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kiss-me-cill-me · 4 months

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The Ninth Crewmember

Pairing: Robert Capa x Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: You are the ninth crewmember aboard Icarus II, and as the journey wears on you begin to find it harder and harder to ignore your feelings for Capa. Maybe it would be easier if he'd quit dragging you into bed with him...

Warnings: Smut, mentions of reader taking birth control pills as well as other medications, mild angst/pining, nightmares, literal sleeping together, the fun kind of sleeping together, Capa is a bit of a dick but also a sadboi, teasing, begging, use of "good girl" (whoops), bad puns

A/N: Can you tell that I struggle with titles haha? Anyway, finally getting around to cross-posting this from AO3 in my continued attempts to fuel @cillmequick's Capa thots 😉

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your fingers hovered over the panel, looking for the button you were supposed to press. They were all clearly labeled, but there were so many of them that you were having a hard time locating the one you needed. Your index finger moved hesitantly closer to a square near the bottom right of the panel.

“Not that one.”

Capa’s voice behind you made you jump. He sounded… not exactly annoyed, but tired by having to explain again what you were supposed to be doing. Your cheeks heated up as he leaned in close, chin hovering just above your shoulder as he looked at the panel.

“That one.”

He pointed at a button in the lower left, which, embarrassingly, was flashing bright orange and labeled “TEST” in all capital letters. You felt the need to apologize, but held your tongue. Capa went back to doing whatever it was he had been concentrating on before, at the other end of the room. The space he left in his wake felt oddly noticeable.

“Okay,” he said, taking his time to flip a couple of switches above his head. “Ready in three… two… one…”

You pressed the button as he finished counting down, and instantly the room in front of the control chamber was filled with spots of twinkling light. They seemed to dance over every surface for just a moment. The display lasted for less than three seconds, but it was breathtaking even in impermanence.

You looked over at Capa, your eyes still shining with the beauty of it, only to see him calmly taking notes. His expression was carefully neutral, lips pressed together as he scribbled with short, purposeful strokes.

“Capa?” you asked.

“Hm?”

He didn’t look up as he continued to record his observations, and you didn’t wait for him to before continuing.

“Do you think the real thing will look like that?”

Capa stopped writing for a moment, and seemed to consider your question seriously before answering.

“No,” he said finally, putting his stylus down and fixing you with a gaze that made you breath stop. “Even after watching a thousand of these simulations, I don’t think that any one of them could ever capture the true beauty. What it will really look like.”

You were standing a few feet away from him, fixed in place by his intense gaze. Something about Capa had fascinated you, from the moment you’d stepped aboard Icarus II. His bluntness, maybe, or the way his eyes seemed to scan over everything in front of him, as if he were reading it all - people, data, situations - like they were a book. And you would be lying if you said that it didn’t make your heart swell whenever he did it to you.

“You and I will be some of the only people to ever live who will see something so magnificent,” Capa said quietly. “We should count ourselves lucky.”

You nodded in agreement, too entranced and too afraid of flubbing your words to reply.

“Thank you for your help,” Capa continued. He went back to note taking, as if he hadn’t just been waxing poetic about life and the universe. “You can go.”

Capa’s words rang in your head as you made your way to the medbay. It had been hours since you’d left his lab, but the weight still seemed to resonate. A beauty unlike anything anyone had ever seen before. You reflected on the thought as you reported to Searle, to help with a few things before going to bed.

One of Searle’s duties was handing out supplements, and he often asked for your help with making the deliveries. Icarus II was a very large ship, and your fellow crewmembers were usually spread out in the various quarters and chambers. It was faster to do the job with two people.

Before heading off, you worked on separating various pills into small plastic cups, one for each person. There were quite a few pills that everyone had to take every day. Space travel was hard on the body, and it was difficult if not impossible to get all of the necessary nutrients from the food you had aboard. Even with the gardens and the ability to have fresh vegetables, you all still had to take a lot of supplements.

You finished doling out the vitamins, and then opened the final bottle of pills. You, Cassie, and Corazon also received one other daily medication: an oral contraceptive. You dropped three little pills into three little cups.

As you replaced the bottle’s lid, your mind drifted again to Capa. The weight of him hovering just behind you, so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wondered if he had any idea that he made your heart flutter just by being next to you. If he did, he certainly didn’t show it. Capa was incredibly hard to read, but for some reason that only made you want him all the more. Your thoughts wandered, imagining things that you knew would never happen. His hand reaching out to you; the feel of his fingers against your waist; his beautiful blue eyes rolling back as he-

You slammed the bottle of pills down on the counter, banishing the fantasies before you could get too wrapped up in them. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. The birth control pills were mandated for female crewmembers, but they were precaution rather than permission. Nine people cooped up together, for years. It was better to prevent any potential problems from happening. It was only logical to mitigate the risk. But that didn’t mean that relationships were encouraged.

And besides, you told yourself, it's not like Capa would be interested anyway.

You picked up the little plastic vial with your pills, and tipped them all into your mouth, swallowing quickly.

They burned your throat on the way down.

Capa’s eyes looked almost white in the vivid yellow light of the sun. He looked at the dying star, and you looked at him, breathless again at the way he seemed to silently consider everything in front of him. The edges of his thumbs ghosted over his lips as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, as if to get just a bit closer to that magnificent light.

You were sitting in the observatory, Capa’s empty vial of pills placed precariously on the edge of the bench between you. It had taken you quite a while to find him. He often stayed up late working in his lab, and it was almost rare to see him outside of it. He had been your last delivery, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to sit with him awhile before heading to your quarters.

You’d been wrong, of course; it hurt more than anything to sit next to him and not have the courage, or the recklessness, to reach out and touch him. As he looked on with amazement at the pulsating sun, you tore your eyes away from him to peer out as well. Dark webs of red and black stretched over the star’s surface. It was strange to think about - how up close it all looked so different from how it had back on Earth. It took up the entire viewing window; so large that it almost felt like it could swallow you at any moment, despite still being millions of miles away.

As he leaned forward, Capa’s dog tags dangled in front of his chest. You wanted nothing more than to grab them. Wrap your fingers around the thin cord holding them, and pull him to you until you both tumbled off the edge of something and into the blazing unknown.

Your tongue darted out to lick your lips. Chapped from the heat of the sun.

“It’s getting late,” you whispered, hoping that he would break the spell so that you wouldn’t have to. “You should get to bed, Capa.”

“Hard to when the sun’s always right there, isn’t it?” he asked, cryptically.

“I guess it is,” you agreed. “But you should still get some rest.”

Capa nodded, and rose from the bench, crushing his empty cup in his hand. He looked back at you, seemed as if he was about to say something, and then left the room without uttering a word. You let out a rough breath, shaking even as you were bathed in the glowing light.

A noise woke you up from your fitful sleep. You’d had a lot of trouble closing your eyes in the first place - probably because of the way your heart was still hammering in your chest, and the way your mind was racing from the events of the day. Still, it was odd to hear any sort of noise at night. Usually the hallways of the ship were deserted, as the crew all slept in their separate chambers. You listened closely, trying to identify the noise through the haze of sleep still clouding your senses.

You heard it again: a muffled banging followed by what sounded like someone struggling.

Curious, you got out of bed and padded softly across the floor of your small room. The door slid open soundlessly, and as you stepped out into the hall you heard the noise a third time. Now you could clearly tell that it was coming from across the hall. Capa’s room.

You hesitated for a moment, closed fist raised and ready to knock. He probably wouldn’t want you to bother him, but what if something was wrong and you ignored it? You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. You knocked.

Another muffled sound came from inside, unintelligible.

“Capa?” you whispered, lips pressed as close to the door as you could manage. You didn’t want to wake anyone else up.

There was no answer.

Well, you were already here. You might as well go in and make sure he was okay, just in case. Pressing the small button to open the door, you slipped quietly into his room. The door slid closed behind you.

Capa’s room was entirely dark, unlike the faint, recessed glow of the hallway. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, but when they finally did you could see Capa asleep in his bed, thrashing against some unseen threat. He was having a nightmare.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed. You shouldn’t have barged in; this was his personal space. He was vulnerable, and clearly going through something unpleasant. Knowing Capa, you felt certain that he wouldn’t want any of the others seeing him like this, including you. His brows creased and lips pressed feverishly together in his sleep. You turned to leave, feeling foolish.

“Who’s there?”

The sound of Capa’s voice behind you made you freeze. Just like earlier, in the lab, a shiver inched down your spine at the thought of facing him. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“It’s me,” you responded, turning around.

He was sitting up in bed, blankets pooled around his waist. Shirtless. You felt your face heating up, and were relieved that he couldn’t see your eyes widen in the dark.

“Oh,” said Capa softly. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um… I heard something and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Against your better judgment, you took a few steps toward him as you spoke. There was a chair next to his bed, and you sat in it, leaning forward on your elbows as you tried to read his expression. The lines of his face betrayed nothing, as usual.

“Is… everything okay?” you asked hesitantly.

Capa swallowed before answering, his eyes flitting up to land on your face. Even in the dark, somehow they seemed to shine. You wanted to look away. You knew you should. But looking into his eyes felt the same as the rushing weightlessness of looking into the sun.

“I’m fine,” he assured you. “Sometimes I have nightmares.”

You nodded, a little surprised he had opened up to you..

“Me too,” you admitted.

Capa seemed to understand what you meant, without you having to say it. He didn’t look away from you as he spoke.

“It is frightening,” he told you. “To be face to face with all of it. The beauty. The scale, unlike anything you’d ever seen back on Earth.” Your mind flashed back to Capa in the observation deck, eyes wide open and leaning forward toward the molten sun. You had thought he was fascinated, but maybe it was something more like the magnetic pull of fear that made him inch closer.

“But I meant what I said earlier,” he continued. “We are lucky to be here.”

Silence hung between you for a moment.

“I’m sorry for letting myself in,” you said finally. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t be,” Capa said. “It’s nice to be checked up on.”

You smiled softly, even as your heart hammered in your chest. You put your hands on your knees and stood up from the chair, then leaned down to look at Capa one last time. He was still sitting up in bed, propped on one elbow, facing slightly toward you. A breath caught in your throat as you reached out and placed a hand on his bare shoulder.

“Get some rest, Capa,” you told him, giving a gentle squeeze.

As you moved your hand away, suddenly it was stopped by strong, stable fingers. You looked down to see Capa grabbing your wrist, looking up at you with those damn sensuous eyes. This time, your heart stopped.

“Stay with me?” Capa asked, the barest hint of a prayer in his voice.

“I…”

“Please?”

Time seemed to stand still as you looked at him. A trace of fear in the very corner of his eyes. A few pieces of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, pressing just a bit too tight.

“Okay,” you agreed. The word seemed to carry all of the air in your lungs along with it, out into the vacant night.

You sat on the edge of his bed, awkwardly facing him, and Capa moved backward to make more space for you. Hesitant, you weren’t sure if he wanted you to lie down next to him. It wasn’t exactly a roomy bed, not being intended for more than one person to occupy at a time. You flittered with indecision as Capa settled back into his pillows.

“C’mere.”

Suddenly, an arm was around your waist. And then you were being hooked into Capa’s body, your back pressing snugly against his chest. Capa sighed behind you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. His arm was still draped around your waist, and his lips just barely brushed against you.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

You let out a shaky breath, and prayed that Capa couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating.

The next morning, you woke up alone. You tried to ignore your disappointment. Capa was an early riser; the type to get a head start on the day by spending all hours in his lab, including the ones before anyone else on the ship was awake. You had always seen him as a hard worker, but after seeing him so unusually agitated last night, you now wondered if there weren’t other reasons he barely seemed to sleep.

You looked around the small room for a few moments, reflecting on what had happened. Part of you still couldn’t believe it. Was it possible that Capa had feelings for you, or were you just a warm body to sleep next to? Did it even matter? If it meant you got to press yourself up against him, you honestly didn’t care whether there was anything more to it.

But then anxiety clouded your mind. What if Capa had left because he was embarrassed? Too shy to confront you about the mistake he’d made in asking you to stay with him? He was, generally, very straightforward - but you also got the sense that he liked to avoid conflict if possible. And he was so damn hard to read. You sat up and put your feet on the floor, crossing your legs and squeezing them together. He was driving you crazy, and the worst part was, you were way too much of a coward to tell him about it.

You stood, made a sound of frustration, and carefully left the room - looking both ways before you stepped out into the hallway. It was still early, but you certainly didn’t need anyone seeing you step out of Capa’s room first thing in the morning. Rumors traveled faster in the cramped halls of a spaceship than lightning on a summer’s night. You slipped back into your own room, and got ready for the day. Maybe, later, you would confront Capa.

You spent the day avoiding Capa. Which wasn’t too hard; he really did spend most of his time in his lab. You focused on helping Corazon in the oxygen garden, trying to distract yourself with the calming, white-noise sound of water. It didn’t do much good for your nerves, unfortunately.

As the hours wore on, you became more and more agitated, and ultimately, convinced that Capa regretted your night together. It was disappointing, sure, but this was really just a testament to why you shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place. It was a bad idea to sleep with your coworkers. Even if you did literally only sleep with them.

That night, you begged off of helping Searle with the medications; telling him you had a headache and wanted to get to bed. Really, you just couldn't face the thought of handing Capa his little plastic cup of pills, watching as he observed you with his characteristic disinterest. Searle added a few ibuprofen to your medications and watched as you swallowed them down, before telling you he’d handle it and to get some rest.

Eyes on the floor, you headed to your room.

This was not good. You still had years left on the ship, pressed together with everyone in tight quarters. And Capa was right across the hall from you. There was no possible way to avoid him, and yet, how were you supposed to face him after the embarrassment of being ignored and rejected? Your thoughts were still swirling as you reached the door to your quarters, and pressed the button to go inside.

“Sleeping alone tonight?”

The familiar voice behind you caught you off guard. You hadn’t seen him there.

“I didn’t realize there was another option.”

You turned around to face him, slowly. Capa was standing in the open doorway to his room, hands in his pockets and arms unfairly attractive in his light gray tank top. There was just a hint of mischief in his eyes as they slowly swept over you, and it made you feel both anger and arousal.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” Capa said, again seeming to sense what you were feeling without you even telling him. “Trey needed my help with something, and I figured you wouldn’t want me to wake you. Ooor want to walk out together in front of him.”

You felt yourself starting to soften, but still gave your best attempt at a pout as you crossed your arms.

“You could have told me earlier.”

“I know. And I am sorry.” Capa took a step back into his room. “Let me make it up to you?”

It was the wrong decision to follow him. You knew this, but you did it anyway. If only to finish the conversation in the relative privacy of Capa’s room instead of out in the hallway where anyone could hear you. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Please don’t be mad?”

Capa’s room was dark, again, and it took your eyes a few seconds to adjust. When you could see him clearly, he was looking down at you, careful expression and head cocked to the side as he awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you agreed.

You were rewarded with a small smile from Capa, and instantly your heart melted. You really couldn’t stay mad at him, even if you wanted to. He was just too damned attractive.

“Let’s go to bed then,” Capa said happily.

He tore off his shirt as he walked to the bed, and for a second you weren’t sure how you were going to stay upright. Capa stood by the bed and waited for you.

“Ladies first.”

“I, um…” you began. “Maybe I should get my pajamas out of my room.”

“Mmm, you don’t really need them.”

Capa took a step toward you and reached over, pulling you close to him. At the same time, his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. And before you could protest, he was pulling the fabric up and over your head, leaving you only in shorts and a sports bra.

“That’s better,” he smirked.

Capa’s warm fingers landed on your waist, and you felt yourself swoon again. If it weren’t for his piercing blue eyes holding you in place, you were certain you would have fallen over.

Gently, Capa guided you to bed and let you climb in first, before crawling after you. You were spooning again, this time with you lying closest to the wall. With Capa’s body pressed against you, the result was a warm but not uncomfortable closeness. It felt like you were boxed into your own little world, even as the vastness of space threatened to spill in all around you.

Capa’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you in even tighter. You settled back against him, all of your earlier tension melting away. This was nice, whatever it was. You had made up your mind to just enjoy it. It had been a long time since you’d been so close to someone. Capa’s long hair tickled your neck and shoulders, and you exhaled as he-

“Capa!”

His mouth was suddenly on your shoulder, kissing rough enough to leave a bruise. You felt heat rush to your face once again.

“Shhhh,” he teased, lips brushing against you. “Don’t want anyone else to hear us, right?”

“What are you doing?” you whispered frantically.

“Making it up to you,” Capa replied, devilishly. “Like I said I would.”

He put his lips on your neck this time, kissing and scraping your soft skin with his teeth. Despite yourself, you let out a small whimper. Capa’s arms tightened around you.

“Do you forgive me?” Capa asked. You could feel him smiling into your neck.

“I-I don’t know.” A sudden surge of boldness swept through you. “You might need to convince me some more.”

“Hmmm,” Capa growled, directly into your ear. “Wonder how I can do that…"

One of his hands trailed lazily up and down your thigh. His touch was feather-light; moving so slowly that it had your head spinning. Without warning, he grabbed the back of your leg, pads of his fingers pressing into your bare flesh.

“Oh-”

The word left your lips involuntarily, and you felt Capa smirk against you again.

“Think I might have a few ideas…” he said.

“Capa, I-” Before you could get out more than two words, his hand had snaked around to the front of your shorts and was pushing past your waistband. Separated only by the cloth of your panties, his fingers pressed against the wetness that was quickly spreading between your thighs.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispered. “I knew you were into me, but I didn’t know you had it this bad.”

You arched your back against his bare chest, too drunk on his fingers to formulate a response. And he hadn’t even pushed past your panties yet; he was just touching you through the fabric as you fell apart for him.

“Good girl,” he rasped, sending another wave of euphoria from your neck to your throbbing cunt. “So eager. Want me to put ‘em inside you?”

You nodded, desperate but not trusting your voice enough to speak. Capa slid his hand past the final layer of fabric that separated you, and then one of his fingers was pressing into you. You squeezed your legs together, trapping his hand, and Capa quickly added another finger.

“Fuuuuuck,” he hissed.

His fingers curled, pulling at the strings of tension that were already building in your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to scream for him, but knew you shouldn't. The walls of the ship were far from soundproof, and there were rooms on either side of you.

Capa’s thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it as his fingers continued to move inside of you. You were desperate for something to grab onto, but the only thing in front of you was blank wall. You settled for wrapping your legs around his, entangling yourselves together to give you some semblance of being grounded. You bucked against his hand, begging for more friction.

“Forgive me yet?” Capa teased, his breath ghosting over your ear again.

You shook your head no; not willing to give up on the game just yet. Behind you, Capa chuckled.

“So stubborn,” he muttered. “You really want to make me work for it.”

Capa took his fingers away, and you moaned at the sudden loss of him. Not wasting any more time, he grabbed your shorts and pulled them down. You had a brief moment to wonder what you had gotten yourself into.

You’d felt his growing bulge press into your back as Capa had teased you with his fingers, and now you felt him sliding out of his sweatpants. You were both naked from the waist down, and-

“Fuck, Capa.”

He was brushing the tip over your entrance, not pressing into you yet but just taunting with the idea of it. His hand was firmly at the base of his shaft, ready to guide himself up into you.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Capa.”

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“I need you inside me,” you whispered.

“Fucking beg for it.”

With a frustrated whine, you pushed down and back, forcing his cock into your aching pussy. He was such a tease; you couldn't take it any longer. He was so hard he slid right into you, and the stretch against your walls was like heaven.

Without warning, your orgasm broke over you, crashing into your body with an intensity unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was bliss and beauty and all for the man who was ruining you with every touch. You pressed harder, wanting to feel Capa inside of you as deep as you possibly could. You arched against him, head falling back against his shoulder as you rode out the high.

Capa grabbed at your breasts roughly.

“You know,” he began, “you've never been very good at following directions.”

He pulled out of you suddenly, making you gasp as you clenched around nothing. Quickly, you were flipped onto your back, and then Capa was hovering over you, his eyes burning ice blue.

“Let's try that again,” he said, lining himself up as he leaned forward, pressing his whole body against yours. “I want you. To fucking. Beg.”

“Capa, please,” you breathed.

“Please what?”

“Please put it in me! God, I want you to fill me up. Please, please-”

Capa smirked above you, and your eyes rolled back in your head.

“That's my good girl.”

The sound that left your mouth as he entered you once again would have been mortifying, had you been thinking straight enough to hear it. As it was, Capa seemed to drink up your pathetic mewls and breathy sighs. He pumped in and out of you a few times, watching as you bounced on the bed beneath him.

“Should've gotten you in my bed a long time ago,” Capa panted, still pumping into you relentlessly. “I could've been listening to your pretty noises this whole time.”

His face was right next to yours; the stubble on his jaw scratching you with every thrust. You could feel his lips brushing against your ear as he continued.

“Kinda regret wasting all those hours in the lab with you doing actual work. It's a lot more fun for me to press your buttons.”

Your arms and legs wrapped around him, and your fingers tangled in his hair. Capa kissed you roughly on the lips. His thrusts started to get sloppier, falling out of their methodical rhythm.

“Gonna let me cum inside you, yeah?”

You could do nothing but wrap your legs around him tighter, pinning him in place.

“Fuck, that's right. Gonna take all of it and beg for more. I'll have you in here every fucking night, on your back for me, screaming so that everybody hears how bad you want me to stick it in you.”

Capa’s mouth was going to be the death of you. You clenched around him, silently begging him to cum. It was humiliating, how badly you wanted to be filled by him.

“Oh, fuck!” Capa shouted, entirely too loud.

He held you tight as he emptied into you, giving a few final, weak thrusts. He was breathing heavily, still looming over you as his chest heaved. After a few seconds, he pulled back to look at you.

“So, does that make up for leaving this morning?” he asked, smirk still plastered on his face.

“I… don't know,” you panted. “I think we might need to do it once more… to make sure.”

You looked up at him, mischief playing in your own eyes. Capa wasn't the only one who could tease.

“Oh yeah? Only once more?” he prodded.

He reached up to push the hair out of his face, slicked down with the sweat of his exertion. But despite that, you could already feel him getting hard again.

“Well, maybe a few times,” you smiled.

You leaned up and caught his lips in a kiss.

#robert capa x reader #robert capa smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #LemmyFics

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kimazuiiii · 2 months

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Also obsessed with how she’s the physical and metaphorical embodiment of a cherry blossom…

In Japan, the cherry blossom possesses contradicting significances and embodies matters that are mutually incompatible.

While cherry blossoms are aesthetically beautiful, they also represent violence and the ephemerality of life. From an individual level, cherry blossoms displayed both the joy of life (reproductivity, feminine sexuality, etc.) and the sorrowful side of life (impermanence of things and the significance of death).

The dual nature of cherry blossoms is present in Sakura as a character. This is made blatant through the appearance of sakura vs inner sakura which is clearly a metaphor for the concept of honne vs tatemae.

To further elaborate, the dual nature of her character is the crux of many of her inner conflicts throughout the series and it is also what fuels her growth. In both of these situations, Sakura is unable to express how she truly feels. Her actions contradict her thoughts and feelings, this is a consistent aspect of character within the manga.

(ino vs sakura and kage summit arc for instance)

Throughout the manga, she mentally struggles with being a shinobi. Her growth as a character is dependent upon her inner conflicts contradicting one another in an attempt to understand what it means to be a shinobi. Are they merely tools for the state, or is there something more?

The land of waves arc covers this explicitly but this question is posed once again for Sakura during Sasori vs Sakura where Sakura’s opponent, Sasori, quite literally turned himself into an emotionless puppet in order to deal with being a shinobi. He is the product of the teachings of Sunagakure, an oppressive military regime like many other shinobi villages, but also the result of someone who refuses to let go thus filling him with grief and resentment over the years (Art is eternal). It is no coincidence that Sakura, whose namesake symbolizes the fleeting impermanence of human existence, is the one to fight him.

Tied to the Buddhist themes of mortality, mindfulness and living in the present, Japanese cherry blossoms are a timeless metaphor for human existence. According to Buddhism, we live in the very midst of universal, fleeting impermanence. Any refusal to let go entirely whatever has now vanished inevitably leads to pain.

The meaning of cherry blossoms is also said to reflect the philosophy of a Japanese person, who lives in a country of impermanence, of earthquakes, tsunamis, and volcanos. Thus, like cherry petals, they are willing to fall at the height of one’s life due to their awareness of the impermanence of life. The death of one’s flesh means a returning to the kami’s land, and the cherry flower becomes the bridge that links life to death.

#MORE OF ME RAMBLINGGH #META KIND OF?#there’s also the theme of death and rebirth being tied into how she develops as a character throughout the series #anyway happy birthday again to this queen..

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pepsiiwho · 23 days

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I don’t know if I wanna give this to supergiant as a win on their part because I am not at all convinced this is intentional within the text, but I wanna muse about it anyway. The silent, permeating truth that gods cannot be good parents is everywhere in this world, and this version of the myth, and it’s incredibly interesting.

Think of every parent we know of in his game. They’re all miserable, to different degrees and in different ways, but they are. Zeus, obviously sucks. Hera sucks. Hades, really fucking sucks. Persephone sucks. Demeater, in her daughter’s opinion, sucks. Chronos sucks so fucking badly that there’s an entire sequel game dedicated to his shit parenting and its resurgence. I’m sure any other parent I’m missing sucks as well.

Bottom line, gods are bad parents.

And there’s an incredibly intresting concept at work here, something I’m sure myth reflects as well, that gods and immortal divine beings cannot be parents. Or rather, shouldn’t be parents.

Being a parent is, even if unconsciously, sowing your seeds and hoping it’ll root even when you aren’t around to see the fruits of your labor. Immortality doesn’t allow for that objectivity, for that distance, that impermanence needed to really put your all into your children. It doesn’t help that, in the case of Nyx, a single god can foster a little league baseball team worth of children.

There’s a degree of selflessness needed to be a parent, let alone a good one, and beings enriched with divinity are inherently selfish by nature. Nothing worshiped can be a wholly selfless being. Nothing immortal can pass on their line, and their importance, to the needed level for any child to flourish.

Which is to say, it’s telling the only person so far, that we know of, who’s been anything sort of loving or motherly has been hectate. It could be said as well that achillies was more of a father to zagreus then Hades ever was, which I’d agree with, and it’s also telling the shades (mortals) are the most compassionate.

Maybe hades is a cautionary tale? It probably isn’t. But this silent world building is incredibly fun

#the funnies #hades game #hades 2

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cannibalhalflinggaming · 3 months

Text

"The gorgeous book and art catches your eye, but what makes Wildsea unique in its worldbuilding vision is that there’s follow-through. The concept is outlandish: The world has been overrun by a veritable forest of massive trees, and your characters ‘sail’ across it on a ship that’s essentially a giant chainsaw. From this base concept comes many of the underlying setting assumptions, and they help the world feel cohesive even though it, at a high level, works very differently from our world. In an ocean of wood fire is catastrophic, so there is taboo against open flame. That affects how things are cooked, which in turn affects culture around food. The ‘spits’, settlements above the treetops, are threatened by the constantly growing and shifting flora, so impermanence is, once again, reflected through the whole culture. The game sticks the landing on creating something new by thinking through the core concept they present." - @levelonewonk

#ttrpg #wildsea #rpg #ttrpg review #review #tabletop

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alicerosejensen · 10 months

Note

Please, since you are responding to requests now, then you may have a little specific text or headlines about how Leon ID, RE4, RE6, Vendetta (any one you like better) copes with the fact that the reader constantly abandons him for the fictional ideal of another man, but in the end always she returns to him, and Leon just loves her so much that he can't refuse her.

If it's too much for you, but please forgive and forget.

No it's fine) I fucking loved the idea. If the text comes out good enough, then maybe I'll even write the second part if someone likes it 😉

Who is she?

Warning: Reader asshole (I apologize); Fem.reader; cheating; Leon constantly forgives; unhealthy relationships; There is a barely noticeable mention of the age difference; Any version of Leon

Synopsis: Leon is tired of forgiving you over and over again, knowing that you always run away from him to another man whom you consider your prince, but when you are disappointed… maybe he should think about himself?

note: I don't think Leon could forgive cheating at all, and even if he did, it would only be once, but just let's dream a little. This man has so much shit that in some of the alternate universes we can imagine that he can forgive the reader.

English is far from my native language, so I apologize for all the errors.

First of all, he was also tired of impermanence. Glass after glass and the beloved princess who is constantly looking for a charming prince again in his head becomes an innocent maiden with soft skin and not that ruinous mermaid who somehow constantly pulls him into her nets. Fingers hold a glass of whiskey in his hands and Leon sees his own reflection in the amber liquid. At the time, you could really be the same sea woman from the legends who drags sailors to the bottom of the oceans, but the trouble is that Leon is at the bottom of the bottle every time you think you have found an incomprehensible ideal in which you will definitely not be disappointed anymore.

Maybe it was your inexperience and young age? Leon remembers how he met you, and he didn't need much. Maybe one or two nights without commitment, without love, because in her heart lived a mysterious woman in red, who sometimes left paper airplanes with traces of lipstick after rare nights.

But you…

For some reason, you have sunk deep into his blood, and Leon himself could not let you go. Gentle touches, stroking your hair in a dream, it was as if he had returned to the skin of Leon's rookie with puppy eyes full of devotion in his gaze. When he nuzzled your neck, touching the skin with his lips, hugging you around the waist so tightly, but painlessly.

It wasn't even about sex, but rather about some kind of warmth and comfort that enveloped like a light veil. Passion was, however, Leon quickly left it in the background, making love to you his priority. Not just a physical attraction, but something more sublime. Just to lie together like this while you're texting someone on your phone, leaving him blissfully unaware that a replacement has been found for him.

"After all, you said yourself that you don't need love," you told him the first time he saw this fucking correspondence in one of the last chats when you were taking a shower. "And I want to be loved"

Then you stood in front of him in a towel with wet hair, while he clutched your phone in his hand, trying to suppress the desire to smash it on the floor. Last night you told him that you were fine with him, and later corresponded with another guy, telling him the same thing. Anger from resentment completely filled his soul. But you were right… He immediately made it clear that he didn't need a serious relationship, but didn't you see all his sincere affection afterwards? He gave you everything you wanted and treated you with such awe, as if he had fragile porcelain in front of him that needed to be taken care of.

And he let you go reluctantly, because it didn't occur to him that you needed those three simple words "I love you", which he didn't think of uttering even in a fit of passion.

The only thing Leon found solace in was alcohol and work that took away all moral resources. But returning to an empty apartment, he wanted more than anything in the world to see you, sleep and bask in the same bed or take you somewhere far away from the noisy city for a week to relax with him. However, his princess was with her Prince charming, which he unfortunately was not. Apparently Leon was some kind of antagonist of this story or just a minor character who is remembered when the plot demands it, because the princess soon became disillusioned with the prince who did not justify all her ideals.

And so history repeats itself… The mermaid swims out of the depths of the sea again to drag him to the bottom with her… It's a funny comparison considering that Leon himself lets you drag him to this very bottom. He forgave… It wiped away your tears, kissing your cheeks flushed from crying and pressed your body to his chest, holding so tightly as if you could fall.

You're so young. So inexperienced and probably a little touchy, so you ran away from him to some asshole who didn't appreciate you as the only flower in the whole wide world. Forgiving you was so easy.

You returned to him that was the main thing after which Leon was going to take care of you to the fullest, not intending to give you to anyone anymore. The relationship was the healing of his traumas. Leon did not even consider what happened between you cheating. There was just a misunderstanding, but now he was going to build trust with you. So as you lay on the crumpled sheets, his lips gently kissed your back. He liked the idea that he was no longer alone. That he doesn't need to live the worst moments of his life alone.

Therefore, returning home always made him look like a dog that was eager to see his beloved person to whom he was attached, and if Leon had a tail, he would definitely wag it so that he could demolish half the apartment.

"Why was it necessary to seek love from other men?"

Leon never considered himself the best partner in the world. Okay, maybe he really doesn't have enough free time to spend with you, but that never means he enjoyed being away from you! Gifts were just a way to make amends with you for his absence, but then he always tried to make up for lost time by inviting you to places ranging from expensive restaurants to a pleasant week-long romantic cruise.

But now, sitting at the table in his apartment and looking into your seemingly sincere tears with pleas for forgiveness, Leon remembers how you left him for the second time.

"What did you promise me?" His voice is ringing in your head, while a cold reaction, along with an indifferent smirk, leaves no chance.Finally, he raised his icy eyes to you, forcing you to remember all your false promises of loyalty to him. "How many times have you promised me that you love me, huh?

Do you remember this number yourself? because Leon is already tired of counting and forgiving.

Silence freezes between the two and only the sound of the heels of your beautiful expensive boots that he gave you not so long ago is heard. You walked up to him and a trail of your perfume enveloped his nose as your fingers stroked the back of his hand.

It is difficult to resist your feminine charms. Initially, Leon considered you the embodiment of a dream that he could reach. As a result, your game of "Love" turned out to be even worse than when Ada played with him. At least she was as honest with him as her secrecy allowed, and you...

"That the last suitor did not live up to expectations again?" sarcastically remarks Leon overturning the glass into himself, drinking the contents completely. "And my beloved princess is running back to the dragon's lair to start waiting for another stupid cute boy who, in her imaginary dreams, will be the one?" Alcohol does not dull the heartache that you brought him with your cheating.

"I'm sorry..." you whisper pathetically, gently grabbing his forearm causing him to let out a low chuckle "Please..."

"What is the number of times? The fifth?" The hand reaches for the bottle again.

Leon is tired of forgiving. Tired of listening to your vows of love and then finding texts with other guys and finding out that you go on dates while he risks his life on a mission.

However, Leon could not himself, he still loved you, but he could no longer forgive these endless antics. The second time, you ran away yourself, telling him that you had found the love of your life, leaving him completely discouraged and confused. That's just this "love" lived for only 2 months, and you couldn't take it anymore, running away from your new lover back to him. Crying, drunkenly clinging to him, and no matter how he was offended by your mean act, Leon's nobility did not allow him to leave you in trouble... Of course, he loved, of course, he wanted you to be there, so when you sobered up and looked at him with such sweet eyes full of tears and sincere remorse for the mistake you made, Leon didn't have the strength to give up on you.

In order for him to forgive, it was only necessary to snuggle up to his back, hug his stomach, sniff and say that you love him very much. You just made a mistake.

Exactly the same scenario was repeated for the third and fourth time, with the only difference being that Leon himself saw a chat with guys on your phone. The last time, he even waited out of interest to see if you would tell him about your subject sighing or if he would have to catch you red-handed again. Fuck, even Ada didn't play on his emotions like that. In the end, Leon decided that he had had enough.

But here you two are again. An endless cycle of cheating and forgiveness.

Part of Leon knew he shouldn't give in to you, but it was so hard to say no. It is already impossible to atone for such an act, and Leon rightly does not want to listen to sweet speeches again, trusting them once again so that in a couple of months he will start licking the wounds from your separation from him again.

"I made a mistake. Again," you said softly, and Leon even ignored you for a while, thinking about something of his own.

"A mistake?" Leon looked at you in disbelief. "It was a mistake the first time. Then I humbled myself and forgave you the second time, but the third, fourth and fifth? Are you serious?!"

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

Oh, those sweet cheeks of yours and tearful eyes that could destroy any defense of his broken heart. You always speak so sincerely that Leon does not understand if you are a good actress or if some kind of chemical chain is really going on in your head, because of which you are constantly looking for love on the side. It's always not enough for you, but for some reason you sleep with him, eat, live, whisper beautiful words and even make ill-conceived plans for children. Casually and more in jest than seriously, but these conversations were!

The problem is that he loves you, but your feelings for him are like a cigarette. And only ashes remain of them. With each new attempt, he wanted to believe that it would be just you and him, but there was always someone else. And Leon just doesn't know where to put himself. Clumsy in the relationship, he didn't even notice or didn't want to notice your manipulations, but looking into your eyes, he wants to forgive you again and again, giving another attempt to start over.

But there is a limit to everything.

"Leon…" a gentle, even voice interrupts the silence. He could dream about you for the rest of his days, thinking that somewhere in your heart there is still a real love for him. Therefore, when he looks up at you again, he feels only bitterness and sadness.

But what can you know about his sorrows? And yet Leon is not surprised by your presence here. You say you missed him, but this time he wasn't going to believe it.

"What do you want this time?"

"You" you answer without the slightest delay, watching as he drinks another dose of alcohol. "Only you. I know I hurt you, but now everything will be different!"

Finally, a sarcastic grin touches his lips. This makes you feel uncomfortable and your stomach seems to curl up inside, telling you that he is so tired of these toxic relationships that he no longer wants to get involved with anyone.

"Are you serious?!" Leon laughs, twirling the glass in his hands. "Where did that prince go? Believe it or not, I'm not even interested in what happened to you this time because you came running to me again to cry and ask for forgiveness. I've had enough of this shit. I'm done"

He already said this last time, but now you bite the inside of your cheek, taking an empty glass from his hands, pushing your fingers into his palm, hoping that tactile contact will give you the advantage to bring everything back and correct all mistakes.

Because of this, Leon head and heart are in conflict again. The desire to be with the woman he loved unrestrainedly was even stronger than Ada was attracted to, but his mind told him that it would be stupid. Even when you knelt down next to him.

"Please believe me. I understand how much pain I brought you, but I realized a lot. I don't need anyone else give me a chance to fix everything!"

"I really want to believe you. If only I could," he said before kissing your palm in his hand. "Not after all your games"

"No more games," you honestly admitted, trying to convince him.

As if it were true. He does not want to check your phone for the presence of questionable correspondence, looking through the texts of forwarded messages with lovers. He was annoyed by the thought of it, but he really still loved you. Besides, Leon didn't want you to get away with it anymore.

"All those meetings… they didn't really mean anything to me. But I only realized it now."

"You already swore to me in love, swore that those men meant nothing to you, but I always caught you and we went back to where we started. If it didn't mean anything to you, why were you always looking for love on the side? Looking for it from other men when I tried to give you everything you wanted?!" Leon lowered his gaze, looking at you with bloodshot tears. "I don't want to take it anymore" He said before grabbing his glass and taking another shot of whiskey.

"This…it was all such a huge mistake of mine. Foolishness."

"Foolishness?" He grinned and his beautiful blue eyes darkened with anger, "Maybe you just don't know how to be faithful? I forgave the first time because we had a condition that we only sleep, but when it turned into a relationship… I had the strength to accept you for the second, third fucking fourth time, but if you think I'm blind and stupid, then you're very wrong. Look for your ideal further since you haven't seen my kind attitude towards you under your nose!"

Alcohol flows through his veins causing the pain he felt to subside a little. His voice broke and Leon bit his lip, not wanting to say more, but here you are clinging to his back with your arms wrapped in a tight ring of hugs endlessly begging for stupid forgiveness.

"Why couldn't you just love me?"

"I love." Your voice almost turned into a plea when you saw that he was giving up. He let those hugs envelop him, but it didn't get any better. "I will never again… I will never betray you. Please believe me."

He would like to… however, he knows that these words are likely to be followed by another knife in the back. Your hands are too warm and it reminds Leon of those happy moments when he did not remember about your love affairs. About those moments when you were just together.

But then Leon stands up to his full height and you literally rush to him in the hope of that very forgiveness. Looks at him with puppy eyes, forcing him to press his cheek to your crown, feeling his beloved and such a native smell. And it was no less pleasant to respond to your kisses. Leon was just basking with you for a while, maybe because of a drunken fog in his head. The words of love were so tender, sweet and poured like honey into the ears, actually being poison. He could even spend the night with you in this state, but there wasn't that much alcohol in his blood.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." you grab his face by stroking his cheek with your thumb and for some reason he touches your nose with his nose, smiling sweetly. "give me another chance. The last one."

Leon presses against your forehead, pulling your hands away from him, and grabs your face. Not violent, no. But at the bottom of the sapphire eyes you see darkness. One move of his, and the thin neck will clearly break under the influence of his power.

Leon hates that feeling. He hates that you know what power you have over his feelings and heart. You need a couple of affectionate words, a puppy look and gentle hugs so that he digs into your lips with a rough kiss, to which you will respond

"It was the last chance." He said that when he pulled away from your lips, part of him knew that he was making another mistake "Damn it, you better live better according to every word you say. Because if I forgive you, I won't go through this rubbish anymore. Do you understand?"

Leon closed his eyes and exhaled, although he realized only at that moment that he was holding his breath. It was nice to feel your soft lips, even in a moment overshadowed by a broken heart.

"I love you," he whispered, hoping that this time it wasn't simple words that could easily turn out to be unrequited.

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scoobydoodean · 5 months

Note

Hey there, I have SPN Thought Worms i thought you might appreciate: You know how there’s debate wether (in the biblical story) Abraham “failed” God’s test, if it was a blind loyalty test or to see if he’d put his moral and love over unquestioned orders? In the same vein, do you think Dean truly ‘failed’ Death’s test with the ring and carrying out his duties for the day? Like maybe Death actually wanted Dean to be unable to do it bc it proved he had limits or smth? Or did he just get Sam’s soul back despite the apparent failure because he has a massive soft spot for Dean? (relatable tbh). Hope I made myself clear lol, the concept is jumbled-up in my mind, and have a great day!

This is a really interesting question! I also have a feeling I'll have a lot better of an answer when I get to 6.11 on this rewatch and have the entire season fresh on my mind. That said, Death actually says in the end that the goal was for Dean to learn something.

DEATH Today, you got a hard look behind the curtain. Wrecking the natural order's not quite such fun when you have to mop up the mess, is it? This is hard for you, Dean. You throw away your life because you've come to assume that it'll bounce right back into your lap. But the human soul is not a rubber ball. It's vulnerable, impermanent, but stronger than you know. And more valuable than you can imagine. So... I think you've learned something today. (x)

I'd really like to watch through season 6 again to solidify this one for myself, but I have a feeling that this isn't about teaching Dean a personal moral lesson at all. I don't think Death is at all concerned with the fact that the nurse died because the little girl didn't from a moral perspective—he wouldn't have ever given Dean his ring if he was. That isn't why he said "good" when Dean said he would have acted differently if he could go back. We can guess it also isn't just a simple lesson about "bringing each other back" being bad and "letting go", because that'd be pretty hypocritical given Death is going to help Dean anyway with no one forcing his hand (and he tells us Dean has use). It isn't a moral issue Death's addressing. It's a lesson he's giving on the structure of the universe. It's about balance. As Death says cryptically later in the scene:

I think what Death wanted to get across to Dean is that souls must pass on, and their energy must be allotted to the appropriate areas in time and space. If one person doesn't die, passing their soul on as energy, another person must die so that a certain balance and energy level is maintained in the universe. Death plans to help Dean from the beginning, because "Right now, you're digging at something. The intrepid Detective. I want you to keep digging, Dean."

Death, as a person who can't ultimately involve himself without also disrupting balance, is ultimately hinting at Dean as best he knows how that he wants him to stop Crowley and Cas from sucking a bunch of souls out of Purgatory, creating absolute chaos. But he can't say that, so instead, he gives Dean a lesson. He tells Dean that human souls are extremely valuable, and that they need to go to the places the universe wants them to go and stay there. If they don't—if they are moved on a large scale—something terrible will happen. Death has to expect Dean to extrapolate all of this information, which is not an easy expectation to fulfill.

So I guess to summarize: I don't think Dean failed Death's test, because actually using the ring and experiencing what happened when Dean tried to change things was more of a lesson than a test. The test was how Dean reflected on the lesson after and evaluated his behavior. He passed when he said he'd behave differently if he could go back. Death wanted Dean to understand the idea of balance in the universe depending on where souls go, and how important it is not to disrupt their flow or move them around. Changing things makes bad things happen. When there's just one soul, the impact is small (something Death is willing to let Dean toy with by offering his ring for the day). But what if someone disrupted the flow of many many souls at once?

#mail #6.11 #season 6 #death 1.0

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featherandferns · 1 year

Note

fluff 14 maybe?

14. Tell me a secret?

This is very wholesome and sappy, so hope that's okay. I'm dosed up to the max on pain relief for this stupid cold I've managed to catch so I'm feeling extra simpy today.

Feel free to request! - prompt list

sea and sand - prompt 14

The woodsy smell of pine intertwines with the scent of burning. You and JJ are the stragglers of the Pogues, sat around the campfire outside of the chateau. There’s a blanket draped over your lap to save your ankles from the skeeters. Occasionally, one lands on your neck and you bat it away. The two of you are sat on a chunky log. JJ has his pocketknife out and is cutting dents into the bark. He’s humming a Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s song under breath and you’re tapping your foot along to the rhythm absentmindedly. In your hand is a skewer. You’re roasting a marshmallow over the dying flames. Neither of you are talking. It’s not because you dislike one another. On the contrary, in fact. You and JJ are closer than sand and sea. It’s simply because sometimes words aren’t needed to keep a conversation; silence works better. That to say, when a thought passes your mind, you let it out into the summer night air.

“Tell me a secret?"

“A secret?” JJ asks, pausing his humming.

“Mhm.”

“What kinda secret? A good secret or a bad secret?”

“Good secret. Duh.”

“You gonna blackmail me with it?” he wonders. He’s still stabbing at the bark.

“Depends if it’s good for blackmailing.”

“Fair that,” JJ mumbles.

He sits up and looks into the fire. You pull back your skewer and inspect your marshmallow. Could do with a bit more on the edge…

“I don’t like peas,” JJ says.

You snort and look to him, returning your skewer to dangle above the flames.

“That’s not a secret.”

“Sure it is,” JJ shrugs, meeting your gaze. There’s a faint smile on his face. Eyes tired and lazy from the cannabis and booze. “Nobody else knows it.”

“Nobody?”

“Nope.”

“Not even John B?”

“Hell no, man,” JJ chuckles. You laugh too.

“But it’s not exactly a secret,” you remind him. “Just a fact.”

“Aren’t all secrets just facts, though?” JJ philosophises.

You roll your eyes. Bringing your skewer back to you, you lean down to retrieve a graham cracker from the packet resting by your feet, sliding the marshmallow atop.

“I still feel cheated,” you tell him, taking a bite.

You hold out the s’more for him to have a bite too. He doesn’t take it from your hold. Instead, JJ leans down and takes a bite, making you laugh.

“You tell me a secret then,” JJ says through his chews.

Swallowing your mouthful, you frown. “Why should I?”

“Tit for tat.”

“But I don’t really have any secrets,” you lie.

JJ throws his head back. “Liar. Everyone has a secret.”

“Like not liking peas?”

“Yeah!”

You laugh with JJ.

The fire casts an orange glow on his face. Outlines his jaw and traces the curve of his lips. Reflects brightly in his eyes, as he stares down at you. Something about it makes everything feel more intense, and you look away, down at your half eaten s’more. Taking another bite, you debate over your many secrets. Some are fickle and funny, like how you used to say goodnight to every single one of your named teddy bears (of which, there were many) or how you used to have a fear of animatronics and left a Chuck-E-Cheese crying your eyes out, at a childhood party. Others are die-hard, take-to-the-grave sort of things.

“A secret, huh?” you repeat, quieter now.

JJ nods. He seems to have mellowed out more. Extends his legs out and crosses them at the ankles. His cap has long since been abandoned, earlier in the night. You prefer him without it, if only slightly. It let’s you admire him as a whole. The unruliness of his hair and the defined youthfulness of his features. A gold rush that everybody wants to get their hands on but nobody can ever keep a grasp of. Impermanent like riches.

You look to him when you reply, perhaps watching for a reaction. “You’re my favourite.”

“Your favourite?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Pick at the crumbs of your half-eaten snack. Bask in the crackles of the dying fire.

“Your favourite what?”

“My favourite person,” you shrug.

JJ smiles at you. It’s different to his usual smiles – giddy and playful and mischievous. It’s serene and somewhat flustered, dare you say. Then again, the shine to his cheeks could be from the heat of the fire.

“Really?”

“Really,” you quietly chuckle.

Grinning now, he nudges his shoulder against yours. It’s sad, how after so much time in his company, it still thrills you with excitement. The way you feel about JJ is the type of puppy-dog love a person usually feels only once in their life. Typically in youth, when you’re too dumb to know anything else but idolisation. But what a thing to put on a pedestal, huh? Someone who looks as if they walked out of a sketchbook.

“You’re my favourite person too,” he says to you.

“Don’t bullshit me,” you snort, looking out to the fire. Your appetite has gone suddenly. The air feels thick.

“I ain’t bullshitting anybody.”

“Yeah right,” you say. “John B’s your favourite.”

“He’s alright,” JJ sighs. Looks out to the flames himself. You can only half see his face in your peripheral. “Just don’t think about kissing John B all that much, so I guess that makes you my favourite.”

Darting your head around, you take in his side profile. Your smile is gone. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Well, I wanna hear it again,” you dumbly say.

JJ chuckles. He looks to you, chin help up high, confident and self-assured. But you know him well. Better than you think, sometimes. His fingers are tapping nervously at the bark of the wood the two of you sit on, side by side. Sea and sand: never one without the other.

“I wanna kiss you,” JJ privately tells you. “I think about it more than I probably should, to be honest.”

You’re face feels a little numb but something tells you that you’re smiling. Small and serendipitous.

“Now that’s a secret, Maybank,” you reply.

There’s the briefest flash of his smile as he chuckles, and the briefest dart of his eyes glancing to your lips, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. The warmth it breathes into you is stronger than any bonfire you’ve borne witness to. The s’more is ditched in favour of you reaching up, cupping at his face. As you kiss, melding into one another the way marshmallow melts, there’s no worries of what might come next, or anxieties about what this means for your friendship. There’s simply the two of you, like always. Like it should be and like it was intended. Sea and sand.

#jj #jj x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj drabble #jj maybank drabble #drabbles #drabble #prompts #14 #jj x reader drabble #jj maybank x reader drabble #obx #obx drabbles #obx fic #outer banks #outer banks drabble #outer banks fic #fluff

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mythicandco · 11 months

Note

Hehe

Fic name: "Such simple, human things"

tw for self loathing/minor self harm, identity crises, minor body horror, and other typical tmc things

birthdays are one of the most human things one can imagine. what other creature celebrates anniversaries of its own birth? it's just one year closer to death. just another 365 days you can look at and say, "hey, I didn't die." it's another reminder of their impermanence, their fragility, wrapped in a pretty bow with icing and candles on top.

Adam Murray only ever had four(three?) birthdays. the rest were stolen from him from the monster in his bedroom, in his television, and now in his place.

his - the real one, not the copy, the simulacrum, the lie (because as much as they tell it that it had no way of knowing, "it wasn't your fault," that it's just as much Adam Murray as the human was, it knows they're lying) - first birthday was a half-remembered blur. there were smiling faces and bright balloons and a little cake with a single candle that his parents blew out for him snuffed out much the same way he had been smothered by shadowy claws, swallowed up by snapping jaws, given away to an insatiable hunger that didn't even remember itself and a pile of toys they'd gotten him as presents, but the details were smudged and darkened and buried and burned around the edges, like a polariod partially consumed by the hungry flames after a house fire.

its first birthday, after Lynn and Jude were gone, was spent in a hollow room. the caretakers at the orphanage had done their best to put together a party for it, but they functioned only on donations and so it was a bit small, with scarce decorations. it didn't need it, anyways. it stared blankly, almost hungrily at the five candles flickering before it, their light glinting and reflecting on its eyes.

"make a wish," a smiling adult said, trying to keep the unease out of their voice. it drank it up, sweeter than any icing, before speaking.

"I wish-"

"no, you don't say it out loud," another kid protested, a bit older but not by much, seeing as in truth the thing across the table from her was older than time. "if you do, it won't come true!"

"oh." it blinked at her, and she looked away quickly, biting her lip. "okay." it thought for a moment, then closed its eyes.

I wish for Mommy to come back.

some habits die hard.

it blew out the candles.

on its thirteenth birthday, he had already known Jonah for a handful of years. they'd met the forth time Adam ran away from the orphanage, when they were both eight, on an almost-warm day in September where the air lingered with schoolwork and guilt. Adam had been slowly taking it in when he heard a sharp cry of pain and, lo and behold, there was a boy on the sidewalk, fresh treacle salty tears streaming down his face and sticky sweet blood oozing from the scratch on his knee.

Adam looked down at him, blocking out the sun behind him, and reached out a hand. Jonah took it and stood up.

"th-thanks," he managed, wiping at the corners of his eyes.

"no problem. where do you live? I'll walk you back."

"oh, it's just here. where's your parents?"

"I'm alone."

"oh." Jonah stared at the other boy with silent reverence. "that's so cool."

it wasn't, but Adam latched onto the way Jonah looked at him, and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

they'd been best friends ever since, and Jonah's parents had arranged a party for Adam. Jonah got to design the cake, and it was a lovely thing, all black icing with overlapping red leaves, little glimpses of white teeth gleaming from behind them.

"impressive," Adam hummed, and meant it. the cake was styled with exquisite detail he had no idea his friend was capable of. "you should be an artist or something, this is super cool."

Jonah grinned with pride. "I knew you'd think so." he held up his hand. Adam blinked. Jonah blinked back, and after a moment whispered, "give me a high five."

"oh," Adam said. he flashed a smile and did just that.

Jonah's parents watched the children from a distance.

birthdays after that passed in a blur. Jonah was no longer allowed to decorate birthday cakes. Evelin came into Adam's life. the "party" part of "birthday party" began to fade. his friends would still get him presents, but for a while birthdays held almost no meaning- just another day of his life, nothing important, certainly nothing to celebrate.

and then there was Adam Murray's sixteenth birthday.

his sixteenth birthday was his favorite. it was a freezing January day, the kind of cold that could easily give you hypothermia if you stayed out in it too long, the kind of cold that made tongues stick to telephone poles, the kind of cold that made your joints go stiff and brittle, enough that maybe just a little bit of pressure would make them snap-

Jonah was the first awake that day, since he was gone when Adam sat up, still cocooned in the navy blue sleeping bag on the other boy's bedroom floor. Jonah's parents had decided that they were too old to sleep in the same bed during sleepovers anymore, and the couch was too far away downstairs, so sleeping bags it was.

"Jonah?" the blonde called out, swirling blue eyes like the sky on snow trailing across the room. empty.

and then he came trudging in, beaming from ear to ear, donning a thick winter coat that was a little too big and tracking snow through the house with his snowboots, which he hadn't bothered to take off. "Adam! you're awake! great, come on, come on come on."

without further warning, the other boy took Adam's arm, dragged him to his feet, and out they went. the blonde let out a yelp, struggling to free himself and throw on a coat and some shoes before they went outside.

"what are you-" Adam tried to start, but Jonah froze to the spot, closed his eyes, and placed a finger to his friend's lips. "shhhh. shshshsh shhhh shh. it'll ruin the surprise."

Adam kept his mouth shut, rolling his eyes and trying to hide his smirk.

"so, y'know how you're sixteen and all now?" Jonah remarked conversationally as the duo stepped outside, putting a hand over Adam's eyes. he tried to push the other's hand away, but Jonah held fast, harshly whispering "stop, you can't see it yet." and he stopped struggling. "welll, I figured, hey, maybe now's a great time to show him... THIS!"

he lifted his hands from Adam's eyes and the boy blinked, momentarily blinded by the dazzling white snow. his pupils shrank for a moment to accommodate, and then there it was.

"oh."

Jonah was somehow beaming wider now, cheeks and nose flushed with red from the cold, breath misting in the frigid air. "sooo? whatdya think?"

it was... a van. silvery-black and sleek with a new paint job, glistening like something unearthly against the clear blue sky and stark white snow.

"oh, wow."

Jonah excitedly rapped on the hood with a mitten-sheathed hand, eyes sparkling as brightly as the van was. "I found this old girl in a junkyard a while back- remember?? and I got Dad to get a tow truck to bring it back here and I was keeping it a secret 'cause I wanted to surprise you and aren't you surprised? isn't it awesome?"

Adam cracked a grin.

"it is awesome. I mean- holy shit, Jonah. you did this all yourself?" he leaned closer, peering at his reflection in the window before his eyes refocused to see the interior.

Jonah's glee was all-consuming, giddiness pouring out of him like sunshine, and Adam let himself bask in it while his friend rambled on about technical jargon and engineering manuals and months of trying to find the right parts and-

"and today's the test drive! if you think you're up for it."

"I don't have a license."

"neither do I!" Jonah grinned, devious and yet innocent. "I've scooted it around a little, I think it handles pretty well, but it's your sweet sixteenth. you only get one of these. I want you to do the honors."

"what if I crash it?" he could imagine it; the vehicle slamming into a wall or guardrail, metal crunching, glass shattering, leatherette seats melting into flesh, bones cracking under the weight of the impact-

"you're not going anywhere," Jonah chuckled, wrapping a warm arm around Adam, so unaware. "just around the block. if you go too fast or anything I'll tell you to slow down, don't worry."

with that, he slid the keys into Adam's hands. they were still warm from his pocket, his eyes still wide in anticipation.

Adams fingers curled around the metal as it cooled in the air, meeting Jonah's eyes with a smile of his own. "alright, if you're sureee- RACE YOU TO THE VAN!"

"wh- HEY!" Jonah yelped, almost tripping over himself in the snow as he flailed, trying to grab the back of Adam's hoodie. "UNFAIR, I WASN'T READY!"

"BETTER CALL SHOTGUN!" the blonde hollered back, skidding into a sharp turn and grabbing the driver's side door.

"THERE'S ONLY TWO OF US!" Jonah complained back, kicking up snow in his wake as he nearly slammed his weight into the door. the boy's hair - dyed dark purple this month - peeked out from under the hood of his puffy winter jacket, and as soon as he was in the passenger's seat he pulled his hood down and hummed a little, combing through his bedhead with his fingers.

Adam's fingers tingled with anticipation as he closed them around the steering wheel, feet feeling for the pedals. Jonah was taking driver's ed, and had given him a handful of sort of-driving lessons, enough that he knew to shift the gear into reverse to pull out of the driveway.

"CAREFUL! careful," his friend yelped. "don't forget to adjust the rearview mirror and shit so you don't hit anything."

Adam smirked. "right, because I'm taller than you."

Jonah sputtered indignantly for a second, then huffed and sank into his seat, pouting comically. "only 'cause of that random stupid growth spurt."

Adam shrugged, which involved closing his eyes, and Jonah screamed again as they nearly backed up over his parents' flowerbed.

after slowly edging the van around the block a few times (each successive round making Adam more confident in his driving ability, and Jonah less so), the duo switched seats and Jonah made a few more excited noises, flapping his hands a little before settling them on the steering wheel. Adam quirked an eyebrow at him.

"where are we going now?"

Jonah smiled. "another surprise, I'm afraid. now buckle up, buttercup."

they arrived at the cinema just as the movie Jonah had picked out to watch was starting.

"where'd you get enough money for tickets?" Adam asked, already half-knowing the answer. Jonah theatrically placed a hand to his chest, mocking a surprised expression.

"Adam!" he exclaimed, draping an arm around his friend's shoulders and falling back with the other to his forehead. "I'm surprised you think so highly of me!"

they snuck in, blending with the crowd and hiding their faces with their hoodies. the movie itself - something called The Butterfly Effect - wasn't great; it was an interesting premise involving amnesia and time travel, but that was the extent of the praise.

"BOO!" Adam shouted, hands cupped around his mouth to make his voice echo. Jonah laughed and threw a discarded bucket of popcorn at the screen. security came and kicked them out, but the teens didn't stop laughing even as they were shoved back out into the bitter cold.

Jonah, doubled over, finally regained his breath and inhaled deeply, wiping away his tears before they could freeze on his cheeks. Adam chuckled a little, gelid air rushing down the back of his throat. he stifled his laughter with a cough, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie after a minute.

"that was great," he'd come to say later, once he and Jonah got home, changed into something comfier, and flopped onto the couch, letting the radiator bring warmth back into their bones.

"no problem," his friend replied, flashing that winning smile again and looking to Adam with the same reverence his eyes had held when they first met. he held up a hand, and Adam moved to high-five it.

that had been his favorite birthday. seventeen was fine, eighteen was fine - that party had been at the BPS' new headquarters, and yeah, that was pretty cool - and from there things only got worse.

and now Jonah's gone. it's still cold and snowing outside, but it's dark and deep. this cold has claws that are all too happy to slit a throat.

it swallows down the bile rising in its mouth, shuffling around in the dark and adjusting the old, worn blanket over its shoulders. it's been two days since what happened at the house, but its ribs still ache and its throat still burns.

somewhere in the other room, Thatcher and Evelin are asleep in their respective spots, Thatcher on one side of his couch and Evelin on the other. it remembers almost thinking Thank God when it found out Evie was safe before catching itself, because there was no God to hear it and anything that did would be considerably less friendly.

it remembers begging them to just lock it in the closet or something, but the other two had for some inexplicable reason decided that they would be fine on the couch, and "you can have the bedroom, Adam, it's okay. we can block up the door fine, and you deserve a comfortable place to sleep as much as any of us."

it doesn't. it doesn't deserve any of this. it deserves to be brought out back and shot until it can't hurt anyone ever again. it deserves the fate Jonah didn't- to die out in the snow, alone, forgotten. it deserves to be hurt in all the ways it hurt everyone around it.

its hands curl around the fabric over its chest, a spare hoodie Thatcher had lying around. it fits surprisingly well, and was a reluctantly welcome change from the... open-ness of before, sitting shirtless in the corner. there were no dark corners to fold into and hide away, nowhere to disappear to, nothing to shield it from the outside world. it was awful, being exposed like that. it deserved the discomfort, yes, but that had never made it feel better.

despite the fact that there's a bed in the room, it had still refused to sleep in it, instead opting to have a blanket and some pillows on the floor. it doesn't even need to sleep, why should it have a bed for it? monsters don't have beds.

there's a little tap on the door.

"Adam?"

the stolen name whisps into the bedroom like something physical, a reminder of the human boy that lost his life to further the plans of a false God. its chest feels heavy.

"I'm awake," it says, instead of echoing Evelin's words back at her. her voice tasted wrong in its mouth anyways. "what's up?"

there's a little tug. a thin thread of string connecting them, and Thatcher, and every alternate, and everyone else with M.A.D. in the universe. Evelin shifts to lean her back against the wall on the other side of the door, and it listens to her heartbeat through the wood.

"can't sleep. you?"

it shakes its head, and she half-feels it. it adjusts its heartbeat so that they're in unison. "nope."

there's a light, bitter laugh. quiet enough not to wake Thatcher, loud enough that it imprints itself into Adam's bones, and for a moment it can almost pretend that it does deserve his name.

"it's almost 12 AM," Evelin breathes. there's a quality to her voice, like a mourner at a funeral. it drips through the cracks of Adam's mind. "it's almost January 18th."

its stomach twists into a knot. "I'm sorry."

"it's okay, Adam. I'm sorry that you're turning 21 while... all this is going on."

they sit in silence for a moment. the digital clock on Thatcher's nightstand changes from 11:59 PM to 12:00 AM. Evelin gets up, presses her hand against the door. Adam moves to do the same, and it's almost like their fingertips are touching.

"happy birthday."

"I don't have a birthday," it tries to say. "it's just a date I stole from some kid with his whole life ahead of him. he should be alive right now, not me. Jonah should be alive right now, too. and Lynn. birthdays are a simple, human thing. nothing about me is simple or human."

"what about humans is simple?" Evelin asks, looking up as though looking to the stars, or looking to the red fruit hanging just within reach over her head. "you're not a monster, Adam. you had no way of knowing. and when you found out, instead of going with their plans for you, you fought back. are fighting back."

"but Jonah's-"

"I know. it's not okay. but we're going to stop this before anyone else gets hurt. and it's not your fault. being human isn't about- it's not biology. it's about heart. you can have humanity. you can have love. you can have friends. you can have birthdays."

their hands are still pressed against both sides of the door. he feels the air in his lungs, the wood against his skin, the blanket around his shoulders. "why are you so good at this."

"I used to date you, you idiot. I know you. plus, everyone's brains are kind of melting right now. it's hard not to be empathetic."

he wipes away the tears he's sure they're sharing, pulls away reluctantly. "thank you."

"maybe when it gets light out we can throw together a cake. or something cake-adjacent." she laughs, just a bit. "good night, Adam. happy birthday."

"night, Ev."

he finds himself smiling a little, through the tears. happy birthday.

love. friends. birthdays. such simple, human things.

#I'm so normal about them your honor (LIES LIES LIES LYING LIAR)#I hope this hurts you all severely <333 #the mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue fic #adam murray #lynn murray #jude murray #jonah marshall #evelin miller #thatcher davis

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moonlightseve · 21 hours

Text

So we all know that Stammi Vicino – Non Te Ne Andare is essentially Viktor’s cry for help in a world where he has neglected his personal life for twenty years, giving everything he has to his sport and becoming an untouchable god because of it. And the lyrics are so sad and I just want to talk about them and what I think is going on because I can’t get it out of my head.

I hear a voice weeping in the distance Have you maybe been abandoned as well?

We start out with Viktor looking for this person who can understand how he feels, that same desperation for connection between the two of them. They are not united yet, but are able to come together because of their circumstances. Viktor, who has no family that we know of (or even friends outside of skating) is so utterly alone that this chance at having another soul who gets him has to be this horrible gnawing desire.

Come now, I'll quickly finish this glass of wine I’ll start to get ready Be quiet now

The glass of wine only confirms my thoughts about his loneliness, in my opinion – he has been sitting there alone, silently, enjoying this small pleasure with no company. And now he moves to join this distressed individual addressed at the beginning. There’s little comfort here beyond an attempt to silence their crying, it’s less of an established connection and more of an acknowledgement of similar circumstances. He can understand what it’s like to be sad and alone without feeling like there’ll be any change.

With a sword I wish I could cut those throats singing about love I wish I could enclose in ice the hands that write those verses of burning passion

There’s some frustration here – Viktor is 27 years old when he skates Stammi Vicino. This is past the age where many people experience these passionate romances for the first time, finding a twin flame with which to go through life. Despite how much people adore him, how successful he has become, how admired he is… he cannot be loved because no one truly knows him. There’s so much media out there about people finding each other, these grand love affairs and lasting friendships that add so much depth to a person’s life. And he has nothing. It must be infuriating, to have so much and yet so little. And I think there might be something there with the “enclose in ice the hands that write those verses of burning passion” as well, with him reflecting on his own circumstances in comparison to these love stories. Why don’t they have to suffer the same fate as him, married to the ice? Why must his heart remain frozen and no one else’s?

This story that has no meaning Will vanish tonight together with the stars If I could see you, eternity will be born from hope

There is no meaning to his life, nor is there any meaning behind his connection with this other person. They do not know each other. This is fleeting, and temporary, and entirely impermanent… but god, he wants so badly. He knows he can’t have it but he wants to hope so much.

Stay close to me, don’t go away I’m afraid of losing you

This hope has taken root in his soul. Despite the fact that he is so utterly alone and this individual who maybe can just barely begin to understand how he feels isn’t truly with him in any way that matters, he can’t bear the idea of giving up this tiny thing that is all he has left. This is a moment of pure vulnerability, the admission of just how scared he is. He is going through the motions, facing everything he has to entirely alone. Even a fragment of attention and care sets him alight, he cannot bear to lose anymore than he has already.

Your hands, your legs, My hands, my legs, And our heartbeats Are blending together

Here he comes together with this person. I still don’t think it’s viewed as a bond that he believes in, but acceptance of potential and the fact that maybe they could have something together. He feels something intertwined in their souls, some semblance of similarity. And for him, that means a lot.

Let’s leave together I’m ready now

The glass of wine has been put down, he has acknowledged his anger and frustration, and he is ready to move forward. There’s something for him, maybe, if he keeps looking. He can only hope.

Now. I could go on and talk about what the banquet meant to Viktor, and how this was maybe the first time he had wanted a person in his life this way, or I could just talk about the duetto … which is what I’m going to do.

So the duetto contains some pretty obvious lyric changes, namely the fact that the verses

With a sword I wish I could cut those throats singing about love I wish I could enclose in ice the hands that write those verses of burning passion This story that has no meaning Will vanish tonight together with the stars If I could see you, eternity will be born from hope

are removed. Hmmmmmmmm… all of the longing, none of the aggravation towards that sickly sweet romance? None of the denial that this could matter, the quiet desperation that maybe he might be allowed to hope for once? Because finally, after years of searching and waiting and quietly, so quietly, hoping – Viktor found someone who sees him. Who loves him, who wants him for who he is. They can stay close to each other, and neither of them will go away. Yuuri adds this color and warmth to his life that he had been looking for, and Viktor in turn has given Yuuri the chance to flourish and become the best version of himself, all the while having someone by his side who simply will not leave him. They are able to support each other in ways no one else can, and that is what makes their pair skate so beautiful.

#victor nikiforov #viktor nikiforov #yuri katsuki #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #yuri on ice #I wrote this instead of the paper I was supposed to be doing

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mybeingthere · 4 months

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Masao Nakahara (b 1956, Japan) tells:

“When I was little, I was afraid of dying…I wondered what would happen after I died, and if everything would end when I did”…”When I was 10 years old a thought came to me. Whenever I was in that room at that time of the day, the sun was shining brightly, and I felt happy. And in that moment, I thought that light would always be shining in this room at that time of the day and would continue to do so, even if I died. …”and I thought “that’s fine then”.

Nakahara grew up in a small town in Japan (Honjō, Saitama Prefecture), and started painting from a very early age. His introduction to artists such as Fauvist Georges Rouault and Impressionist Maurice Utrillo, opened up new perspectives for an artist who was interested in reflecting his own world, than adapting to the demands of Tokyo’s art schools.

In the early 1980’s Nakahara came to Germany, where he studied at the Dusseldorf Art Academy between ’83 and ’88. Here his art got influenced by the expressionist movement of the Neue Wilden, resulting in portraits like ‘The Headman’ (1984), ‘Table’ (1985-87) and ‘The Two’ (1988). The portraits helped the artist “..to hold on to something, whenever I did not know what to do, or when I felt lonely or troubled.”

From the 1990’s onwards Nakahara introduces a broader iconography, such as impermanence, temporality, and beauty. Often metaphorically characterised by (Cherry blossom) trees, boats, bridges, and infinite paths they find their origin in Japanese myths of death.

Edgard Munch comes to mind when looking at the landscape as a metaphor for death, but more directly Nakahara’s work has been influenced by a work of Sekine Shōji entitled “Mourning Believers” (1918). symbolising a bridge as linking life to death. Shōji was a Japanese painter, who died when he was only 20 but left a remarkable oeuvre.

https://althuishofland.com/biography/masao-nakahara/

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canarycolemine · 9 months

Text

Death and the Promises He Made

Chapter 4: Stay with Me

Pairing: Papa Emeritus II x Original Female Character

Warnings: 18+, references to abuse (emotion, sexual), anxiety attacks

The ease one feels after making so permanent a decision. Like an exhale, natural. That’s how I felt, suspended in time.

Perhaps a few minutes passed after he made his promise, or it could have been a lifetime. We sat.

In those suspended moments, a brief vision came to mind - rapeseed fields, blooming in spring - the beauty of the changing seasons. The desert never changed - bareness, unforgiving and fixed, in blinding heat of summer and brief reprieve of winter. Landscape - untouched by Earth’s eternal cycle. It felt sweet, almost, to think about how I will watch the flowers bloom and wither and die. And to be so assured that they will come back as winter ends. That will be my life with this man. So much unsettled, but the expectation of impermanence was comforting.

As I sat in the dream, Secondo stood - I hardly noticed it. He shifted throughout the room, settling on something on the bed. His back turned to me, he spoke.

“My apologies, Eden. I do not have much more to offer.”

Back to reality. He was opening a suitcase, shuffling through his garments.

“Would you like to take a look?” He asked, turning to me.

I stood, curious by the question, and approached him. His garments were impeccably stored, neatly folded. He handed a garment to me, a pair of sweatpants.

“These, I like, they are very comfortable. The inside, see here, is so soft. Hotel rooms get so cold, you know.” I took the item from him, he continued. “I have a few shirts, too, not just button up shirts - that’s not, eh, the most relaxing shirt to wear. Look through them, pick the one you’d like.”

“Do you want me to change?”

“That dress is covered in evil. I want you to rest well tonight, you cannot rest well with it on.”

I smiled softly at his remark. The dress was covered in evil - my skin recoils in the cheap white material. How perverse, really, it all was.

I paused, abusing the skin around my fingernails.

“He, um Eddie, told me to wear it. He said it would make me look like a virgin, like pure. Those fuckers get off to that shit.” I don’t know why I told him that, but that was the evil it was covered in. The perverse thoughts and stares just as woven into the dress as the Nevada desert dust.

“You have been through too much.” He reflected.

I nodded. Nothing left to say.

He moved away from the suitcase, behind me, to the bathroom I hadn’t even examined yet.

“Would you like to take a shower?”

“I would.” Turning to him, a whisper of a smile on my face.

The bathroom was just as opulent as his tastes demanded - white marble covering every visible surface, it seemed. Only broken by the crisp clean walls of white and brilliant ruby of the shower curtain, revealing the largest shower I had ever seen.

“Nice, yes?” He chuckled at me, evidentially noticing before me how slack my jaw had gone at the sight of the room.

“I’ll leave these here for you, once you’re finished. Take as long as you need to, a good shower is good for the soul.” Placing the sweatpants and a shirt I hadn’t noticed he picked out for me onto the countertops. “There is some soap and shampoo around here, somewhere. I haven’t needed it, you see.”

I felt the ease again, letting slip the terrible memories.

How playful he could be.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” A warmth grew in my body, relaxation. I trusted him.

“You are welcome, Eden.” His hand reached out towards mine, how he dwarfed mine by comparison. But so, so steady he held as he brought his lips to the back of my hand. “I will leave you now.”

And so he did, he let the door close softly behind him. Hearing the latch click, I debated locking the door. But I didn’t. I undressed, gazing at myself in the large, gold rimmed mirror of the room.

This body, how she had carried me through all of this wickedness. I looked so frail, emaciated. I could count each rib, turning to my back to graze over the vertebrae of my back. And the pallor of my skin - the deep blue veins webbing just under my skin, so visible. How I had lived in so hot a place and managed to avoid all the kindness of the sun.

I could slip into the fantasy so quickly - of how my skin would look, filled out and well fed. The pads beneath my eyes crinkling with age, not by lack of water. Feeling the sun on my skin again, I would see my freckles again. I would be rich with color again. Once I leave with Secondo, I go home. I get taken care of. No longer would I look like this ghost.

Mindlessly caught in the fantasy, I showered and sweetly savored the warmth of the water. The water pressure was nothing like the trailer I’d never return to. The rich jasmine shampoo lathering and rinsing the past away.

What a diligent shower, baptismal even. I cleaned myself from the filth of the past.

Half of my heart told me to stay in the shower forever, at perfect peace. I felt almost a whisper of anxiety leaving the shower, drying myself, worried for the rest of the night - what next? Would he make me kiss him? Repay the debt in some way?

I should give in to the kindness of this stranger. Hope for the best, as optimistic he’s made me.

I exited the room, my hair wrapped in a towel to dry. Unassuming as possible, as casual I could manage, my eyes scanned the room - like prey, always waiting to be struck.

But he wasn’t there to pounce. The skull faced man sat up, legs extended on the bed. A few buttons undone, the details of his delicate paint starting to fail. Around his eyes, just underneath, as if he shed a silent tear.

Apparently, my wonder showed clearly on my face.

“Do I have something on my face?” He nearly shocked me into reality.

“Oh! No, sir, sorry. It just looked like, your makeup.” I gestures subtly to my face.

“What about it?” He asked, too cold for my sensitivity. “What’s wrong with my face?” His glare remained.

I could feel blood rush to my face. Fear. The familiar lump in my throat, choking on the words. My body told me danger.

I stumbled through any words, whispers of tears in my eyes.

“Oh no, Eden, I am sorry.” Secondo stood, sensing my reaction.

But the blood in my ears told me to freeze. My heart raced, time stilled.

His strong arms wrapped around me, the most contact we’ve had. In the haze of frozen adrenaline, my body was shifted back onto the bed, but still wrapped in his arms. I was rocked, so gently. His voice came to me.

“It’s alright. Hush, now.” I was crying, and I have no memory of starting. “I should have been more careful speaking to you.”

My mind was returning to now, registering safety in his arms. My body still reeling.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered.

His hand, no longer leather clad, was brought to my chin, gently guiding my gaze to his.

“Darling Eden. You do not to be needing to apologize. So many men have been so careless with you. So selfish to your mind. And your body cannot forget.”

I closed my eyes, for a moment, clasping my hands close to my chest. A silent prayer that he is a man of his word.

A small sensation on my arm, immediately opening my eyes to my body. A tear had fallen onto my arm, not my own. My eyes followed the path it took, and it took me to Secondo's eyes. His jaw was locked, a tear falling silently on his face, muddying the pristine lines further.

The comfort I paid back to him, my hands met his face, my thumbs gently wiping the blackened tears from his face.

His head leaned into my hand, a comfort.

We sat silently, gazing at the other. Contented in our shared brokenness.

“Who are you, Secondo?”

“What?”

“C’mon, I gave you my shitty life story.” I fiddled with the button of his shirt. “You're a satanic priest, you love broken people, and you have expensive taste. But who are you? Really.”

“I think you have just answered that, no?” He began long, soothing strokes over my arms.

“No, I said things about you. That’s not who you are. Who are you to yourself?”

“That’s a long story, Eden.” His voice was steady but undercut with tension, apprehension. Like he was cautioning me.

“I want to know. Please.”

“You want to know me?” It was as if no one had ever asked about the man beneath the paint.

I nodded.

“Well, then.” He cleared his throat, pausing to think of where to start. “People usually only want to know me for my power. They are afraid of me, but they want to have the control I do.”

“Painting your face to look like a skeleton probably doesn’t help that, too.”

He patted my head. “No, no. I suppose it doesn’t. I have a lot of control, Eden. I have a lot of things to control. When I was a child, there was a lot of expectation put on my shoulders. I was born in Italy, living and studying there as a boy. My brothers and I, learning about the ways of the old one. It sounds idyllic, yes?”

“Far from it, though. My brothers and I were forbidden from leaving the grounds, day in and day out of studying. Aside from the tutors, my eldest brother carried the weight of truly taking care of me and my youngest brother.”

“My brothers, my life. But, he had his responsibilities, too, he was a child, too. Not fit to take care. But me, too, I felt an undue responsibility to take care of my youngest brother. He is not much younger than myself, but he really did look up to me. Truly, I would say the thing I should have had was my father and my mother.”

“What happened to them?”

“My father is alive and well. If I am the Pope, then he is God - illusive and all powerful. He has all the influence people think I truly have, but I am nothing but his marionette.”

“I never knew his love, as I should have. He was always distant and cold. Very quick to criticize and keep score between myself and my brothers. My brothers, though, were my life then, even now, too. How cruel he was to drive us apart. When we were older, he took all manner of manipulation to separate us - by keeping us countries apart, festering resentment in each other, hurting lovers. Cruel things.. There, there once we were isolated, he would get me to do wicked things on his account. All for the promise of his love, or to see my brothers again. Vile things, I cannot say…”

“What about your mother?”

“Who’s to say? I never knew of her. Neither her name or her face. Just like my brothers, we all had different mothers. She was a pawn in my father’s game. I have… heard rumors she was murdered after I was born, or that she ran away to escape my father. But I do not know.”

“I know I needed a mother. A nurturing person, to soften the blows from my father. A reminder that regardless of the evil I think of myself, that I was made out of a union of love. But, I have never had that reassurance. I suppose that is my very belief of myself, I was made out of evil.”

“I don’t think you’re evil.” I whispered, braving to stand opposed to him.

“You don’t know what I’ve done for my father.” His words were cautious to me, but sincere.

“Why, though? After all that he’s put you through?”

“I have a very important part to play in my world. The selfish part of me likes the power - nice things, beautiful places, beautiful women.” His face was covered in disgust. “But, it’s all meaningless to me, I just want my father to be proud of me. That’s the worst part.”

Tears fell silently again.

“Ah. Eden. Seeing you on the stage…” his voice quivered, “You don’t deserve horrific things to happen to you. Isn’t it just awful? Wicked things happen everyday, and we are all unable to stop them.”

“You’ve saved me, Secondo.”

His glassy eyes gazed at me, a warmth to them. Like no one has spoken to him like that before.

“I could say the same for you, Eden.”

For a while, we sat silently, safe in each other's arms. I could have sworn our hearts fell into the same rhythm. He would rock us, back and forth, as his cries continued. Sniffles broke through the silence. His body was warm, as was mine.

I looked at him, lifting my head from his chest. My hand, holding his face so tenderly, as if he was made of glass.

This trust I felt for him - it was something else now. A shift, unmistakable; the warmth in my chest bloomed. Maybe it was circumstances, maybe I’ve been broken for too long to rush into a good feeling. But maybe, it was real.

I loved him.

His shining eyes - welcoming. The pale eye showed a new warmth. Perhaps.

Perhaps he felt this way too.

The pulling of me towards him. Our foreheads united, our eyes now closed, shedding the tears of unspoken feelings. I pulled back from him, staying on his lap, gazing at his thoroughly ruined paint.

“Oh nothing, nothing, nothing in this world

Can keep us apart

Oh, my dearest darling

I offer you my heart …”

An offering - as he sang to me, to make me comfortable, now I will to him.

“Will you dance with me, Eden?”

“Yes.”

He gently set me down, as he stood. I did not notice a record player, sitting atop a magnificent chest. A small stack of records, I could only guess it was his personal collection.

But so diligently, he flipped through his collection, settling on one particular album. I couldn’t see what he chose, only that he gazed at the cover with reverence. Carefully, he slide the vinyl from it’s worn sleeve. The needle lifted, delicately placing the old vinyl into place. So precisely, dropping the needle into position.

He let the music begin, and then I could tell instantly. It was Billie Holiday, “Lady in Satin.” I knew this album well, but I could never sing it as well as it deserved.

Still facing the record player, he began to sway his hips. But he turned to me, with a look of love in his eyes. His gaze belonged to me - how sweet to be the tender object of affection. But no longer was I an object, a complete person. Myself.

He leaned back onto the cabinet, crossing his arms and just revering me. Though painted, his lips curled to a gentle smile.

I stood up, walking towards him. I only hoped my eyes could convey that same reverent look as his. He reached his hand to mine, the invitation.

I grabbed his hand, feeling his very essence pulling me towards him. Like his own gravity.

The record played, softly, the hallmark grain of physical music gave a warmth to the room, unmistakable.

For Heaven’s sake,

Let’s fall in love

It’s no mistake, to call it love…

His hand holding mine, the other safely on the small of my back, keeping me close. We swayed as one. His strong steps guiding our movements.

It all felt so easy. So simple.

Being held by him, in the low lights of a hotel room, listening to Billie’s rich voice. He kept me safe.

Don’t say a word my darling

Don’t break the spell like this

Just hold me tight

We’re alone in the night…

Secondo guided me to spin, wrapping his arms around my body to dip me. I chuckled at his advanced choreography. A small kiss he pressed to the top of my head.

No words we said for what felt like hours. I just looked in his eyes, felt his heartbeat in my hands. But even in the silence, I have never felt more heard.

The truth now. I am free.

Perhaps this is home - safe, in the strong arms of death, himself.

#papa emertius ii #ghost bc fanart #ghost band fic #ghost fic #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii x female character #secondo #papa secondo #secondo fic #secondo x reader

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luvcryo · 4 months

Text

Impermanence - Part 1

Hu Tao x Gn!Reader

Summary: You find Hu Tao incredibly annoying at times, and in return, she seems to make it her life's mission to annoy you. A trip to Wuwang Hill changes that.

Enemies to friends to lovers, use of y/n (once)

Also posted on Ao3

You never understood Hu Tao.

How on earth did she manage to seem so happy, so carefree, with that kind of job? Here she was now, yelling with that annoying sing-song voice about some two for the price of one offer on coffins for adventurers only, her little ghost swirling around her like some sort of mascot. It annoyed you for some reason, how she spoke so lightly about something that horrifyingly followed so many people wherever they went.

And here you were. Forced to cross the bridge near the funeral parlor- cross her path- so that you could get to the adventurers' guild and claim your rewards.

You had to hold in your groan of annoyance. You could turn around, you could walk all the way around the city just to get to the guild, but your body ached from the 3-day mission you were sent on, your mind felt cluttered, and you just wanted to go home as quickly as possible.

So you sucked in a breath and started walking again, away from the shop you stood idly by while debating how to avoid her, and out into the open.

She was talking to someone, shoving a flyer into their hands. Good. Maybe she would notice you as you tried to slip by. You took one step onto the bridge-

“Hey! Y/n!” You heard from behind you. Your hands clenched and you tried, and failed, to force a smile as you turned to face her.

“Have you heard of the new deal? If you buy it within 48 hours, you’ll get a whole 50% off!” She chirped. As she walked- practically skipped- towards you, her ghost quickly followed behind her. It left Hu Tao's side, instead swirling around you. Yet another thing you might never understand is why this ghost seemed to like you so much. Every time you ran into Hu Tao, the little ghost would circle you, wrapping around your wrist or whirring around in your hair.

It frightened you the first time you met it, but Hu Tao assured you that it wasn’t the soul of some long-dead adventurer and you gradually got used to its presence and its liking for you. And, although you’d never admit it aloud, it was rather cute.

“I’ve heard.” You replied hastily before continuing your walk.

“Hey, I did come over for a reason. There have been some issues on Wuwang Hill, and I need an adventurer to come help.” She added, stepping next to you and matching your stride.

“You go up to Wuwang Hill alone all the time, don’t you?” You try to recall the times she’s talked about her trips to Wuwang Hill, and never once did she mention requiring an adventurer to escort her.

“You can never be too careful.” She remarked.

After a bit more convincing on her part and a hefty sum of money as a reward you agreed to the commission. The subtle tug on your sleeve by the simpleminded-looking spirit may have also played its part in convincing you.

—

You trekked up the mountain the next day with Hu Tao. The stars and moon were bright enough to see almost everything in your path, but you still questioned if it was really necessary to accomplish this mission at night.

“If you need a nightlight, I can light my staff for you.” She quipped. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared of the dark.”

You felt your face heat slightly. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” You replied flatly.

Hu Tao began explaining why she was here in the first place. Some sort of quick ceremony to help release souls. As she spoke about the ceremony, her voice became softer. When you finally looked away from the path ahead of you and took a glance at Hu Tao, you felt your breath hitch. She glowed under the moon, blue light reflecting off of her dark reddish-brown hair. Her lips were pressed thin, but there were still the remnants of a soft smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you be serious about anything.” You commented.

“I have respect for the dead, and for the work I have to do, believe it or not.” She giggled after.

It took a moment for you to reply. How does she expect anyone to believe something like that when she speaks so carelessly about it all of the time?

“I don’t believe it.”

She only grinned.

—

Only a few hilichurls interrupted you and Hu Tao during the ceremony. Speaking of hilichurls, she dealt with them easily. You haven’t seen her use her vision much, but you knew that she would have dealt with them easily. The way she fought- the way she moved- it was like a dance. Captivating. And the way the fire from her vision scattered around her and burned through anything that attempted to harm her was enchanting.

“I don’t get why I had to be here…” You muttered as she packed up the few things left from the ceremony.

She laughed again. Annoyingly pitchy, yet you found yourself also thinking of it as stupidly cute. “You can’t always predict when death might come. Someone should keep an eye on me."

Casually morbid as usual. “Lucky me.” You said sarcastically as you followed her down the mountain path again.

Barely a moment of silence passed before she rushed to grab your hand, her warm palm on your wrist as she dragged you along with her. “What are you-”

She cut you off before you could even finish your question. “I figure I should pay you back for keeping me company up here.”

Despite you now willingly following her to wherever she was taking you, she didn’t let go of your hand, instead letting her fingers comfortably intertwine with yours. You felt warmth crawl up the back of your neck. You almost wanted to say something, but you were already flustered and she’d only tease you more if she noticed.

She pulled you up onto a large rock, her ghost swirling around her and resting on her lap as she sat down cross-legged. You stood beside her.

“Am I supposed to be looking at something..?”

“The moon, dummy!” She said as she pointed above you, eyes flickering between you and the sky. Her voice grew quieter. “The moon is beautiful, isn’t it? The sky is lovely at night..”

You turned your head up to the night sky. “... Yeah.” You sighed, finally sitting down next to Hu Tao. Maybe you did understand Hu Tao, to an extent. Hell, you probably wouldn’t fear death either if you took the time to admire sights like this a little more often.

All of her attention seemed to be on the moon and the stars scattered across the sky. You tried to focus on the same thing but found your gaze falling to her once more. You saw a rare hint of vulnerability behind her eyes. Her lips parted, then closed again, and you suddenly began wondering what words she was holding back, and what words she had held back before. You already saw earlier how passionate and dedicated she actually was to her work, and now you want to know what else she has beneath that facade.

No, facade wasn’t the right word for her. You had no doubt she was just as annoying as she always was. But there was something more to her that she didn’t let on, something raw and fragile. Emotions bubbled inside of her that she didn’t like showing.

And yet, right now, she’s letting you have a glimpse at it.

Perhaps if you saw this everyday, you’d learn to not fear death.

You quickly looked up at the moon again so she didn’t notice your staring. Embarrassing. “As pretty as it is-” As pretty as she is- “We should go. It’s late."

She finally turned to you and nodded.

“I like looking at the moon because it reminds me of how beautifully impermanent and insignificant life really is sometimes.”

“Poetic.” You quipped.

“Does the night not invoke a sense of creativity in you too?”

“I guess it does.” You laughed and shook your head.

You laughed.

Hu Tao made you laugh. You weren’t rolling your eyes in annoyance. You weren’t scrambling to find a way to get out of talking to her. You weren’t filtering through your mind for an excuse to leave as fast as you could.

You were just.. Talking.

—

Fontaine.

You were invited to go on an adventuring trip to Fontaine. The place where all waters eventually met, where new technology was innovated, the Nation of Justice.

Granted, you hadn’t agreed to go with them yet. You were still mulling it over. You didn’t have a lot in Liyue, but it was still your home, and 3 months is a long time to be away from home.

“You’ll really be gone for three months?”

Hu Tao pulled you out of your thoughts. You have found yourself around Hu Tao a lot more ever since that trip to Wuwang Hill a few weeks ago. It wasn’t really on purpose… Not at first. She just happened to begin going to Wanmin Restaurant. Every day. At the same time, you went to Wanmin Restaurant.

And you just happened to not mind her company.

“Yeah. If I decide to go, that is.” You pick at your food, shoving it around your plate while deep in thought.

She seemed to perk up at that. “What’s stopping you?”

You glanced up at her. “Not sure.” You said, but you knew why.

You tried denying it. You weren’t exactly the best at deciphering romantic and platonic feelings but.. Something about that night in Wuwang Hill sparked something in you that you haven’t really felt before.

To be completely honest, you hated it.

Still, even though you’d rather crawl into a hole and stay there forever than admit to Hu Tao your growing feelings, you wanted to stay for her.

And apparently, that’s what she wanted too.

“You should stay then,” she said confidently. “I still need an escort to go up to Wuwang Hill. You didn’t think that ceremony was a one-time thing, did you?”

“But.. you definitely didn’t need me up there. You’ll be fine on your own.”

“I do need you.” She responded, leaning towards you with her hands on her table. There was a hint of desperation in her voice, but it was covered up by her determination and cheery demeanor. “I mean... I know I would have been fine, but it’s safer to have someone else around. I feel safer when you’re around, y’know?”

Your heart skipped in your chest and you tried not to outright gawk at her words. She didn’t really say anything that crazy but... She felt safe with you?

“Oh.” You felt that familiar heat crawl up your neck as you kept your eyes trained on the almost empty plate in front of you in a desperate attempt to seem normal. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

All it took from her was a few words and suddenly you made your decision? What was wrong with you?

“Great!” And just like that, she was grinning at you from across the table like nothing happened.

#teas works 🌸#pretend i post consistently #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #hu tao x gender neutral reader #hu tao x reader #hu tao #hu tao genshin impact #genshin hu tao #genshin impact #genshin x reader #anime #genshin #video games #manga #fanfiction

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