#sorry ive just been holding onto that grudge for years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

momowho34 · 3 years

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So that story about Dionysus being the son of Persephone is awful and gross for like 10 different reasons but can we stop and just appreciate how amazingly they would get along? Like dionysus has mysterious chthonic connections on his own and both of them show evidence of being preceded by really old and dangerous figures and they both have rebirth themes and agricultural themes and I just keep imagining

(This isn’t for a fandom it’s just straight up Greek mythology btw)

———————————————————————

Styx: Yeah idk, I just... found him here?

Dionysus, after wandering into the underworld and passing out next to the river Styx, wearing dramatic grape vines, drunk as fuck, tired, entirely oblivious to anything ever, should be totally harmless but still has the faintest aura of the maddened screams of the dying and the roar of lions drifting around him: hnngh???

Persephone, tearing up: *gasps* new bestie!!!!

Styx: ??????

———————————————————————

Persephone, during their weekly visits, painting his nails: *sighs* it’s just.... so exhausting to be raised from the dead every year, y’know? Really fucks with my beauty routine. I love seeing my mom but being brought back to life is just a little tedious. Dying is like so much easier.

Dionysus, feeding Cerberus ghost pork chops under the table with his other hand: oh sweetheart I know. I’ve died and been reborn three times, did you know that? Exhausting. Every. Single. Time.

Persephone: omg dish!!!!

———————————————————————

Persephone, on the way to the fields of Elysian with Dionysus: I just don’t understand why you had to kill him! He was so close to reuniting with his wife... er- whatever her name was, but they were really cute and you know how I am about love stories I just... I’m so upset!!!

Dionysus, carrying Orpheus’s soul over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes: look, he was ruining my vibe, okay? I really value my vibe! That’s just how it is. Besides, he lost his chance to find her in the living world when he turned around and saw her. Now he gets to reunite with his lover.... dicey-universe or whatever her name was.

Orpheus, weakly: Eurydice, my beloved that I lost, oh how her beauty was- ack!

Dionysus, frowning, wacking Orpheus over his shoulder: hush, you. We’re almost there. If you start waxing poetic or singing about tragic love again I will throw you into Asphodel so fast-

Persephone: oh don’t pretend that you didn’t come down here to save your wife a long time ago.

Dionysus, scoffing: okay, but that’s different! I am allowed to be here. Ariadne just came down for a little visit, she wasn’t planning to stay dead!

Persephone: .....I’m not entirely sure you understand how death works, dionysus.

———————————————————————

Hades, sighing: honey I don’t want to limit your friend circle, it’s just that it’s dangerous for someone to traverse between realms like this!

Persephone: I’m telling you though, he is a death god!

Hades: darling I’m finding it hard to believe that the god of wine and partying is-

Dionysus, turning the corner, with his horns and thrysus and slit pupil eyes and leopard skin and somehow giving off ancient old god eldritch abomination energy despite wearing sunglasses and drinking a smoothie: ‘Sup fuckers.

Hades, backing away: dear fucking Kronos yeah that’s a death god, that’s a really old death, that’s an old as Tarterus death god, holy fucking shit okay have fun sweetie he’s free to hang out down here whenever he wants I’m going to go throw up have fun you two bye no way I’m fucking with this shit not today-

———————————————————————

(tw: people talking about sex)

Persephone: okay but you can’t have had sex with that many nymphs! I know those girls! Boroe, Khonoris, Nikaia, Methe, Pallene-

Dionysus, sighing: Okay, okay, it wasn’t that many nymphs and humans! Just... look, let’s stop talking about my love life and talk about yours, hmm? Like did you have any other romantic escapades other then Mr. Scary Pants here?

Persephone: hmmm.... well there was this one really cute guy that I hung out with for a while, Adonis. He was pretty great, honestly.

Dionysus: ooh, Adonis... I remember him, he was really cute- shit, sorry, I had a fling with him too but this isn’t about me, go on.

Persephone, rolling her eyes: ugh, of course you did. Anyway, he’s no use to me dead, and he got killed by Ares.

Dionysus: oof, Ares. Fate worse then death. Why was he killed by Ares?

Persephone: because he slept with Aphrodite, Ares really hates it when people sleep with his girlfriend.

Dionysus, reminiscing: oooohhh, Aphrodite. Now she was definitely something, I remember this one time we- why are you looking at me like that?

Persephone:

Persephone: you.

Persephone: you never told me you slept with aPHRODITE- *assorted sounds of screaming and crashing*

———————————————————————

Demeter, exasperated, during the summer months: oh by the Titans, you can’t seriously be telling me that you’re friends with Bacchus of all people.

Persephone: but why! He’s an agriculture god, you two should get along! Plus he’s not dangerous- ok, he’s a little dangerous, but like, not to me!

Demeter, sighing: sweetheart I assure you, it’s not about if he’s dangerous-

Dionysus, popping through a window, looking at Demeter: heeeyyyyy! yo, it’s Bread Basket, my favorite bestie!!! I’m doing real good at this domesticated planting thing, I’m a born natural at it hahaha!!! I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been taking really good care of the vineyards you helped me plant, absolutely no fires or villager beheadings so far! I promise no more screw ups- *glances behind him* oh my gods you stupid fucking satyr’s, that is the ONE plot of land that you’re not supposed to- Sorry Demi, gotta go good luck with the.... whatever it is you do, bye!!!

Persephone, staring in awe as Dionysus runs back to the fields and desperately tries to corrall the satyr’s in his cult that are munching on grape vines as the maenads cheer and throw sticks in the background: wow. I’ve never... ive never seen this side of him before.

Demeter, putting her head in her hands: yet another reason why I wish I had your luck, Kore.

———————————————————————

Dionysus, standing next to persephone, watching Psyche skip away with a box of beauty cream tucked under her arm: ....You know she’s gonna open that box.

Persephone: yep.

Dionysus: and that it’s going to kill her?

Persephone: yep.

Dionysus: and that doesn’t bother you?

Persephone, sighing: look, have a little faith in Eros. He’s a resourceful little shit, he’ll figure something out, and watching Aphrodite realize she’s been bested by her own son will taste like poetry. I can’t wait to see it.

Dionysus, whistling: damn gurl you hold a grudge.

Persephone, narrowing her eyes: only against Aphrodite. Only against Aphrodite.

———————————————————————

Dionysus: anyway I was *Baby Melinoe grabs his arm and he freezes* oh my god what is that

Persephone, laughing: that’s just my daughter, Dionysus. I think she likes you.

Dionysus: fuck. Oh gods. um- uhhhhh- what I do with it, I don’t know- I don’t know what to do with it-

Melinoe: *laughs*

Dionysus, sweating: oh no. Why did it make that sound? Did I break it? Is it- is it broken??? What am I supposed to do with this??? Is it okay????

Persephone: gods this is so going in the fucking scrapbook.

Melinoe: *latches onto Dionysus’s arm as he continues to panic*

Dionysus: persephone is it okay? Is it broken? Persephone I’m not kidding your husband honestly freaks me the fuck out I don’t wanna break your kid oh my gods

Persephone: she usually doesn’t like people she doesn’t know-

Melinoe: *starts to climb on him*

Dionysus: oh fuck, no no no what is it doing, Persephone I’m not kidding what is it doing, what is it doing Persephone get it off me oh my gods I’m not joking perSEPHONE-

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

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I Wish (Part IV, Continuing from When You Love Someone)

Group: DAY6

Genre: DAY6 TRILOGY CONTINUATION (What Can I Do, I Loved You, When You Love Someone)

A/N: After like 4 years of people trying to get me into Day6, I’m finally here with What Can I Do playing on repeat in the bg to help me vibe with what I’m writing. Biggest thank you to the person who got me into this mess, I might just cry with how many things I have up my sleeves now.

"3... 2... 1... Younghyun! I'm coming to find you!”

!Younghyun covers his mouth with glee, listening to his best friend run down the hallway and right past the cabinet he was hiding in.

"Jieun, please be careful down the stairs!" He heard his mother calling out from downstairs.

"Okay!" Jieun's voice rings through the house as her footsteps trace back down the steps. Younghyun closes one eye to look through the gap between the two doors, watching Jieun return up to the second floor.

"Younghyun!" The eight year old boy covers his mouth, preventing himself from laughing. Hide-and-seek is an important game ans he cannot lose to a girl.

"Younghyun~!" She shouts in a sing-songy voice, closer to the cabinet than he would like her to be. Then Jieun suddenly turns to the cabinet, catching that little glimmer in her eyes when she realised he could be hiding in there.

Younghyun's mother can hear the excited screams and yells from the second floor when she assumes Jieun has found her son hiding in his favourite hiding spot, the sound of their laughter only bringing her joy and comfort.

In the night, Younghyun's mother leaves two waterbottles outside the tent they were sleeping in (that was pitched in Younghyun's room) before leaving, turning off the lights before closing the door behind her. Younghyun crawls out, grabbing a torchlight and shining the bright beam at Jieun's gameboy as it beeps to life.

Little did they know it would be the last time they could do that, or even fit into the tent.

Younghyun was a quick-witted child, understood things faster than normal kids would. Jieun's pink-blushed face was looking down at him through the window of the passenger's seat infront as her father thanks Younghyun's parents for the three-week-long babysitting.

"Where is she going? Why is she leaving? Is she coming back? Did I do something wrong?"

Jieun's father squats and pats Younghyun's head, offering the child a look of apology that he will not understand for the next five years or so.

"We'll come back to visit, okay? Thank you for taking care of my Jieun for me."

It's like the adult thinks he can replace Younghyun's best friend when he hands him a toy robot. Jieun's eyes are unable to peel away from Younghyun when the car jerks after her father shuts the car door. Younghyun's mother is desperately wiping her son's face and holding him in his arms while he watches the car drive off.

"We'll come back to visit" is one of the biggest lies an adult can tell a child.

Younghyun jerks awake from his sleep, the alarm jolting him out of his nightmarish memory. Slamming a hand down into the alarm clock, he shuts it off and sits up, fingers running through his hair with his eyes still closed.

Kim Jieun... do you not remember me?

Park Jaehyung and Kim Jieun look a little too close for Younghyun's liking, but what can he say? They had sleepovers when they were 8 years old -- had her father not dragged her halfway across the country then, he would be in Jaehyung's place right now.

Funny how all three new students were all dumped in his class though. Kim Jieun, Yoon Dowoon and Park Jaehyung. Yet, while Jieun and Jaehyung looked like they were having the time of their lives, Dowoon seemed like he'd be better off dead.

"Hi, are you three doing alright in school?" Jieun looks up to Wonpil, eyes halved into crescents as he does his job of being the class president. Younghyun watches Jieun and Jaehyung nod and thank him, but Dowoon's earpieces were shoved so far into his ear canals, Wonpil goes unheard.

"Yah," Younghyun is surprised when Jieun drops honorifics when she calls out to Dowoon. "He's talking to us."

Dowoon gives her a side stare, and proceeds to continue ignoring her.

"I'm sorry, he's been going through a hard time since the move. He'll be up and around in due time." Looking over at Dowoon again, she tries once more to get his attention.

“It’s okay,” Wonpil shakes his head, gently blocking her from reaching out to him. “I get it. He just needs time.”

Wonpil nods, giving Dowoon one more glance before returning to his seat. At the end of the day, Younghyun and Jieun had been rostered to clean the classroom, so he feels nothing but discomfort when she exhibits the diligence she was already known for back then. Picking up the mop and the broom, she starts cleaning the floor without hesitation, without giving Younghyun a second look.

Does she not remember me or--

"Kang Younghyun."

It feels like his heart had just been stabbed by an electric rod, and it takes mountainous effort for him to contain the shock and surprise he was about to barf out.

"Can you do your job?"

The boy rolls his eyes, frustrated and frankly, a little hurt that she doesn't remember him. A painful wincr of a smile shows up on his lips when she comes over, handing him one of the mops.

How many ‘Kang Younghyun’s are there anyway? Do I even look that different? Just what is keeping her from--

"When were you ever this useless?"

His eyes dart up from the table to hers, face blank but eyes full of meaning.

"I'll admit that I didn't recognise you the other day when we bumped into each other," Younghyun's heart is about to lurch out of his chest. "But it clicked so..."

The world is silent for some seconds. Younghyun's heart is yearning to reach out and hug her for he had lost the one thing he would have rather had for the rest of his life. But Jieun would probably take it the wrong way... or rather -- his replacement might not like it.

"How are you?"

The question takes Younghyun by surprise. Why did it take her so long to finally ask this? He, unfortunately, cannot swallow his pride and take her into his arms the way he wants to.

“I’m fine,” He spits, grabbing the mop and moving off to mindlessly paint the floor with water that he wasn’t even sure was clean. Jieun's eyebrows flatten against her features, confused but silent in understanding. She can only imagine how angry he was, and when a child’s anger goes unanswered, unfixed for a decade... it turns into something of a grudge that she isn’t sure she can undo.

Younghyun carelessly flings the mop around the space, the water sprinkling on all kinds of surfaces before Jieun runs over, nearly wishing to shove the mop into his face.

How immature can he get, over something that wasn’t in my control?

“Younghyun--”

“I’ve done my job,” Offering her the most nonchalant smile he can force onto his lips, he raises a fist in a bid to ‘encourage’ her. Jieun huffs in disbelief, hand running through her hair as he leaves the classroom. “Have fun.”

Jieun: i can’t believe he was such a jerk about it

You: doesn’t he know you couldn’t have done anything about it anyway

Jieun: i don’t know

Jieun: i just wish he knows i was just as sad as he was when my dad brought me away

You: maybe you need to give him time, like dowoon does

Jieun: sigh

Jieun: you’re right

Jieun: you’re there already, aren’t you?

You: yeah, what’ya want?

Jieun: nah, i’m okay. i’ll be back a little later though, had to clean up whatever younghyun didn’t

You: alright

Jieun: see you later!

Pausing right outside the cafe, Jaehyung locks the phone and sucks in a deep breath, the transparent glass providing him with a flawed view of the barista. Failing to remember the last time he had such a huge crush on someone he doesn’t even know, he gathers his courage in the palms of his sweaty hands as he pushes himself into the cafe.

“Welcome!” Her voice sounds like wind chimes and bells. “Oh! It’s you!”

“Right, hi,” Get your shit together, man.

“I’m guessing two milkshakes?” My God, that smile should be illegal.

“Uh-- just one today, actually.”

“Oh?” Her eyes widen, enlarging all the sparkles in her eyes. “Do you want to try something else?” Leaning forward over the counter, she points to the menu board stuck upright. “You can try the cold brew coffee. It’s a new item and I’ve tried it myself, pretty refreshing.”

“Okay, sure.”

That was too quick a response, man.

“Alright! Just give me a few minutes.”

I’ll give you all the time you need.

There was a struggle to contain all that admiration and envy for just a single person. When she brings the cup of coffee over, it looks like an angel serving you a cup of heaven.

She smiles not with her lips, but with her eyes, and Jaehyung cannot help but to purse his lips in a bid to contain his happiness.

"I'm sorry, he's been going through a hard time since the move. He'll be up and around in due time."

Younghyun shifts his weight to the side, brain empty of thoughts besides thinking of the way Jieun spoke to Yoon Dowoon, spoke of Yoon Dowoon. The arcade had an occasional jingle sound to it due to the bell hung on the door, coupled with the rapid shooting from FPS games and then there’s the incessant smashing of game console buttons--

“Get out of my seat, cunt.”

Younghyun’s ears are drawn to the familiar voice -- a big burly dude who didn’t do much but torment the kids in the arcade. He knows better not to interfere so he plasters his attention back to the motorbike racing game he was on.

“But I don’t see your name on the console.”

The voice wrings Younghyun out of his virtual competition, an instinct telling him to get up and stop the impending disaster. He couldn’t decide if it was because he knew the big guy was a bully, or if he’s figured out that Yoon Dowoon must be related to Jieun of some sorts.

“You little--” Yoon Dowoon braces himself for impact, arm covering his head, until he hears a thud right above him. His eyes travel up, logic taking awhile to settle around his saviour’s facial features as the bully’s wrist is held tightly in someone else’s palm.

“He’s got a point. Console doesn’t have your name on it.”

Dowoon frowns when he connects the dots, suddenly more agitated that he needs another boy to help him out of his misery. Out of annoyance, and of the many options he could’ve chosen to carry out, he chooses to storm off.

Younghyun smirks to himself, letting out a chuckle of disbelief.

Dowoon finds himself stranded along the roadside after he’s bought himself a little bottle of milk, the kind that his father used to get for him when he was a kid, before his mother had chosen to remarry one of the richest Kims in the country.

He fiddles with the ointment and the single hard-boiled egg in his pocket, silently hoping that if his classmate wouldn’t appear from the corner and beat him into a pulp the way he probably had been, Dowoon could show some kind of gratitude.

Speaking of the Devil, Younghyun turns round the corner, slight frustration overwhelming his eyes when he spots Dowoon candidly sipping on his milk.

“You really know how to run away from a fight, don’t you?” He grabs the chair and plops himself down, already ready to shove that bottle of milk down Dowoon’s mouth for ditching him. Licking the corner of his bottom lip, he manages to restrain himself from wincing.

Dowoon pulls out the ointment and hard-boiled egg, gently pushing it across the table. The gesture catches Younghyun off-guard, a second smile of disbelief surfacing on his lips.

“Were you just waiting for me to show up so you could hand me these?”

Dowoon mischievously raises a brow, taking a loud sip from his milk. “Mhm.”

Younghyun cannot help but snort at Dowoon’s daring nature before he picks the egg up and rubs it across his cheekbone.

“So,” Dowoon doesn’t hesitate to start. “What’s your relationship with Jieun?”

The smile falls from Younghyun’s face, and Dowoon isn’t an idiot. Contrary to his silent demeanor, he used to be known for being able to read people easily.

“I see the way you look at her, and when you were rostered to stay back to clean up the classroom today... I heard a bit of it.”

Refusing to admit that he’s just been exposed, Younghyun cracks the egg on the tabletop. Begins to peel the shell of the milky white interior. The last few sips of Dowoon’s milk becomes particularly loud when he puts in the extra effort to suck it up, then he throws it in a nice toss into the nearest dustbin.

“You don’t have to hide anything, you know,” Dowoon says with calm in his voice. “It’s not like I’ll tell her anything. We might live in the same house but I know to protect a man’s pride.”

He can feel his saviour’s eyes pierce through his skull as he says those exact words. Good, I got it spot on.

“Same house, huh?” Younghyun takes a bite from the egg. “I’m guessing this is why she moved away ten years ago.”

It was Dowoon’s turn to fall silent, simply because he must’ve been crying about his father leaving him somewhere on the other side of the country too.

“Why’d you guys move back here then? Only recently?”

“Mother invested in some new apartments nearby, got the suite and dumped us there.”

Younghyun hums, chewing on the egg yolk. “And... Jaehyung?”

Dowoon studies Younghyun’s inability to look at him in the eye. He’s jealous of Jieun’s best friend.

“You’ll find out when you ask Jieun yourself.”

#day6 #day6 fanfic #day6 scenario #wonpil #sungjin #youngk #dowoon #jae #idk what else to tag

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susiequaz12 · 4 years

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Carrot Top- 14: Afraid

Woooh! Another update! I didn’t expect this one to come so soon, but it did, so here yah go. Time to also meet some new people!

CW: Medical whump, restraints, blood/knives/torture mention, non con (nonsexual) touch mention, possessive/creepy whumper.

Tag list: @imagination1reality0, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @thehopelessopus

Masterlist here.

The small girl burst into the Doctor’s office, dragging a boy behind her by the hand.

“Dr. Tusik!” She called. “Tusik!” She threw out her arms, releasing the boy’s hand as the Doctor turned around from his stack of papers he was investigation. “It’s been far too long! We definitely have to do something.”

The doctor set a paper down and looked at the girl, speaking in a slow voice, with an accent long faded of his home country. “Slow down vnuchka, is this about what I think it is?”

“Andrew!” She cried. The doctor nodded. The boy standing in the doorway dropped into a seat behind them in the small office.

“This is not like him.” She continued. “I mean, sometimes he’ll hold a grudge- and, and we’ve all argued before, but usually you just, give him a day, you give him some space and he’ll be fine. Dr.- It’s been five days.”

“Slow down now child, just breathe. We’ve sure to find an explanation.” The old man pushed his glasses up his nose. He adjusted the papers on his desk and took the stethoscope off from around his neck, placing it on the messy pile of paperwork and writings.

“An explanation for why Andrew’s been mia for almost a week?” The boy asked. “I’m sorry Dr Tusik, but what kind of good explanation could there possibly be for something like that?”

The girl spoke again. “Justin’s right, where could he have gone? He lives with us for goodness sake, he hasn’t answered his phone, his mom’s is too far away and he doesn’t have a car, there’s- I don’t know where else he could be! There isn’t anywhere else he could be!”

“Ali, calm down, pozhaluysta, please.” Dr. Tusik stated gently. “It’d do good to remember you’re not the only ones with concerns for the boy.”

At the shouting and the noise, a figure had stood in the doorway behind the two. They turned around to find a young girl. Younger than Ali by a few years, but much taller and ganglier. She had beautiful curly auburn hair that tangled itself up no matter what you did, and freckles across her nose. You couldn’t mistake who she was related to- it was obvious.

Andrew’s sister.

Her eyes were red and she held a crumpled tissue in her fist. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, and then smiled.

“Hey guys.” She stepped into the small office.

“Mickie- hey.” Ali stated. She approached the younger girl and wrapped her arms around her in a hug.

They all sat down in chairs around the small office while Tusik explained.

“Mickie came in a few minutes earlier with the same concerns. She’s visited a few times now, and we’ve previously discussed some things. Possible explanations, and solutions.”

“I just can’t get it out of my head that he’s really mad at us.” Justin stated. “I mean, I feel like I kinda pushed him over the edge a little that night- it’s understandable if he’d want to ignore us.”

Mickie shook her head. “Andrew doesn’t ignore people. He’s too kind for that.” She sniffled. “We’ve literally gotten into some of the worst arguments you could imagine growing up. I mean, he shoved me in a suitcase once that ‘accidentally’ fell down the stairs, all because I’d broken his Star Wars Lego set. We didn’t talk for the rest of the day but after that we were fine.” She turned to Justin. “He doesn’t hold grudges. Andrew’s not mad at you, so don’t blame yourselves.”

Ali kept a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She changed the subject. “So have you heard from him? When was the last time you guys talked?”

She shrugged her shoulders and got quiet, wringing the bottom of her t-shirt in between her hands. “Just that night. We were texting and I could tell he was getting frustrated with you guys-”

Justin interrupted. “I knew it, I knew he was mad at me, I should have given him that ride home, I shouldn’t have-”

“Justin shut up.” Mickie stated. Justin stopped abruptly. She brought a hand to her face. “Sorry, I- he wasn’t mad at you okay? Just frustrated- trust me.” She sighed and fiddled with the crumpled tissue in her hands. “He talked to me more than anyone. Sure, he lives with you guys, but put yourselves in his shoes. You have each other to hang out with. When you’re spending all your time making him feel like the third wheel it’s understandable for him to get a little frustrated. He wasn’t mad, I promise. Just tired. He was saying how he needed to clear his head, just walk, spend a bit by himself.”

Dr. Tusik began to speak, breaking the silence that had begun to fill the room. “Mickie and I have previously discussed where he could be- potential theories and such, as well as our ideas as to how to solve the problem.”

“Oh?” Ali asked.

“Andrew and I talked almost constantly. I mean he’s not just my big brother, but he- he’s my best friend. He’s not- he’s not ignoring anyone, he couldn’t be, so- he... he-” Mickie’s voice began to break. Ali rubbed her back as she began to cry.

Tusik finished for her. “He was taken.”

Mickie regained her composure quickly, dabbing at her eyes with the torn up tissue. “There’s no other explanation. Why else would he ignore us all for so long? He probably- he probably feels just as bad about it as we do.”

“But who? Who possibly could have taken him?” As Justin asked the question, silence filled the room once more. They all knew the answer immediately after the idea had been posed. The man had been looking for them for a while now, ever since they all discovered their abilities.

No one wanted to admit that that was where he was right now.

- - -

Andrew twisted his own fingers in his hands as he sat. He twisted the bottom hem of his shirt up, wrinkling it between his fingers.

His ears popped as a yawn got trapped in his mouth. It was late at night, after dinner. He knew because he hadn’t been fed- his stomach growled ever so slightly. He had been left alone all day, and had fallen asleep only to be awoken roughly to be dragged down to another one of these rooms.

There were often times he’d be dragged down here, and spend all day in an endless misery.

Those days were the worst.

They were the days he was taken in to be tested- to be poked, prodded, examined. Rough hands grabbing at him, stabbing him with things, treating him like a lab rat incapable of cohesive thought.

One day he was forced to run on a treadmill until he passed out or threw up. They were testing his heart rate apparently.

Another day they cut into his muscles. Poking at them to “see how they worked”. Other times they just sat and stared.

So when Splice said that the doctors had a new drug they wanted to try, anything could have been possible.

He was placed in the medical chair as Splice sat on a stool next to him, waiting for the “Doctors” to come in. They were called Doctors, but for all intents and purposes, they were just people curious about how peculiari worked- hired to treat them like lab rats using whatever unconventional methods they saw fit.

When they came into the room a wave of cold chills instantly ran over Andrew’s body. There were three people- all wearing medical masks in white coats and gloves. They didn’t acknowledge Andrew as they walked in and set a massive amount of supplies down on the counters.

Splice stood up from his stool while one of the doctors spoke to him in regards as to what could be expected from this procedure. Andrew tried to pay attention, but it was difficult when the other two doctors were surrounding him where he sat.

His wrists were grabbed and strapped down to the armrests of the chair- his ankles restrained in a similar fashion. He felt the mechanical humming of the chair through his muscles as it was lowered until Anrew was laying nearly flat on his back. Then a thick strap came to wrap across his forehead as well, keeping his head in place.

He tried to remember to breathe as he began lose track of what was happening around him.

He felt something tight around his bicep, cutting off circulation, and then something cold and wet wiped across the crook of his arm. This was followed by the sharp sting of a needle before an iv was slid into his vein.

The cuts on his other arm were quickly cleaned and bandaged without a second glance.

He flinched, as cold gloved hands reached under his shirt, placing several small patches onto his chest. They connected to wires that stuck out of his shirt and tangled around him, leading to machines that surrounded the chair he was strapped to.

The third doctor quickly finished explaining things to Splice, and the man sat back on the stool, content with whatever was about to happen to the boy in front of him.

A cart was rolled over with a massive amount of different knives, tools, vials, and bottles. Andrew shivered- thankful at least for the small protection of his shirt.

The actual administration of the drug went quickly. It was slid into the iv and Splice and the doctors sat with clipboards, simply waiting.

At first Andrew didn’t feel anything.

And then all of a sudden everything was closing in on him. The world started spinning around his head- he felt cold chills up and down his spine and sweat started dripping down his face. His eyes couldn’t focus on any specific thing as shapes distorted, growing larger and smaller, spinning around and flying through the air. Any slight movement around the room seemed to fly at his head, causing him to flinch and recoil back at the foreign objects.

He thought he heard voices but they were muffled. Just sounds that echoed in his ears and throughout his brain. Undecipherable, but loud and invasive.

And then out of nowhere, his heart seemed to betray him.

Without a second warning, his heart sped up, pumping as fast as it could. He heard harsh, shrill beepings around him as it felt like his heart would explode out of his chest. His breathing got heavier and he felt a weight on his chest. Like all 350 pounds were suddenly on top of him again and he couldn’t breathe.

And then he had a singular, prominent thought. It spoke so loudly, and so clearly in his mind.

I’m going to die.

The fear of that thought struck into him and he suddenly had the image of Splice coming towards him, knife in one hand, whip in the other. Then the man was on top of him, and his hands marked ownership- gripping at the collar, grabbing at his hair and face. He saw the whip crashing down over his body, the knife tearing through his skin. His limbs began to feel warm and sticky as he felt his blood pooling over his sides, washing down him in rivers, splashing onto his face as Splice began to beat him senseless.

And Andrew screamed.

Though he was muzzled, you could still hear his terrified cries as he truly believed that his tormentor was carving him open and beating him to death at that moment.

Though at that moment- Splice was still sitting on the stool next to the Doctors, watching Andrew thrash about on the bed. He smirked as the screams tore at Andrew’s throat, coming up empty behind the muzzle surrounding his face.

“That’s genius.” The man stated. “You said it mimics fear?”

The doctor closest to Splice nodded. “The drug triggers the body’s natural responses to fear, making them actually think they’re in danger. We’re hoping with some alterations it will cause more extreme hallucinations and paranoia. Of course this is just a test run.”

“It’s brilliant.” Splice stated.

Andrew’s eyes were clenched shut tightly as tears and sweat poured down his blood-stained face. His body shook, knuckles white as he mumbled incoherently through the muzzle.

He suddenly arched back as if in recoil from pain, his chest heaving in the air, legs scrambling to try and curl into himself.

And he screamed once more.

It was harsh, and loud, and guttural, and brutal. He choked on his own spit before bursting back into a series of sobs. The whole time his body continued to shake and thrash about, eyes occasionally shooting open, only to be clenched tightly once more.

They waited maybe an hour or two to try and see the full effects of the drug from beginning to end. Andrew didn’t know how long it had been, and Splice didn’t care to know himself. The boy had periods where he would flare up with terror, the shock and phantom pains taking over his face and body. And then for long stretches of time he would lie there, quietly sobbing to himself as tears streamed from his eyes.

Sweat dripped from his forehead and chills wracked his body as his temperature spiked. His wrists and ankles were raw and red from where he’d struggled against the restraints.

His reactions were getting slower as the drug began to wear off.

They watched the boy suffer for a few more minutes before one of the doctors inserted new fluids into his iv. The fluids ran through and within a couple more minutes the drug had been completely flushed out of his system.

Andrew lay in a broken mess where he was restrained in the chair. The doctors pulled off his restraints, and Splice chuckled as the boy flinched at every hand that came near his face, and every jostled movement of his body.

After a couple more minutes, the iv was removed, the machines turned off, and Andrew was being pulled to his feet. Splice stood in front of him, hands bracing his shoulders to keep the boy from toppling over.

Andrew fell forward, his head lolling into the man’s chest. Splice rested a hand on the back of his head, gently carding through the pale locks of hair.

“I want full updates on the progress of this drug. I expect an updated version within the week.” Splice stated. He tilted the boy’s head up by the chin to look him in the eyes. They looked blurry and unfocused.

“How nice it will be to be able to hurt you without getting my hands dirty.”

He let Andrew’s head fall back to his chest.

Splice began to guide the boy towards the door when a guard burst into the room. The man look disheveled, clearly in pain, and a little confused.

“Sir!” He cried.

“What is it- what’s happened?” Splice asked.

“There’s been a break in. We have intruders in the building.”

A look of shock washed over Splice’s face, followed by a small smile. The man gripped Andrew by the shoulders and looked down at the boy. “Well, let’s go meet our guests, shall we?”

#whump #whump writing #oc #original work #original writing #carrot top #medical whump #blood #knives #torture #possessive whumper #i promise carrot boi will get some comfort eventually #emphasis on the eventually #give it like 10 more chapters idk #bonus points to whoever can tell me where Dr. Tusik is from #he's my favorite old man

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theholycovenantrpg · 3 years

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CONGRATULATIONS, JADE! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF JUDAS.

Admin Jen: There aren’t enough words to capture the sheer magnitude of your portrayal, but I would say your writing definitely gets the job and speaks for itself, Jade. You have such keen insight into Judas and the various intricacies that play into his character, and you explored it all so beautifully in your app. My favorite part was certainly the plots and the limitless possibilities they posed for Judas, but every other portion of the app only added onto it and propelled your vision further. It was so compelling to read through, and it left me so unbelievably excited to see Judas prowling and scheming on the dash! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Jade

Age | 27

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | My schedule is nothing if not predictable these days! Covid has me almost exclusively sitting at home on the couch, so barring the time that I spend with my husband, I’m usually around. I don’t always have it in me to write every day, but I think it would be reasonable to expect me on the dash multiple days per week.

Timezone | PST

Triggers | REMOVED

How did you find the rp? | Through Rosey’s grapevine!

IN CHARACTER

Character | The infamous, the great betrayer himself — Judas (ju-da-ah-ahhhhh!!)

What future plots do you have in mind for the character? | Where do you see this character developing, and what kind of actions would you have them take to get there? 3 future plot ideas would be preferable.

I | KING OF EVERYTHING

Judas’s ultimate goal, once the last wars have been waged, is to claim the Holy Land for himself. Sorry, for demonkind — but, ruled by and submitting to, himself. He formed Infernum’s government with intention, hiding the monopoly of his power amongst a consortium of others who allegedly hold sway as well, allowing Damien to be the face of the revolution while his hand guided from the shadows. For some time, it has served him well, but contentedness is a poison he cannot swallow. He looks towards the Holy Land and greed takes his reins yet again, his hollowed stomach in knots thinking about a world in which the people bow to a power he does not hold firmly between his teeth. There are a multitude of ways he might go about it, and I’d be eager to plot out the possible angles with other writers, but I do believe that Judas will, at some point, make a play to claim the Holy Land. That might be through political division — sewing lies amongst the people, breeding distrust in the Tridium and their current way of being. It might be through betrayal, tried and ever true — to sell the Tridium out to a rogue set of Heretics, an insurgent with a grudge.. whoever might be interested, really. Or, if all else fails, perhaps by declaration of war.

II | COLLECTING FROM CONQUEST

He’s no fool. He knows the value of a blank check with Dmitri’s name on it, and he’s been waiting patiently for the right time to cash it. While Judas doesn’t yet have his exact ask envisioned, he knows one thing for certain — when he calls upon the favor he’d earned by saving old Conquest, it won’t be for something as small as a discounted price on a hit. No, it’ll be saved for the moment he makes his play towards the Holy Land — war times, when he’s sure to benefit most from the protection of the healing horseman. Until then, he finds such a wicked joy in taunting Dmitri with his silence on the matter.

III | GRASPING THE STARS

I imagine Judas carries a heavy interest in just who is going to be selected as the Stars, and will be doing what he can to sway mortal perception in favor of whoever he feels will best represent the demons’ interests. Azazel plays her part, but a loyal mortal amongst the Tridium would serve Infernum well, particularly in keeping Gabriel at bay. He’ll do what he can to put the right person in the position — and if that fails, he’ll be sure to slither up alongside who is elected and make their close acquaintance.

IV | CONSPIRING WITH THE HERETICS

Should Judas decide that sewing distrust in the Tridium’s ability to maintain peace and safety is the best move, I imagine he may try to use the world’s hatred of the Heretics to his benefit. I could see him providing rogue groups of Heretics or Heretic sympathizers with information about or access to gatherings, parties, political events, what have you. Surely, a resurgence of the Heretics would cause a panic — one that may make the populus question whether their leaders are the best leaders. Who might he set them on, though? Maybe he’d give them an opportunity to assassinate an angel, or even one of his own. Maybe he’d sick them on innocents. The precise move would depend on what’s happening in-game, but this type of betrayal is surely possible!

V | PUPPETEERING THE TRIDIUM

There was a reason he’d reached his hand up to Azazel from the pits of hell, pulled her down into his kingdom and taught her all he could. He’d seen what could be forged from a thing like her — the way she could enchant, the way she inspired adoration. She made for a Moon both palatable and unthreatening — a beauty that begged to be worshipped by the masses, and a mind that cared not for the politics of it all. While she wears the crown, Judas sees the strings as his to pull. I imagine him very much attempting to use Azazel as a means of enacting his particular will amongst the Tridium. He trusts that she’ll continue to represent the interests he instructs her to, so long as the praise keeps coming — and oh, he’s aware of just how key praise is in getting anywhere with Azazel. I see Judas showering Azazel in attention and blessings, all the time, even when there isn’t something he’d like her to get done in the Holy Land. It makes it far more likely she’ll be agreeable when there is.

VI | BETRAYAL OF AZAZEL

Should all mentioned above work without a hitch, I don’t see Judas finding a reason to betray Azazel aside from sheer boredom — though, don’t discount that as a very, very real possibility. I think Judas keeps a particular watch on Azazel, most notably on where her interests lie. If he begins to notice her prioritizing the Tridium before Infernum, things change. If she’s no longer a use to him, she’s a target, and there are plenty of ways I can see Judas trying to target her. As a prominent political figure in the Holy Land, something bad happening to Azazel would cause some sort of political uprising that Judas could surely take advantage of — maybe he arranges her kidnapping, maybe her death. Maybe he just sets her up to look incompetent and make a fool of herself. It would all depend!

VII | WAR ALONGSIDE DAMIEN

From the moment he saw Damien, he’d had a plan for him — to guide the child towards his destiny and his father’s demise. He’d needed Damien as the face of his revolution against Lucifer, but more importantly, he’d needed Damien’s powers for war on earth. Through whisper and trial, Judas had crafted the Antichrist into the weapon that would destroy the Morning Star. Though peace has persisted for years, Judas sees another war ahead of them — one in which the demons stake their claim on the Holy Land, and in that war, he needs Damien’s power of devastation more than ever before. I see Judas subtly preparing Damien for another war, planting seeds of anger and fight in him, winding him up and preparing to unleash him on the world yet again. But, this time, when a new order is established, I don’t imagine Judas sees Damien as any sort of king. No, when the Holy Land is conquered, it will be with Damien as a war general, and Judas on the throne.

VIII | BETRAYAL OF DAMIEN

As time ticks on, Judas grows more and more resentful about the invisible crown Damien seems to be growing a bit too comfortable underneath. While he views Damien as an instrumental piece in his eventual takeover of the Holy Land, and one of his most cherished weapons, Judas’s patience could easily be tested if Damien begins to grow a bit too power-hungry. I could see a legitimate rift building in Infernum, in which some sort of civil war erupts between Judas and his protege for the true crown.

IX | MINDING THE CELLS

In Abaddon, he sees something almost resembling an equal. He trusts her with the keeping of the Cells, he trusts she’ll allow him the kind of access and influence over the prisoners that he needs, while never aspiring to threaten his rule and supporting all his endeavours. Ever an opportunist, I think Judas uses Abaddon to keep a close eye on who’s currently in lock-up, and how they might prove useful. I imagine him either prowling the cells alongside Abaddon, looking for abilities or gifts that he could weaponize, or unfortunate souls he can use as scapegoats in various plots, or heretic sympathizers to manipulate, conspire with, and unleash. While he’d never say it explicitly, I imagine Judas is silently keeping an eye out for some sort of being with a power he could one day weaponize against the Antichrist himself, should the need ever arise to deliver Damien his ruination.

X | BETRAYAL OF ABADDON

As Abaddon struggles with the duality of her nature, wrestling with her angelic remains, I’m curious to see how Judas responds. I imagine he might view any further exploration into her angelic nature as a threat to her loyalty, and if he fears she’s disloyal, he’s not above throwing her to the wolves — perhaps locking her in her own cells if he suspects her of holding interests elsewhere, or unlocking a few doors and setting on her a legion of prisoners hungry for vengeance. You know, just an idea.

XI | BETRAYAL OF JUDAS

The one we’ve all been waiting for — the plot in which the tables finally turn, and it’s Judas who’s blindly turned on by someone he’d made the mistake of trusting. While the details of this would be entirely up to other players and what they might have in mind, I would gladly offer him up to learn what it feels like on the pointy end of betrayal.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Should the circumstance be right, and I could still find a way to be a part of the group post-mortem as another character, I could be convinced!

Driving Character Motivation | What motivates your character’s actions? How does it define them? Where does this motivation stem from?

IN DEPTH

In a word, himself — more specifically, the advancement of the self, full utilization of every opportunity he’s given to climb ever higher. Within Judas lives an insatiable thirst for power, a desire to devour and rebuild in his name and image. No matter how many lives he holds firmly in his palm, there are always more to seize. A master strategist, with moves planned to be executed as early as tonight’s dusk and as far-away as the new era he’ll one day reign over uncontested, he sees the path of greatness he’s laid out for himself, and it propels him ever forward. His selfish, greedy, hungry soul has never rested, never waved a flag of white. He cast the Son of God out from the earth, and Lucifer himself from the pits of hell — and yet still, he craves more.. More power, more leverage, more shadowed spiderweb strings with which to puppeteer his ever-growing consortium of underlings. It’s not enough. Nothing will ever be enough.

Both his most rudimentary nature, down to his rotting marrow, and God’s wicked predestiny may share accountability in equal parts.

We’ll first address what comes from within. Something dark and nebulous has always festered in the pits of him — an emptiness that knew only how to want. That blackness, rumbling hollow and empty, is sin itself, as entwined with his being as the ligaments and cartilage that held his human bones together. Amongst the reasons his eventual rise led him to the Conclave rather than an anointment as one of Damien’s vices, his most favored is that he simply cannot be reduced to a single manifestation of sin. A gluttonous appetite that the body and blood of Christ himself could not sate. A deep-rooted greed able to mistake the glint of silver for salvation. A silent pride so resounding he bathes himself in absolution, while wicked wrath condemns the rest. Even as he followed the Son of God and recited his teachings, the devil perched himself comfortably on his shoulder, whispering of selfishness, of indulgence, of power, and Judas drank each word until their voices became one.

The thing about sin is, it is inherently unsatisfied. It is the lacking of something, of glory itself — a hunger that wants to be fed, an envy that wants to seize. Sin is desire, and thus, he, sin incarnate, is desire perpetual. It’s a curse of his unholy nature that he’ll never truly be content. What is contentment, what is happiness, but a surrender? An abandonment of progress? The enemy of greatness? The end? He cannot simply allow dust to settle, nor allow the light peeking from behind the horizon to cast itself against his back and force upon him a life no longer concealed by shadows. He won’t have it. With each iteration of the universe, he’ll pick utopia apart bone by bone until he finds a reason to loathe it, foraging for discontentment, because it is his only way forward. What a cruel trick on God’s part, that He sculpted a creature who cannot stomach the taste of sweetness. He spits it back into the dirt, dissatisfied, and instead chews on the bitter, the propulsion of his own vileness, the most indulgent, comforting flavor he’s come to know.

Now, allow us to return to Him for a moment. All predispositions for blasphemy, Judas can blame on Him. Judas Iscariot had been born a man — human, fallible, like every waking creature of the Lord. And, as it did to all other humans, sin had crept its way into his veins and claimed him. He’d done what the man he’d betrayed had taught him to do — in his momentary guilt, he’d sought absolution, repentance, for having allowed the devil to take hold. Still, he remained damned on arrival, a pawn in God’s game with a fate predestined for ruin. Had God not sculpted Judas Himself? And He dared punish Judas for personifying His own design? All of it, pre-orchestrated back when the cosmos were but babes — and thus, all of it, exhaustive and fruitless to fight. If he was to be damned, then let him be damned. That damnation wouldn’t rule him. He’d rule it. Even now that God has been vanquished, and Lucifer alongside him, Judas is ever driven by his resentment and anger towards the paradox his maker cursed him with. That anger manifests in Judas’s unquenchable thirst to build himself an empire greater than any God ever could, to build himself into an entity more powerful, more feared. It’s the only way to prove himself bigger than God’s alleged all-encompassing predestiny, greater than a handful of verses written by men who would be but footnotes underneath his gospel.

Character Traits | OPTIONAL. Please list 3 positive traits and 3 negative traits that you identify in the character you’re applying for.

+ | PATIENT (see also: steadfast)

To blaspheme one of His virtues by wielding it as a weapon is simply in Judas’s gospel. Finding an innate way to corrupt even the most holy of traits, his patience has put time itself to the test. With an eternity to burn, and God to thank for that, he’s learned to control human impulses and embrace the power of ensuring things unfold at the right time. Ever with an end vividly envisioned for the selection of foes currently at odds against him, he strikes at the time of heaviest impact. Never too early. Never too late.

+ | DIPLOMATIC (see also: persuasive)

He can convince anyone of anything. Including himself. His tongue can twist the vile and thorny, disguise it as something candied, dripping in nectar. It makes him an excellent representative, able to keep his head about him for the sake of maintaining relationships. He understands the importance of people, of connections — in the hands of one who knows how to properly wield them, they’re a far more powerful weapon than any sword or spell.

+ | STRATEGIC (see also: cunning, clever, perceptive)

He always has a plan — for everyone, for everything, at all times. One of two questions can be asked of everyone in his life — what value do you provide me, or alternatively, how might I destroy you? It’s only ever one of those two, and he’s often got a fully fleshed out strategy plotted either way. He thinks in terms of the war, not just the battle, planning moves that might not come to fruition for millennia. Once one goal has been reached, he finds another, and begins again.

+ | STRONG (see also: formidable)

Not one to be easily intimidated, he does not back down when challenged or threatened. In fact, he’s more likely to actively seek out a fight or rivalry, simply to demonstrate his fortitude.

+ | COMPOSED (see also: controlled, intentional)

If you can read the emotion on his face, it’s simply because he wants you to. He has a commanding sort of control over his composure, one that demonstrates discipline and demands respect. Not to say he can’t hurl insults and roar — but that when he does, it’s because he chooses to; because that’s what his analysis has decided will serve him best in the moment.

- | SELFISH (see also: disloyal, corrupt)

He’d drive a knife into anyone’s back if it would get him a single step further — he wouldn’t even hesitate. Ultimately, looking down another soul’s path does him no good, he’s decided. There is only him — his own glory, his own road to revolution. There are guests along the way, some he favors more than others, but he is the only thing that will persist and endure. The center of his world, that will always be his core — but he’s mastered the art of pretending otherwise. Despite the way he’ll swear his allegiance to a millennia-old friend, there isn’t a soul he wouldn’t sell. For those he has yet to, it’s simply because it’s not yet the right time, the right place, or the right price.

- | VENGEFUL (see also: ruthless, resentful, begrudging)

His anger is a quiet one, one that’s hidden in dark places, growing thorns, festering and rotting until a grudge grows so old its stench simply demands attention. He does not forget a single transgression, a curse for an immortal. His rage is cycled into revenge, and he enacts it gleefully. Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, but if you’ve wronged him, whether you know it or not, you can be assured he’ll strike — but not until it benefits him the most, and cuts you the deepest.

- | INSATIABLE (see also: power-hungry, greedy, indulgent)

He’s always been a bit of a magpie, shiny silver things calling to him — and everything celestial simply glows. He is a being made of wanting, hungry to devour lands and stomp his boot on the wreckage. No matter what he achieves, which luxuries he tastes, how much power he is truly able to seize, his curse is that none of it will ever satisfy.

- | MANIPULATIVE (see also: conniving, duplicitous)

While he may have a handful if favored pawns, everyone in his life is a pawn nonetheless. He’s prepared to scheme against and sacrifice any and everyone that stands between he and his ends, keeping his cards close to his chest, most often with true intentions known to himself and him alone. Oh, and he’s an excellent liar.

- | DESTRUCTIVE (see also: implosive)

Judas is not the kind that will ever find happiness in peace. In fact, he is not the kind that will ever accept true happiness at all. In his quest for ever more, he’s always striving for something, always needing to rip something content apart so he can sculpt something of his own in its place. I believe this translates to people, as well. He’s never known how to accept love; he actively rejects it. How could he not? Had God Himself not told him he was never destined for love? In time, his response to comfort and acceptance is always the same — to turn his back on it, to crush the heart offered to him. He did it to Christ, who welcomed him as his disciple. He did it to Lucifer, who loved him like a son. Should another make the mistake of loving him, he’ll do it again.

In-Character Para Sample | There is no minimum or maximum word count to this para sample, but we do encourage that you highlight your character’s VOICE and MANNERISMS within it.

THE GOSPEL OF JUDAS: A STUDY IN SILVER

ACT I | PIECES

It begins with a glint, a wash of light caught against the body of silver that’s piled neatly in three stacks of ten, blindingly beautiful. Then, a proposition — to surrender the one he calls teacher, Rabbi, friend.

Should they have negotiated in whispers in the dark, offering only empty promises of treasures to come, perhaps Judas Iscariot may have remained faithful to his so-called Lord’s teachings of honor and conviction. Alas, they don’t. No, he offers to betray his God under warm, bright lights, before a pile of riches that shine so bright he can’t see the blood that taints them.

“The one I kiss,” he commands the lawmen. “He’s the one.” His head nods in slow, stern affirmation. His eyes remain locked with that bewitching stack of silver. What a transfixing, all-consuming thing greed can be, making itself at home in him once again like an old friend. Bewitched fingers snake around a single piece, the silver’s ice a delightful chill as he slides it into a pocket; one now, as a deposit. The rest later, once the deed is done.

As he throws heavy garden doors open, police following in hordes and numbers, he bears a smile that shines as bright as the piece that sits with comfortable, reassuring weight in his pocket. “Greetings, Rabbi!” he bellows, and as he steps boldly forwards, he places the Son of God’s face in his hands, pulls his lips into his, and is irrevocably damned. Mouth pressed firm against that of Christ, he does not taste divinity; it turns to ash on his tongue as he seals the fate God himself had promised.

He watches, proud, as the Lord is dragged away, as Christ’s disciples turn their swords towards the soldiers in retaliation and heartbreak, all the while, his hand in his pocket, twirling that single piece of silver between his fingertips.

Some present will come to say in their recountings that this is the day Satan entered Judas Iscariot, pierced him with sharp talons and claimed him for the hellions. These men lie. To give the Morning Star credit would be blasphemous to his gospel, for the greatest devil the world will know is not perched upon a throne in the fires of hell. He is born of the organic rot found only in the pits of fallible man.

ACT II | TONGUE

In the forges of hell, riches take a new shape. The wealth he’d condemned himself for? Worthless in death, reduced to a river of shapeless molten sterling. He has no choice but to adapt. He allows that silver to coat his tongue instead, and in their union they both evolve and yet remain entirely unchanged.

Infernal wings sprout from his shoulders and the devil himself casts his favor upon him, and Judas is acutely aware of just how unique he is amongst his new brethren — dare he say, simply, better? What feat is it to have manifested from nothing, to wield powers that were gifted rather than earned? Is the true mark of a demon not in his will? His ability to rely not on divinity to bring ruination, but on merely the curve of his lips and the void in his chest?

The thought tastes poisonous each time it simmers to the surface — his dissatisfaction with Lucifer’s status quo, though it remains to be seen whether it’s hell’s regime in particular that he loathes, or the existence of any regime whose reins he does not hold. It’s not important, not as he gathers demons eternal and fledgling alike in crooked, cavernous shadows, whispering curated falsehoods to them in the dark until they claim his anger and hunger as their own.

“A kiss — that’s the signal,” he repeats to each of them, his words carbon. “Only then, is it time.”

It will not be time for quite some time, though Judas lives every day as if it might be — sowing ever deeper his seeds of doubt in their liege, parsing Lucifer’s each breath, examining his hallmark overconfidence, watching the hellish love with which he showers his kin as he demonstrates he knows nothing of the revolution that his most wicked ward brews in the dark.

He wakes that day not yet aware that the day has come — not until he hears Lucifer beckon for him from his altar. “My Lord?”Judas asks, the word silken as it slides over his lips, wrapping all disdain in luxe and warmth.

“I can sense it, Judas,” the devil smiles. “A soul on earth has proven themselves. Go to them, and drag them home with you.”

Judas pauses, and when he listens, he registers not the words Lucifer says. What he hears is: the day is now. It’s a straw as small as any that breaks Judas’s back — the most rudimentary form of disrespect, to task hell’s crown jewel with a hound’s fetch-and-retrieve mission. He cares not to see the love in Satan’s request; what is spoken in between the words of Lucifer’s decree is Judas’s value, his Lord’s pride in his work, his trust in him over all the rest. It is in loving him, that the devil gives Judas the power to destroy him.

“Yes, my Lord. I’ll set out at once.” He nods along with his empty assurance, and with a look upwards, he meets his maker’s eyes with finality, casting him a last glistening smile before laying palms on either of the devil’s cheeks. “Goodbye, my Morning Star,” he wishes, and he means it, pressing his lips to Lucifer’s and savoring the taste of sin.

He pulls away, and the devil’s eyes open to the same sight that had brought the ruin of the Christ child — Judas Iscariot’s beaming, prideful smile, an army at his back, swords drawn, but this time, led not by the Sanhedrin. It is the antichrist that carries the charge, his own menacing grin drawing nearer, as hell’s usurpers claim their new order.

The devil is dead. Long live the devil.

ACT III | CROWN

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he hums, allowing the thick iron door of the Conclave’s court to close loudly behind him. “We reconvene soon. I don’t have long.”

Lie. It is he who called the recess, and it is he who will decide when it ends. He shares none of this with Damien, who stands impatiently in the adorned hallway. “Then divulge,” the Antichrist itches.

The echoes of both their tones resonate loudly, as deep and heavy as the invisible crowns each of their heads hold high — though, one brow seems to far better suit regality. He does not wonder which of them will topple beneath the weight of theirs first; he already knows. Everything when the time is right, and until then, he walks a delicate, intentional line as he addresses his pseudo-son, simultaneously wanting to stroke the boy’s drive and shatter his independence. He must feel powerful — to a limit.

“The Conclave has requested you assemble the Vices.” Judas, even-toned and composed, presents it as an ask; it is not. It’s a directive. They both know it. “Sources suggest a siege of insurgent Heretic sympathizers are gaining on the Palace walls, possibly with intention to break their own out of the Black Cells.” He can hear the way Damien begins to laugh midway through, but he does not stop speaking.

“A handful of Heretics?” Damien sputters. “And you believe that calls for the Vices? Abaddon has kept larger threats at bay single handedly.”

Judas scoffs. “So you suggest we do nothing?” he deigns. “Wait until they claw at our gates? Leave Abaddon to face them alone?” In pause, his brows knit together, though he contemplates nothing. “Gather them, boy,” he states loudly, and this time, it is an order explicit. The moment of sharpness passes quickly, and a familiar grin toys against his jaw. Once again, suddenly, they are friends. “What use is the devastation you hold in your fingertips if not to defend what majesty you and I have built here?”

He feels resentment, bitter and cold, steaming in wafts off of the young halfling — but then, an acceptance just as cold. “I suppose it’s been some time since we’ve been out to play,” he concedes.

“I knew you’d make the right decision,” Judas smiles, placing a large, strong hand on Damien’s shoulder. “I’ll need you out the gates as quickly as possible. Do have some fun with it, won’t you?” And just as quickly as his smile had appeared, he rescinds it and turns on his heels back towards the court’s wrought iron doors.

With a slow turn of his head, he locks eyes with his pupil, and arrogance claims him. “The Conclave wishes you the best of luck,” he bolsters, proud and booming — one last signifier that, in their clash of crowns, it will always be his that blinds brightest.

Extras | OPTIONAL. If you have anything else you’d like to include (further headcanons, an inspo tag, a mock blog, etc), feel free to share it here!

I’ve compiled some inspiration posts on this blog! Additionally, here’s a small selection of headcanons:

HEADCANON: WINGS

Judas’s wings are of feather and bone — raven-black feathers, some that are tipped in brilliant silver. In some places, feathers have been charred or cut during battle, and the bone beneath is visible. He prefers it this way. Bone, sprouting from his shoulders, is human, as he once was before he ascended past those demons who manifested from nothing.

HEADCANON: SWORDPLAY

Judas’s greatest strengths lie in diplomacy, delegation, and manipulation. While he can wield a sword well in battle, it’s only because an eternity has given him time to practice. Truthfully, his skills as a swordsman are far below most of his fellows. Where he makes up for it is in waiting in the shadows for the right time to strike, rather than aimlessly wailing at a target out in the open.

HEADCANON: RESENTMENT

He made it to Hell before Salome did, and yet her wings sprouted before his? He’s never forgotten it, and never will. His anger towards not having been the first of humankind to join the hellions is projected in its entirety onto Salome, and though he has yet to enact his wrath, he remains plotting.

#accepted #accepted: judas

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88missmarauder88 · 5 years

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Sirius x Reader / Remus x Reader -- Part IV

SO SORRY for the delay. Already working on Part V, so it won’t be far behind! And if I’ve forgotten anyone in this tag list, please message me and let me know!

Tag List: @ideas-nocturnas , @evyiione , @a-hopelessly-imaginative-girl , @intense-sneezing , @ghostlyrose2 , @peasantview , @la-fille-en-aiguilles , @toasterking , @too-involved , @onthebroadway , @comebackanothertime , @hfflpffs-shit , @actually-a-tree , @ohhowthetableshaveturnedd , @justducky0423

"I'm really not in a party mood, Lily."

You slumped against the railing at the top of the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower. For someone who'd been unconscious for the better part of two days, you were exhausted. All you wanted was to crawl into your own bed and stay there. Possibly permanently. Or at least until Sirius and Remus were both graduated and married. Not that they'd ever be able to find girls good enough for them, of course, but-- Merlin's pants, were you actually jealous of fictional girls now?

"Don't frown so, my dear!" the Fat Lady chirped. "You'll develop wrinkles!"

"No offence, but that could not be lower on my list of concerns right now," you grumbled.

"Y/N, I know how you feel, I really do. On all accounts," Lily sighed, leaning over the railing beside you.

"Then please just tell them I'm ill. And cursed. And transferring to Beauxbatons."

"You know better than I do that if I said you were ill, they'd go into nursemaid mode again, and I will not have Sirius Black playing harmonica in my dorm room. Besides, it's not just them. The whole House is waiting."

You groaned. "All right, here's the plan. We go in, you shout that Marlene's about to get her kit off, and I escape while everyone's distracted."

"No. For two reasons. Firstly, because Marlene would actually take that as a cue to get her kit off, and secondly, because you have got to talk to Sirius. The longer you let it go, the worse things are going to get for the two of you and for Remus. And I know you don't want to hurt Remus, Y/N."

"Oh I do adore a triangle amoureux!" the Fat Lady gasped. "But you'll of course choose the Lupin boy... such a fine, polite lad. That Black, on the other hand--"

"Do you mind?" you snapped.

"Well!" the portrait sniffed. "Forgive me for attempting to offer my counsel as someone older, wiser, and--"

"Nosier, yes, we know." You turned back to Lily. "And no, I don't. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt Remus. But what if I'm wrong about all of it, Lily? I'll just end up making an arse of myself, and they'll both never look at me the same way again."

"And what if you're right? All the wondering and worrying will be over, and by tomorrow, you could be looking across the breakfast table at the love of your life."

You desperately did not want to allow yourself to get carried away by daydreams, but you couldn't ignore the slight flutter in your stomach at the thought. Maybe you were just misreading Remus. Maybe his odd behaviour was a side effect of his more difficult transformations. Maybe he was nervous about whether or not the boys' animagus plans would work, or that you'd find out what they'd done and be angry.

Maybe Lily was right, and in a few hours, you could finally look into those maddening grey eyes and not be terrified about what they might see in yours.

You turned to Lily with a shrug and a grudging smile you couldn't quite fight off. "Your eternal optimism is contagious."

"Hooray!" she cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Now we just have to figure out how to get you two alone in a room full of people."

"One of those people being Remus," you said, your brow furrowing again.

"Ignore the remainder of my sage advice if you wish, but you truly must stop scowling, child," the Fat Lady interjected. "One cannot hope to achieve a pleasing visage by constantly giving one's countenance over to gloom. Surely you've noticed my flawless complexion?"

"Which I reckon has nothing at all to do with the fact you're a painting."

"My but aren't you a cheeky sprite. Perhaps you're a bit more suited to the Black boy after all..."

"Oh, Sir Cadogan! The Fat Lady was just telling us how she'd love to hear the tale of your triumph over the Wyvern of Wye again!"

"Why, you little--!"

"KNICKERBOCKER GLORY!!" Lily shouted. The Fat Lady huffily swung aside, and Lily shoved you through the hole in the wall and into the Gryffindor common room.

"Honestly, Y/N, you and Sirius do give that poor woman more grief..."

"She started it!" you began, but you were quickly cut off.

"WELCOME BACK TO CONSCIOUSNESS!!"

The entirety of Gryffindor House bellowed out their greeting in unison, and you couldn't help but smile. All the turmoil within your group of closest friends had cast a shadow over the joy that usually accompanied returning to Hogwarts for a new year. But the warm, familiar faces who came rushing over to pat you on the back or pull you into a hug put you unexpectedly at ease, and you found yourself thinking you might just be in a bit of a party mood after all.

You scanned the room and found three-quarters of the Marauders introducing a large crowd to a table laden with butterbeer and firewhisky. Lily, meanwhile, had made a beeline in that direction, and she and Remus were now engaged in frantically attempting to snatch bottles and cups out of the hands of wide-eyed first and second years.

"Some seeker you are!" Gideon Prewett grinned, ruffling your hair.

"Right!" his twin, Fabian, chimed in. "How are you ever going to spot that wee little Snitch if you can't even see a bloody bludger heading straight for your noggin!"

You wrapped an arm around each of the Gryffindor chasers' necks before giving a sharp tug, knocking their heads together. They joined you in laughter, and you allowed yourself to be led off to the sofa in front of the fire, where you proceeded to drown your anxiety in blissfully uncomplicated chatter with the Prewetts, Marlene, Frank, Alice, and Emmeline. This was the Hogwarts you'd been missing, and you sank back into the soft cushions, determined to enjoy it while it lasted. No decisions, no choices; just the firelight, reflecting off the Prewetts' collar-length ginger hair till it danced like the flames themselves as they took turns doing rather spot-on impressions of Slughorn and Kettleburn. Just Marlene, endearingly loud and brash, vying not-so-subtly for one of the Prewetts' attention... or both, you couldn't rightly tell. Frank and Alice, stealing glances and touching hands when they thought no one was looking. Worst-kept secret at Hogwarts, but it was sweet the way they still assumed nobody knew. Emmeline, shy and quiet, but always beaming, enjoying the company.

After a half-hour or so, however, you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

"Could you give me a hand over here, Y/N?"

Reluctantly, you joined Lily at the base of the staircases and, with effort, fought down the urge to sprint up to your room and away from whatever was about to happen. You'd been contemplating telling her to forget the whole thing, that getting involved with any of your friends was a daft idea and you'd changed your mind. But watching Frank and Alice, you couldn't help but think... was it so bad to want something like that for yourself?

"There he is," Lily whispered, bumping her elbow into your side and nodding towards the far window. Two armchairs sat facing it, and over the back of one, you could see the top of Sirius's head. The other, you noted with a hint of nausea, was empty.

"You're not going to get a better opportunity."

"I know."

"Are you ready?"

"Nope."

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've just been hit by the Knight Bus."

"Well... none of that is good, but I don't think it's going to get better until this is over, so... break a leg, love."

"I'd much rather."

With a deep breath, you somehow prompted your cold, numb legs to carry you towards the window. Dropping onto the empty armchair, you sat stiffly on the edge of the cushion, staring into the darkness beyond the window. Your limbs felt like they'd been starched, but you did your best to assume a casual position, realising you probably looked more like someone had tossed aside a marionette instead. Your throat was parched, and you glanced longingly at the drinks table for a moment before biting down on your bottom lip and clutching the arms of the chair in an attempt to focus. You were a right mess, and you couldn't go on like this. It was now or never.

You turned towards Sirius, who was looking at you quizzically, his eyes dark in the dim light. You forced your voice to manifest, and it sounded just as croaky as you'd figured it would. Fuck.

"Hey, you."

"WELCOME BACK TO CONSCIOUSNESS!!"

James turned from the crate of butterbeer he was unloading in time to see you smiling at your assembled classmates. He immediately glanced to his right and left.

Sirius had a bottle of Blishen's in his hand; slowly, he lowered it to the table, his eyes fixed intently on you. Sighing, James turned to Remus, who had dropped the empty cups he'd been trying to fill with punch before Sirius could fill them with firewhisky. Pity he didn't know Sirius had already spiked the punch. Remus looked as if he were about to hyperventilate as he stared at you, and James rubbed his eyes wearily with the heels of his palms. It was going to be a long night.

Remus barely registered the sound of the stack of empty cups he'd been holding hitting the floor. You were smiling, and you were beautiful when you smiled. Not that you weren't beautiful when you didn't smile... you were beautiful all the time and... a bit extra beautiful when you smiled?

Well, that clinched it. He was not cut out for this.

Worse than that, he felt like he'd already ruined things between the two of you without even saying a word. You were his best friend, for Merlin's sake. If this were last year, he'd be bounding over to you right now, scooping you into a bear hug, and the two of you would spend the rest of the night laughing and swapping chocolates and taking wagers on when, where, and after how many firewhiskys James would pass out. Instead, you were chatting with the Prewett twins, and he was standing here like a numpty and sweating.

At least you looked happy to see everyone; Remus had worried you'd just want to go to bed after finally getting out of hospital. Frankly, he'd wanted to do the same after confessing his feelings to the lads. The walk back to the castle had been unusually quiet, but James had seemed adamant that if Remus intended to let you know how he felt, the sooner would be the better.

"Remus!"

Remus jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and inadvertently kicked a few empty cups across the floor. They were immediately snatched up by a delighted-looking pair of fourth years, who dunked them into the punch and began guzzling. A bit of a line had formed at the punch bowl. At least some people appreciated a nice, simple beverage. He glanced up to see Lily rushing towards him.

She pointed angrily to Remus's right, and, as per usual, Remus found James and Sirius at the end of that finger. They were cheerfully waving everyone over to the drinks table like social directors on a holiday cruise.

"The third years can have butterbeer -- to a point -- but they can not have firewhisky, and the first and second years can't have anything other than punch..."

Remus didn't in the slightest feel like spending the evening playing cup-and-bottle cop, but neither did he want to let Lily down. He glanced behind him as he plucked a firewhisky out of the hands of a second year to see you making your way towards the sofa, arms around the Prewetts, whom Remus suddenly and irrationally hated.

On second thought, he could use a distraction.

Sirius halted midway through filling a cup with firewhisky to watch as the irritated look on your face when you first entered the common room slowly melted into a smile.

You had rather a lot of smiles. This one was genuine; you looked a bit relieved and happy to see everyone, and Sirius was glad of that. He hadn't figured you'd be in a party mood, but you were good at adjusting when the situation called for it. Then there was the polite smile you reserved for professors and casual acquaintances. The slightly pained smile when you wished someone would go away but were too nice to put it out there. Two others were high on his list of favourites: the truly delighted one always lit up your eyes and reminded Sirius of the girl he'd met five years ago; the wicked grin that usually preceded a great prank idea excited him for a growing variety of reasons.

But there was one smile in particular Sirius liked to think was his and his alone. At least, he'd never seen it directed at anyone else. It was rather like the childlike one but mixed with a complete sort of ease that seemed to indicate you were precisely where you wanted to be in that moment. He'd almost started to let himself believe that, just maybe, where you wanted to be was with--

"Finished with that, mate?" James asked, studying Sirius's face as he gently took the bottle of Blishen's from his hand. Sirius blinked a few times, then grinned.

"Yep. All done with it."

He cast a glance your direction and made a quick mental note to put itching powder in the Prewetts' Quidditch gear tomorrow. Then he spread his arms wide.

"Come and get it, lads and lassies! Drinks are on the Marauders tonight!"

James popped open another butterbeer and surveyed the common room.

Remus was sitting on a desk near the portrait hole, pretending to listen to Peter, who was on another rant about his failed attempts to use Engorgio to make himself taller. Remus's heels were battering nervously off the legs of the desk as he stared at you on the couch, and he looked as if he might vomit at any given moment. Fantastic.

Sirius was sitting alone in one of the armchairs by the window. He'd forgone the cups and was drinking directly from the last bottle of firewhisky. He'd kicked off his boots, and his hair was a mess. He looked like a rock star coming off a weekend binge. Marvelous.

Meanwhile, the number of little kids passed out in various spots and positions around the room was increasing. Hilarious.

James flopped onto a nearby chair and downed the rest of his butterbeer.

"I hope you're pleased with yourself."

"I generally am, Evans."

Sadly, he didn't have the energy to tack an additional pithy remark onto that. He barely had the energy to lift his eyelids, but he made the effort just to see her glaring at him, one hand on her hip and the other clutching her wand. She was adorable when she was angry.

"Children, drunk. Rubbish, everywhere. About ten school rules, broken. And as usual, you're all present and accounted for when it's time to make the mess, but you'll be nowhere to be found when it's time to clean it up."

Evans was saying something prefect-y, but James's thoughts were louder. Mess. That's what it all was, and he couldn't deal with it by himself anymore. He hadn't had any bloody time to think between what happened in Honeydukes' cellar and now. There was too much to sort out, and he needed help.

"Potter, are you even listening to me?"

"Not in the slightest. Hey, Evans, I need a favour."

"The nerve of you! You are the most selfish, arrogant git I have ever encountered."

"Absolutely right."

"Never giving a fig for anyone else until you need something, and then we're all supposed to jump to attention because the great James Potter snapped his fingers."

"Completely inexcusable."

"You're drunk, aren't you."

"Tremendously, but look, Evans, I'm serious. Will you please at least hear me out?"

Lily looked torn for a moment, but slowly, the redness began to fade from her cheeks, and she sat down primly with a dramatic sigh.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"I know something about some people, and it's some people you know something about too, but you know your something from someone else, and you only know half of it, but I know the other half, so if we put it all together, we might be able to do something."

Lily stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "I can't even put that sentence together."

James sat up in his chair and slapped himself on the cheeks a few times. Not only was this his chance to get another perspective on his problem, it was the first time he could recall that Evans had spent more than a minute talking to him without hexing him and/or storming off. He couldn't blow this.

"Sorry, let me try again. I know that you know that Y/N fancies Sirius and Remus fancies Y/N."

Lily's eyes widened in shock.

"I... erm... well, she... wait -- how do you know I know that?"

James held up his hands, very conscious of the fact she was still holding her wand.

"Please do not hex me. I was asleep in here when the two of you came in, and when I woke up, you were already in the thick of it. I tried, but I couldn't not hear you."

"So you were spying on us!" Lily's wand hand twitched.

"No!" James said quickly. "I told you, I tried not to hear. Either way, though, she's one of my closest friends, Evans. You know I can't abide her hurting. All I want to do is help."

Lily took a deep breath and nodded. "Go on."

"I decided to see if I could suss out how Pads and Moony felt. If it wasn't like she thought, I would've let her know. But it turns out, it's almost exactly like she thought. Remus is definitely in love with her. But... I think Sirius is too."

Lily rubbed her forehead for a moment, eyes squeezed shut, before looking behind her at Remus and Sirius, then back at James.

"She didn't want to get her hopes up about Sirius. And mind you, I'm not a fan, and I don't at all see the appeal, but if it's what they both want... maybe it'd do them both some good. The problem is, she can't stand the thought of hurting Remus."

"That's not the only problem. Apparently, Pads can't either. Moony told us all how he felt earlier, and Sirius said he should go for it with Y/N."

"Perfect," Lily groaned. "Who knew Black was actually noble. So has Remus told her yet?"

"Have you seen him? It's a wonder he hasn't bloody combusted and taken Pete with him."

"Then we have to let Y/N talk to Sirius, Potter. If he decides after hearing her out that he still wants to step aside for Remus, then at least Y/N knows where she stands. I don't want anyone to get hurt either, but it's up to them now. And if Black and Y/N really are in love, they'll find their way to each other no matter what happens next."

James hated feeling like the whole thing was out of his control, but Evans was right. After a moment, he nodded, and she stood and headed towards the couch before pausing and turning back to him.

"Potter?"

"Evans?"

"It's... very nearly human of you to care so much."

James thought his grin might split his face in two as Evans walked off, calling over her shoulder, "Now clean up some of this mess, you irresponsible oaf!"

Why "Hey, you"? Of all the idiotic things you could have said... should you run? Maybe you should just run. He'd think you'd drunk yourself ill, and you could both forget the whole thing. Then again, judging from the empty cups on the floor around him and the nearly empty bottle in his hand, he had an impressive head start on you.

"Ah, the girl of the hour!" Sirius said, raising the bottle of firewhisky in your direction. You took the opportunity to snatch it from his hand and drain the remainder of its contents. Liquid courage and all that.

"Hey, that was--"

"The last of the firewhisky, yes. Sharing is caring."

Sirius gave you a lopsided smile and dropped back into his chair. He was fairly well sloshed, but maybe that was a good thing. You could find out how he felt, and chances were better than average he wouldn't even remember it tomorrow.

"Sirius, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

Well, this was off to a rousing start. Before you could think of a new angle, a pair of sixth-year girls sauntered past on their way to the drinks table, eyelashes fluttering and lips pouted in Sirius's direction. You looked over to see him watching them; he nodded, and your heart sank. What were you thinking? Every girl at this school but Lily fancied him. Not for the reasons you did, of course... not because they'd peered into all his dark corners and found his truest self hiding in them. But at the same time, would they not give their right arms to be in your position? After all, you were the one sitting next to him as he paid an unusual amount of attention to a hole in his sock. You were his friend. What would you do if you lost that? What if love in this case meant just knowing when to leave well enough alone?

Lily's voice interrupted as clearly as if she'd been whispering in your ear.

"Love is worth taking all the risks in the world for."

"I need to ask you something else. Something important."

Sirius just wanted to go to bed.

The fun of watching Polly Prefect Evans handing out glasses of spiked punch to the first and second years had faded quicker than he'd hoped, seeing as it was the only distraction he had. Now, it was just him and firewhisky, and his head already felt like a swarm of Billywigs was infesting it -- had done ever since Remus blurted out those words in the cellar.

In that instant, Sirius had felt nothing but anger and pain. At first, he'd been angry with Moony. Why did he have to fall in love with you? You were already his best friend; the two of you spent loads of time together, reading, re-reading, talking about bloody reading. Why wasn't that enough? But Sirius was angrier with himself, for getting his hopes up. He'd been telling himself for two years now that whatever changes he thought he was sensing in his feelings for you were nothing but a recipe for disaster. A good way to fuck up friendships. But every time he thought he had himself convinced, that other little voice in his head would bleed through: But what if...?

What if you felt the same way? Surely he wasn't imagining the little glimmer of something in your eyes that hadn't been there before whenever you looked at him... though, considering how quickly you usually looked away, it was hard to tell. But he definitely hadn't imagined the flush in your cheeks in the hospital wing... though, you could have just been self-conscious knowing the lads were staring.

Sirius kicked off his boots and ran his hands through his hair in agitation before taking another long pull off the bottle. This "maybe this" and "except for that" bollocks was driving him round the bend, and just when he was finally thinking he'd worked up the courage to take a chance, here came Remus. And it would be Remus, wouldn't it? Probably always had been. He was the best friend. The book reader. And Sirius was just-- no. It wasn't fair to pretend he'd ever felt beneath Remus in your eyes. You'd never been anything but kind to him. You made him feel valued and understood and accepted. The hang-up was his, but it was one he was beginning to think he'd never get around.

Sirius the devoted friend and confidant would love you till the day he died. Sirius the heir to the House of Black would never put you in the path of the insanity that entailed. Especially not if there was an alternative. Someone who'd be better for you.

Sirius's heart shot into his throat as you tumbled stiffly onto the chair beside him. What the fuck? Was he putting out some sort of misery tractor beam? He quickly took a few more swallows of whisky. You were fidgeting awkwardly all over the chair, clearly nervous, and Sirius had to fight with all the sobriety he had left not to reach over and hold you still. And then never let go.

Instead, he stared dumbly at you until, finally, you glanced over.

"Hey, you."

Shit, did you just say something? His ears were ringing so loudly he couldn't tell... quick, say something back, moron!

"Ah, the girl of the hour!"

What the hell was that?! And did he just toast you?! Merlin's saggy--

You plucked the bottle out of his hand, and all Sirius could do was mumble, "Hey, that was--"

"The last of the firewhisky, yes. Sharing is caring."

Banter. Banter was good. Sirius tried to force a convincing smile onto his face and fell backwards against the cushion; it was either that or fall forwards onto his face at this point. He had lost all control of his motor skills.

"Sirius, can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

That was not the correct use of banter. Fuck. Just don't say anything else. Nonverbal communication only. Bloody hell, was that a hole in his sock? How was he supposed to take care of anyone else if he couldn't even take care of himself? Sirius's train of thought was derailed by a couple of sixth years prancing by, but he nodded, hoping you'd take the prompt to go ahead and ask your question. He also hoped the older girls' faces would stick in those stupid expressions they were wearing. All this rapid blinking and lip puckering... you never did frivolous nonsense like that.

Sirius looked over at you in time to catch that something different in your eyes again and froze.

"I need to ask you something else. Something important."

Not that. Anything but that, Y/N. He couldn't give you the kind of uncomplicated love you deserved. He couldn't keep you safe. And Moony... he'd always been afraid, consumed by that "someone like me can never have a normal life" bullshit. For him to want to tell a girl he loved her was huge. That was the sort of love that was worthy of yours.

Sirius's heart felt like it was shattering as he looked at you. How much fucking firewhisky did it take to not feel anything at all? Don't let her say it. You can't let her say it.

"Can... can it wait till later?" he stammered, tearing his eyes away from yours. "I, erm... I've got a date."

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years

Text

Humans are Weird “Remember Me”

Here is the final part of the Space Angels mini series. Thank you all for reading, and don’t forget to give me your reactions, that’s actually the best part of writing and I appreciate it when I know what you guys think.

If he could just remember how…..

And there it was floating in some unknown part of his psyche, a place where it shouldn’t have been, but it was. He remembered.

He keyed his mike and boosted the signal. He could hear other voices now, the voices of his crew searing for him, trying their best to find him, “Listen to me.” His voice was hard and slurred as his brain struggled to remember how to speak, struggled to find his jumbled thoughts.

“Captain.”

“Captain where are you!”

“We’re coming captain, just hold on.”

Above him, the queen loomed massive and imposing, a destroying angel to what she saw as sin, a blight of lies upon her reckoning. Could he really blame her, their realities were so different, people couldn’t understand things that were different from them. They feared what they did not understand, and then they destroyed it. She was doing what she thought was best, he could feel that.

Didn’t mean he wanted to die this way though.

“I’m sorry.” He slurred into the mike, “Lieutenant, if you’re listening…. The crew is yours. Take them back to earth….. tell me family I love them.” He struggled for more words against his barely functioning consciousness, “Krill, I’m sorry, you were right, and I should have listened. Get yourselves out of here if you can….. I think their brain waves are messing with our radio equipment. Try changing the frequency, and you should be fine.” More tears billowed into his vision, and unable to wipe them away his vision was obscured.

He had been close to death before, but never like this. It was always with someone else. He hadn’t been alone, he had had all of his thoughts, his memories to hold onto, his fiends even though they weren’t there. There were a lot of things he wished he could have done. He wished that he could see his parents one last time, mostly his mother so he could apologize for causing her so much pain. He wished he could have seen her finally get alone with Sunny, to finally drop her grudge. He wish he could have seen his new adopted nephew, David’s son.

He wished he hadn’t been so scared to date, to find someone, to actually tell people what he felt about them. But now he would never have the chance.

He thought about Sunny, would she take over the Drev clan once he was gone. Was she ready to lead? Maybe she would give it over the Cannon.

“Captain, where are you.”

“Captain, just hang tight we’re coming.”

He barely heard them, “Sunny, I’m sorry, Take care of Waffles, she likes you, and she’s going to need someone.” He could feel the things mind encroaching in on him again slowly pouring in to fill all of the gasps in his head, “Sunny, I-“

He felt his consciousness slipping away. He tried to hold onto it to repeat to himself who he was and what he remembered.

“My name is Adam Allen Vir, I’m the Captain of a UNSC ship, my best friends are Sunny and Krill, I have a dog, My mother’s name is Martha I have three, no two, NO four siblings I…. My name is Adam Vir, I’m captain of a space ship, m-my best friends are aliens…. dog, my mother’s name is Martha. My name is Adam, I am…. I fly a Spaceship, I have… friends, and a mother.” His body was growing cold, his voice even more slurred, “My names is…. My-my name….. is…. I…. don’t remember.”

“Help.”

…

He gasped, “My name is Adam.”

The mind began to recede. Something struggled inside his head. A wall of thoughts and memories swirled around his insides like a vortex blocking him from the swelling, crushing power of the outside. His memories came flooding back in their jumbled state of mess, but at least he knew where they were. He could feel his body now could see.

He lifted his eyes as the massive godlike shape recoiled against something mouth opening in an unheard shriek. He struggled to figure out what was going on as the vortex rolled around inside his head. They were memories and thoughts careening in an impenetrable wall. They weren’t his thoughts, they belonged to someone else. He could feel their contents. He could feel emotions of resentment and anger, he could feel feelings of isolation, he could feel the imminent fear of death experienced as they rolled around a star, he could feel the loneliness, the delinquency.

Something slammed into him from the side sending him spinning into the darkness, away from the massive figure even as the wall protected his mind. He turned his head to the side teeth gritted against the G force.

A face stared back at him from the darkness. It was familiar, white with black eyes… It had one hand on the side of his mask and the other on his arm.

“Adam.”

He was flooded with its emotions, the desire of this creature as the queen battered at his mind, and the barrier which this creature had thrown up around him.

“I wish for secrets.” It whispered inside his head. Behind them, other creatures streamed from the darkness chasing after them as the queen floundered in her anger. One snatched at his foot, and he kicked it in the head sending it spinning back into the dark as they entered the dust cloud.

The wall of protection in his mind shriveled, then it shrank downwards. He moaned in pain. He sensed the desperation, the chase, the sheer power that pressed in on them, on all sides.

“Sleep.” The creature said, and he felt the cool tendrils of his mind leaking into his own, but instead of filling the space, crushing him, and stealing his memories, it flowed around them, suspended them, kept them still. It felt…. How he thought cold would feel inside his head. Hs shivered uncontrollably as the tendrils snaked downwards and the power pressed in from above.

“Sleep”

The voice echoed, and then, he was gone.

***

The searchlights spun and weaved across the black sky. He had to be around here, had to be around here somewhere. The light pulled right coming across a body suspended in the darkness, unmoving.

Figures rolled forward search lights bouncing into space, photons spilling into the vacuum. Sunny reached the body first as was her want. He sat suspended hands and legs splayed from its body, hands reaching forward like it had been caught in the act of falling. It wasn’t moving, it wasn’t responding. She took it in her arms, and it slumped against her lit by the bright spotlights behind.

***

The ship floated softly through space towards the Rundi home planet. They had managed to disrupt the signals holding them in place, and left for warp with all due immediacy. The cobalt nebulae had disappeared. into the distance as space folded around it.

Krill floated, dejectedly at the captain’s bedside. The man was perfectly still aside from his breathing. Padded manacles locked his hands and feet into place. A strap crossed his chest, torso, and waist. An IV feeding tube stuck from one arm taped against his pale, unmoving hand. The man’s head lolled to the side.

He had been like that for almost a weak. Thus far, no efforts to wake him up had proved fruitful. The scans indicated that there WAS functional brain activity, but the reticular activating system of his brainstem was showing abnormal functioning. The man appeared to be sleeping in all but the ability to wake up. Sometimes he shifted, sometimes he moved, and sometimes his eyes twitched behind his eyelids, but he ever managed to wake himself.

He had been like that when they recovered him from the darkness of space lying him out on the docking bay floor, and pulling off his suit. He was asleep, but he wouldn’t wake up.

An atmosphere of silence and worry had drawn a dark cloud over the ship and all those who inhabited it. The lights were dimmed, the halls were clear. Voices were held just below normal speaking voices as if afraid any disturbance in the atmosphere might change thing for the worse. Everyone on the ship was horribly aware of how long a human could be in a Coma. Days…. Months.

Years….

What was it going to be?

Krill sighed and sat at the edge. This was his fault, he should have listened to the man. Maybe if he had just compromised, than the captain would still be awake. They could have sent someone with him to help, the marines, the Drev soldiers, anyone.

Sunny stepped in just then silent against her surprising bulk and made her way over, “How is he.”

“Same as before I think he-“

“Feels like his brain got run over by a truck.” The two of them spun suddenly. Sunny nearly tipped herself over. Krill let of a high pitched squealing noise that was particularly unbecoming in the moment. The captain lay on the bed with his eyes half open blinking slowly, “Krill, I’m only going to say this once because I will only manage to say it once without screaming, but let me go before I lose it.” His breathing was slowly beginning to speed up as was his heart, “I, I need to move.”

Krill willingly complied this time, and the captain took a shaky breath lifting his hands to his face clenching and unclenching his fists as if he was worried they just wouldn’t work.

“How do you feel captain?”

“What happened?”

He rubbed his head with the flat of his palm shakily, “You were right Krill.” He took another shaky breath, “They did want to communicate, but once we did, they saw something they didn’t like. I guess since they communicate telepathically, you can’t really hide things form other people. They were so…. Repulsed by the idea of secrets and lies, that they thought it would just be better for me if they…. Killed me off.” He began to shake and tremble uncontrollably, “I…. I couldn’t see, or here, or, or remember anything, It was… black, no not black it was…. N-nothing, there was…. N-nothing.”

Before Krill knew what was going on Sunny had stepped in and was hugging the human to her chest protectively. Krill was about to step in but it seemed as if sunny had made the right move. The human took a few deep breaths and began to calm down. He patted one of Sunny’s arms, “Thanks, Sunny.” He whispered.

***

He stood, uniform on hands behind his back in front of the holo-screen. He didn’t normally look the part, but today he did. In his dark grey uniform, cap and gloves, he stood ramrod straight face serious eyepatch replaced by the fake green eye he had used at the trial not so many months ago. The call came through, and he saluted stiffly as another person appeared on the screen before him.

The admiral took a seat with a sigh.

The captain’s eyes widened in surprise once he realized this was not the face he was used to, “Ca…. Kelly…. Admiral…. Ma’am.”

His old captain looked out at him with tired eyes, the stars on her shoulder glistening in the low lighting, “Captain Vir. It’s a pleasure to see you again. I heard about the trial. I’m glad you managed to shake it.”

He lowered his hand falling into parade rest as he did, “Uh, yes ma’am….. I’m sorry, I hadn’t heard about your promotion.”

She waved a hand, “it was a last minute affair coming on the wings of your recent trial. The accusatory nature of the accusations on one of our best men led to some internal evaluations of our hierarchy. It was determined that a fresh face on command would help clear out the dust, but I digress, you wanted to call about your recent mission report.”

“Yes ma’am.” He lowered his head eyes closing in shame, “I put a lot of people in danger recently, and I. I’m beginning to question my abilities to captain my crew.”

“Really, I looked over the full report, Captain.” He waited, “A man falls wind of an unknown alien source, starts hearing voices, has a theory, acts on that theory and turns out to be wrong.” She steapled her fingers looking at the stoic face through the screen, “Captain, I don’t see that as an accident of command, I see that as an error of being human. Your job is to make contact, and that’s what you did. This time you weren’t so lucky. You pave the way for regulation in the area of alien interaction. You will learn from this, you will write the regulation on contact, and you will begin again, and you will get smarter. You are the youngest captain in the fleet, and YES it shows, but you are also one of the most experienced.” The fond expression she graced him with was not lost on him, “They got into your head, they knew what would bring you out, no one can blame you for falling for the perfect circumstances.”

Hed took a deep breath and nodded, “Yes, admiral.”

“Speaking of which, I had something to talk to you about.”

He lifted his chin and nodded, “Go on.”

The UNSC has recently commissioned 15 new captains and 15 new UNSC ships. They are looking for someone to take the position as acting fleet Commander…. Your name is at the top of that list.”

He stood speechless.

“You are our most experienced man. You know the worlds and their natives better than anyone, and you have a good rapport with them. If anyone has the ability to command a fleet, I think it’s you.”

“But, but, Ca- Admiral, I’m not ready for something like that. You said it yourself, I’m the youngest man, and kind of an idiot. To give me an entire fleet….. well, I’m flattered but, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “The fact you can acknowledge that you may not be ready, almost certainly proves to me that you are.” She paused glancing down at her desk, and the paper work he could see sitting there, “Think about it at least. The formal call may not come for months now, and I promise, your job won’t change all that much. You will still be the Captain of your ship, you will still be tasked with exploring deep space as you have been, but the others will differ to you in matters of command, they will come at your call, and they will have to check in regularly. You would be authorized to order them in their routs, and help them deal with any conflicts that may arise. In cases of war and conflict, you will be head of an entire fleet, all at your command under the UNSC or the GA…… I think you should take the offer.”

***

He sat with his elbows resting on his knees head down rolling his captain’s cap from one hand to the other.

“Adam, sweetheart, that’s great news.”

“That’s my boy! Conquering the final frontier!” His father called from his chair in the background pumping his fist into the air in one of the greatest shows of emotion the man had ever managed to muster.

He watched as his mother’s smile fell a little, “Adam, what’s wrong?”

He sighed, “I…. well, I recently… messed up, pretty bad, and I don’t think I’m ready for what they want me to do. The admiral thinks I am, but she wasn’t there.”

His dad got up from his spot and walked over sliding himself down next to his wife who sat with worried eyes, “Well, go on boy let’s hear it.

***

His father sat back in his seat contemplatively while his mother looked on in worry.

“Adam, look at me.” He did as his father told, “You are a trusting man, and yeah sometimes you’re going to get duped, and you’re going to get duped hard. That’s the nature of being trusting, but that isn’t a bad thing.” His father jabbed a finger in his direction, “You just need to make sure you have good people around you. Good people who can tell you no, and good people who aren’t so trusting. That surgeon of yours, he seems a bit over the top sometimes, but he was right this time. Listen to him, listen to your officers, and your men, they will help guide you…..”

Vir sighed, “Just wondering when I’ll finally grow up.”

His father left off a snort, “Boy, you’ve fought in war, commanded ships into the final frontier, made friends with your enemies, forgiven those that hurt you; you are more of a man than most men who claim to be. And don’t you damn well lose that trusting streak. Not many people can claim to see the good in others like you do, and sometimes the rest of us need to be reminded.”

“Yes, sir.”

“One last thing, Adam.”

“Yes sir?”

“Take the damn job.”

***

“What did the admiral say?”

“She….. well, you can’t tell anyone because it may not happen, but… she offered me the position of fleet commander.”

Those who heard burst into congratulations and back slapping. He still wasn’t so sure about this, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He kept a smile on letting them go until he was finally alone. He took a deep breath, and in the dim light of what the crew called the “Aquarium”, he walked over to the skylight, and pressed the button to let down the panel, allowing the ethereal light of space to cat down again him. He leaned his arm against the cool glass and rested his head there taking a deep sigh. At least everything was finally over.

He could rest.

“Adam.”

#humans are space orcs #humans are weird #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #Earth is space Ausralia

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miumiu-chan · 4 years

Text

Miyase Go STORY 1 Chapter 10-4

Subbed video: STORY-1 10-4

-Rulong’s Apartment-

[RULONG]: “Ohh, it’s about ready to drink.”

[RULONG]: “The fragrance is also good. Here, go ahead and have some.”

[REI]: “............”

[RULONG]: “Hm~m, Little Flower, you refused the water earlier too.”

[RULONG]: “If you stubbornly don’t take anything in, you’ll need an IV later?”

[REI]: “......Why aren’t you having some as well?”

There was only one cup. It could be poisoned.

[RULONG]: “There’s no poison in it, so don’t worry. I still don’t completely know what drugs are effective against Little Flower.”

[RULONG]: “And showing hospitality with tea is the manners of “Licorice”.”

[REI]: “Licorice......?”

[RULONG]: “It’s kanzō*.” (T/N: the Japanese word for licorice, because he says Licorice in English.)

I knew what it was. It was a plant often used in herbal medicine.

[RULONG]: “The leaves we used for the shag flavor earlier are also licorice.”

[REI]: “Shag......?”

[RULONG]: “The hand-rolled cigarette.”

That smell that was different from the aroma of the craft tea, I remembered it.

At the same time, remembering Miyase-san's coldness, I felt suffocated.

[RULONG]: “That shag is also made by my family.”

[RULONG]: “The previous generation who was also the founder was a really great merchant, you see.”

[RULONG]: “It was the first licorice-flavored shag ever invented, and that’s why it became the organization name.”

[RULONG]: “——so, since you’ve heard that much already, why not drink?”

[RULONG]: “Because from the point that you trust me and take the tea into your mouth, Little Flower will be semi-family.”

[REI]: “Semi-family......?”

[RULONG]: “Those that you can talk more about with than with other people, yeah?”

The temptation in the sweet scent was strong.

This person properly saw through my regret and inferiority.

For the DCD, my current self was nothing but a burden.

At the very least, I wanted to collect information.

[REI]: “......-, I will drink it now.”

[RULONG]: “Go ahe~ad ♪”

I didn’t really get the taste of the craft tea that was in my mouth.

I just felt the temperature on my tongue and swallowed mechanically.

[RULONG]: “Congrats. With this, Little Flower and I are no longer complete strangers.”

[RULONG]: “Do you want to ask anything?”

Rather than considering the intention of the induction, I chose the option to openly question him.

[REI]: “What do you intend to do with the flower drugs from now on?”

[RULONG]: “Ah, that? I can't answer that. Sorry.”

[RULONG]: “The only things I can tell you are personal things.”

[REI]: (Personal......)

[REI]: “......That Miyase-san is trying to crush the Kujo Family with you”

[REI]: “......Does he hold a grudge because of his mother’s suicide?”

[RULONG]: “Before answering, Little Flower has to present the information that you have.”

[REI]: “Miyase-san’s mother was confined by the Kujo Family's predecessor, and suffering from a mental illness chose to die——is what I know.”

[RULONG]: “Anything else?”

[REI]: “In the same year, the Kujo Family predecessor also died......”

[RULONG]: “That's right. Go-chan’s papa, committed suicide after Go-chan's mama.”

[REI]: “H......!”

[RULONG]: “Licorice, you know, doesn’t respect people who waste their own lives.”

[RULONG]: “Life is the biggest consumable, it’s the best product.”

[RULONG]: “That’s why, I’ll give a hint to Little Flower, who is trying hard to collect information without giving up on your attachment to living even in this situation.”

-Kujo House / Living Room-

[KUJO]: “——Go, is now a good time?”

With the news of my mother’s death, abandoning everything except breathing, I answered without looking at Soma-san.

[MIYASE]: “What is it......? Right now, I can’t talk about any decent things.”

[KUJO]: “Father died.”

What idiotic things are you saying, I ridiculed.

[MIYASE]: “The fake funeral is over already, isn’t it?”

[KUJO]: “He’s really dead.”

[MIYASE]: “........................Ha?”

An intense breathlessness hit me, as if my throat was clogged by the incense burner. I felt nauseous.

Unable to stand it, I lifted my face slowly and Soma-san was reflected in my sight.

He was also looking straight at me.

[KUJO]: “He seems to have been put together with Ryoko-san’s coffin.”

[KUJO]: “An excessive use of a drug was detected in the body.”

[KUJO]: “——It was the same illegal drug as Ryoko-san’s.”

The hairs on my whole body stood on end at once, and I tried to strongly hold down the vomit.

I couldn't vomit anything, because even the gastric juice had frozen in my empty organs.

[MIYASE]: “What are you saying……?”

[KUJO]: “Go, I——“

[MIYASE]: “Shut up.”

[KUJO]: “——“

[MIYASE]: “Soma-san......”

[MIYASE]: “...——When you said “I do not hold a grudge against you” to my mom, what did you mean?”

[KUJO]: “............”

[MIYASE]: “I am sure you said that to my mom yesterday.”

[MIYASE]: “I kept on thinking about what it meant.”

[KUJO]: “That was——“

[MIYASE]: “Were they words of sympathy towards a mistress?”

[KUJO]: “It’s not!”

[MIYASE]: “How is it not!”

I grabbed Soma-san's collar and pressed him against the wall with fury.

When I looked at his pained expression at a close distance, I calmed down a little.

[MIYASE]: “......Just now, you said “it’s not”, didn’t you.”

[KUJO]: “............”

[MIYASE]: “Please explain. So that I can understand.”

[KUJO]: “-............”

[MIYASE]: “Explain it! Nii-san*!!” (T/N: Big brother)

My grip tightened up on his collar.

Rather than pressing him, it was as if I was clinging on to him.

I hit his body against the wall. I glared one-sidedly.

Is this sibling interaction?

Because I didn’t know how to do something like depend on my brother.

[KUJO]: “......Go, I think of you as my brother.”

[MIYASE]: “——!”

Pulling away the hand that was touching, I staggered a step back, and distanced another step back.

There was no “explanation”.

This person admitted that he was insulting my mother's existence, while calling me his “brother”.

He went out of his way to say “You are not guilty”, and heavily pressed that blame onto my mother.

[MIYASE]: “You are......the same as Kujo Soichiro. With that arrogance.”

[MIYASE]: “——To the extent that it robs people of their lives.”

[KUJO]: “Nh......”

[MIYASE]: “You are———...er.”

[MIYASE]: “You are not my brother.”

-Rulong’s Apartment-

[REI]: “No way......-, is that really true?”

[RULONG]: “My family’s researcher is a perfectionist.”

[RULONG]: “Researching everything as detailed and obsessively as possible.”

[REI]: “Then......after all, Miyase-san holds a grudge against the Kujo Family because of his mother, and wants to take revenge……”

[RULONG]: “That’s what I thought. Go-chan too.”

You “thought”......?

[REI]: “Does that mean that the current perception is different?”

[RULONG]: “Little Flower should have understood it from the Hanafuda game earlier.”

[RULONG]: “In Go-chan’s case, not just the cards in his hand, even the set couldn’t properly be seen.”

[REI]: “......Even Rulong-san can’t see all of Miyase-san?”

[RULONG]: “I can't give you any more hints.”

[RULONG]: “Because I don’t trust Little Flower completely.”

[RULONG]: “Even if I said we’re family, it’s still semi.”

[REI]: “That there’s hints means that there is an answer after all.”

[RULONG]: “What do you think? I wonder if Little Flower can see through the meaning of the set that Go-chan made.”

[REI]: “If you know anything, please tell me now......!”

[RULONG]: “And what if I said I was involved in the death of Go-chan's mother?”

[REI]: “Eh......-“

[RULONG]: “But, we’re a family. A family*.” (T/N: he usually says family in English but the second one he said in Japanese, kazoku.)

[RULONG]: “And with that, the serious talk is over ♪”

[REI]: “——!”

Suddenly I was hugged tightly by the waist, and my neck was bitten sweetly.

[REI]: “H......! P-Please stop......!”

[RULONG]: “I~ don’t wanna.”

[RULONG]: “This flower tea, in my country you give it to a woman you want to sleep with.”

[RULONG]: “You feel down because of Go-chan’s coldness, right? I’ll comfort you.”

[REI]: “Wai-! Really st——“

[MIYASE]: “You promised not to touch the product.”

[REI]: (Miyase-san......!)

[RULONG]: “Ah, you’re back.”

[MIYASE]: “Rulong, let go.”

[RULONG]: “Why? Go-chan doesn't need Little Flower, right?”

[RULONG]: “A Japanese woman has a clean and good smell from her moist skin, it’s making me feel a special excitement.”

[REI]: “N-No......!”

The appearance of me being embraced by him was seen by Miyase-san.

Although I was desperately struggling, his restraint was skillful as if it wasn’t a big deal to him.

[RULONG]: “Even if you resist, I’ll still do it. It actually makes me burn more.”

[REI]: “!”

[MIYASE]: “............Do as you like.”

[REI]: (No way......!)

He left.

The closed door resonated with a dry sound.

The view of his back that disappeared was on the other side of it.

......This was the first time I saw Miyase-san's back so clearly.

We were always next to each other or talking face-to-face.

Such a person, now was——...

[RULONG]: “Hmm, will it take about 15 seconds?”

[REI]: “Eh......”

The sound that seemed to cancel my confusion was the sound of the door opening and closing fiercely——

[MIYASE]: “Rulong, if you wanted to uselessly stir me up, you’ve succeeded.”

[RULONG]: “A~ha. It hasn’t even been 10 seconds, Go-chan really is the best.”

Miyase-san, who had a smile like it was plastered on, approached me,

And firmly pulled my arm so that I got up from the reluctant Rulong-san’s knees.

[RULONG]: “You should’ve just done that from the beginning. I’ll leave you two alone.”

Saying it as if he knew it all, he went out of the room.

-Rulong’s Apartment / Corridor-

[RULONG]: “Having Little Flower reach Go-chan’s set by herself is my reserved card.”

[RULONG]: “Xiao Go, I won’t lose*.” (T/N: He says this in Chinese. Xiao is like a term of endearment that just means “small” or “young.”)

#stand my heroes #sutamai #miyase go #translations

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nochuobsessed · 6 years

Text

Bite Me || Pt 18

Bite Me Masterlist

Word Count: 4.2k

Groups: BTS, Got7, NCT, Twice, Red Velvet

Au: Supernatural

Pairing: Werewolf!Yoongi x Vampire!Reader

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Smut | Au

Warnings: Gore, Smut, Supernatural Creatures

Anger. That’s all you felt. Anger towards Yoongi, anger towards Namjoon. You knew it wasn’t just the pregnancy hormones. He had gone behind your back, spoken to your brother, and received the Celestial ring. Without you.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You said as calmly as possible, “Talking to him? It could have been a trap. You could have died.”

“Wendy organized for us to talk, he’s better now, I’d say we’re becoming friends,” Yoongi said, attempting to take your hand, and failing as you pulled them away, “Y/N-”

You shook your head, “You can’t trust him. I can’t trust. You should have told me! You, you left me here, thinking you were fine and you come back, a member of Celestial? Celestial was strong once but with Namjoon being delusional-”

Yoongi sighed, shaking his head, “He has apologized, and I accepted his apology. That doesn’t mean you have to, but you could at least try.”

You raised your eyebrows, laughing coldly at his words, “You didn’t forgive Jaebum. That was years ago, Namjoon is lying to you.”

Yoongi scoffed, rolling his eyes as he realized you really meant to hurt him, “I gave him a chance. I heard him out, I had dinner with him for fucks sake. You hear a few words about your brother who is genuinely worried sick about you, and you think he’s still crazy.”

“Fuck you,” You said, trying hard not to admit defeat, “I, I don’t want to trust him.”

“Then trust me,” Yoongi countered, sitting down in his armchair, “You know deep down it’s the truth. I will protect you, I’ve always said that. Just once, talk to him. If you don’t believe he’s changed, then I’ll make sure you never see him again. But don’t you dare say me not forgiving Jaebum is the same as you not wanting to give your brother a chance.”

You looked down, suddenly feeling guilty for being so harsh, “I’m-“

“I know you are,” He said, “I’ll let you blame it on the hormones. There’s a meeting tomorrow, come to it with me. Heck, we’ll even bring Irene with us. You’ll have support. It’s everyone vs Namjoon. He should be the one that’s afraid.”

You nodded, noticing a black tail flicking in the air followed by the rest of Dracula’s body. He jumped up on the couch, meowing softly as you sat down next to him. You refused to look at Yoongi, feeling bad, before realizing you were technically in the right.

“You still went behind my back,” You stated, pursing your lips, “I’m not the only one at fault.”

Yoongi sighed, “Fine. I can deal with that.”

You stood up, not wanting to deal with him anymore. Dracula followed you, as you brought your iv stand with you, still only halfway through the current blood bag.

“Y/N-“

You stopped, turning around slowly, “I’m sorry, Yoongi. For what I said. But I’m too tired to keep fighting. Goodnight.”

He watched as you walked away, one hand on the iv pole and one on your stomach. He felt bad, but simultaneously felt that it needed to be said. Knowing you and your stubbornness, you’d hold onto this grudge until you saw fit. He wouldn’t give in, seeing that he is equally as stubborn and petty as you.

“Fuck, how stubborn will the kids be?” He said out loud, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“More than us!” You called out from the top of the stairs, almost making Yoongi laugh before he regained his composure, scoffing instead.

He looked down at the ring, muttering to himself, “You better be worth it Namjoon.”

The next day came, and there was still tension between you and Yoongi. You had slept in the same bed, but you used the pregnancy pillow instead of cuddling with Yoongi. He was petty, and tried to take it away from you halfway through the night, but you woke up and hissed at him, falling back asleep with the pillow.

You had barely said two words to him all day. You had just finished your third blood bag, getting ready to leave to go to the meeting.

“We need to leave earlier, we have to stop somewhere.”

You adjusted your maternity top, pulling down on the material as you had noticed it had ridden up. You faced Yoongi, putting on your coat, “Where are we going?”

Yoongi put his phone in his pocket, putting on his own coat that matched yours, “To investigate. You’ll understand when we get there.”

You followed him out of the house, walking alongside each other rather than hand in hand like you were used to. The urge to take his hand and apologize for your pettiness was unbearable, but you weren’t ready to let yourself lose just yet.

The number of white roses on the wolf side of the forest had doubled, forming a path to who knows where. You could tell Yoongi was thinking about it too, a fond expression on his face.

“The forest is preparing for the new breed to enter,” Yoongi said, and you sent him a confused look, “The forest contains magic, it senses that the twins will be born soon.”

“A little over a month before we can hold them in our arms,” You said, smiling to yourself, “Min Rose, and… we still don’t have a name yet for our baby boy?”

“Little wolf, and littlest wolf,” Yoongi said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “Rose is the littlest wolf, our boy is the little wolf.”

“And you can be the big bad wolf, blowing down the houses of all the potential boyfriends Rose encounters,” You teased, not being able to contain a smile. Yoongi laughed, stopping, but then walking to you and interlacing your hands, not looking at you as you felt his warmth spreading to you. “You’re warm, don’t think I’ve forgiven you,” You mumbled, moving closer to him, his scent seeming stronger than usual.

“I don’t like fighting with you,” He muttered, before stopping, “We’re here.”

You recognized your surroundings as the siren lake stood in front of you. Joy and Seulgi swam to the surface, their aura clearly not happy.

You let go of Yoongi as you stepped onto the rocks, looking sadly at the two sirens.

“We’ve missed you,” Seulgi said, “You’re cooking a baby in there. How exciting!”

“We’re not here about the baby, we’re here about Taehyung,” Yoongi said, his voice partially harsh. He didn’t think highly of sirens, much like how he never used to think highly of vampires. But now his unborn children were both half vampire, not to mention you, his mate, is one too.

“Your werewolf… he’s interesting Y/N,” Joy teased, batting her eyelashes at him, “He’s handsome, reminds me of my killer-“

“Girls, please,” You said, looking back at Yoongi in an attempt to ask for help, “We need to know about Tae.”

Seulgi rolled her eyes, “Right. He left ages ago, didn’t say anything to us. Literally, nothing at all. He just took off.”

Joy playfully hit the elder’s arm, looking to you with a charming smile, “We have friends all over the ocean. Different siren pods have heard different things. But there was always one thing in common. They spoke of Youngjae.”

“Youngjae? Taehyungs killer?” You asked, alarm spreading through your body, “I thought he was-“

“Dead? So did Taehyung,” Seulgi said, getting out of the water and sitting on a rock, her tail partly still submerged. “There were rumors of a creature, that killed sirens and absorbed their powers. Like a vampire, but not entirely so. Taehyung thinks it’s Youngjae.”

“A vampire that drinks blood?” Yoongi asked, his voice turning concerned over serious.

“A vampire that drinks siren blood, yes. That’s how he get’s his power. He’s not alone, either,” Seulgi said, “He has help, human help we believe. We also think that Taehyung has gone away so he can kill him.”

“Why would he leave Jimin? Jimin is dying,” Yoongi explained, “He’s my brother, my pack. I can’t let him die.”

“We don’t want Jimin to die either. He was always nice to us,” Joy said, “You know how it is with Sirens. We have to kill the man or woman that killed us or we can never love again. Seulgi’s lucky, her parents are sirens. The fell in love and had her. She doesn’t have anyone to kill. Me? My killer died at the hands of someone else.”

Yoongi clenched his fist, not releasing even when you placed a hand over his, “We have to find him.”

Joy looked to Seulgi, who nodded back to her, “We’re going to leave. We’re going to find him and bring him home.”

Yoongi looked at the two, bowing his head, “Thank you. If you can’t bring him home, find us and we’ll go to him.”

The sirens nodded, Seulgi diving back into the water, “Joy was right, Y/N. He is handsome. Maybe I’ll sing to him.”

You quirked an eyebrow, clenching your jaw, “Try it and Youngjae won’t be the only one drinking fish blood.”

Seulgi held her hands up, mouthing a quick sorry, watching as you and Yoongi walked off.

“Ring the doorbell.”

“You ring the doorbell. This was your idea-“

“I’ll ring the doorbell,” Irene said, pushing past the two of you and attempting to do so. You had given her your necklace to wear, which enabled her to enter the manor gates. She rang the doorbell, and stepped back.

The door swung open, Hoseok standing there with a surprised look on his face, before remembering and smiling, “You’re here for the meeting.”

“You’re not staying?” You asked, looking him up and down, “Is that cologne?”

Hoseok shrugs his shoulders, “I have a date. With my reincarnated bloodsinger.” You opened your mouth to speak, confusion and shock evident in your face, “I’ll explain later. Namjoon is anxious to see you. Good luck.”

“Good luck yourself,” You said breathlessly, looking at Yoongi awkwardly. He shrugged, before gently pushing you inside, earning a hard glare from you.

Yeri stood waiting, her whole demeanour looking much happier and lively, “Y/N!” She hugged you, not too tightly just in case she hurt you. Your sister-in-law looked at you, her face softening as she saw the tube that was still inserted through your nose, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” You said, “You look happy.”

“I am happy, he’s doing well,” Yeri said, a blush covering her cheeks. Her long black hair had been dyed a light brown, and it suited her perfectly. She smiled at Irene, the two had become friends whilst planning the upcoming baby shower.

“Everyone’s dying their hair,” Yoongi said, “Well, shall we do this?”

Yeri smirked, “I see the ring suits you, Yoongi.”

He nodded, his focus entirely on you, “Thanks.”

Yeri led you into the dining room. Namjoon stood up as soon as he saw you. He too had dyed his hair light brown, matching with his wife. He looked better, the colour returned to his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes. Jin and Momo stood too, Jin’s jaw-dropping at how big your bump was now, and Momo closing it with a hand under his chin.

You sat down at the bottom end of the table, Yoongi’s arm secure are you as he pulled his chair next to yours. Irene sat next to Momo, exchanging a few words with the vampire. Everyone sat down again, and you began.

You and Namjoon stared at each other. You remained stoic, unmoving whilst Namjoon sighed deeply, “You’re really pregnant.”

You scoffed, a small smile that was well hidden escaping, “I thought I was just getting fat.”

Yoongi smiled and squeezed your thigh, and Namjoon tried not to laugh. He remembered what you were here for, and spoke again, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I ruined our relationship, our family and coven. I can’t apologize enough.”

You glared at him again, “You threatened the life of my bloodsinger, the father of my children, therefore threatening me and the twins. Your apologies mean nothing.”

He nodded, “I know. But I promise that I will not give up on trying to make things right. I promised to look after you, to protect you, and you promised to stay by my side. I broke my promises by becoming too possessive, by seeing you as an object desirable by my enemies. But I have gone to hell and back, and I know that I was wrong. You aren’t a little girl anymore that needs help on the monkey bars. You’re a strong woman about to raise children of your own, with a man by your side that loves you.”

A tear dropped down onto your lap, and Yoongi noticed it right away. He was ready to stand up in front of you and protect you from anything and anyone. But your hand on top of his reminded that him that you were fine, and he relaxed.

You looked to Namjoon, your face finally showing him that he had caused so much heartache, “I want to believe you, Joon, but I can’t. What if you go crazy again? I’m about to give birth, to two living breathing children. What if you hurt them?”

Namjoon nodded once, looking sadly at his wife and then at you, “We don’t know that. But I will dedicate myself to being a better brother, and a good uncle, if you let me into their lives.”

Yeri stood up, “Namjoon has an apology present he’d like to show you. Now would be a good time to show them, Joon.”

Namjoon nodded, “Could you come with me?”

Yoongi stood up, helping you to stand and wrapping his arm around your waist. You leaned into him, finding walking harder with each day as your belly grew. You looked at him, reminding him that you were still annoyed with him, but needed his help nevertheless.

He helped you up the stairs, following Namjoon and Yeri closely. Neither of you knew what the present was, but you were silently looking forward to it. Irene followed closely behind, your paranoia always getting the best of you.

Namjoon walked to the spare room next to his and Yeri’s room, “I thought that maybe after a few months of having the twins, you might want to spend time alone.”

Namjoon opened the door, letting you walk in. You stopped walking, looking to Yoongi as tears threatened to fall.

It was a nursery. Pink and Blue swirls covered the walls, with small animals painted too. Teddy bears of all shapes and sizes surrounded two cribs, each painted with gold accents. The carpet was soft under your shoes, a warm cream colour that complemented the walls.

Yoongi was mesmerized by the room in front of him. Sure, he was by your side most of the time and dealt with the pain that came with carrying two little hybrids inside of you, and the kicks and movements his children made. But the sight before him made it all too real. That you would be holding your little ones in your arms in a short amount of time.

Namjoon walked into the middle of the room, “We’re fully equipped to babysit. Nappies, bottles, blood bags infused with essential vitamins that babies need. There’s a fully stocked wardrobe and-“

Without another thought, you sped over to your brother and hugged him. He was shocked at first, mostly by the large bump that was pressing into his stomach, but also by the fact that you were hugging him.

“Thank you,” You whispered, “I want to try again. I want to forgive you.”

Namjoon finally hugged you back, sighing as stray tears fell, “That’s more than I could ever ask for.”

You separated, walking back to Yoongi as you both started looking around the room.

“The blankets, they’re so fluffy,” You held up the pink item, rubbing it on your cheek as you pouted, “These kids of ours, they really get the best.”

“Yeri and Momo did all the shopping,” Namjoon said, “Wendy did the painting, I did the designs, and Jin helped me build the cribs.”

Yoongi opened up the wardrobe, pulling out a baby suit, “A three-piece tux. For a baby?”

Yeri smirked, “It was Joon’s idea. He said that they might need it.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to think of a reason that a baby would need a tux, ultimately not coming up with anything.

Namjoon nodded, “Do you have names for them yet?”

Yoongi rubbed your belly fondly, smiling at the large bump, “Rose, for our little girl. We don’t have name yet for our son.”

“Rose,” Namjoon repeated, “That’s beautiful.”

The happy aura dropped quickly, as Irene and Yoongi became more alert.

Irene and Yoongi shared a knowing look, “Someone’s in the house.”

Irene followed the scent. It was a vampire, but certainly not a Celestial Vampire. She sped down the stairs, ripping the door open, and gasping.

The vampire in front of her was gorgeous. Her voice hitched in her throat, and she was unable to make a noise.

“Who are you?” The man asked, looking at her carefully. He seemed to understand what was happening, and it terrified him as much as it did her.

“Jackson!”

You ran forward, Irene moving out of the way as you hugged the man. He smiled happily, patting your head as you let go, “Y/N, you’ve put on weight.”

You pouted, “Don’t remind me. But why are you here? You didn’t tell us? Did you tell Joon?”

Jackson shook his head, walking inside and taking off his coat, “It’s a surprise visit, we have much to talk about.”

Jackson was the oldest Vampire you knew. He was friends with Queen Elizabeth the first, being her advisor when it came to foreign affairs. Originally from China, Jackson became the British Monarchies secret weapon, serving every Monarch from the first Elizabeth to the second.

“How is her majesty?” Namjoon asked, “It must be pretty important information if you’re coming here.”

Jackson bowed his head, “She is well, but it has nothing to do with her. I’m afraid I don’t come here on good terms.”

You all sat down again, Jackson sitting next to Jin. He and Yoongi quickly introduced each other, but Jackson already knew who he was.

“I’m kind of like the MI5, but I’m really old,” Jackson explained, “I meet weekly with Her Majesty and I accompany all Senior Members of the Royal Family to important events. The MI5 has a vampire unit, lead by me. They are the top-ranking protection squad in England.”

Yoongi was shocked by all of this. Who knew Vampires were so successful in England.

“Onto business,” Jackson said, “I have bad news, do you want to hear it?”

“Bad news?” Namjoon asked, “What’s wrong?”

Jackson turned to you and Yoongi, “Word has spread through China and Japan, and even to England and the rest of Europe, that a Vampire Werewolf hybrid will be born.”

You looked scarcely at Yoongi, “H-how?”

“We don’t know, but I have people looking into it,” Jackson said, “You’re now a target. The baby is a target. Powerful people that want more power want the hybrid for themselves.”

You realized something quickly, “Hybrid? I’m having twins. They must only know about one of them.”

Jackson looked alarmed, “You’ll need high security. Spells put around the forest, anti-locator and more. I’ll send a squad here, based in Seoul. They’ll look out for you.”

“W-what, why?” You asked, alarmed and starting to panic, “Is someone after them?”

Jackson looked to Namjoon, and then to Yoongi, “To put it simply, yes. But I won’t say anything more, I don’t want to worry you. You are safe, nothing can happen to you.”

Yoongi stood up, moving behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders, “Let’s calm you down, yeah?”

You nodded, letting Yoongi help you up, thanking everyone as you went upstairs again.

You showed Yoongi your room, seeing that it had been cleaned and the bed made, much like a hotel. He sat on your bed, looking around and smiling at all the photos on the wall.

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking at you lying down on the bed. You were uncomfortable, your back and legs sore. Yoongi sensed it, but the way you were rubbing your legs together made him sense something else.

“I’m sore,” You said, “My mental state is all over the place. I’m mad at you, and at Namjoon, but I want everything to be right again.”

“You know I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for the best,” Yoongi said, getting an idea in his head, “Let me make it up to you.”

You lifted your head, looking at him in confusion before watching him approach you. He lifted up your shirt, pressing a kiss to your stomach, making eye contact with you as his fingers moved to the hem of your leggings, silently asking for permission to pull them down.

“Yoongi,” You said sternly, looking at him with a torn expression, “I’m too tired.”

“Let me make you feel good sweetheart, you deserve it,” Yoongi mused, rubbing soft circles on your hips before pulling down your leggings. You had stopped wearing lace underwear, opting for silk panties that felt nicer instead. He threw your leggings on the floor and moved his middle finger up and down your clothed clit. You drew in a sharp breath through your teeth, your eyes slowly fluttering closed. He kept focusing his movements on your bundle of nerves, licking his lips when your arousal slowly started to seep through the silk. He licked over your panties, humming in content as he got a small taste of your sweetness.

“Yoongi,” You breathed out, containing any whimpers or moans as to not give him the satisfaction of breaking you. Yoongi understood your desperate tone, slowly pulling your panties down with his teeth, a skill he used whenever he was given the opportunity.

He paused for a moment, letting your sweet scent envelop him as he let out a guttural moan, as if he was the one being pleasured at that moment. He then licked up a long stripe in your entrance, trying to taste as much of you as he could. Your breathing began to deepen, and he focused his tongue on your clit, using his fingers to spread your folds. He grazed his teeth over the bundle of nerves, making you shriek and forget your dignity as you let the moans flow out. His tongue was flat on your clit, moving his head up and down, the friction bringing you more pleasure as you whimpered. Your hand found his raven locks, lightly pulling on them, making Yoongi moan, sending vibrations through your body. Your eyes turned black, unable to keep control of yourself as you gave into your mate.

“Y-Yoongi,” You panted, feeling your high coming quickly. He pulled away, smirking at you, his mouth glistening with your juices.

“You wanna come, sweetheart?” He asked, sensually leaning down and teasing you with a long stripe up your ore, sucking on your clit and letting go with a pop. “Say the words sweetheart, and I’ll make you come harder than you ever have before.”

You shook your head, biting your lip, trying to grind your core onto Yoongi’s face. When he didn’t do anything, you whimpered and gave in, “Please. Yoongi. Make me cum. I need it.”

Yoongi quirked his eyebrows at you, pressing his tongue flat on your clit and closing his mouth over it, moving his tongue rapidly, humming at your reaction and sending vibrations of pleasure through your body.

“Yoongi, I’m gonna-“

He moved faster, expertly focusing his movements to where you needed it most. You pushed your hips into his face more, unable to control yourself anymore as he brought you to your high, a band snapping and pleasure taking over. You called out his name like a chant, his assault on your core never stopping even as you erratically moved your hips, trying to get the most out of your orgasm.

Yoongi sat up, his face covered in your arousal. He wiped his mouth with his hand, licking one of his fingers, “You taste better every time, sweetheart.”

You stood up, your legs wobbly as you pulled your leggings back up, “Don’t think this makes everything better. Luckily, the baby shower’s a week away, so we have until then to get over this.”

“A week away?”

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue, “Seriously? Yes.”

“Well fuck.”

235 notes · View notes

izanyas · 7 years

Text

Owe No Debt (Part IV - End)

Here’s the last chapter of the Soukoku fix-it fic! Tired, wobbly thanks to my wonderful beta and friend @scarlet-blossoms.

Rating: M + Explicit version Words: 8,700 Warnings: non-explicit discussion of pedophilia (regarding Mori’s character—no child gets hurt).

[Read from Part I]

Owe No Debt Part IV

Sunlight woke Chuuya. It shone through his eyelids until slumber wore off and made wet tears cling to his eyelashes when he blinked. He dragged his hand from under his pillow to rub them off and yawn. Then he pushed a foot back toward the other side of the bed, looking for the warm, rough skin of Dazai's legs.

He didn't find it.

Ice slithered down his throat. Chuuya stared resolutely through the window instead of looking back, no matter that daylight burned in his eyes. His body lacked the specific imprint of heat that came from being held, even though he remembered Dazai's arm around him, Dazai's hand over his moving chest. Holding him as if to make sure he breathing didn't stop while he slept.

Dazai must have left a while ago. Gone as quick as morning mist. Chuuya buried his face into the soft of the pillow, feeling cold like he hadn't in four years, the skin of his stomach seared from the lies that Dazai had kissed into it and which he had stupidly believed to be the truth.

He felt too old to cry from a broken heart, too old to cry at all, so he didn't. He just ached.

He should've known better than to let Dazai access more of him. He had been wiser as a teenager than he was as an adult, keeping Dazai at bay as he had, and now he had nothing to blame for how shattered he felt. He had bared everything for a single moment of weakness—for the sight of Dazai's eyes looking at his lips with longing and childish want—and it was his own fault that he now lay broken-ribbed and flayed, alone in a hotel room, twisted in sheets that still smelled of their coupling.

Chuuya took in a shaking breath. He ignored the ringing of blood in his ears as he sat up, facing the window rather than the room as if he could delay the truth of how empty the bed was that way—and he almost jumped out of his skin when someone grabbed his shoulder.

That he didn't lash out to kill was nothing short of a miracle. Maybe it was the sorrow pooling inside him, maybe it was the soreness in his thighs and hips from having Dazai inside of his body and soul, but Chuuya sat still as a statue. The hand on his shoulder squeezed, traveled down his arm, linked their fingers together. Chuuya felt its owner sit down onto the bed behind him.

"Sorry," Dazai said softly. His hair was wet against Chuuya's shoulder when he leaned his head down to breathe into the side of his neck. "Had to go check up on Q."

Chuuya thought over the words until they made sense, skin prickling with goosebumps from the AC and sunlight; and then hot blood rushed to his head, dizzying.

He tugged his hand out of Dazai's hold with a huff and let himself fall onto the bed again, back still turned to him. It didn't deter Dazai from touching him—his hand came to rest on the side of Chuuya's neck. "Were you watching me sleep?" Chuuya mumbled. "Creep."

"Can you blame me? You look fetching when you're not throwing insults."

Chuuya knew it was a bad idea, but he let Dazai pull him sideways until he lay flat on his back, and the first sight he got of Dazai was that of his eyes widening from whatever it was he read on Chuuya's own face.

Dazai chuckled hollowly. "I really did a number on you, didn't I," he murmured.

They both knew he wasn't talking about love bites or a sore backside, and Chuuya didn't bother with denial or agreement.

Dazai was sitting sideways on the mattress, his feet still touching the floor. He had to strain forward a little when he cupped a hand around Chuuya's cheek, palm stroking his jaw and fingers hooking a few strands of hair behind Chuuya's ear. His nails scratched lightly against his scalp in the process.

"You look really good," Dazai offered. His smile was lighter now, teasing into a smirk at the corners.

Chuuya snorted. "Do you get off to my abandonment issues?"

Dazai's smile widened. He leaned down, legs hoisted onto the bed too now, hand leaving Chuuya's face to rest beside it onto the sheets. "I get off to you naked in my bed, all moody because you just woke up, sun shining all over you…" he trailed off, nose pressed into Chuuya's hair above his temple.

"Not your bed," Chuuya replied, closing his eyes.

"It's the one I slept in."

Chuuya put a hand between them when he felt Dazai's mouth brush down his face, palm over his lips and nails digging lightly into his cheek. "I'm not kissing you until I've had breakfast or brushed my teeth," he declared.

Dazai licked his palm, making Chuuya scrunch his nose in disgust. "That can be arranged," he replied.

He didn't get off the bed, though. His back shifted with a crack that made Chuuya smirk and Dazai sigh, and he kneeled on it, both hands splayed by Chuuya's shoulders as he pressed his mouth into Chuuya's neck. Chuuya was cool from the AC and the lack of him, and Dazai's mouth was warm, scorching shivers with every press of his lips, tongue flicking out to lick the marks he had no doubt left the night previous.

He could get used to this, he thought. Chuuya put a hand at Dazai's nape, parted his fingers through soft, shower-wet hair. Dazai breathed heat back into his body, and Chuuya thought he could get used to this, could envision waking up every morning of his life with the weight of Dazai over him. With the shape of him on his heart.

"Dazai," he said lowly.

Dazai hummed. He kissed the hollow of his throat and then under his chin, forcing Chuuya to strain his head back and look at the off-white ceiling of the hotel room as he gathered the resolve to say what needed to be said.

Chuuya tightened his grip on Dazai's hair. "Dazai," he repeated. "We can't do this."

One time could be put behind.

One time away from Yokohama, in the mediocre hotel they had booked during a time of truce, could be forgiven and forgot. Cradled in the space between Chuuya's ribs like every other secret he had held. Put to rest alongside the memory of his mother or of Odasaku. Dazai could go on with his trek toward righteousness and know that he'd settled another loose end on his way.

Chuuya could deal with being left behind after one time like he had dealt with everything else before. It was easier too, now, with the certainty that Dazai had respected him enough not to run away in the dark of the night. He trusted in his own ability not to falter.

He would owe no debt and hold no grudge.

"There you go again," Dazai said softly.

His head rose above Chuuya's. Chuuya met his eyes evenly in spite of the heat rumbling through him; Dazai's were warm in the chilly morning light, softer even than they had been when he whispered hopeless affection into the skin of Chuuya's belly.

"We don't have to think about this now," he continued. His hand came back to Chuuya's face, dry, cool skin against the flush of his cheek. "We can just enjoy it."

"You're pretty stupid for a so-called genius," Chuuya replied dryly.

"I'm smart enough to know that you're not being rational."

Chuuya batted Dazai's hand away from his face with a sneer. "What about 'we're enemies and probably shouldn't have sex' sounds irrational to you, Dazai?"

"The part where you're terrified of letting yourself have what you want."

Chuuya fell silent and still under him, voice caught in his mouth the way the blanket caught around his hips. Pressed thin by Dazai's weight over him. Dazai leaned a little further down, until they were inches apart.

"Tell me truthfully," he said, "whether you're scared of standing on opposite sides of a battlefield, or scared of letting me in more than before. Tell me you're not afraid that I'll leave you behind after you've given me everything." He touched Chuuya's neck with the pads of his fingers, light as a shiver. "Tell me you're just being level-headed and practical, Chuuya, and I won't waste my time trying to convince you otherwise."

He never blinked, as if he didn't feel the need to—as if Chuuya wasn't having to flutter his eyelids open and shut again and again to escape him. Chuuya clenched his teeth and said, "And I'm being irrational for being afraid of you leaving?"

"You're not," Dazai replied immediately. "It's perfectly understandable. I've left you many times." His thumb stroked Chuuya's chin. "I'll probably do it again."

Chuuya felt the sting of his words deep inside his chest, the overwhelming shame of having believed, the need to say Please despite knowing that he would be ignored.

He wanted to close his eyes. Wanted to let the scared child in him reign over him just for a moment, just for a second, long enough to insult Dazai with the words burning at his lips. But all he did was stare into Dazai's eyes above him and try and translate without words just how hollow he felt.

Dazai's hand was cradling, kind against his neck. The gentlest noose. "This is something we have in common," he told Chuuya with a smile. "We know there's nothing in this world worth wanting as much as we do, but we still do."

Chuuya did close his eyes, then, teeth ground together to the point of pain. "I wish I'd never met you," he let out.

"Liar." Dazai framed his face between his hands, thumbs pressed into the corners of Chuuya's eyes as if to wipe inexistent wetness away.

And, truly, why bother deny it? Trying to erase Dazai from his memories would leave Chuuya less loved and less whole.

He relented to the kisses Dazai pressed onto his eyelids and his lips, a closed-mouth breeze that rekindled the lost heat of before, and opened his eyes again when Dazai let his weight fall onto him the way he had with his cock in him hours ago.

"We gave up on normal a long time ago," Dazai said against his chin, then against his throat. "Right now we aren't even at war. It's just you and me, Chuuya."

"Are you saying we'll figure it out?" Chuuya knew his voice was mocking.

"I'm saying you're naked under me, and you've had me naked under you, and I've wanted that too much to let it go now that I have it." Dazai looked up again. "Don't you think?"

Chuuya stared back at him for a long second. "I think," he said, "that you owe me a damn apology, for talking so fucking much when I'm still half-asleep."

The glee that brightened Dazai's eyes shot through him like an arrow, the tip of which buried itself at the lowest of his belly, too fast and too warm.

"Now," Dazai purred. "I wonder how I could make it up to you."

Chuuya grabbed him by the hair instead of answering, tugged him downward in a silent command. Dazai obeyed it sweetly.

Chuuya ended up being the one to press Dazai close first over breakfast. He licked the taste of coffee from Dazai's smart mouth, pressed him down into the bed, and tied his own hair back so nothing would interrupt the unhurried pace of their kissing. It was what he hadn't let himself have the night before through the headiness of having Dazai at all; and Chuuya wasn't so self-assured as to speak devotion, wasn't so foolish as to let himself be this hopeful, but he kissed Dazai, over and over, like he thought someone loved would. Every unspoken word gliding over Dazai's tongue in a way one as smart as Dazai ought to understand.

Dazai didn't let him reciprocate the morning's pleasures. He lay on the sheets with his hair in disarray and his eyes closed and his mouth open, hands holding Chuuya's hips without ever moving. Just to feel him.

"This is the worst mistake I've ever made," Chuuya told him in a whisper.

"Probably," Dazai agreed. He grabbed Chuuya's ass, smirking when Chuuya slapped his hand off. "But you're still making it."

"Yeah. Fucker."

Dazai kissed him, sucked his lip between his own, no sharp retort coming out.

Chuuya couldn't have told whether afternoon came fast or slow. Every new hour on the broken digital clock of his room felt like he could breathe less anyway.

Eventually, Dazai's phone rang.

Dazai answered the call with his eyes caught in Chuuya's and his hand still holding him. Chuuya didn't take in any of the words he said, just held still above him, still naked from the waist up. Dazai dropped the phone next to them after hanging up and stared at him silently for a long moment.

"Kunikida's on his way," he declared uselessly.

Chuuya nodded. He watched the lines of Dazai's face below him to commit them to memory, steeled his spine for the prospect of untangling his legs from Dazai and standing again, skin bare of his touch once more and maybe forever.

Dazai tripped him when he did try to move away, making him fall on top of him entirely and bite his own tongue in the process.

"Ow," he let out, tasting blood.

"Oops," Dazai replied.

Chuuya elbowed him in the stomach as he rose again, seething. "You asshole," he growled, "why the fuck do I even bother? Piece of shit."

"I liked it better when you were complimenting my mouth." Dazai was smiling without a care in the world as he said it.

"Well I'm never fucking doing that again."

Dazai pushed himself into a sitting position with his hands. Infuriatingly, Chuuya was barely taller than him despite kneeling above him.

"Let's not think this over too much, yeah?" he asked.

There was no malice in his eyes no matter how much Chuuya looked for it. Dazai would never look carefree, never look innocent, but now, he didn't look like he was hurting. He didn't look like a dying man.

The bottomless despair was being kept at bay.

Chuuya hooked his fingers into Dazai's collar to bring him close once more. He avoided the easy, natural way Dazai offered his mouth to him to press his lips onto his cheek instead.

"Yeah," he said as he pulled away.

Dazai's hand squeezed his hip warmly. When Chuuya got off the bed, it let go gradually, finger by finger.

Kunikida joined them directly in Dazai's hotel room. Q still looked confused and scared, his wary eyes following Chuuya around the room as if he couldn't believe that he was truly being let go. Chuuya didn't speak to him and tried not to let the fact that he was such an obvious source of childish terror get to him.

Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid Kunikida Doppo quite as well.

"You're letting him go," the man said, reeking of suspicion.

"Chuuya and I reached an agreement," Dazai interjected smoothly. "We just need to make it look like we took Q by force."

Kunikida absorbed the information with the look of someone who had just bitten into a lemon. "You're betraying the port mafia?"

"Not on your life," Chuuya replied with a snort. "The little brat's more trouble than he's worth. I'll happily let the lot of you get murdered at his hand instead of us."

"I won't murder them," Q whimpered.

"Murder is bad," Dazai nodded. "And can I just say that it's really, really weird to see the two of you together and talking?"

Chuuya and Kunikida both threw him a tired look.

Chuuya had packed his things already. Not that much needed packing in the first place. He was still wearing the clothes Dazai had bought, this time a red shirt that Chuuya suspected Dazai had picked for less-than-wholesome reasons, judging by the glances he kept giving it.

"I've got shit to settle with Sakaguchi," Chuuya declared. "Since I wasn't really supposed to hurt him and all that. So I'm gonna stay here for a little longer."

"Relieving news."

"Don't push you damn luck, Dazai."

Kunikida pushed his glasses up on his nose, still looking at Chuuya as though he expected him to explode on them. He had no idea how true his assumption would've been in other circumstances. "All right," he decided. "Dazai, you better write an extensive report about this."

Chuuya could just see the way Dazai's mouth shook, threatening to fall into a grin much too telling. He glared at him until he was sure Dazai could feel the burn of his eyes against the side of his face. "Work him into the ground, Kunikida," he said slowly.

There was a pause. "Right," Kunikida replied, sounding surprised. "I'll go pay for the room downstairs then. You," he pointed to Dazai, "stay put."

No one really took notice of the noise the door made as it closed behind him.

Q sat in his corner, still without his doll, still looking too glaringly like a child instead of a war machine. Dazai met Chuuya's eyes with the sketch of a smile on his lips.

"I guess we won't see each other for a while, then," he said softly.

"Guess we won't."

It was a good thing they had already said goodbye in all the physical ways, Chuuya thought. He didn't think he could've restrained himself from crossing the room and embracing him again otherwise, Q be damned.

Dazai must have seen it on his face, because his expression grew fond, the way it had when they had met for the very first time. "No regrets?" he asked.

Chuuya smiled sharply. "No regrets," he replied.

Regrets had never been of any use to him.

"So, Kunikida," Chuuya said a few minutes later, tugging his gloves in place. Dazai was ushering Q out of the room. "Akutagawa tells me you're good at hand-to-hand."

Kunikida eyed him warily. "I am."

The leather felt good against Chuuya's fingers. The air conditioning had stopped running but the room was still cool from it, and as he took a fighting stance in front of the other, he noticed that the bruises on his arms had completely faded at last.

Kunikida mirrored him with an alarmed look. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

Chuuya's grin stretched wide across his face. "We've still got to make this look like a kidnapping, don't we?" he purred. "Show me what that agency of yours is worth, detective."

Chuuya came home satisfactorily bruised. His legs and shoulders ached during the whole train ride in that sweet soreness that only ever came from sparring with competent partners. Not even his brief conversation with Sakaguchi Ango had managed to shake the high out of him.

Sakaguchi had been complacent, all things considered. They both agreed that informing the special ability department's chief that Chuuya had used violence on him would be fruitless. Chuuya personally thought that Sakaguchi was happier with the knowledge that Dazai was doing well than he would be with dragging the port mafia through the mud.

Tachihara fetched him from the station, wearing a wide grin and an awful band T-shirt. "'Bout time," he said, opening the door to his car so Chuuya could slide in unbothered. "Everything's so dull at headquarters without you yelling around."

"Watch your cheek, Tachihara," Chuuya replied without heat.

Tachihara's expression didn't fall out of smug satisfaction. "Whatever you say, Chuuya-san."

He laughed when Chuuya gave him the finger.

This was as close as he would ever get to being told Welcome home. Chuuya wasn't too bothered by it. He spent the car trip thinking quietly over what he would tell Mori, about whether Mori already knew of Q's now definitive membership within the agency—likely—and whether he knew of what had transpired between Chuuya and Dazai. He wasn't sure Mori would care even if he did.

Yokohama looked its best at sunset, especially from the coast road, which Tachihara drove through without needing to be asked. This way was longer but more pleasant; city lights blurred over the dark water in shades of orange and gold, streaked with neon blue and green like an impressionist's painting. Chuuya drank his fill of the sight, soothed by the rumble of Tachihara's rundown car and the sputtering of its old radio.

He felt warm through the chest when they parked under the black skyscraper that had been his most consistent living space for eleven years. Chuuya pushed himself out of the passenger's seat and stretched his arms above his head until he felt his nape crack. Tension seeped out of him instantly.

"Chuuya-san," Tachihara called behind him. He was holding a sealed envelope in his hands when Chuuya looked back at him. "This is for you."

"What is it?" Chuuya couldn't feel the texture of it through his gloves, but the glossy red paper gave him a hint already.

"It's from Kouyou-sama. An invitation for tea, I think."

Chuuya stared at the envelope in silence long enough that Tachihara frowned in concern. He shook himself out of it before the boy could ask questions, slipped the paper into the deep pocket of his coat and gave the other a brief smile. "Thanks. Now stop slacking and get to work."

"I take time on my day off to go get you 'cos Higuchi was too busy, and this is how you thank me…" Tachihara muttered, but he was smiling.

There were only two kinds of people that Ozaki Kouyou invited for tea. People she cared about and people she planned to kill. Chuuya's thoughts were onto the red envelope as he gave Mori his report, staring unseeingly at the unsettling purple of the man's eyes and trying not to hear the coos of delight that Elise gave off behind him. The girl ignored him, mostly, and Mori made no comment on Dazai whatsoever. The disappointment he expressed wasn't directed at Chuuya so much as a fleeting future, as if he were already thinking very far ahead of the present situation. As if playing a checker game that only he was privy to.

It was ten in the evening by the time Chuuya was set free.

Kouyou's invitation only said tonight, with no other precision. He took the lack of a time limit as an invitation to delay, and walked the way between headquarters and her house. He'd sent Higuchi off with his luggage when she caught him carrying it around and knew he could trust her not to mess with his place. So Chuuya took his time, walked the streets of Yokohama from harbor to center town and beyond, breathing in the sea air and watching the night sky bleed from light blue to deep black. It was a cloudless, moonless night. The stars too shy to pierce too hard through the city's glow.

The woman who guarded the entrance of Kouyou's lavish house nodded at him as he walked through the gates. She breathed a few words into the mic hanging by her mouth, and the front door opened before Chuuya even needed to knock.

He took off his shoes before making his way out of the long hall, socks almost noiseless against the soft of the mats; Kouyou herself slid open the door to the tearoom.

"Welcome," she said lowly. Her lips curled gently at the corners as she took in the obvious sheath of his knife. "You came armed?"

"Am I stupid?" Chuuya replied dryly. "I left the gun behind, if you're wondering."

"You could've left the knife too, but I know how much you care about it." Kouyou kneeled sideways to let him enter, and Chuuya made a beeline for the low table where the cups were already set. His body was still thoroughly relaxed from fighting, so his knees didn't crack as he fell cross-legged on the floor.

He really needed to meet with this Kunikida more.

At least it didn't seem like he was on the kill list for the night. Chuuya said nothing as Kouyou served the tea and didn't touch his own cup until she drank from hers.

"There's no need to be so tense," she said quietly, putting down the cup. "I was hoping we could talk."

Chuuya pressed his fingers against the hot clay. The tea tasted good, as always, no bitter hint hidden in it. He knew Kouyou had ways of poisoning that left no taste on the tongue; however, he hoped she would be kind enough not to get rid of him in such an underhanded way.

The cup clinked brightly against the table. His fingers ached from the heat when he pulled them away. "All right," he replied. "Let's talk."

She gave him a brief smile. "How went the trip? I'm sure you already gave our Boss his due report, but I feel curious as well."

"Fine," Chuuya let out. "We got Q from Sakaguchi, Dazai got Q from me. All within the range of expectations."

"I know better than to try and anticipate anything Dazai does," Kouyou said mildly. Her fingers toyed with the rim of her cup in a surprising show of impropriety, and there was a smile on her lips, fleeting and kind. "He seems hellbent on getting our young away from us lately."

"Maybe we should stop hiring children."

"Maybe we should," she agreed, and Chuuya felt his eyebrows raise in surprise despite himself. "Oh, don't look at me like this, Chuuya-kun," she chided. "Even I can recognize when change is needed."

He made a face. "I didn't mean to imply anything, ane-san."

"I know you didn't. And I know this is hard for the both of us to envision, but we really might need to stay clear of hiring them too young." Her nose scrunched delicately as she spoke her next words: "Especially with a man like Mori Ougai at our head."

Chuuya didn't—couldn't—reply. His relaxed stance turned to a tense one, thighs aching and back taught and jaw clenching reflexively. He almost cleared his throat, chose not to instead, and disbelief lay heavy on his voice as he spoke back. "Those are—very strong words, Kouyou-sama."

"Perhaps," she murmured. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she bent down to pick up her tea, to raise it to her mouth. The paint on her lips shone wet when she finished drinking, and her eyes met Chuuya's levelly, powerfully. "But I grow rather tired of watching the man's every move and hoping he never crosses the line. I would rather there be no need for a line at all."

Chuuya's mouth was open as he absorbed what she was saying and implying.

He had no sympathy for Mori Ougai. He never had. The man had done nothing but make him uncomfortable when he was still a doctor, nothing but make him fear when he became a boss, with his creeping words and creeping glances. Chuuya's dislike had grown after meeting Dazai, because Dazai hated Mori with every fiber of his fourteen-year-old being for reasons Chuuya never wished to discover. He had just taken up the Hating Mori cause because it felt right, and he had never let go of it as an adult, regardless of his obedience.

He was an adult, though. And he had long since figured out why Mori had driven fear into his heart when he was still too young to understand.

"I didn't know you cared so much," he said lowly. He found that he couldn't meet the anger and care in her eyes anymore and stared at the table instead.

"Of course I care," she replied. "I was not soft with you, lad, and I am not soft with the children I employ now. But I would have Mori's head on a platter before he could lay a finger on any of you, and that includes Dazai as well."

Something in Chuuya loosened at that, some year-old tension and fear he had never let himself voice, even in the privacy of his own mind. Kouyou noticed it, and her eyes were kind as she said, "He would be dead now if he had done anything to him. You can trust me on this."

He nodded wordlessly.

Drinking more tea gave him an excuse for the burn in his eyes. "Why did you want to see me?" he asked, placing the cup down. He didn't want to think too hard on what she might be intending to do before he got some sleep, and hoped she agreed to the change in topic.

Kouyou relaxed, knees spreading slightly as she did. "We have been at odds with each other since Kyouka left," she replied. "I wanted to see if we could straighten things out."

"I apologize for this. Things have been stressful."

"And I as well. You are so private, Chuuya-kun, it was rude of me to disrespect that." Her mouth softened into a new smile, a nostalgic, heartfelt one. "Will you forgive me if I tell you that you were always my favorite?"

Chuuya felt his face warm. "I can handle that much," he mumbled, and she laughed.

"You were so unlike the others. My girls used to tell me about everything you did even when I did not ask. Absurdly fond of you, the lot of them." By now Chuuya's cheeks must be a steady red, but all Kouyou did was twist a smile at him and continue, "I couldn't well afford to pay more attention to you than my other employees, but you always did catch the eye. So strong-headed, and with such a useful gift. That boy didn't help when he got it into his head that you'd make good partners."

"Yeah, well," Chuuya muttered. "I got what I wanted even without favoritism."

"I never meant to imply otherwise. Everything you've achieved is your own."

He really shouldn't feel so relieved and proud to hear her say that, but he did.

"You look better," she added gently. "You were so tense when you left. Did Kumagaya offer you some respite?"

Dazai had offered him respite in the shape of heated kisses and muffled words, in the color of the marks still pressed into his collarbones, in the aches of lovemaking. Chuuya met Kouyou's eyes over the lacquered tabletop and said nothing.

She smiled sharply. "You did some shopping. Red looks good on you, surprisingly."

She stared pointedly at the shirt he was wearing, and Chuuya clicked his tongue, face burning pleasantly.

She entertained him with tales of the last few weeks. Chuuya had been gone from the city a long time before Dazai walked back into his life armed with smiles and insults; he had gotten no time to talk to Kouyou in the weeks that had followed, because the Guilt had been there, and because she had mourned for the girl she lost. In truth, he hadn't talked to her so much before in his life.

She acted around him as she would around a friend, he thought. Happy and unabashed. She never cared when she spilled tea on her sleeve and she never cared when he got drunk enough on the wine she took out that swears rolled out of his mouth, sour-sweet on his tongue.

"We should spar one day," he grinned into the brim of his glass. Night was heavy, cicadas gone and lights shut out. Kouyou had opened the glass windows of the tearoom that led out to the finely-cut garden she owned, and they had moved there, sitting on the wooden ledge with their feet hanging down. There was no sound around but the murmur of a small stream and the soft of their voices.

"I don't spar, Chuuya-kun," Kouyou answered. "I don't give out my strengths to people who could one day turn against me."

"I give out my strength so people don't want to turn against me."

She smiled sideways at him. "Let's hope both of our methods work."

"I'll drink to that," he laughed.

The look she gave him next was darker, thoughtful. "You always feel the need to prove yourself," she said. "Even to people who already know your worth."

Chuuya was languid from the wine, with soft heat in all his veins, sore from fighting and fucking, so he admitted the truth: "It feels good to be needed."

"Indeed," Kouyou replied. She didn't mock him for it. "And there are people who do need you. Probably more than you realize."

"Please," he scoffed lightly.

She looked like she was about to reply with something, but then she closed her mouth. Chuuya watched her stare at her own hands for a moment as if debating with herself, before she pushed herself upright to stand.

"Stay here," she told him.

He followed her with his eyes, tilting his glass so the wine touched his lips again. His tongue was dry with it by now. Kouyou went out of the tearoom and disappeared for a few minutes. Chuuya spent the time looking at the stars above, mind blissfully empty.

He heard her sit beside him once more in a shuffle of silk and soft breaths. The turn of his head was lazy when he looked at her and saw the slip of paper she was holding.

"What's that?" he asked.

She didn't immediately answer. Her fingers unfolded the paper with no sound, and she looked at whatever was on it with a thin smile on her lips. "A gift for you," she said. "From Dazai."

Chuuya's back tensed so suddenly that sharp pain throbbed in his neck.

"He gave it to me years ago," she continued without looking at him, not even when he put the glass down next to him and clenched his fingers against the wood. "The little fool never even told me what it was. He just said I should give it to you whenever I thought you'd accept it."

She held the paper up toward him expectantly.

He already knew what it was. He knew the moment she said Dazai's name, perhaps even earlier, from the look she had given him as he admitted his own foolish thoughts to her. Chuuya took the paper from her hands without a word, and it was soft beneath his fingers, free of wrinkles from being handled over and over again. The ink that Dazai had used to write the address was a little faded.

"I've already visited, of course," Kouyou said quietly. "Though I did not know what I would find when I did."

"Of course," Chuuya repeated. He wasn't looking at her anymore. He wasn't even looking at the words on the paper anymore.

Kouyou didn't try to get closer physically or to touch him, and he was grateful for that at least, even if her voice sounded like it wanted to slither under his skin and take refuge there.

"This is someone who needs you," she murmured.

The paper made no sound when he dug his fingers in it. It was too old and worn.

"I should go," Chuuya declared. Kouyou looked pained for a second, and he sent her a brief smile despite the bleak fear coiled in his chest. "I'm tired," he explained. "I'd like to sleep in my own bed for at least a few hours."

"That's understandable."

Gravity held him upright as he stood, and his knees did creak this time. Kouyou walked him back to the door, where a different woman from before stood guard and nodded her head in their direction. Chuuya was already two steps down the front of the house when Kouyou called his name.

"I'd like to have you over for tea again later this week," she told him as he turned back to look at her. "For work and pleasure alike."

There was no need to ask what work she needed him for. Her expression was mild but her eyes were of steel, and Chuuya knew he would not have much time to decide on whether he stood by her side or his boss's.

Chuuya's loyalty was to the port mafia first and foremost. He would take the side of whoever protected it best.

"Sure, ane-san," he replied evenly.

For a second they stood in the stillness that preceded either laugh or murder. But Kouyou shook her head, making strands of red hair escape from the silver pin holding it up, and the curve of her mouth turned whimsical.

"I hope one day you can believe those words, Chuuya-kun," she said. "I hope one day I get to hear you call me sister and mean it."

He visited the house in the morning.

The docks' mist clung to his clothes as he walked along the seashore, white and ghost-like in the sunlight. Chuuya didn't stop to talk to the familiar early-risers who worked there and hailed him on his way.

It was a tiny thing, stuck in a side of Yokohama that he never visited. There was no business to be had in the far-off residential areas that the mafia could dip into. The house neighbored another to the side and had a small garden behind that he could glimpse from where he stood. He saw the end of a swing in it, wet with dew, swaying gently.

Kashiwamura Family, the letterbox said.

It was enough.

Chuuya's grip didn't slacken around the paper Kouyou had given him. He watched the house wake up from the other side of the street and felt a little like a ghost himself, shadows shifting under his feet without ever touching him, eyes fixed and unblinking onto what the sun made of the blue entrance door ahead. Light shone from a curtained window downstairs and then flickered on upstairs, and the silhouette that drew against white drapes on the first floor was that of a child.

He pressed himself back into the shadows when the front door opened. Out came a man with unknown features, a tall man who looked nothing like Chuuya's memories and nightmares (short thin ill-tempered loud), who had to bend down to kiss the lips of the wife who followed him onto the front steps to bid him goodbye. His hand was kind when it rested the woman's shoulder. It was even kinder when it brushed the hair of the little boy who slithered between their legs, dragging a backpack behind him.

It was enough. It was more than enough. It was every hope that Chuuya had harbored in the months that had followed his greatest crime and more. It was proof that he hadn't taken more than one life in that cold morning eleven years ago.

The woman stood alone for a moment in the entrance of her house. Her eyes followed the path that her family made moving away from her, and Chuuya was too far away to read her face, both in years and in distance.

Nakahara Fuku's memory had blurred into nothing in his mind overtime. Scraps of touches and feelings and voices. He couldn't recall the details of her eyes or mouth by the time he was twelve. She stood before him now, older, obviously happier, and Chuuya thought that he might have crossed paths with her one day without knowing who she was and not recognized her at all.

She looks so much like you, Dazai had told him.

Dazai lied as easily as he breathed.

He thought he saw the woman's eyes roam over the street and stop on him for a second, but he wasn't too worried. Chuuya turned his back on the house and walked the opposite direction that her husband and son had gone. The road dipped down there, following the swell of the hill and heading straight for the sea.

"Hello," someone said.

He didn't startle because a lifetime of training had bled the habit out of him, but his chest clenched, and his heart swelled, and it took a long time for him to turn his head around and meet his mother's eyes.

She was smiling politely at him.

"Hello," he replied carefully.

It made her jump, as if something had shocked the skin off of her. "Sorry," she hurried to say. She took a step forward—he noticed, faintly, that her feet were bare on the wet, cold ground. "Ah—are you new in the neighborhood? I haven't seen you here before."

Her breathing was hurried. Chuuya looked over her quickly to make sure she wasn't hurt, but she seemed fine. Only the dirt under her feet looked out of place. "I'm not," he answered. "I was just… visiting someone."

"I see." He couldn't move away when she stepped forward again, not even when it put her close enough for him to see the shine in her eyes, the wet at her lashes. They had the same eyes. "Family?"

Her voice was trembling.

"Yeah," Chuuya said weakly, staring at her, unable to blink. "Family."

"That's good." Fuku stepped forward again, right into his space, where only one person had stood in the last ten years and lived to tell the tale. Her tears started when she spoke again, "It's good to visit family," the line of her mouth shaking hard.

He didn't move when she fisted a hand into the lapel of his coat and took one last step. She was shorter than him, he found, by an inch or so, her eyes level with his nose.

"I've been waiting for someone to visit for a long time, you see," she weeped. The hand she had put on him was febrile, and Chuuya made no move to dislodge it, nor to avoid the one that touched his cheek as if afraid that he would break.

"I," he said. He didn't know what else to say

Her fingers were wet on his face, and he realized that he was crying too.

Both of her hands framed his face, wiped away his tears, familiar calluses and knobby knuckles pressing into the soft of his cheek, stroking over his ears and hair. Chuuya sucked in a breath like a man drowning at sea.

"He's my son," his mother said, face entirely red and damp fingers caught in Chuuya's hair, thumbs over his cheeks. "He's been missing for a very long time."

"I'm sure he's okay," Chuuya croaked out.

She sobbed as she kissed his cheek, and he felt her chest heave against his and her words die wetly over his skin. "His friends said the same thing. They said he'd come when he was ready."

I could never be ready for you, Chuuya thought, breathless.

"I'm sorry," he rasped. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry—"

It was as though a dam had broken. The apology tumbled down from his lips over and over, entirely worthless but heavy from how many times he had thought it before, in the dark of the night and staring at the decrepit ceiling of his first not-home, beating himself up during training, seeing the eyes of those who thought him worthy when he was nothing more than a coward, a blood-traitor, a parricide. The lowest of all scum.

"Oh, Chuuya," Fuku cried into his neck. Her arms tightened around him and tugged them down to the ground when her legs gave out, more powerful than any gravity.

Fuku held him like something breakable, like fine china or blown glass, fingers light over his skin, kisses peppered onto his forehead and hair. Chuuya kneeled still in front of her, hands limp by his side because he couldn't touch her. He shouldn't touch her. He had lost that right years ago.

"Chuuya," she said like a prayer, forehead pressed against his.

He wrapped his arms around her back. She was the softest thing he had ever held.

"I'm sorry." His next breath was a wheeze. "For everything that I've done. If I could go back—"

She rubbed his left eye with her thumb, shushing him, smearing wetness against his temple. "My love," she whispered roughly, "you have nothing to apologize for."

His eyes pressed shut against the hot rush of tears that he felt trickle down his face, and he buried his mouth into her shoulder.

"I've missed you so much," she said, rocking gently in place.

She squeezed her arms around him when she felt his shoulders shake, and the hand she put at his nape seared warmth through his body, the I love yous at his ear filling the wretched, rotten corners of his soul with light.

Someone walked out of the house behind them and looked at them with wide eyes, kneeling as they were on the dirty pavement, locked in an unending embrace.

Chuuya didn't care.

Eventually she would help him up and ask him to join her inside. She would want to show him her new life, she would try to make him meet the boy she must already think of as his little brother, perhaps even her new husband. She'd try to feed him and hold on to him and cry when he would have to leave. She'd be disappointed to learn that he was nothing like the little boy who had fled away from her at eleven, burning with fear and guilt and shame.

He didn't know what he would do then. He wasn't ready for more than this—he wasn't ready for this. But just once, just for a while, Chuuya emptied his mind of all concerns. He kneeled against the painful, cold pavement of this unknown street, the morning's fog thinning around him and sunlight warming his nape, and he let himself be held in the arms of his mother.

He let himself be loved unconditionally.

From: Slug [2:14PM] You're a meddling bastard.

From: Slug [2:17PM] Thank you.

To: Slug [5:36PM] You're welcome. See you next truce, partner.

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#bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #fic: owe no debt

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askpet-archive · 6 years

Text

PET MHA 1

Ari is sitting in the main big room, holding a pencil, hands twitching as she wrote quietly on the paper, she knew a new intake was coming today, she wanted to give them a warm welcome.

Era was doodling in a corner of the room, trying not to get it onto the walls. She stared, focused on the disturbing doodles. She was trying something new, 'draw the hallucinations you see.' Kind of like, something to help grasp onto what was real and what wasn't. She glanced up again for what might of been the 5000th time, staring at everyone else in the room

Ari slid out of her seat, walking over to Era and sitting next to her "what are you making?" She asked, smiling softly, messing with a tiny rock in her hand. She had smuggled it inside last time they were allowed to the backyard

Era stares at Ari, fidgeting in her place, before holding up her picture. It's some.. type of bird? Deformed bird? 'This is birdie.' is scrawled on the paper as well Ari smiled "are they nice?"

Era nods her head, murmuring a "yes."

Ari heard the door opened, Ami came in "Ari, Era dears, do you want to meet the new intake?" Ari jumped, ready to g o

Era decided not socializing wouldn't help anything, despite feeling uncomfortable at the thought of meeting others. She stood up with Ari as well, clutching her paper. She wonders what the new people will be like

Ari couldnt touch Era due to rules, but she hovered her hand near Eras waist, ready to pull her close if neccsary. The nurse led them out into the hall, in the hall were two boys, Vince and CM

CM leaned against the hall wall, listening to Vincent while he crossed his arms, "And so the general told me to go into the bunker-" CM interrupted, "And then you found the others fortified without you. I know, you told me the story millions of times." He grunted, Vincent sighed and combed his hand through his hair.

Ari waved at this guy, smiling "bonjour! Im Arianna!" She exclaimed "this is my best friend Era!"

Era waves at the two of them, giving a blank stare. She continues to hold her paper with her right hand

Vincent looked hopeful, "More survivors! Oh I'm so glad that the carrier was able to load in more units, I thought Colonel and I were the last batch making it to the hospital!" He said in glee, CM fixing his bandages on the left side of his face.

Ari played along, nodding "yep! I was terrified when shhhhstuf went down, i got Era and Spop out as fast as possible though"

Vincent waved over to CM, "Come Colonel! Do you recognize any of these soldiers? Were these any of yours?" CM sighed and got up from the wall and slouched over, staring at them, "Ah yes... they are..." He looked at their nametags, "Ari and Era... None of mine though." CM played along.

Era blinks, frowning. Soldiers? Survivors? Oh no, had the apocalypse started yet and she wasn't informed? That would be bad, really. What kind of apocalypse would it be? Maybe aliens finally invaded. That would prove everyone she was right about them. She's just staring off into nothing now, lost in thought, forgetting that other people were in the room

CM snapped his fingers, "Hey. Hey." He bent over closer, "There's nothing going on. I'm acting." He whispered, smiling and putting his index finger over his mouth, "Shh..."

Ari softly pinched Eras hand, wake up. "Oh, you guys arent in uniform yet, ill show you too it. Leader Amanda says its good for everyone to be in regular clothing, leaves our bodies light enough to train"

Era blinks, going out of her thoughts once the two of them got her out of it. Oh, okay. Aliens would invade someday, though. She was really sure of that. Oh, wait, did she need to say something? Maybe not.. she didn't have anything to say.. is that a bad thing? Ari's talking to them now, okay, she doesn't need to anymore

CM got up from his leaning position, directing his question to Ari, "So, what's wrong with you guys? I might as well ask to make sure anyone pulls a knife on us. Luckily I made myself a bodyguard, he gets annoying but he's alright."

Ari snickered "i wont hurt anyone. I just...see...things..." she trailed off, looking behind him "era is.. kind of...she just hallucinates i think.." "Schizophrenic." Era mutters, just loud enough for him to hear

He nodded, "Hallucinations are very popular in here, myself... I have DID. I might as well not say their names or they might want to meet you." He pointed over towards Vincent, "That guy has PTSD, he thinks he's in WW2. A real interesting guy."

Aris eyes widened "poor guy! Maybe he had a past life" she heard the DID statement, she looked at CM "id love to meet them. Ive met people with it before, its interesting"

CM glared at her, not menacingly, just curious. "You want to meet them? Well, one of them wont be able to come out because my camera is upstairs... I guess I could have Actor come out..." He muttered as he said Actor's name. He stepped back and took a breath, bowing and starting to say, "Act I... Prolouge... From ancient grudge break to new mutiny..." He began with a dull tone. CM suddenly paused mid sentence and put on a glorious expression as if he was on a spotlight, "Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes. A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; Whole misadventured piteous overthrows!" He cheered, boastfully ending his talk, bending over and shaking both Era and Ari's hands.

Era jerks her hand away almost immediately, stepping back a bit. Wait, oh no, was that rude? Oh no, she didn't mean to be rude, she just didn't want them to touch her, oh no. "Sorry-" She would of said more, explaining why she did it, but decided after one word that she didn't want to talk anymore and just stood next to Ari rather awkwardly

Ari jolted a bit. H i. "Oh, hi." She chuckled, shaking his hand "touch isnt allowed here just so you know..you said your name was Actor?" She smiled "Arianna, pleasure to meet you"

Actor bowed and apologized, "My mistake, M'Lady and Ser. Alot of people here are shy audiences... Only Vincent really enjoys my company..." He started to get down, then put on a happy smile again, "I'll take my intermission." Actor blinked, CM coming back again."He didnt touch you guys right? I swear if he did again..."

Ari laughed "its ok! I love contact, he can touch me, hand poke, hug, anythin. I dont care, Era doesnt like it though"

CM facepalmed, and heaved, "Can this guy remember the rules or what..."CM stepped back away and signaled Vincent with a snap, "Alright Vincent. Let's go. I better get back and find some new plastic cups, they always forget to give me some after room service." Vincent stood in attention and nodded his head, walking down the hall as CM walked behind him.

Spop was sitting in the common room. In her arms was a pig plushie that she clutched tightly, quietly muttering to it.

Ari decided now was a good time to- oh. Wait whats that. She starts following something only she can see, down the boy bedroom hall

Era blinks, now standing in the empty room. Uh. Okay. She looks around, before just, sitting down and going back to her drawing

-----

CM drunk from a plastic cup, surveying a dead outside with nothing but dark gloomy trees and muddy grass. Vincent sat down next to Spop, "Hello! How's Klondike? Did the nurse patch him up?"

Spop looked up at Vincent and her eyes sparkled. "Mhm! He is all better now!"Vincent's face lit up, "That's superb!" CM looked down at the two of them , "Vincent, did the nurse tell you anything about when your leaving?" He asked, Vincent shrugged, "She told me that I wont be out of care for another few years. You?"CM sighed, "I havent heard much..."

"The nurse says that I cant leave as long as I talk to Klondike"

"Actor may know, but he rarely wants to speak to me. Cammy just... changes the subject over to if I cleaned the lenses off my camera or not."

Spop tilted her head and her eyes lit up more when Actor was mentioned. Spop likes Actor

Ari walked into the room, she looked upset. "Hey guys" she muttered, "...did you guys know we're all broken and insane and nothing we think we see can be actually real and the only reason we're like this is because we're weaker then the rest of the population?"

CM looked up quickly, getting up and signaled her to zip her mouth. "I swear if you... yknow- I'll actually have Actor perform a death act. Those two cant handle something like that! And for a fact, Im stronger than alot of healthy people." Vincent looked up at CM, his eyes fearful, "That's not... true. Right General? Atleast for me? I'm a healthy guy... right?" He glared over at Ari in an intense stare, "What made you think..."

Ari looked..completely out of it. Her eyes were glazed over, mouth stuck in a tiny frown, she had probably just had her meds "nope! You arent healthy! No one here is!"she laughed

CM couldnt make out a reply, his heart felt shattered, "I-I'm healthy... just not mentally. I believe... the nurses wont tell me anything about my condition..." He looked over towards Vincent who looked petrified, CM quickly stepped over towards him, "Vincent. Go to your quarters. You are ordered to forget about this conversation. Take the pills the nurse put on your drawer"Vincent got up and gloomly shuffled his way out of the room, nervously holding onto himself. CM swiftly turned heel and walked back towards Ari, "Why."

Ari shook her head and laughed again "merly told me! He also told me that no one here actually exsists, im all alone in the solitude room, or dead" she looked puzzled for a second "im probably dead"

"Ari, think about it. Would you be able to feel this if you were dead." CM held one of Ari's hands, knowing it could land him in solitude. He took a deep breath, "If you still think you're dead, know this. Atleast you have people to talk to. Death would be pure darkness. If no one existed... well... you wouldnt be able to smell the roses and fresh cut grass in the gardens."

Ari froze when he grabbed her hand, her eyes kind of, unglazing, she looked confused, before she realized "oh..god, i, oh jeez- my meds always do that, its a side effect.." she panicked a bit, looking around..no nurses were nearby, she hugged CM in thanks, before quickly pulling back "did-did i say something bad? I didnt upset anyone did i..?"

CM looked at were Vincent left the room, "Vincent may have heard your little rampage. I told him to go upstairs and take those memory pills the nurse gave him. Just to make sure he's alright, I think we should see him." He spoke, still in his mind of how heartwarming it was to recieve a hug. Actor was shouting in his head about how CM could break the rules and he couldnt

Ari starts running to go find Vincent, probably peeking into his room "Vincey..?"

Ami the nurse walked into the common room, glaring at CM "..i saw that. Dont let it happen again. There are attachment boundaries here Cam. No touching"she growled

CM let out a small groan, rolling his eyes as she left the room. He trailed behind Ari.Vincent was laying down on his bed, hands folded together and his eyes looking up at the ceiling. He heard his nickname, turning his head towards the door and surprised to see Ari. "Oh! Ari! Hey, what's up..." The glass of water next to him was empty and the pill bottle was open.

Ari decided not to mention it, instead putting on a smile "oh, nothing. Just checking on you. CM said you came up here. I wanted tp see if we could hang out!" She goes into his room and sits on the side of his bed, casually taking the pill bottle and reading what it does

He sat up in the bed, he gladly accepted the invitation. "That'll be great! What time is it? Wow, 4:36? I thought the clock was 12:23 when I looked at it a little bit ago." CM came in and sighed in relief, pulling up a chair towards the bed and sat with the others.

The pill bottle had information about erasing memory from 5-4 hours earlier after taking the pill.

Ari stared at it, before cracking a smile, slipping a pill up her sleeve and into a tiny pocket she had bitten into the fluff, before putting the pill bottle down Ari smiled softly, ruffling her friends hair "you mustve fallen asleep. Do you wanna talk about strategies orr, can me or CM tell a story?"

He nodded his head, "I'd love to hear your guys' stories for once!" CM looking at the clock and knew they werent supposed to be here at this time...

Ari nodded and clapped her hands together, about to start, before she seemed to see something, her body freezing up.

CM noticed her freezing up, glancing up at her and tried to see whatever she's seeing. He looked back at her and gave her hand a quick tap, and whispered, "Psst."

Vincent looked behind himself, "Ari?"

Ari pulled back when he touched her. Whatever shes seeing, it aint good. Shes shaking.

CM fully turned to her, "Hey. Remember what therapy told you. Generalize the situation. Calm down. And tell me what you see."

Ari didnt answer, shes starting to cry

"I- they-" she looked at CM and forced back a scream, skittering backward "CM..? Are you-" hes bleeding oh my god..

---

Spop walked over to Era and put her chin on the couch next to Era. She stared at the drawing before smiling. "It looks pretty"

Era gives a ghost of a smile, nodding a "thanks." to Spop

Spop giggled

She pauses in the drawing for a moment, glancing up, before adding something to it "how are you.." It seemed more like a statement then a question, but oh well

"I'm good. you?"

"mmm.." Era looks up again, focusing on something, before replying "fine."

Spop sighed and walked off to find someone else to talk to. It was clear Era had other things to do. Not like Era trusted her

Era brings her gaze over to Spop, staring as she started to walk off, "wait-" Oh, no, well what does she say now. She really did want to talk more, the silence was beginning to become suffocating "uhm. hows klondike?" Okay, tack on that

Spop turned around and looked at Era. "Klondike doing well. The lady in green came and fixed him right up!"

"oh, that's good. the nurses are always really nice, right?"

"Uh huh, though rumor has it" She leaned in close to Era "One of em isn't a human"

Era's eyes widen "oh! i bet it's the one with the messy bun, right? she always acted weird, weird, weird.. secretive!"

"I bet it's the one who runs this place. The black man"

Era thinks for a moment "that seems like it'd be true, too. there's a lot of evidence for it.. i haven't seen much people notice though.."

Speaking of the 'blonde man' Charles walks into the room "hello girls!" He smiled "im sorry ive been on the adult side all day, was group today enjoyable?"

Spop looked at Charles and squinted her eyes. "It was"

Era looks over at him, her face going back to being a blank stare "i think it was nice."

He nodded "perfect! Anywho, its about 5 minutes from dinnertime, you hungry?"

Era nods, slightly eager. Food was always nice, especially when she wanted to be distracted

Spop nodded and ran off to get Klondike

Charles clapped his hands together, going to go find the other three patients

---

CM holds her name, shaking it slightly. "Hey. Come back to us. Ari. Snap out of it. We're here!" Vincent sat there, quiet. He doesnt know what to do. He looks hopelessly towards CM.

Ari blinked a few times, it wasnt going away "CM.." she whined, grabbing his arm. This was normal uh

CM heard footsteps coming towards their room, he doesnt know wether he should force Ari's grip off of him or just accept punishment.

Charles looked in the room, a confused look on his face when he looked in "..what is going on in here?!" He exclaimed, too late now

Ari doesnt really realize, girl is just cryin dont mind her

CM yelped at the sight of him at the door, freezing. Vincent saw the man and closed his mouth, 'Umm.. he um. Ari- er."

Charles went over and pulled CMs arm away from Ari, proceeding to carefully inject something into the frozen girls arm, before turning back to CM "three touches. In one day, CM, give me one reason i shouldnt put you on watch."

"They were all for good reasons. I swear. Please dont put me in solitude." He winced at the word of him having three touches in ONE day. Getting up quickly and kept out of the proximity of the other two.

Charles sighed, idiot boy. He looked at Vincent "go head to dinner with the others, Ari will join you later, you too cm."

Vincent got up from the bed, CM motioned him to speed up. They both left the room, quiet muttering fell behind them.

#Mental Hospital AU #side story

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