close.

(Chapter 123)

And he’s the one to remind Emma of how special their bond is when she’s having doubts about voicing her disagreement with Norman’s plan.

#The Promised Neverland #Yakusoku no Neverland #TPN #Full Score Trio #TPN Emma #TPN Norman #TPN Ray #Norrayemma #Noremray #Norray #Noremma #Emma #Norman #Ray #TPN S1 #Goldy Pond Battle Arc #TPN 093 #Long Post #FSS Chatter #Escape Arc #TPN S1e11 #TPN S1e12 #Shirai can i give you $100 for a bonus scene of these two talking about how they both had visions of him #at some point during their search for the Seven Walls i refuse to believe it didn't happen B L S #also huh @ how the the two times the NE handshake is redrawn instead of copypasta'd like in Ch64 #Demizu making the correction of him going for a two-handed one if he's not holding his suitcase #reason no.55 they truncated S2: they knew people would've lost their shit at the NE dream sequence #thinking of all the little nuances they could've added to it in the way their eyes shown or their minute movements #with the ethereal and fantastical whimsy afforded by it being a dream and the gorgeous Obata track that would've accompanied it #they knew the world was not ready

200 notes · View notes

juniperhillpatient · 11 months

Text

and I’m thinking about “does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?” & the way that both Jackie & Javi were killed not with weapons but with cruel & deliberate inaction that was still violence in itself. thinking about “no return no reason” & the way that reason & societal rules will always lose.

laura lee died praying to a god that had no power in the wilderness & trying to leave when the wilderness didn’t want her to. but most importantly she died trying to save the rest of them. Jackie was their leader & she made them all say nice things to each other & she could make them get along when their drama was passive aggressive & material but she was useless in the wilderness. she didn’t participate in the doomcoming hunt & trying to kill Travis & it’s impossible to imagine her participating in hunting Natalie. because Jackie was kind & the wilderness does not favor kindness. Jackie & Laura Lee & Javi were too selfless for their own good.

Javi didn’t die because “it chose” - not really. “it” the wilderness was Natalie & the moment she let the selfish feral nature of survival win & stopped trying to save him. the “wilderness” chose in the moment of selfish desperation to survive that Natalie Scatorccio made. btw to be clear I’m not criticizing Natalie or any of them, I’m discussing the narrative of the show.

polite society would say you should probably save one of the only 3 people in the wilderness who isn’t actively trying to eat you (Javi, Travis, Ben) - the person who selflessly tried to save you - but baseline survival would say otherwise. all of them stopped being people who follow human social rules on that hunt. they became wolves fighting for survival. “if you save him the others will get you.”

adult Natalie is right. they survived but at what cost? their humanity. they’ve all done things there is no coming back from because that is the ONLY way any of them made it out. attempting to hold onto any level of humanity or societal expectations in the wilderness is a death sentence. but how can you ever go back to society after that? after watching your friend die & letting him die because if you don’t, it’s you, because you need to eat.

this is why I’m very curious about Ben. I think that his decision not to kill himself is very interesting & I wonder if it will matter? he didn’t eat Jackie. “he thinks he’s so much better than us.” the decision of whether or not he will eat Javi - & again, I think he will because he literally will not have a choice, he is actively starving to death like the rest of them & he’s just chosen not to kill himself so I can’t see him starving & watching them all feast - will be very important for Ben.

#ben scott #natalie scatorccio #javi martinez #coach ben #it chooses #yellowjackets meta #sort of??? I’m just word vomiting my thoughts lol #yellowjackets s2 #cannibalism #cannibalism cw

102 notes · View notes

undertheopensky · 6 months

Text

Become Like Stone 3

Whumptober Day 20: Found Family/Blanket

Characters: Legend, Four, everyone’s there but it’s Sky POV because he grabbed the reins at the start and refused to let go.

Trigger warnings: Aftermath of torture, look if you read the first one you probably know what to expect

Read on Ao3!

Late to the party? Read Part 1 and Part 2 first!

THIS IS A DOUBLE UPDATE! MAKE SURE YOU DIDN'T MISS PART 2!

-----

They were too late.

It’s the only thing in Sky’s mind, rattling around like a long-lasting echo, playing over and over again to the sound of Legend’s sobs.

They were too late.

Four is dead.

It doesn’t feel real.

Four doesn’t even look like himself. Bruises, cuts, and terrible burns warp his skin head to toe. Underfoot, sticky blood coats the stone in irregular, violent patterns, mirroring the violence painting Four’s skin. It clings to Legend’s hands and skin the way he clings to Four’s body, rocking back and forth and weeping inconsolably.

Four is pale, and still, and dead.

They were too late.

Legend cries out, high and frightened, and flinches away when Hyrule reaches out. He’s trying to - shield Four, Sky realises dimly, trying to curl over him to protect him.

“Shh,” Hyrule croons, “I’m not gonna hurt him. I’m not gonna take him from you. Can I see?”

Legend moans a denial.

“Please, Ledge, you’re bleeding. Let me see your hands.”

There’s nothing Sky can do here. He can’t save Four, beyond all mortal help. He can’t comfort Legend, shattered after watching his brother die a tortured death. He can’t even help Hyrule except by passing him potions and bandages, and that’s a task better left to Warriors.

The inactivity makes his skin crawl. He can’t just - stand and watch. Catching Warriors’ eye to let him know, he turns and walks out, trying not to feel like he’s abandoning them.

We need to clear this area, Sky tells himself. We haven’t found their packs yet, and we don’t know if there’s monsters around. Now would be a great time to ambush them, distracted and grieving as they are. Sky can preempt any such attacks. It’s good. It’s useful.

The next cell over has two bodies in it - both dead, when Sky checks. More victims, he thinks distantly, staring blankly at their corpses.

It takes a moment to realise why the thought doesn’t fit.

They’re both clean, for one thing - not dirty, not bloody, sporting no injuries but the wounds that must have killed them: the man a blow to the head, the woman a crushed windpipe. They’re also fully dressed, in neat, well-fitted, high-quality garments, where Four and Legend had been stripped to their unders.

They’re not victims. They’re the ones - the ones who -

Legend must have killed them, he thinks, and can’t summon more than a vague sense of good riddance.

There’s nothing in the cell of worth, so Sky turns away to check the ones across the hall - empty, and have been for some time. There’s really not much down here.

From above, the dungeon door groans as it opens, and Sky abruptly remembers the other teams searching the house for signs of Four and Legend, and runs to intercept.

He’s too slow. Twilight is already bodily carrying the sobbing Wind from the cell when he gets there. Sky grimaces in apology.

“Aught else down here?” Twilight asks, low voiced.

Sky shakes his head. “Empty cells. And -” he remembers, and his face goes blank. “I think. Their captors. In the second cell.”

Twilight startles, glancing past him with wide eyes and reaching for a weapon with the hand not holding Wind up. “No, it’s - they’re dead. Already. I think Legend killed them.”

The strange face Twilight pulls is probably a mirror of the one Sky made.

Wind looks up from where he’d been crying into Twilight’s tunic, eyes still wet. “I d-don’t - I don’t understa-and - why would they - why -” His voice breaks. Twilight hugs him a little closer as Wind buries his face back into his side, muffling his sobs.

Sky has no answers for him. The only one who might is Legend - and he’s in no condition for questions right now.

From the open cell, quiet voices stir the air, keeping the hush of the dungeons from becoming eerie. Sky can’t stop himself from glancing over.

Still clinging to Four’s body, Legend has at least let Hyrule get close enough to remove the manacles. He’s also begging him, in a broken whisper, not to touch Four, not to hurt him, to just leave him alone and hurt Legend instead, please don’t hurt him anymore, while Hyrule patiently soothes him and the raw skin of his wrists.

Sky must make some small noise, because Hyrule looks up. “Sky, good. I need you to come hold Legend. He’s not going to like this and I really need him to not interrupt.”

Wars grimaces. “Goddesses, Hyrule. Hasn’t he been through enough?”

“He’ll thank me for it later. Four’s still alive.”

“What?” Sky blurts, eyes wide.

Four is deathly pale under the blood and burns. Motionless, and loose with it, in a way even unconsciousness can’t mimic.

But Hyrule is sure. “He’s not dead, he’s in some kind of magical stasis - I’ve seen it before and I can break it, but we need to be ready to heal him after. Wars, get over here. Sky, hold Legend.”

Legend is too caught up in his own world to see him coming. When Sky grabs him he screams in a voice worn away to almost nothing and thrashes blindly, desperate to get back to Four. “Shhh,” Sky tries, “it’s okay, you’re okay, it’s just me, you’re okay -”

Legend can’t hear him, or if he can, he doesn’t care.

Hyrule’s ignoring the commotion. Having dragged Four away from Legend, he’s laid him out on the stone and now runs careful hands down his body - pausing over the pulse points of his wrists, the thinnest part of his ankles, the soft skin of his temples, before coming to hover over his still and silent heart.

Under his bracer, where no one can see it, the Triforce glows.

“Four? It’s time to come home.”

There’s a stretching, breathless moment where nothing happens. Then Four takes in a long, deep breath, and loses it all again on a whine as it catches on a broken rib. He coughs, and chokes on blood, and Hyrule’s green-limned hands slam into place on his chest. “Potion, now!” he barks, all business.

Wind is screaming out in the hall; Legend is wailing in Sky’s arms, a horrible, broken wisp of a noise that’s hope and despair and pleading all wound together. Sky himself is riding a wave of disbelief. Four’s alive. Hyrule had dragged him back from the brink, where magic had frozen him in a facsimile of death. Now Four is dying again - drowning in his own blood.

Potion in hand, Wars tries to sit Four up. Hyrule stops him. “Nope. Put it straight on the burns.”

Wars shakes himself - really he knows better, there’s no way Four can drink a potion in his condition - and starts pouring it over his skin where the worst of the burns lie stark and oozing. As the magic goes to work, glittering silver under a layer of dark pink, Warriors gets more bottles out of his bag, including one that’s only half-full. Back to back, most people can tolerate two potions at a time, but Four is much smaller than the average person. Warriors dunks a couple fingers in the half-full red potion, and starts smearing it on the cuts on Four’s face. Those are hard to look at - clean, straight, and deliberate. Some look so deep they might go all the way through to Four’s mouth.

Hyrule is fast reaching his limit. He has to pause, gasping and shaking sweat-soaked hair from his eyes, and gulps the green potion Wars hands him. Then he closes his eyes, swallowing and panting against nausea.

Four whines again, protesting the pain he’s still in.

“We’ve got you, Four,” Hyrule breathes, and dives back in.

Four’s injuries are too extensive to heal in a single sitting. Bruises still paint his skin blue and purple and livid red, and the deepest cuts on his legs and back refuse to close. But his breathing is clear now. Not wet and choking. Sky can see the steady rise and fall of his chest from where he’s still holding Legend, who’s - not fighting him anymore, instead just leaning quietly back against his chest. Sky doesn’t know when that happened. Doesn’t even know when his hand had started combing through Legend’s hair. As they sat, and watched Hyrule and Warriors put their brother back together.

Hyrule finally sits back, completely spent. “Do we have… a blanket or something? To wrap him in?”

There’s a rustle of movement as several people start digging through their packs. Sky hadn’t realised - everyone’s gathered around the doorway. Unable to help, but unable to look away. Having one small thing they could do -

Yeah. He gets that.

Four doesn’t stir as Warriors lifts him, Wild helping wrap potion-slick skin in the fabric he pulled from his Slate. It’s unwieldy, but they manage. With Four bundled up, comfortably positioned in Warriors’ arms and head pillowed on his scarf, he almost looks like he’s just sleeping.

Sky’s heart wrenches and tries to fall through the floor.

He’s not dead, he tells himself, Hyrule healed him - he’s okay. He’s going to be okay.

Then he realises - Four’s eyes are open.

He’s not the only one. Wind yells with delight and charges forward. “Four! Ohmygosh, I was so worried!” He grabs Four’s hand, laying on top of the blankets, and beams at him, full force. “I’m really glad you’re okay!”

Four stares at him for a long moment, blank.

Wind’s face starts to fall.

Then, slowly, Four smiles, and his fingers weakly curl.

Twilight takes the opportunity to grab Wind by the shoulders and spin him around. “C’mon, Wind. Let’s get out of here. All of us.”

“I hear that,” says Warriors, following at a careful pace.

Legend jolts, tension running through him, and scrabbles to stand. Sky helps him up, murmuring “Shh, it’s okay, we’re following him, he’s not leaving you. Easy, now.”

Legend looks at him, and for the first time, recognition lights his face.

“Sky?” he rasps.

“Yeah, Ledge. It’s me. It’s us. You’re safe now.”

Legend sways on his feet. He looks so young like this, wide-eyed and pale with tacky blood all over his chest and arms and legs. “Sky?” he says again. “Four is… Four’s okay? I didn’t dream that?”

Sky’s heart breaks just a little bit more. “Four is going to be fine, and so are you,” he tells him, firm as he can make it.

Legend takes a staggering step and nearly falls. Sky catches him. “Four’s okay?” he says again.

“Four’s okay. Here, Twi, gimme a hand, I don’t think he can walk.”

“M fine,” Legend says, still staring blankly down the hall where Warriors is taking the steps as smoothly as he can so as not to jostle Four. He doesn’t notice when Twilight crouches in front of him, offering his back. He does notice Sky steering him to wind his arms around Twilight’s neck. “Wha - hey!” He flails a bit, but he’s got no strength; his limbs are as weak and shaky as his voice. “‘M fine!”

“Ya sure are,” Twilight agrees cheerfully, and carries him off to mumbled protests.

Sky follows them out, but not without taking a last, lingering glance. He hopes, faintly, that one of the upstairs teams had found their brothers’ bags. At this point, all he wants is to get out of here, and never come back.

#whumptober 2023 #linked universe #lu four #lu legend #lu sky #lu fic #skies writes #my week continues to be top-tier bullshit

30 notes · View notes

lochblocknroll · 2 months

Text

> file.doomsday

> folder.justdroppedin

> document.loch

last accessed: ERROR: no data available

CONTINUE?

SECTION ONE:[A SONG FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD STARTS PLAYING, A MELODY THAT REMINDS YOU OF A TIME WHEN YOU WERE A HAPPY CHILD — ONCE.]

It's hardly been that long in the scheme of things. When compared to the grand span of eons that make up the universe, a few hours in a small, loud, flying tube of death didn't matter much. In the world of light and electricity, however, it may as well have been an eternity that Loch had already spent squeezed into this seat that pinched at his back and his neck. He was used to working on a different scale than the human. Loch was made for the immediate pulse of circuitry and this was as close to torture as he could imagine. Nothing like the demand of inaction ate at him quite so deeply.

Sighing and shifting for the tenth time in as many minutes the question he had done his best to ignore swam to the surface and breached his mind: how did I get here?

Just as quickly came the melody of a band never far from his mind and the questions posed when he was just four years old and with a muscle memory Loch never bothered to try to suppress, his head began to bob to a tune only he could hear as he quietly sang under his breath: 'Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down...' The Talking Heads had always spoken to that deep, unknowable part of him that had remained unchanged through the years and had more than once fueled a late-night dance party when the code swam before even his trained eyes.

It was a shame his mother never liked them much. She had always preferred the crooners from her days, which were more than enough to put Loch to sleep half the time.

It was a shame he was the only one left of that house that remembered the words to this song that danced freely in his brain like the rattle of an earthquake.

It was the same as it ever was.

SECTION TWO: [A FIDGETABLE, ANALOG ITEM, CAN BE KNIFEY THOUGH YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR IT TO BE]

It had been another uncountable slew of minutes turned to slurry when the mountains had finally broke and demanded their presence be known. For a moment, Loch's heart had leapt with the hope that they were perhaps finally arriving. The same extremely large dickheads that had demanded he be separated from both his fish and his beautiful Alienware computer (never mind the Dell Ultrasharp curved monitor they had taken as well) had mentioned something about the mountains, right? Loch knew he should have been paying better attention, but watching literal thousands in equipment be carted away was a little more distracting than hour four of boring corporate bullshit.

(How did I get here? Letting the days go by...)

His fingers ached with the urge to type. Loch's brain practically ate itself in worry as his eyes ached with the memory of that headache and the damn flying helltube just kept going. His ears were doing to implode on themselves. It was sheer self-preservation that he found that worn river rock in his hands, pulled from the pocket of his backpack. It was dark in color, worn smooth over years of water and smoother in Loch's hands. His sister had found it, that time when she dug so deep into the ground she found water. That water held the rock.

Loch clutched it in a closed fist, thumb running along the self-made groove in its surface and focused on breathing and not the possibility that this entire thing was a hologram pulled together by a fringe cult of Owlmen or their Sincerely Completely Personable friends. But it never hurt to keep a healthy degree of suspicion, and Loch kept his eyes on the minimally staffed crew.

SECTION THREE: [ A PLACE OF GREAT PERSONAL SIGNIFICANCE, BE THAT POSITIVE OR NEGATIVE]

Loch was beginning to believe he was going to die on this damned helicopter and no one was going to notice because they were all going to just keep flying until they ran out of fuel and crashed in a terrible ball of fire without even the courtesy of Mothman making an appearance. He was going to be that man stuck in the Twilight Zone screaming about a man on the wing of the plane if something didn't happen soon. When nothing did, as things seemed determined not to on this thing, Loch found himself dozing off.

(And you may find yourself in a beautiful house...)

The home was warm. In his bedroom sat his set-up in its full glory kept perfectly cool as a dull green glow emanated from the doorway as Loch let the code run. It was going to take awhile, after all, and if he was going to see the same damned error on line 3549, he might take a hammer to the entire beautiful setup. Best to let it rest for now.

The rest of the house did not smell of dirt as it so-often did and instead smelled of the faint lavender perfume Mamá loved so dearly. The curtains that the golden hour shone through were the handmade ones, covered in small embroidered plants as soft and thin as lace. The dull thudding noise from the kitchen spoke of Mamá's famous locos tonight and that silly betta fish seemed to laugh in time with his sister's high-pitched, airy giggle.

The jolt of turbulance shook Loch awake, the half-heard memory of Matias being called to pour his sister a glass of mote con huesillos before the heat cooked her as well as the fish fading to the dull and the dark of the helicopter, void of anything resembling home. They overlapped for a moment before his home disappeared. Loch sighed. It wouldn't disappear forever, he knew. He was going to make sure of that.

#loched.doomsday #loched.plot #loched.development #fhq.prompt

12 notes · View notes

thgfanfictionlibrary · 2 months

Text

Authors On THG Writing Hiatus Masterlist (12)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 /

***Active (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer who has updated within the past year. Inactive (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer that has not been updated at all in the past year+. On THG Writing Hiatus (on this blog) is a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year BUT they may return to writing in the future. Lists will be updated as needed based on activity. ***

Created: December 27th, 2023

Last Checked:---

jennycakes-ao3, tumblr, ff.net

Popular Fic: Tomorrow Will Be Kinder- It's been four years since the Mockingjay took down the Capitol, and both Gale Hawthorne and Madge Undersee have been working with the new government to make a better future. Unfortunately, they're both in District 2. The two of them have been doing a great job at avoiding each other and minding their own business, but a chance string of events brings them together again and again. It isn't until Madge starts feeling strange after one late night with Gale do they accidentally become permanent people in one another's lives. How will the two of them balance their careers and their increasingly complicated personal lives?

Joshs_left_earlobe :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: The Lion's Tooth-Summary: Overwhelmed by memories of the past, Peeta withdraws from life at home. Katniss thinks she's found a way to revive their relationship, but does it come with a price?

keeptheearthbelow :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: I've Hungered for Your Touch a Long, Lonely Time-Katniss and Peeta find their way to each other — no matter how many decades it takes.

LolaBleu :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: Picture at an Exhibition-Katniss had run out her house in terror - eyes wild, hair wild, thin, wane, waxen, feral -, and Peeta had thought of Annie Cresta; beautiful, mad, Annie as they stared at each other. He tried to block out the crashing coming from inside, tried to block out the helpless feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't until later, after he spent the day turning his house into the home it never was in the year he spent in it between games, that Greasy Sae had knocked on his door and he realized how bad things had been for Katniss in his absence.

melchimaus :: ao3, tumblr

Popular Fic: Present-Katniss spends the day without Peeta... kind of.

misshoneywell :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: No Unicorns-Two years, three months and four days: that's how long it's been since Katniss Everdeen has had sex. Someone wants to help her change that.

MockingJayFlyingFree :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr, prompts in panem

Popular Fic: The Miner's Wife-In an alternate universe in which Prim was never reaped, Katniss married Gale at the age of 18, as a good Seam girl should. 12 years later, she has two children with him. Peeta Mellark, the lone victor of the 74th Hunger Games, is a failed mentor and a prostitute in the Capitol. When he is home in District 12, he is self-destructive and on his way to becoming an alcoholic. What happens when their paths cross for the first time since that fateful incident with the bread?

Pikelet184 :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr

Popular Fic: Daily Favors-Katniss buys her best friend and roommate, Peeta, a Favor Coupon Booklet for his birthday. She thinks he’ll get a kick out of it as she’s always been lazy when it comes to chores - but when he opens it, his reaction isn’t exactly what she expected. Will miscommunication, assumptions and misunderstanding lead to the end of their friendship - or will it lead to something more?

quothme :: ao3, ff.net

Popular Fic: The Victor-There’s a legend in District 12, passed down through the years, that tells of a lost soul, a miner who turned left when his brethren turned right. They call him the Blind Man. No longer alive, but unable to die. Dark AU.

SoThere :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr

Popular Fic: A Softer Place to Land-After giving Katniss some surprising news, Prim disappears from her sister's life. While trying to move on, Katniss receives a phone call that will challenge everything she knows about life and love.

#masterlist #everlark fanfiction #thg fanfiction #everlark #thg #writing-hiatus authors #writing-hiatus #writing-hiatus authors masterlist

7 notes · View notes

windienine · 6 days

Text

ugh soulsov on the brain again. spoiler-laden ramble time.

i think my favorite part of the game's story overall so far is the really clear dynamic between "person who passively lets himself die" and "person who really, desperately, actively yearns to be alive"

that yearning is ysmé's core character trait. all of her really jarring traits-- the lies, the pageantry, the honest and open disdain for everything about the mosaic-- it's because she desperately wants something better for herself. when she's asked if she's here to save the world, the "yes" that comes out of her isn't mocking or trying to get the moment over with. she wants to save it! the mosaic isn't in imminent danger, but it's rotten from the inside and it makes her angry and desperate enough that she'd do anything to change it!

loïc has a lot of that exact same disdain, just... quieter, kept to a few polite words or his internal monologue. he doesn't like living in a rigid theocracy, and even before things with lia escalated to the point they did the game makes a point that he is not a practicing religious guy, he saw the beating heart of what the mosaic lives on and thinks it sucks.

the difference is that loïc's honest response to this is "the world is a terrible place (though i won't say that openly, it might discourage somebody) and i hope i can make it a bit better-- for somebody, for anybody, for you-- before everything eventually crashes down."

and ysmé's is "fuck you. fuck this. fuck the Church, fuck the tower, everything has to change and if that means setting everything that makes this world recognizable on fire and building something better out of the smoldering ashes then i will be all the happier for it."

loïc lived pretty comfortably in polite society for most of his life until losing his kid made him abruptly fuck off to nowheresville in search of a cure (or, rather, to carve himself up to give to people piece by piece until there was nothing left to lose, yay suicidal tendencies) and whatever the hell is up with ysmé she doesn't even have a surname. girl's a wanted criminal who has gone total scorched earth on everything, even if she hasn't held that status for very long.

and you can't really have positive change unless you have a little of both of these attitudes. loïc's got this understanding that people are worthwhile just because they're people and violence should be avoided whenever possible, and ysmé has a powerful will and an ability to imagine a future where things are better (even if only for her/by her standards.) i want to learn more about what she actually wants out of freedom as a concept. (girl, why are you wanted by the Church? what HAPPENED to you?) the two of them already have a lot to learn from and gain from existing around one another, in terms of compassion and drive, respectively.

alternatively, because things will inevitably get worse with these two before they get better, ysmé fully has the potential to force her (often impersonal and cruel) worldview onto loïc and force him to bloody his hands when the going gets tough, and loïc can sit back and let it happen with a smile on his face because inaction is so much less painful than taking the reins and making his own decisions that will inevitably accomplish nothing and go nowhere like they have for months now. besides, he's already committed to helping her. what's he going to do if she goes too far and actually kills someone this time? decide helping her was meaningless, too?

the prelude's narrative needs you to be in loïc's head, hearing his thoughts, and generally sharing a good deal of his ideas for most of its runtime, but i feel like that's going to change in future chapters as we see more of ysmé's past and perspective.

#soulsov #victor text

5 notes · View notes

creepylittlelady · 4 months

Text

The different types of Ghosts in my AU! [Puppet Strings/Creepypasta AU Lore Dump]

Hi! As promised, your Christmas present is a brand new lore post! Sorry I've been so inactive lately, what with school and now the common cold kicking my ass, I just could not be asked up to type up a new post. But now I am here and better than ever!

The ghost characters in Creepypasta have always fascinated me, such as Ben, Sally and Lifeless Lucy, I just think they're all so cool and bring a lot of potential for LOORE! I think all of these characters have their own classification of Ghost; HOWEVER it's slightly different in my AU :3

Introduction

-Ghosts are one of the supernatural creatures in our Universe that are the most abundant and the most easily spotted. They come in all shapes and sizes depending on who you were in life, how you spent your life, and how you died. They are a sort of midway between Humans and Demons, with some types of ghosts being closer to humans, and some types of ghosts being closer to Demons.

Ghosts are very enigmatic as only a small handful of people can truly contact and study Ghosts enough to gain any information on them; as most cannot be perceived by a regular mortal unless under very specific conditions. Due to this, there is a sort of 'hierarchy' of Ghosts based on perceivability and malicious intent. However, ghosts are a very scattered species and this Hierarchy is rudimentary at best.

Just because two Ghosts are the same species, it does not mean they have the same level of power. At times, some lower ranking Ghosts have been proven to have higher power levels than commonly accepted high-ranking Ghosts, such as Poltergeists.

Without further ado, let's dig in!

Apparitions

-Apparitions (also referred to as 'Visitors') and Shadow People are often seen grouped together in Ghost listings, as both types of Ghosts have almost identical properties, but they do have some key differences.

Apparitions can manifest as just about anything that isn't a full corporeal form. They can appear as disembodied voices, or as temporary humanoid forms from the corner of your eyes. They usually only appear for a few seconds - a minute at a time, and although they can appear more than once, they're generally considered to be temporary Ghosts. They usually are bound to the place they died, and can only appear to someone whom they were close to in life, or someone trained in the field of Ghost Hunting.

They generally don't display any notable abilities. Usually Apparitions are people that have died peacefully or in regular circumstances, and they tend to have been more calm-natured and placid in life.

They generally don't communicate, just whisper often un-processable words. Their intentions are unknown, and many people believe they simply exist to 'visit' the place they died, henceforth why they are nicknamed 'Visitors'.

Shadow People

-Shadow People manifest as just that, shadow people. They are completely pitch black and have no discernible bodily or facial features. They are some of the more enigmatic types of Ghosts, as they are very hard to figure out.

Most people theorise that they were formerly those who died due to their own volition, whether it be suicide or something else. They don't appear in any particular place, but they are mainly perceived by those under the influence of drugs, people who are about to die, or those undergoing various degrees of distress.

They only display a small level of power, as they are able to lull people into a trance like state and make people believe they are in a dream.

They can communicate, but what they say is generally too ominous or nonsensical to deduce any meaning. Their intentions are unknown, but some Shadow People can be known to try and give a symbolic message to the people they are perceived by. They are somewhat temporary as they disappear shortly after the person is out of whatever situation they were in prior.

Messengers

-Messengers, also known as Guardian Spirits, are the most common to decipher going by their name alone. Messengers often take on a symbolic form of what they were like in life, and sometimes have more supernatural features to their spectral forms.

Messengers are temporary Ghosts; they only manifest in the human realm for a singular purpose. This is, to send an important message to the group of humans they are bound to, or to temporarily save them from unwarranted danger. This second purpose is rarely seen in a Messenger.

As stated beforehand, they are chained to a group of humans, sometimes random, sometimes not. Some can be bound to a particular human, or multiple. These humans can either be friends or family from when they were once alive, or a random human who is similar to what they were like in life.

Once they fulfil the singular purpose they were manifested for, they disappear. Often information about Messengers are not provided by the ghosts themselves, but rather the humans they contacted or saved.

Spirits

-Spirits are the most common out of all Ghosts, as you do not need set conditions to turn into a Spirit. Spirits commonly manifest as a dull, colourless humanoid version of what they looked like right before they died, including any scars.

Spirits do not retain any memories of their life besides some glimpses of their death. They aren't violent in nature, however it truly does depend on the kind of person you were in life. Spirits are purely made out of soul, meaning that they are raw emotion. This often means that Spirits can be quite tiresome to deal with. However, they are the closest to human and therefore are the easiest to contact and perceive.

Whilst Shadow People and Apparitions don't have their own ways of truly contacting the human realm, Spirits can manipulate white noise, and can speak through spirit boxes and some times manipulate Ouija boards or any spiritual communication device.

Spirits never truly give an intention as to why they are here; some will say to find peace or to just go to places they feel as if they've never been before. If a Spirit truly has found the peace they lacked in life, they can disappear/move on to the afterlife.

Spirits are quite easy to contact and easy to deal with (most of the time), as they don't hold any grudges or prejudices.

Vengeful Spirits

-Vengeful Spirits are the most mysterious and enigmatic of all Ghosts, and are often theorised to be the closest to Demons. They are incredibly volatile from what little research Ghost Hunters have been able to conduct, and are almost impossible to put on a spectrum or Hierarchy. They are unpredictable, and due to majority of them having an incredibly violent nature, most beginner Ghost Hunters are told to steer clear of them.

Vengeful Spirits are what most people think of when thinking of hauntings in Horror Movies, they are incredibly violent and are well known for their ability to physically harm humans. They are not bound to one place or to any person, they are what's known as 'free-roaming' spirits.

Vengeful Spirits manifest in very gory and bloody forms, often consisting of every major injury they'd ever gotten throughout their life. They are quite unsightly to look at, and as such as pretty easy to spot from any other kind of Ghost.

Vengeful Spirits are made out of pure Anger and Vengeance, which gives most of them their violent nature. However it's important to note that these aren't the only emotions they can feel; through what little observation can be made, they have shown the capability to feel emotions such as Happiness and Fear. It's theorised that their violent tendencies and malicious intent are more-so simply just violent outbursts and impulses.

They can openly communicate with humans that can perceive and can easily manipulate White Noise, meaning they can talk through Spirit Boxes, however most refuse to talk and may simply lash out instead. Some have shown high levels of intelligence, which may make them closer to humans. Vengeful Spirits are often thought to be people who died violent deaths and lived less than satisfactory lives.

Their power levels cannot be measures, but from what has been observed, they can be highly powerful and dangerous, one of their most well-known abilities is to strike fear or paranoia in their victims and be able to leave permanent wounds on humans when they attack. Some have been shown to have supernatural abilities too, as some can appear in dreams.

A good example of a Vengeful Spirit would be Lifeless Lucy.

Spectres

-Spectres are commonly mistaken for Spirits, however they have a lot of key differences. Spectres generally aren't colourless and instead look the exact same as how they died, and look very human instead of holographic. In fact, in some cases they are even mistaken for Zombies (more on that explained in another post).

They commonly only appear to a select demographic of people, such as children or those in distress. They can speak through Spirit Boxes, however most only choose to communicate to those that can perceive them.

Spectres have the unique ability to achieve a full corporeal form in a Labrinth; meaning they can achieve a physical body. This makes them able to interact with things and be perceived as a normal human would. It's unknown why Spectres have this ability. However once they step out of the Labrinth then they'll go back to their Ghostly form.

They also have the unique ability to be able to possess inanimate objects, however they have to fit under certain symbolic requirements. Such as, Sally Williams can only possess Teddy Bears, dolls and any form of traditional children's toy as they were the objects she interacted with most during her life.

Spectres are often those who died in tragic circumstances, however it's unknown how this can differentiate a Vengeful Spirit and a Spectre. Most spectres are rather melancholic in nature, but are known for being very placid and calm.

They can communicate through Spirit Boxes and Ouija Boards.

Poltergeists

-Poltergeists are widely accepted as the most powerful kind of Ghost. They are only really considered as Ghosts due to having the same limitations as most Ghosts and being made from dead people. They manifest as a symbol of what they were most associated with in life, or the thing that killed them. An example would be Ben Drowned, who takes on a more corrupted appearance of Link from the Legend of Zelda, his favourite video game in life. He takes on an incredibly glitchy appearance, like that of a game console dunked in water, as he was drowned.

-Poltergeists have unique abilities tailored to their design as a Ghost. Ben Drowned can manipulate Technology and can traverse through Video games and be perceived as a distorted version of Link, in almost all forms of video games. He can also corrupt games and add in a save file in consoles named 'BEN'.

-They all have unique spiritual mediums that they can talk to, and can pick who they want to be perceived by. This makes them exceptionally powerful as they can appear to one person one second and completely disappear the next. They can also choose if they want to be heard or not. On occasion, a Poltergeist will choose to just be a disembodied voice.

-Poltergeists main intentions are to cause mischief and have a fun afterlife. Due to their immense and unique powers, they often can do things that not even regular humans can do, and can get away with causing any manner of trouble. This makes them particularly frustrating to deal with.

Poltergeists are exceedingly rare and are not easily spotted, as they are more likely to simply poke you and run away then stay for a chat. Most that have been observed simply just want to cause trouble and delight in getting away with it.

They are incredibly powerful and not easy to deal with or spot on camera, and usually they can only be caught by highly trained Ghost Hunters or a particularly gifted Seer.

Well, this was extensive! As of finishing this post it's no longer Christmas, so happy late Christmas! Once again sorry for being inactive lately, more posts will be coming out soon!

-Little Lady, December 26th, 16:39pm

#littlelady #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #puppet strings #creepypasta au #ben drowned #ben drowned headcanons #sally williams creepypasta #sally williams headcanons #ghosts #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta lore #lifeless lucy headcanons #lifeless lucy

15 notes · View notes

flecks-of-stardust · 1 year

Text

Mercy — A Rain World Short Story

If you die, may you not die alone and afraid.

Five Pebbles, while reminiscing about the past, encounters a strange creature.

Contains spoilers for Saint's campaign; read at your own discretion.

[Five Pebbles]

The same faltering melody, repeating over and over into oblivion. The pearl is warm in his hands as the music stutters, wavering in time with the howling of the blizzard around him.

It is a hymn. That is all he remembers. The contents of the hymn, why it was written, when it was first sung… He accepted the loss eons ago. It was inevitable; even when his structure was intact, bits and pieces would drift away from him, lost to his self-created ruin. But given enough time, as much as he has sat through now, even the best of circumstances would have decayed into nothingness.

But even as the rest of his memories fade, what little is left of him swept away by the frigid winds, he remembers crimson fur and soft paws throwing a pearl at his face. He hadn’t paid her much heed then. Hadn’t thought this pearl would bring him such comfort. That this memory of her would bring him comfort.

That happened millennia ago. The turning of the wheels of time have left both of them behind. Try as he might, her specific shade of crimson is lost to history, but he remembers her as the crackling song plays, the notes barely audible over the screaming wind.

He doesn’t know what befell her, why she stopped visiting all those years ago. Or perhaps he did know, and simply forgot. It makes no difference now.

Memories of times long past… Moon used to tease him for his fascination with history. She was ever practical, always looking to the future, while he would stare back into the past. Even now they are the same.

“I love you.” Her last words to him. He tried to say it back, tried to respond even as he felt his structure crumbling below him. He doesn’t know if she ever heard him.

… Suns… Their last conversation… It’s too late for him to apologize. Too late for him to tell them that he finally understands what they were trying to tell him all those years ago. Do they still think about him? So much time has passed since they last spoke. If anything at all, he hopes they are in a better condition than he is in.

Time has taken all from him. All he has left are fragmented memories, and this pearl with its shuddering song. Looking into the myriad of cracks on its surface, he can hear Suns’ teasing laughter, can feel Moon’s calm confidence, can see the reflection of a scarred face, long since gone. All these recollections of better times…

A gust of wind blows his way, sending snow into his face; he flinches, his shaking hands losing their grip on the pearl. Straining, he reaches for it, but stops as he notices the furry green creature standing in front of him. It stares at him, blinking snow out of its eyes. He stares back; its shape is familiar.

The first sound to escape him after many cycles of frozen inactivity is a grinding squeak, one that makes the green thing recoil in alarm. He tries again, forcing air through the corroded metal of his voice module. “Little… green thing…” he rasps, struggling to project his voice over the howling of the snowstorm. “Hello.”

It creeps a little closer, sinking down to its belly as it stares up at him. Such a curious gaze. “Nothing here,” he warns, the frigid air shuddering through his puppet. “Nothing… left.” Nothing but memories. Even those are fading.

It stays there, watching him, unmoving as the snow drifts down around it. He returns its gaze for a moment, then resumes his routine, retrieving his pearl and playing its fractured music again. Once more, the world is little else but this song and his memories amid the howling winds, but ever so slightly, it is warmer.

Company is rare; the occasional critter stumbles its way in, but they never stay long. If the biting chill doesn’t drive it away, the snow that piles up around him will. But there is a certain deliberacy that shimmers in the eyes of this creature, one that doesn’t wane as the cycle wears on.

Eventually, though, it seems to drift off, closing its eyes as his pearl continues to play its broken tune. It doesn’t move even as the blizzard crescendos again, the bitter cold eating away at his puppet. With a sigh, he drops his pearl, reaching out to gently shake the critter awake. “Please find… warmth,” he says to it as it blinks up at him with drowsy eyes. “Cold is danger.”

Not moving, it continues staring at him, the layer of snow on it rapidly growing. He shakes it again, dislodging some of the snow. “Find heat,” he says firmly, pushing it away from him.

Reluctantly (or perhaps he is projecting?), the green creature gets up, shaking the snow out of its fur, and begins padding away from him. The blizzard swallows it swiftly, the ice in the air whipping around too fast for him to keep track of where the snow ends and where the critter starts. In a mere few seconds, he is alone again. He turns back to his pearl, submerging himself into its familiar, creaking melody as the storm rages on.

Familiarity is a comfort. He has little else to occupy his time with now. It is just him, and his pearl.

The storm waxes and wanes. The snowfall returns to a gentle drift, and the wind gusts settle down into a delicate breeze. He remains, unmoving, his pearl continuing its faltering song.

The cold is less intense today. Moon will enjoy it; she never liked the cold. She…

… he is still cold, in spite of the reprieve. He bunches himself up tighter, his joints creaking as he shifts.

Soft footsteps, pathing through the snow. He looks up and is greeted by the furry green creature again. It lays down at his feet, staring up at him. Puzzled, he peers down at it. “Why back?” he questions.

There is no response besides a short trill from the green creature, which rolls over onto its back, still staring at him. He leaves it be.

… his pearl. He dropped it. Trailing his fingers through the snow, he searches for it. What did it look like again…?

The green creature drops its head onto his feet with another trill. Something clinks against his feet; it’s a pearl. His pearl. He picks it up, holding it in both his hands, and then looks down at the green creature. “Thank… you,” he croaks.

It only stares at him, blinking snow out of its eyes, with its curious, unwavering gaze.

… familiarity…

He extends a hand towards the green creature. It shrinks away from him, nose twitching as it stares at his hand, but after a moment’s hesitation, it presses its head against him.

… it’s comforting. Hesitating briefly, he brushes his shaking hand down the length of the creature’s back. It doesn’t move away, instead curling up next to him. Its body is warm. He continues stroking its fur.

He doesn’t look up until the wind whips snow into his face. The same frigid, deadly routine. He gently shakes the green creature. “Cold coming. Please… go.”

It looks up at him, letting out a sleepy chirp. He nudges it away from him. “Don’t… freeze.”

It grabs onto his hand; he flinches, reflexively trying to shake it off. But it merely holds it, then presses the side of its face into it, staring up at him. He stares back.

Then it drops his hand, bounding off into the snow. He is alone again.

The blizzard is colder than before.

Snow, everywhere. Piled around him. Soft.

Soft, like fur. Green thing’s fur…

He used to… there’s something…

… can’t remember…

Suns said something about… softness…

… green thing again. Crawls straight into his lap. Ragged purring, pressing its body against him. He pets it. “Thank you… for… company,” he mumbles.

Purring. Vibrating through him. He wraps his arms around the thing. Fingers through its fur.

… familiar. Ancient memories…

… it’s warm…

—(Line breaker)— …through the mists of memory, your image dances... —(Line breaker)—

[Looks to the Moon]

A distant splash sounds. She looks up, startled. A visitor, in the midst of this snowstorm?

She lowers herself down to the floor of her chamber as a green furred creature slithers out of the water, shaking itself vigorously. The frigid liquid splatters everywhere, and she shields herself from the spray with an incredulous laugh. A little visitor, just like all those that came before it. She had thought they had gone extinct by now. “Hello little creature,” she croons, extending a hand towards it. “How tenacious you are, to make it here.”

It stands at the mouth of her chamber, blinking at her. She sits down on her little island of rubble, allowing herself a soft, sad chuckle as she pulls her legs towards her chest. Just like how all the others had reacted when they first saw her. How she misses them. “It has been a while since I had a lifeform like you stumble into my chamber,” she says, wrapping her arms around her legs. “It is good to know some of your species have persisted.”

It creeps a little closer, paddling through the small moat around her island. She helps it out of the water, then laughs as it shakes itself off again, drenching her in the process. “Quite the coat of fur you have there,” she coos, reaching out a hand to it again. It plops its head onto her hand, allowing her to scratch under its chin. “A lovely adaptation in these icy cycles, I’m sure. I hope the journey here did not wet your fur too much.”

As if in response, it chirps, settling down onto the rubble. It lets her pet it with no protest, and she runs both her hands through its thick, dense fur. None of the others had quite this much, though back then, it would have just been a hindrance. When did they evolve to have this, then? The world has been frozen for quite some time, after all.

She glances down as something clinks against the floor. The little green creature is holding up a pearl to her. “Oh? Where did you find this?” she wonders, reaching for the pearl.

She nearly drops it into the water as her hands make contact with it. It’s warm, so much warmer than anything should be in this climate. “This—” She shudders, her breath catching. “You—”

It mewls at her, dark eyes wide and confused. She shoves the pearl back into its paws. “Please, return this,” she pleads, closing its paws around the pearl. “I am sure what little is left of him misses this dearly. Bring it back to him, I beg of you.”

It looks down at the pearl, then back up at her, holding it up to her again. A sob escapes her, and she pushes at the creature. “Please. Go. Bring it back to him.”

It still doesn’t move. She stills. She knows they’re more intelligent than this. “Is he…”

The little creature crawls into her lap, staring up at her with the pearl still clutched in its paws. A broken sob, with part of a laugh mixed in, falls out of her. “Did he suffer?”

It can’t respond. She knows that. But—

The little creature drapes itself on her, its tail curling around her waist. A deep, rhythmic purring emanates from it, rattling through her as it fills the silence in the air around them. Its weight is heavy but warm against her.

She wraps her arms around it and cries.

#rain showers #rain world #downpour #five pebbles #looks to the moon #saint #HOKAY that's all the fics out of my backlog i think

40 notes · View notes