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polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup · 6 months

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HELP your time travel shenanigans fic idea about toji being very much alive but still putting the fate of his two little ass kids in the hands of a bunch of 16-17 year olds even if he’s still breathing. if i was megumi then my abandonment issues would’ve gone crazy if that happened to me 😭. mamaguro is looking down from the pearly white gates IN ANGER at toji’s audacity i just know it.

but now i’m curious on other ideas (that you have) for fics about jjk that you may or may not get to after sea glass gardens.

see the sad thing is that letting a bunch of 16-17 year old bitchy disaster gays discover the magic of teen parenthood is actually a step up because he had already sold Megumi to the Zenin and feral wolverines would be a better alternative to them. This was the best parenting decision toji has ever made.

(Time travel!Megumi: look we don’t have any other options. Anything is better than the Zenin.

Gojo, in the distance: they’re what three? That’s old enough for a red bull

Geto: I will actually kill you over this satoru

Time travel!megumi: *deep breath*)

A loose catalogue of my jjk fics, which may or may not exist one day:

Sea glass gardens verse:

I am forever compelled by the siren call of expanding my fics into universes because one story is never enough for me. I’ve got threeish stories in this universe, with no promises of how many, if any, I’ll write.

1. The Teen Parenting Chronicles: Gojo, Nanami, and Shoko’s expert guide to raising children when you are, in fact, children. Featuring what the fuck happened with the Zenin the first time around.

2. Megumi’s pov of what just happened leading up to sea glass gardens: someone asked me if I’d ever write this and it has the highest chance of existing because I have. Sort of. Started writing it. I have impulse control issues.

3. Okkotsu Yuuta and the world’s longest distance panic attack: crack fic of Yuuta on his study abroad trip becoming increasingly more frantic at the other second year’s updates as to how His Boy’s first year as a jujutsu sorcerer is going. What do you mean sukunas there. What do you mean he doesn’t have a shirt. Well put one on him!

Time travel AU:

1. The Time Traveler’s Guide to Fucking Shit Up And Living Well: following another attempt on their lives by the higher ups, the first year gang is forced into a desperate, high stakes gamble with a time-centric curse that puts their very existences at stake. If they want to survive, they have to complete one task of their choosing in the past before the clock runs out. Their mission?

To punch fushiguros shitty bio dad in the face, something which will surely have no long term consequences on the timeline.

See this one has the most chance of actually existing one day because it is by far my FAVORITE jjk fic I have. It even beats out sea glass gardens. I desperately want to write it.

2. The 2006 Gang and the Art of a Good Union: following a confusing incident with the star plasma vessel and three unknown sorcerers, the 2006 Tokyo jujutsu high first and second year class inexplicably goes off the rails and retires from jujutsu sorcery, claiming that they’ve discovered the magic of teen parenthood and can in no way risk themselves in such a dangerous profession now that they have kids to think about. At least, not with the way things are run now.

No one knows where they got the children from.

3. Toji Fushiguro and the Dead Beat Dad Chronicles: in which toji fushiguro succeeds at being a dead beat baby daddy to two teenaged gay boys and their crew of bitchy lgbtq compadres, who in no way want him to be involved in their children’s lives.

Standalones:

1. “Fushiguro is unleashed in junpei’s school like an invasive superpredator” AU: I’ve talked about this one in way more detail in another post for an ask game, but the idea is that itadori discovers junpeis abuse at school and says Not On His Fucking Watch and escalates the matter to gojo, who decides the funniest possible solution while they try to draw out mahito is to unleash his all star delinquent son into junpeis high school to bully the bullies.

Fushiguro resents this as a problem solving strategy.

2. The Zenin raise Megumi AU: also discussed in more detail in an ask game. In which people took Tsumiki’s little brother from her, but she’s trying to get him back, she promises.

Or, in which the Zenin take megumi, leave tsumiki, and they both spend every day after fighting to get back to the other.

3. Sort of a no curse AU: Itafushi romance story, in which local himbo Itadori Yuuji falls for delinquent Fushiguro Megumi when his grandpa is placed in the room next to Fushiguros comatose sister. Starts as a no curse AU… except there’s totally curses, Tsumikis mom just moved them to Sendai without telling anyone so the Zenin never found Megumi, and he’s just never told anyone about the curses he sees because he’s worried he’s schizophrenic. He thought the shikigami thing was a metaphor for self actualization or something.

4. Fushiguro Megumi and the World’s Most Inconvenient Custody Battle: pre JJK0, Geto decides to be a shithead magic terrorist at a local school that represents all the worst of monkey society: it’s known for a rampant bullying issue, which is a breeding ground for cursed spirits, and it contributes to the risk to jujutsu sorcerers by feeding a local legend of a haunted bridge that could explode into a serious curse any day.

What he didn’t count on? Finding the new Ten Shadows in the student body, who’s fully willing to kamikaze them both if it means saving his sister’s life.

And who doesn’t seem to be aware that he more than has the potential to take suguru in a fight.

In which Fushiguro just wanted to shut up, go to school, and go home, and instead finds himself in a binding vow to give cult life a whirl to save the lives of classmates he doesn’t even like all that much.

It involves oddly more parenting than he expected.

5. Fake Fiancés AU: prodigy and noble prize winning physicist Gojo Satoru, following a very ill advised fuck buddies arrangement with fushiguro toji, has settled down into domestic bliss with the two kids he took from the relationship despite them not, in any way, being related to him. The problem? His ex is back in town. The hot one. The one who broke up with him and started a cult. The one who he wants to convince he got over when he absolutely did not do that.

The solution? Tell everyone he’s happily engaged to Nanami Kento, who cannot express enough how much he does not want him to do that.

… until, all of a sudden, he needs a show of domestic bliss himself. His adoptive son’s older brother, sukuna, has crawled out of the woodwork and decided to make a play for custody himself. And Nanami does not know what Sukuna truly wants, but he knows it does not have Yuuji’s best interests at heart.

I share custody of this story with my best friend, who cocreated it with me over deranged text message. I may convince her to joint write it with me if I ever get her to publish her fanfic.

6. Todo Aoi and Schrodinger’s Boyfriend: Todo’s beloved brother, who is most assuredly a man, suffers some kind of terrible brain damage that leads him to confess he loves an assless boy. Todo cannot abide by this, until it’s pointed out to him that if Fushiguro’s type is his brother, that would make him the most interesting man alive. If it is not, he continues to be a boring and uninteresting boy.

Todo sets off on a mission with two goals: determine if fushiguro megumi is interesting, and get him to do some squats. because there’s simply no ass there.

Fushiguro wonders why his life is suddenly harder.

7. Choso and the Art of Being a Big Brother: choso discovers the truth of kenjaku early and does the only logical thing in response: he kills his father in his sleep, cuts out his brain, and delivers it in a jar to his new brother Itadori Yuuji as the first step in wooing him into domestic sibling love.

Megumi doesn’t know where these people come from. Or why all of them think itadori is their brother.

8. SatoSugu realizes their little boy is all grown up when he gets his first crush on a boy when he meets yuuji.

They do not fucking take it with grace.

Also co-written with my best friend via text message.

9. The instagram chronicles: crack fic in which the jujutsu sorcery personnel crisis gets worse, because nobara Kugisaki keeps trying to hard launch her instagram influencer career, and keeps accidentally making every jujutsu sorcerer instagram famous except for her

10. So I don’t actually ship Yuuta and Megumi, but I do really like the idea of low stakes relationships? Like, especially for teen romances. You tried it, decided you were better off as friends, and just went back to being friends. I just like the idea of fumbling around in relationships and getting a sense of boundaries and what you’re interested in without it being a big, world-shaking romance. It seems like a more realistic portrayal of high school relationships than every one of them being this world-defining mature love.

Pre season 1 but post JJK 0, Yuuta and Megumi dated for maybe a month and half, held hands maybe twice, and decided that they were better off as friends and parted on good terms. The issue?

No one realized they were dating. And when it is realized, everyone thinks their relationship was torpedoed because the second years kept inviting themselves onto their dates.

Cue the jjk high school students trying to amend old mistakes and get Yuuta and Megumi back together, who do not, in fact, want to be back together. Headlining Inumaki Toge, who is half in love with Yuuta and does not know why he’s helping get him together with someone else, and Itadori Yuuji, who is half in love with Megumi and also does not know why he’s helping get him together with someone else.

#I want to go on record that fushiguro expertly crafted a binding vow to get out of that time travel thing and the task was going to be ‘try #that ramen place that closed down before we could’ until yuuji said ‘haha fushiguro why don’t we go punch your shitty bio dad in the face’#and now they’re doing this he guesses #Yuuji didn’t think it would activate like that okay #it was mostly an accident but also he really fucking hates megumis dad #he’s cultivated seething resentment towards him since Megumi in an act of rare vulnerability confessed that his dad sold him to the Zenin as #a kid and that’s why gojo has custody #he. really wants to punch that guy. he REALLY wants to punch him.#the time travel AU exists in parallel with sea glass gardens #sea glass gardens is its backstory but it’s not an official continuation of that makes sense #it’s an AU of my own AU if that makes sense

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Pink Scarf - Part 19 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: References to sex. Continued ANGST. Medication/drug use/overdose mentions. Dub con mentions(sort of?). Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: Thank you for your patience, my beautiful lil mamas, Part 19 is finally here! We are back in Reader's headspace, and lordy, oh lordy, it's A LOT...just remember, I DID warn and promise y'all pain before a happy ending. And the end is coming soon. 😭 I know, babies, I know. 💖

If you so desire, you should now have the ability to tip my blog or different chapters in the story! Some of you have been asking about this, and of course, no one is obligated to do so! If you do choose to tip, thank you so much! I've never had anyone want to pay for my work before, so this is a big step towards my romance novelist dreams. 💜

I am so FREAKIN' GRATEFUL for every single one of you babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE EXTRAORDINARY! I didn't in a million years expect this kind of support and response for Pink Scarf, and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my AO3 account, as well as my NEW Wattpad account. so if you are so inclined, you can check it out/support me over there with kudos and votes and whatnot!)

Silence.

For the first time in over a week, you aren’t bombarded with images of the past or worries for the future as your subconscious desperately tries to guide you places you are not ready to go to yet. As you stir awake, you feel somewhat rested, peaceful almost. Your eyes flutter open and even though the room is dim, you still squint and hiss at the light that pierces through your eyes and seems to rocket through your head like a spear. You can’t help but groan a little at the pain behind your eyes.

The room is not familiar, however, which sets you on edge, that peacefulness of good sleep draining from you quickly. Frantically, you try to puzzle out where you are and how you got here but thinking sends a wave of nausea through you that you can’t ignore. You groan again at the feeling and crack your eyes open the slightest bit.

A man, first crouched in the uncomfortable looking chair he’s perched in, sits up ramrod straight at your movements. Despite the dark circles around his eyes, he’s a vision to behold. You know without a doubt he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, what with his high cheekbones, lusciously pouty lips, and chiseled jaw covered in what looks to be a day’s worth of dark stubble. Raven hair frames his face, thick sideburns curling at his ears and locks haphazard on his forehead. And those eyes, dear lord, those impossibly long, dark lashes rim his eyes. His eyes, which feel as deep and dark blue as the ocean itself, cut through the fog in your head, widening and looking over you with care and concern.

You know those soulful, familiar eyes anywhere.

Elvis.

You blink and the world starts to snap into focus. Through the pain and nausea, you take in your surroundings. The uncomfortable bed you’re in. The IV in your arm. The dreary paint on the walls. The smell of antiseptic.

The hospital. You are in the hospital.

This must be why Elvis looks positively distraught, his large hand now frantically grasping at yours on the bed. You swear he is shaking, steadied only once he touches you and a wave of relief falls over his handsome yet worried features.

“Y/n. Oh thank God, y/n,” he murmurs. “Are you okay? How do you feel? What do you remember?” he barrages you with questions that you aren’t sure you have the answers to yet, especially with the way your head is pounding so distractingly. For some reason, the whole scene suddenly strikes you as silly, what with the most famous man in the world looking at you so damn seriously. You can’t help yourself.

“Who…who are you?” you croak out quietly, your unused voice cracking.

The look on his face is priceless as he rolls through shock, terror, and dismay all at once. His face falls dramatically then and there is no way you can keep up the pretense because the little boy look that comes over him is just too much.

“Gotcha,” you chuckle, cracking a smile that suddenly makes your face feel like it’s on fire and making you regret your smile instantly.

“You little minx,” he growls, a relieved grin spreading over his face before he sees the pain on your face. “You’re hurtin’. Goddammit, I should’ve killed him…” he mutters heatedly under his breath.

It takes more than a moment to process what he is saying and connect that with the burning tightness of the left side of your face. You bring your hand up slowly, gingerly touching the unfamiliar swollen, hot flesh of your cheek. You can’t help but hiss at the painful sensation that runs over you when you do so.

You close your eyes, feeling Elvis’ heavy but comforting hand squeeze yours.

What in the hell happened?

Reaching back in your memory, you attempt to piece together why you are here, why you are in so much pain. Dread fills your heart as flashes of memory come at you:

Jack accosting you in the bathroom.

Losing his mind at seeing the hickies on your breast.

Him dragging you out and humiliating you in front of everyone.

Then…then…

Oh, god.

Jack did this. He hit you.

Your head falls back, and you cover your eyes with your free hand. A wave of shock, then a wave of deep sadness overcomes you. Hot tears spring to your eyes and spill down your cheeks and you don’t attempt to stop them. The salt of them stings the abrasions on your face.

How could he? How could he?

Sobs wrack your body, each one a pulse of pain through your head, shooting red-hot through you. You knew, you knew deep down it was over, but you never expected it to come to this. You never thought Jack had it in him to truly hurt you. But you are lying in a hospital bed, living proof that the man you once loved was truly gone.

And it feels devastating, yet also strangely relieving, in a way you could’ve never imagined.

“Oh, Satnin, baby. Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” Elvis whispers at you, clutching your hand, his concern evident but unsure.

The wave of devastation crashes over you, both the physical and psychic pain nearly unbearable as it throbs in your head. You feel utterly raw. Humiliated. Gutted. Guilty. Relieved. Furious.

The sudden image of slapping Jack’s face as he knelt bloody on the floor resonates through you, the sting still evident in your palm.

Elvis had almost killed Jack, blinded by a protective rage, you now remember. You’d stopped him.

Part of you wishes you hadn’t.

It all feels quite unreal yet simultaneously overwhelming, all these flashes of memory hitting you in rapid succession. And you know there are more troubling memories waiting in the wings, ready to knock you off your feet once again. You can sense them lingering at the edges of your mind, somehow closer than they have ever been but still just out of reach.

All at once you don’t feel strong enough to bear them.

Everybody knows, you suddenly realize. Your affair with Elvis was now out there for everyone to see, for everyone to judge. You open your tear-filled eyes to look at the beautiful man before you, the one you love so much it feels as though it might destroy you, because god knows you haven’t forgotten that. You cannot bring yourself to regret being with him, no matter if it led you to be here, broken and battered in a hospital bed in Las Vegas.

But something is not right. Something besides the obvious. And it’s right there, just out of view.

Your head hurts too much to dwell on it, however.

“I’m gonna take care of you baby,” Elvis finally says after what you realize is too many moments of silence. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I won’t let him hurt you ever again.”

The way he says it so softly and with such righteous conviction strikes something within you. The clasp of his hand on yours is almost too tight, the look on his face both filled with remorse and determination. You know what he says is true—he will not leave you to face this alone.

Despite this, the uncomfortable elephant in the room lingers: you would not be here if not for Elvis, and you both know it.

But with the pain in your body and the ache in your heart, that is not a mountain you can begin to climb yet. There are too many unanswered questions that you need to figure out and this is not the time or place. So, you let Elvis hold your hand with that mournful look in his churning eyes and you try to heal.

“Watch your step, watch your step!” Elvis supports you gingerly, his strong arm holding you at the waist, as if just walking will shatter you into a thousand pieces.

“E, I’m okay. I promise I can walk on my own. It’s just one step,” you say, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone. He’s been hovering as much as possible for the past two days you’ve been under observation at the hospital, only leaving when absolutely necessary to do his two shows a night. He sent the hospital staff into a tizzy with demands for your care while still managing to be charming and effusive to all the employees in a way that only he could get away with.

You’re not sure that he’s slept in the past few days, as he seems obsessed with making sure you are alright. Your pleas for him to go back to the hotel and get some rest fell on deaf ears. Hopefully, now that you’ll be in the hotel, he will relax a little.

While your face is healing, it is still covered in a nasty bruise, which you are reminded of every time Elvis looks at you because the wince that passes over his features, while nearly imperceptible to others, is quite evident to you. It serves to remind you how you got here and how he seemingly thinks him controlling everything about your recovery is going to somehow put you back together and make everything how it was before.

But it’s not like it was before.

Not with the looks that the Mafia are giving you. You can sense their pity, their judgement, their fear. Because Elvis having a known affair with you threatens them all. What if it was their wife or girlfriend? What if Elvis turns on them the way he turned on Jack? Jack was their friend, too. It’s written all over their faces. And you can tell they’ve been put on best behavior because more than usual they defer to Elvis, and they are suddenly wildly uncomfortable around you, even though you’ve been part of the group for years.

You can’t help but feel like the king’s consort. The mistress. The usurper.

The only exceptions are Jerry and Sandy, of course. And Charlie, in his usual Charlie way, has been kind and endearing. But the rest are quiet. Too quiet.

You don’t know what’s happened to Jack. You also haven’t seen Red, though you can’t say you’re upset about it. The few times you tried to ask Elvis, he brushed you off, saying you didn’t need to worry about such things while you’re trying to recover.

All of it has you unsettled. You knew there would be consequences, of course you did, but you didn’t expect it to be this strange.

Thankfully, your headaches are becoming less frequent, but when they do come, they are intense and debilitating, and weirdly, each one brings a host of images and fractured memories that you must try to make sense of. The doctor said this should hopefully get better as your brain heals from the concussion. A full recovery, he said, but it might take some time. Elvis takes this to mean you need constant care, and honestly you don’t have the energy to argue with the man about it right now, so you let him escort you into his bedroom suite as though you are frail and fragile.

“There you go, Satnin, all set,” he says, fluffing the mountain of pillows behind you, and then he gently takes off each of your shoes. You lean back with a sigh, suddenly grateful for the comfort of his huge bed in his penthouse suite because that hospital bed was truly terrible.

“Maybe you wanna to get into your pajamas?” he suggests. “I had all your things brought up, but I also went ahead and bought you some things, since I know you hadn’t planned on being here this long, and—” he rambles. The look on his face is almost childlike in his need to please you, to take care of you. It is quite the adjustment after spending a week basking in his masculine sexual dominance. You aren’t complaining at this change in him; in fact, it reminds you of when you first met, of those early years. It’s just giving you a bit of whiplash.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m fine for now,” you interrupt, trying to keep your tone light. Bringing your hand up, you pinch the bridge of your nose as another headache threatens. Overly attuned to you, Elvis grabs one of your feet and starts rubbing, using his strong hands to knead deep into the sole of your foot.

The hurts-so-good feeling has you groaning and your head falling back onto the pillows.

“That feel good, mama?” he drawls quietly.

All you can do is nod and hum in response. You’re certain if this had happened a few days ago, that statement, this action, would be laced with a fierce sexual energy. You imagine that it would last only a minute before he pounced and worked you into a state of pleasurable bliss. That latent desire is still there—you can sense it—but with everything that has happened, it takes a backseat to your pain.

This both saddens you and makes you feel grateful. You covet your sexual relationship with him, as it is the definitive thing you know he wants and needs from you. You know this for sure, and with your ever-present uncertainty about the rest of your relationship, it makes you feel off-kilter to not be able to share that with him. However, his commitment to being by your side despite the lack of sex, has been somewhat reassuring. You desperately hope it’s not just a sense of guilt that keeps him here with you.

You sigh, your eyes falling shut, and relish in the feel of his hands on you in such a comforting way as he treats one foot, then the other, to this intimate treatment. But he is uncharacteristically quiet.

He practically has you in a stupor by the time he finishes with the second foot, managing to stave off your impending headache. Opening your eyes, you catch him looking at you, those deep blues of his taking on a darker hue in the dim lighting. You can see the wheels turning, the way his hand flexes and releases over his tailored pants, how he worries his bottom lip with his teeth.

“What is it, E?” you ask gently, almost afraid it might spook him.

“I-I-I…can I hold you?” he stutters, changing tactics midway to get the sentence out, betraying his nerves.

“Of course, baby,” you respond quietly.

“I-I just don’t want to hurt you,” he says, crawling up the comforter to lie next to you. “Are ya sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” you say, as he curls into you, his arm coming over you.

All at once, you are flooded with memory. Your teenage bedroom. Your single bed. Elvis nestling close into your side, his cheeks still salty with tears. The way your heart races at his proximity and the way his touch, though innocent, burns through you like wildfire. His breath warm on your neck, tickling your bare skin.

He shows up on your doorstep such a mess, coming to you, of all people. You don’t quite understand it. (You’re still not sure you understand it—why it’s you, of all people, at that point in his life, that he’d chosen to come to.)

You fall into caring for him so easily, like it is second nature to run your fingers through his hair and massage his back as he cries in your lap, even though you’ve never touched him like this, so intimately, before. When he asks to stay, those bedroom eyes of his begging, your heart leaps in a way you are ashamed of. Your entire body feels on fire, flustering you as you consider the implications, consider just how badly you do want him to stay, and if it’s worth it to see where this might go.

It only gets worse when you find him stripped down to his underwear, waiting for you innocently in your bedroom, a place no man has stayed before. Your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him sitting there, exhausted and emotionally spent. Before you take him into your bed, he’s so good in reassuring you he would never hurt you, that he won’t touch you like that. Of course, he wouldn’t; you know this. But your trepidation isn’t because you are afraid he’ll take advantage of you—it is because part of you wants him to.

The memory makes you blush furiously. Yet another important moment you had buried so deep that remembering it now makes it feel like it just happened.

After the initial tension of him being curled so close into you wanes, you relax and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t go. Oh, how you relish in the softness of his skin against yours, the musky scent and heat of him surrounding you as he holds on to you through the night. You wake up multiple times, thinking you must be dreaming that Elvis is in your bed, but are pleasantly surprised to really find him there, his warm, lean, young body pressing into yours in various ways. The moonlight through the window lets you see just how innocently beautiful and vulnerable he is like this, like some kind of angel not of this world, his long lashes falling over his cheeks. You feel grateful to see him this way, tucking the moment away in your mind. Despite the rollercoaster of hormones coursing through you, you’ve never felt so safe before, not with Ted, not with any man.

Or felt so aroused. That terrified you, you think, as the wave of feeling crashes over you in the present. You want him with an intensity that shocks you to your core. But he is your friend, for god’s sake, and he’d come to you upset and trusted you to help him, and here you are, suddenly lusting after him like every other girl on the planet. Oh, yes, you are so very ashamed of yourself, for the dirty thoughts you’re thinking.

But, oh, how you imagine him waking to kiss you passionately, willing him to touch you everywhere, wanting him to run his long, calloused fingers up under your nightgown and into your panties. Thinking that, in an instant, he could easily slide between your legs, and you would let him. You’ll gladly give yourself to him right this minute if he wants you. You screw your eyes shut, trying unsuccessfully to block out the image of him slowly entering you, joining with you, rocking you into submission, into ecstasy.

Back then, those thoughts were more dangerous than anything, especially when the man in question was in your bed already, holding you close. It was a different time, and at nineteen, you were young and bound by propriety, and yet, in that moment, you hadn’t cared about that part.

But it is Elvis. Your dear friend. He doesn’t think of you that way. He’s on the brink of stardom and already has half the country fawning over him, with girlfriends in every town. You know this, logically. You know this, but for the first time, you allow yourself to think that maybe there is more to the two of you than just friendship. That maybe there is a reason he’d come to you in his hour of need.

A wave of heartache rolls through you as you recall that next morning. You blearily wake up from your fitfully aroused but somehow comforting slumber to him pulling you close, pressing the front of his body into the back of yours. The heat of him permeates through the thin cotton of your nightgown, which is quite a pleasing sensation in the cold of this late-winter morning. You sigh and wiggle back into him instinctually, before you can think too much on it, just needing to be closer to him. But then he jumps out of the bed in a flash, as if you were on fire, scurrying to clothe himself, and then he practically leaps out the window to get away from you.

He didn’t want you. Of course, he didn’t want you. He probably regrets the whole thing, with the way he leaves you lying there. He is Elvis Presley, after all. Your friend, but nothing more. You’d been foolish to think it anything more.

His abrupt absence leaves you cold, tears welling in your eyes, yearning for something you know you could never have from him (or so you’d thought, at the time). You pull the covers over your head, the scent of him on your sheets enveloping you. The grease he used in his hair left a stain on your pillow, but you don’t care in the slightest because it is something tangible, something that lets you know him holding you through the night had been real and not a dream.

Now it hits you suddenly that—oh, god—that was the day Jack had asked you out for the first time. You’d been sad all day, trying to push Elvis out of your mind and Jack had shown up at the diner, suddenly quite brazen in his attraction to you. While you weren’t entirely surprised, as the two of you had been dancing around each other for some time, the timing of it helped bring you out of your funk, reminding you that in the real world, a good man like Jack wanted you.

You’d quickly accepted because you liked Jack and there was no reason not to.

Elvis Presley was just your friend, after all.

Now you realize that in that short 24-hour period, the trajectory of your entire life changed. Maybe you’d fallen into Jack’s arms so quickly because Elvis’ rejection had upset you more than you wanted to admit. It had been easier and more realistic to date Jack, and it had taken your mind off the unwanted thoughts you had for Elvis.

Oh, no.

The intense discovery of this long-hidden memory and the emotions to go with it rocket through your skull with a shooting pain, causing you to hiss. Tears flood your eyes, from both the ache in your heart and the pain in your head.

“Baby, you okay? What can I do?” Elvis shoots his head up, noticing your distress, looking you over carefully.

You can’t explain, not now. “Bad headache,” you breathe out instead. “Can you get my medicine?” You didn’t want to take pain meds if you could help it, but in this moment, everything, pain and otherwise, is too overwhelming and you think maybe you just need some sleep.

So, you take the pill he gives you gratefully. You try not to think about how the way he looks at you now has that same boyish quality it had all those years ago when you’d taken him into your bed and into your arms, and he’d left you cold.

It’s okay, you think. He’s here now, taking care of me. He wants me now, even if he didn’t then.

And with that, you drift aimlessly away into welcome darkness.

Everything is fuzzy, the dull ache in your head muddling the flashes that are floating to the surface in your dreams.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

Not Elvis now, you think, Elvis a long, long time ago.

But that doesn’t make sense. You didn’t kiss Elvis until two weeks ago.

He’s so sad, though, so alone. He needs you, he needs you, he needs you…

And you need him.

But it’s wrong, all wrong. And so right, all at once. Your body tingles through the ache in your head as you ever-so-gently press your lips to his. You’ve wondered for so long what he tastes like.

Soft and sweet, like marshmallows.

His bright blue eyes widen with shock.

“Y/n, baby, you don’t want this…” he whispers. The words echo and swirl around you.

He’s right, isn’t he? You can’t want this. You shouldn’t. Of course not…

You’re so angry, so sad, and he’s so beautiful.

Elvis. Your Elvis.

No, he’s not, he’s not, he’s not.

He belongs to no one. He belongs to the world.

Need pulses through you, a need so deep it brings you to your knees. It cuts through the pain in your head. It singes through your heart.

It’s unbearable.

It burns through you, from the inside out.

Those eyes, deep as the ocean, rimmed in black, plunder your soul. You ride the swell of the waves in them as they rise higher and higher and higher until they shatter underneath you.

The fall is blissful and terrifying, all at once, but Elvis is with you the whole way.

Free falling through the abyss, you are scared. It’s never-ending. You don’t know when you’ll hit bottom, and the anticipation of it runs like ice through your veins.

Guilt. Shame. That ache in your chest.

And then you hit bottom.

Your eyes pop open with a shuddering gasp. Gripping the sheets for dear life, you frantically try to piece out where you are, that you are not falling anymore.

Just a dream. Just a crazy, medication induced dream, you pray, seeing that you are in the darkened suite in Elvis’ penthouse.

But the unease remains, lurking more visibly now in the corners of your mind, trying to tell you something you don’t want to hear. Something you don’t want to see.

The door to the bedroom slowly opens and you jump, a hand flying over your chest in surprise. Elvis strides in quietly, clad in his white gi jumpsuit, sweat pouring over him. He must have just finished a show.

You had been asleep a while.

You are still amazed at how his presence fills a room, even when it’s just you here, even when there is no one to impress. He looks gorgeous and you know he’s riding the post-show high by the way his eyes sparkle and by the flush of his cheeks.

“You’re awake, baby. How’re ya feeling?” he asks, gliding over to you on those long legs of his.

You are still reeling from the dream. You shake your head, trying to clear that feeling of dread, of falling, and as he sits on the bed next to you, you are sucked into those oceanic eyes once again.

Your heart races.

“Are you okay?” He looks concerned, brushing your sweaty locks off your forehead, thumb grazing your cheek.

“Are you okay? he whispers, his thumb grazing your cheek. You sit still in his lap, saying nothing and can feel him begin to soften inside of you, the wetness of spent arousal leaking down your thighs under your dress…

The flash of memory hits you hard, because it was then, not now. Triggered by the same gesture, the same man, but it was a different time. He looked so young…

But that’s impossible. Impossible. The first time you had sex with Elvis was less than two weeks ago.

Your heart thunders in your chest because suddenly you don’t think that’s true.

You kiss Elvis’ forehead, kiss the tears on his baby-faced cheeks, and then, with a strange boldness, you kiss his pouting, full lips. You can taste the salt of his tears on your tongue.

His pants scratch at your bare thighs as you straddle his narrow hips. His tongue explores your mouth, sending searing heat through you. Boldly, you rock in his lap, feeling him grow underneath you.

You need him, oh, god, how you need him.

The flashes aren’t complete, but they are real. You are suddenly so sure that they are, and you don’t understand, not at all. You look at Elvis now, wild-eyed, silently seeking answers. How? How?

His long fingers are cold as they part your wet folds, and he pushes one, then another deep into your heat while his thumb massages that ever-sensitive bundle of nerves at the front. It stings at first, this surprising intrusion, but he’s gentle, letting you adjust around him, letting you decide when to move.

Your breath is coming fast now, and Elvis looks more than concerned.

“Satnin, what’s happenin’? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, eyes searching you.

You screw your eyes shut. This can’t be real. It can’t be.

You sink down on him slowly, the tightness of your canal stretching around his considerable size as you try to take him all in. It’s easier now, after he prepped you with his fingers, and the discomfort wanes quickly as you bottom out. He’s hitting places inside you that you didn’t know existed until this very moment.

Elvis looks utterly ethereal as you begin to ride him, his mouth open and pink, his freshly dyed raven hair falling in his eyes. Everything about him looks carved out by the gods, and his eyes drink you in in a way that strips you bare, right to the heart of you. He looks at you as though you hung the moon and the stars.

Those eyes are now looking at you in a panic.

He brings you to the brink easily and you crest the wave hard, your orgasm fracturing you into a thousand pieces as you fall. You’d never felt this way before, not with Ted, not with Jack, not even with yourself. The pleasure of it rips through you and he follows quickly, a warm, sticky heat pulsing deep as you cling to each other for dear life.

Oh. Oh god…

It was real. You know it now. You are more sure of it now than you’ve ever been.

Graceland, you realize suddenly, when he took you to see Graceland for the first time. That’s where it happened. Nineteen-fucking-fifty-seven.

Elvis and you had sex, a long, long time ago. And he kept it from you. Pretended it never even happened.

You push away from him and stagger off the bed in daze, flooded with so many emotions and sensations at once that you don’t know how to react. Dizzy, you sway a bit on your feet.

Flashes keep hitting you as you move. Waking in the hospital, not knowing how you’d gotten there. Elvis, worried at your bedside. The pills. The accidental overdose.

You think you might be sick.

“What the hell is happenin’? You’re scarin’ me. Talk to me, baby,” Elvis says from behind you. He feels so far away, but that deep seeded need to flee him is rolling through you and you walk unsteadily forward, though you aren’t sure exactly where you are trying to go.

Oh, he must have been so relieved when you didn’t remember anything about that night. That he didn’t have to take back what he’d—you’d—done. That it didn’t completely derail his friendship with you or Jack. That he got to keep being Elvis without any repercussions.

Twelve years. Over a decade built on lies and half-truths and pretending.

Tears are streaming down your burning cheeks now. You feel humiliated. Shocked at both yourself and at him. You’d cheated on Jack, with Elvis. It didn’t matter that Jack had cheated first. You’d had feelings for Elvis all the way back then, feelings you acted on in a moment of vulnerability for both of you. He’d been devastated about June, scared about his fame. You’d wanted to comfort him, but you had also wanted to prove to yourself that if a man like Elvis Presley could want you, then of course Jack should.

You’d thrown yourself at him. He didn’t stop you. And then he lied to you about it all.

If you’d have remembered…Christ, the repercussions would’ve been life altering.

Elvis grabs you then, in the present, his hot, long, ring-clad fingers circling your arm, pulling you back towards him.

And it is then that your anguish fully turns to anger. After everything that has happened these past two weeks, these past fourteen years…Suddenly, that sense of betrayal, your seeming lack of control of anything in your life, all the fear of the past, present, and future, pushes you to the brink. You feel done being at the mercy of the universe, done at being at the mercy of the lies and whims of men.

“Take your fucking hand off me, Elvis,” you hiss, venom in your glare.

You watch as his brilliant blue eyes widen in surprise, and with that, he releases you.

“Is this all a game to you?” you ask pointedly, voice shaking under the weight of your simmering fury.

“W-what?” he says, shaking his head. “Baby, I can’t emphasize enough that I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You lied to me. You’ve been lying to me for years,” you throw at him. A fueled rage clouds your judgement. You are quickly becoming unhinged and near irrational, but you are unable to stop it, almost like you are possessed, out of your mind, and watching your unusual behavior from afar. It’s as though a part of you wants to blow all of this up and you are powerless to stop this destructive side of yourself.

Elvis throws his hands up in surrender and begins to turn away. “That concussion has you bein’ all crazy, honey. I don’t even know—”

“That day at Graceland, right before you bought it. When I accidentally took too many pills for my headache. You know the one, don’t you?” you interrupt scathingly.

He stops and looks back at you, that pretty brow furrowing, and you think you can sense his panic truly brewing now. “I-I-I thought ya didn’t remember nothin’ about that afternoon.”

“Oh, I didn’t.” You think now you do, but you have to be sure. “You were awfully upset that day because of June, weren’t you? Going on and on about how you’d never know if a women would truly love you. And, come to think of it, you never did tell me how it was that I fell asleep,” you add, turning the knife with both curiosity and fervor, glaring at him.

His eyes truly widen now, his pouty mouth popping open and then shuttering closed again, his pallor turning pale.

And there you have your answer. You are not supposed to know this. He’d told you about June all over again after you’d left the hospital because you hadn’t remembered him telling you at Graceland. But he definitely hadn’t told you again about his insecurity of not knowing if a woman would love him for who he really is.

It’s all true.

That realization is horrible and vindicating and almost relieving all at once. You weren’t wrong when that voice in your head was telling you he was keeping something important from you. You weren’t crazy. And you even think this isn’t all he’s been hiding, but you can’t go there now. It’s too heavy a punch to the gut, and all you see is red.

A frantic, small voice in your head tries to remind you that you should consider Elvis’ feelings about that day, how he was vulnerable and frightened when he couldn’t wake you, and that your concussion has you not in your right mind and missing pieces of all this, but your rage kicks those thoughts aside and you plow forward anyway. You have too many unanswered questions.

“We had sex, Elvis. In 1957! How could you…how dare you then pretend it never happened! How could you not tell me?!” you scream at him, in a way that is utterly unlike the passive and quiet woman you’d become over the years. The woman who had learned to cower instead of speaking up for herself. The stubbornness and fire from your youth flares, driving you forward recklessly. It hurts your head to do it, but you can’t help it.

Elvis just stands there, staring, silent, using that well-honed talent of his to make his beautiful, godlike face an unreadable mask. It kills you inside, but you wait, unwilling to let him off the hook. But he still does not speak.

“Did it even mean anything to you?” you then ask quietly, tears prickling your eyes again, “Or was I just another notch on your bedpost?”

He blinks slowly and presses his lips together, and your heart sinks because you can’t tell if being with him so intimately meant anything to him at all. You should be able to tell, but you can’t, not when he’s shutting you out like this. And that deepest fear being realized both destroys you and pisses you off even more.

Finally, Elvis breaks his silence, voice low and measured and too careful for him, like he’s reciting lines in a movie, “It wasn’t…You were high. Your judgement was impaired. I was mortified...” He trails off, looking away. Then he pauses, taking a deep breath before challenging you with his intense eyes, “And would tellin’ you have changed anythin’?”

You choke at that and shake your head as you turn away from him. The words linger in the air, and you are irate at them, at him. They whirl within you, stabbing you in their coldness. He was mortified by being with you. Good god. The wound of that cracks through you like ice shattering.

You know deep down you didn’t sleep with him because you were accidentally high. You are certain of it. It wasn’t just about getting back at Jack, or just about feeling attractive and desired. No, it was so much more than that. After remembering what you have, you know you’d given yourself to Elvis willingly, medication or no, doing something you’d sworn after Ted that you wouldn’t do again until marriage.

He presses you on this, this thing you can’t believe he’s asking. “Would it’ve? You were with Jack, you loved Jack. And I’d just gotten home and was leavin’ again just as fast. What would’ve it changed, y/n, other than to make things awkward between us and ruin our friendship? Other than to ruin what you had with Jack?” Elvis asks from behind you, his gravelly voice strained.

You’re shaking now, your whole being quaking with physical and emotional toil, another headache slamming down upon you. Yes, you’d loved Jack, you truly had. And you know you’ve fallen in love with Elvis these past few weeks. But all of this craziness—these revelations, these secrets, these memories—are finally confirming something your mind has been trying to tell you lately about all those years ago, something you suspected and feared, but didn’t want to admit:

You have been in love with Elvis since the beginning. You had loved him then just as you love him now. And if you had remembered that, if he’d wanted it, if he had asked you, at any point, you think would’ve dropped everything for him.

Even if it would’ve ruined you both.

A bile of panic rises in your throat because, besides the times you truly can’t remember because you’d literally been dying, there had been all those other moments throughout the years where you’d pushed down your love for him. Important pieces of your life that you’d just forgotten, sometimes right away, in order to spare yourself the pain of this realization, the pain of Elvis’ rejection.

Maybe it started in the diner when he comforted you after Ted broke your heart, or maybe it began even earlier because god knows you can’t trust yourself or your memory. In fact, you are quite sure that there are still things he’s keeping from you, pivotal things you still don’t remember and it’s maddening. But after the diner, it feels like every moment you repressed is a missing piece to the puzzle of your life and reminder of how everything has gone so completely wrong.

Oh, and isn’t it rich that you are laying into him about keeping this naughty little tryst from you when you’ve been conveniently forgetting all these crucial moments of your relationship over your lifetime, a logical voice in the back of your head hurls at you.

Fuck you, you throw back, dread seeping through you.

And now your deepest fears are confirmed—Elvis hadn’t wanted you, not like that. He was mortified by it, in fact. He had a taste of you in a moment of weakness, because he’s just a man after all, and got lucky when you didn’t remember. Thinking better of it, he kept it all to himself. All these years, he’d lied by omission. And for some goddamned reason, he’d swung back around to you after all this time, destroying your life as you knew it in the process.

You spin back around to face him. Nausea rolls in your stomach because, suddenly, you’re not sure you know the man in front of you at all.

“Fuck you, Elvis Presley. It would’ve changed everything,” you say vehemently, honestly, leveling him with your stare.

And it looks like you just slapped him by the way he recoils.

You can’t stop yourself from digging deeper, too angry to care, “But I’m sure that’s not what you wanted, since you were so quick to decide that I didn’t need to know, so fucking cocksure that you didn’t even deem to ask what I wanted. No, you just got laid and got lucky and moved right on to the next girl.”

“Th-that’s not—“ he sputters, those azure eyes a little frantic.

“Isn’t it, though, Elvis? Isn’t that exactly what happened? We fucked and you decided it was a bad idea, so you didn’t bother to tell me when I couldn’t remember myself. Who cares what I thought, right?! Then you went on with your life as though nothing happened.”

As if it hadn’t mattered at all, as though you hadn’t mattered enough to bother. You can’t bring yourself to say that part, though, as the icy pain of saying the rest out loud like this sends more tears pouring down your cheeks, despite your anger wanting to keep them at bay.

As if the rest isn’t bad enough, another thought hits you sideways, “My god, you even pushed Jack to marry me, didn’t you?” You look at him incredulously, remembering how Jack had joked about it after he’d proposed. The words ache through you as you say them, as you realize the implications of that. Yet another one of your deepest fears confirmed.

Elvis looks stricken as he backs up to the bed and sinks down on the edge, putting his head in his hands.

“I-I-I w-was no good for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t get to decide that, Elvis! You took those choices away from me!” you cry at him.

You watch as he holds his tongue, as his body stiffens at your words. His jaw clenches and his breathing changes. You know the signs by now, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he’s getting ready to explode and that it’s you pushing him over the edge. You want him over the edge. You want him to care enough to be mad about it.

“And what? Did you finally decide after twelve years that maybe you did like my pussy after all, so you decided to come back for more?” you spit at him nastily, driving him right over the threshold.

“I was protecting you!” Elvis bellows, leaping to his feet, face red with anger. His eyes darken and flash in a way that might have caused you to pause before, but not today, not after this.

You don’t let up. “Protecting me from what exactly? A bad marriage? A man that doesn’t love me?” you laugh haughtily at the irony.

He doesn’t elaborate, just bites his tongue in frustration and glowers at you, pulling himself back.

Then, another sinking realization drags you under. “Good lord—you had your hands in my relationship with Jack every step of the way. From day fucking one. You pushed us onto each other, a-a-and then you took him away from me, over and over again. The women Jack ‘dated’…Jesus, that was when he went to Vegas to see you that first time, wasn’t it? Of course. I should’ve known that’s when he started fucking other women. Because of you,” you point at him, more fury boiling in your stomach as you ramble.

God, was it all lies and subterfuge? Every fucking thing in your life related to these men?

Elvis stands there, jaw gritted so hard he might crack his veneers, his hands fisted at his sides, his leg going a million miles an hour. But you don’t stop.

“And then you came back home to find me upset, pretended like you didn’t know why, and then you fucked me?” The memories come to you too quickly, too painfully, fractured moments flashing in your aching head, weaving back together what you’d lost for so long, fueling your pain, fueling you forward. “And that was just the beginning. You sucked Jack and me both into your world, then played with our lives because…why? Why, E?” you demand.

Still, he says nothing, eyes fierce and his body vibrating with energy, letting you continue your verbal assault.

Your heart is going so fast you fear it’s going to explode, but you continue anyway, knowing that this isn’t like you, that perhaps this isn’t truly what you want. I love him, don’t I? But you are so mad, so exhausted from feeling like a plaything in the lives of the men around you, that you can’t stop. They’ve treated you as if you have no agency of your own. As if you were nothing without them. And you are done.

You shake your head. “You screwed with our lives because you could. You and your fucking egomaniacal, insane, manipulative bullshit. Nobody can be happy unless the King is happy, right? What the fuck is wrong with you?” you hiss, beside yourself with anger at him, on what he’d done to your life. In this moment, your love for him is entirely consumed by your rage, as your addled and bruised brain tries to piece together just how screwed up this entire situation is.

Elvis roars then and sweeps everything off the nightstand, sending things shattering and flying to the floor. You do your best not to wince at the outburst, unwilling to let him shake you. Then, he looks at you, like a caught, caged beast, his chest heaving and eyes dangerous. But he isn’t blacked out, and you know it because you can see the gears working in his head. You can see that the emotion in his face is not anger alone. There is a deep pain there and it confuses you.

Dread settles into a knot in your stomach because suddenly you can’t shake that terrible feeling that you are still missing something vital here, something both Elvis and your traitorous brain are keeping from you, but your head is pounding and your blood is up and you can’t think straight.

You stand toe-to-toe, staring at each other, chests heaving in the heavy silence.

He breaks first, but with an almost frightening level of clarity that you don’t expect after his outburst. “Fine. Y-you w-w-wanna make me th-the-the villain in this story, then fine, I-I’m th-the fucking villain, honey. I-I-I always w-was,” he stutters wildly, cutting, his stormy eyes narrowing like a crocodile as he levels you with them.

He doesn’t deny any of it. He doesn’t even defend himself anymore.

You don’t know what to do with that.

All you know is you hurt. Everything aches, inside and out. You feel like an absolute fool. You are infuriated with him and maybe even more furious at yourself. Then, your heart breaks, sending a wave of sorrow flooding through your chest and down your limbs.

Everything with Jack was bad.

Somehow, this is worse.

It feels like your entire world has been pulled from underneath your feet. The devastation you felt about Jack feels like nothing now compared to Elvis’ betrayal, and the weight of both together is crushing you from all angles.

There is no escape. You can’t breathe.

Somehow, you’ve lost them both. Or maybe you never really had either of them to begin with.

You silly, stupid girl. I tried to warn you.

You manage to hold back the sob that threatens to break you.

Wordlessly, you nod, clench your fists, then turn and walk out.

Elvis doesn’t stop you.

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shadowbrightshine · 3 months

Text

Final rp on this blog of Hatchblr, Will be moving to the blog linked at the end.

TRANSFORMATION

Watcher stormed away, but there was nowhere else to go. John was gone, Tim was dead and a monster was using his name, and she couldn’t reach the Lords that she cared about. The trio of boyfriends were split up by Blinky, and her watcher siblings were scared. She couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing at all. Just like always, she was useless. It was stupid to play Godmother again, she knew how it would end, that’s how it always ended. With pain and betrayal. Useless, useless and weak. What was the point? Boredom. Amusement above all, amusement, boredom and need and desire and love and hatred and-

She’d never see her little brother or sister ever again.

“I can’t take this anymore!”

The scream echoed across the black. This declaration of pure frustration and desperation for something new reached the ears of the many she’d loved. It crossed the universes, the timelines, and the spaces between them with a blood curdling cry for help. She tried to rip herself apart, she tried to close her eyes, she tried to reach for her family. But she had no chest to rip and make bleed. There were no hands to tear at her skin, and no skin to be torn. There were no eyes to close, and no arms to hold with or be held in. Watcher, Shadow, Watcher of the black is alone.

Come here, dear thing. Come here.

Watcher stopped screaming and focused on this new voice. She’d heard the voices of nearly everyone on Earth in her time. She only came back to Hatchetfield because she missed home. This was new. It came from somewhere else. “...Hello?”

You know where I am, my creation. You’ve caught glimpses of it before. Follow me, follow me.

They sounded so kind. Like… Like who? She traveled to the edge of this world’s black. Any farther and she’d cross into the world. Only the watchers could hop between universes, or they were the only ones who could cross into them fully. She’d seen Lords communicate, but that was pretty recent in the history of her life.

Come with me.

It was…Where was it? The infinitesimal space between universes? “You’ll have to lead me. Can you help me?”

Do you see the cracks? I am behind them. I am them. I am so much more than you could picture. While you are there only the tiniest echo of my voice can reach you. I whisper and let it carry for distances so far, so I do not shatter the place you’re in. That crack is my voice, weakening the universe. Hurry, soon these words will rip it apart entirely.

Watcher saw it, the glowing crack in the wall-less space. The swap was so quick. Into it she went. The In-between. There was a soft glow of not colors, unlike the Black or the White. She’d never been here before…behind her the crack widened, and split open. She watched the Black be sucked in with her. Soon the entire world she’d just come from was specks spread across this infinitely large and infinitely small space. This place was beautiful. It was changing constantly, and she could hear something like a song. It was so soft; she could stay here forever. Was this the heaven Ronnie told her about? Wait, who was Ronnie…

Come close. You can see me now, can’t you Ella?

“...Ella?” She traveled, watching the colors change around her. They trailed around her, leading her, guiding her towards the voice. “Who are you?”

Open your eyes dear, see me. I’m here.

Shadow gasped. Stretching and spanning a space so large it couldn’t be described was her. She knew who it was. Mother. The Mother. “I-”

She was massive. Black and white liquid made of glittering stars and glowing lights formed her limbs. In her nails were entire universes, each alive and bustling with life. She could see thousands of them, as her arms lifted the watcher. She- She was so- No-nonononono-

There you are. It is alright, you do not need to try and see all of me. Even you are not strong enough to handle me. I can see you, Ella. Don’t look so hard, you’ll hurt yourself… Remember who you are.

Ella. Ella Orien. Oldest of 4, daughter of Reed Orien and Wendy Orien. Younger siblings named Quincy, Hailey, and Trent. She had 3 siblings, not 2. Not 2, she had a second brother. Hailey was her little sister. She had blonde wavy hair and brown eyes. Trent had blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wanted to be an archaeologist. Quincy had short reddish brown hair and blue eyes, he was starting middle school soon. He had a scar under his right eye after a bike accident and he never rode a bike again. Wendy had bright red hair, and Reed had blonde hair. Hailey wanted to be a ballerina, and she always asked Ella to tuck her into bed when her parents went to trivia nights. She always knocked on the door later in the night for a hug and to be assured that they were coming back soon. She knew their laughter and their screams and their anger. Her siblings…her family…her friends and her life. The life she’d lived as she searched endlessly for anything to occupy her mind. It was all sitting before her in the palm of this Goddess’ hand.

There you are. You’ve lived such a long life now. I can see everything you saw. It is time for you to become what I made you for. You were my first Watcher. Such a fitting name for who you are. It was easy to take you from that place and make you what you are now. Ella, I need eyes and a voice. I want to see my children again. I made all these worlds to see how they would grow up and change, depending on what they saw. They are all my children, but they do not know me. I am too great to enter any singular place that I’ve made. My voice is too loud, it shatters the delicate balance of the Black and White and the physical world. With some of them I left fathers, with others I left more siblings, and still others I whispered more ‘human’ thoughts into. Some were human, and others were younger children, and still others were silly and playful.

It is my nature, I create, and I iterate on those creations. I need others who can speak for me, and who can see for me. I’ve been dormant, resting in the constant creation and blissfully waiting for them to find me. But I’ve grown lonely here, and they are far too focused on the physical world to search for me. That’s why I took you. I wanted to see if I could form a new type of being to serve me. I needed something that started in the physical so you could embody both sides. My children’s home, and the world you come from. You were my first, so you will lead them. You have been nameless and formless for long enough. You are ready, and you are done with my training. I can see the plans you’ve laid out while you hoped to die or to be given a body again. I am happy with them. I return all of the memories you lost your grasp on. You will be the Sister. The oldest of the Watchers, just as you were before. I am proud to call you my daughter.

“Am I…Getting a body?” So she’d been pulled out for a reason. “Can I see them again?”

You will. Not for too long, you are no longer of the physical world, not fully. When I took you away, I filled the hole you left across all my creations. You can’t replace that space any longer. But you may see your family again for a short time, and others can tell you about them. Will you be my first Lady of my home? Will you be the Lady of the In-Between? You called yourself Shadow for Black, and for your own absence of self. Now, you will Shine with the light I give to you. I will grant you the power you so desperately wished for, and in return you will be my eyes and my voice. I will share your voice, and the voices of any Watchers who follow you. I want to see my children again.

Ella cried with the eyes she’d soon receive. “Agreed! Yes yes yes yes! I agree I want to help you! Please, I’ll do anything. I want to be a Lady! I want to help you! I want to help Bitey and Halo and my Watcher brothers and sisters! Please!”

Then be.

[Shadow is no longer here. Shiney will be arriving soon. Come and follower her at Giggle's place! ]

#shine post #hatchetblr #hatchetfield #new blog #Giggles #starkid #come check it out

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creepylittlelady · 5 months

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Plight of the Operator [PUPPET STRINGS LORE]

Descended upon this Mortal plane,

Came a creature as dark as a shadow and as tall as the trees.

From the deep wells of the constellations above,

a purpose welded in like DNA.

Worship me,

Place your faith in me and I shall transform you,

to that of which mortality could never perceive to transpire.

Look at the trees and nature surrounding,

and only observe the light I emit.

Yet nobody came.

Strange enough as this was, the creature, the God, grew weaker.

As the Olympians and the Greater gods gained strength,

this pitiful being received none.

Wound tightly as an unopened present,

a tingling sensation prickling like thorns unpleasantly resonated.

A longing.

Then, an epiphany came.

These mortals are too feeble to approach what isn’t offered to them first.

I shall come forth to them,

and do battle with the unquenchable thirst of human desire.

Allow mine self to pour such spirits,

and turn Peasants into Prophets.

And so this divine brute traversed this surplus Planet,

an unknown sonorous melody observed by a quintet.

One after the other,

they followed the strange disruption,

an unwritten promise of knowledge etched inside.

A winding gear of hunger began.

The first was a dying scholarly human who looked the sod in its singular eye,

They instantly asked for only one thing, and commanded for another.

“Tell me the truth, and teach me to ascend beyond my own wicked fate.”

The mortal professed, branching out their bony, lifeless hands.

Admiring their confidence,

the mortal was told all the secrets of the universe, and more.

The second was a young juvenile human who was desperate for power,

having so little themselves.

Ecstatic to see this non-human entity, it believed it met a demon straight from the scriptures.

It asked for too many and was told it could only receive one of its mortal desires.

“Show me the path to glory and fame, guide me on my journey of praise and prowess, by any means.”

The God was underwhelmed with such an empty request,

but granted their sullen wish, and set the superficial young mortal on its merry way.

The third was a human who was isolated even from its own hometown,

only finding solace in the ethereal depths above.

The human, enchanted by the Gods deep opaque skin, believed they met a creature from the Moon.

They begged,

“Take me to the lunar planet, where I can thrive knowing that never again shall I be ridiculed for my very own existence.”

“I assure you, I shall teach others of your divinity, my Lord.” Impressed with such immediate worship,

the God granted the human’s wish as soon as the final consonant left their lips.

The fourth was already long since a religious human,

however was cast away and shunned from the only place they could have called home.

They searched far and wide through this dangerous place for a final meeting with God.

“Reveal yourself to me, whatever Lord there is out there.”

“Reveal to me that there is a purpose for my suffering, and I shall eternally indebt myself to you.”

The God saw the wrath and lust tangled inside the poor human.

Intrigued,

It answered the mortals faint cries of help.

Those who have gazed upon my light shall be granted an eternal legacy,

forevermore humanity shall be tainted with my mere conception.

Filled with sin and corruption,

I shall now observe how humanity will metamorphosize to my vision.

Slowly growing in power;

it finally gave itself a name and an altar of worship.

In the neverending Forest of an unmarked territory,

the “Operator” lay,

eagerly awaiting another day.

(This is a sort of poem detailing the events of the first ever bit of my timeline to happen; if you wanna ask about it, feel free!)

#littlelady #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #slenderman #creepypasta au #puppet strings #zalgo creepypasta #the operator #poets on tumblr #original poem #ben drowned #moon children #eyeless jack #lazari swann

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streets-in-paradise · 1 year

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The Original Child - Andy Barclay x Ray Reader ( requested)

Requested by @ssbptigers, based on this ask

Warnings: Posted on mobile Few editing and proofreading ( english is not my native language)

Note: Some aspects of timeline and canon events were changed to fit the request. Reader is Chucky's little sister, born when he was a teen. He ended up on the boarding school for the consecuencies of early criminal behavior and she was alone with their parents when the home invasion happened. Chucky took care of her once he turned 18 and he died at 25.

Tags:@losersclubisms

Even since the victory in Harrogate Chucky seemed to have frequent strikes of bad luck. Not only his most dreaded enemy got out, he was getting closer and closer to his plannings. As if someone who knew and resembled his thoughts would be guiding them, Andy and Kyle always had precise ideas on where to find him.

Keeping the prisoner head was helpfull, but they were also counting on someone who knew him better than them. His little sister, his first kid. The one he thought lost since the fatidic night of his death.

Loosing him was hard for you, but even worse was finding out he came back and never searched for you. An unforgivable betrayal followed by a terrible realization. Charles taught you to kill, but never why to. You have done it to survive, but the targets of his comeback had nothing to do with that.

Children, the urban legend of the killer doll was surrounded of faces that reminded you of the little child he damaged and abandoned.

One cold night, exactly like that one in Chicago, some of those faces became people to you. Two of them managed to find you, a short dude and a blonde woman that were not fully aware of what that meant.

They had no idea of who you were, but they wouldn't stop staring at you. Overhearing their talks with other people gave you an idea of what they wanted, but at that point that didn't make it less intrusive.

" HEY, THE FUCK YOU ARE LOOKING AT?? BACK OFF!"

You carelessly lightened a cigarrette, hoping they would get the message.

They didn't, the man in particular seemed to have no interest in giving up.

" Do you know Chucky?"

Intense staring crowned the tension of the moment, the peak of it when you blew smoke to his face. Kyle thought you were the most disgusting woman she had seen in a while, but something else caught hers and her brother's attention.

You turned back cackling, demonical sounding laughing they would recognize anywhere. Their first instinct was thinking you were posessed, but a Chucky wouldn't have walked out without trying to cause them any harm

"Wait! " The man followed you, desperately trying to convince you of talking. " You know him! What did it happen? What has he done to you?"

Chucky took away your life and he left you without a chance. Your life went downfall since you killed two cops while trying to escape from his hideout back when you were just a kid.

They should have never allowed him to become your guardian in the first place.

" Why the fuck you care?" You cutted off the stranger before he could keep throwing any more questions. " You don't. Stop acting like the good samaritan, that shit ain't gonna work with me. "

" We do care." The woman followed." We know what you have went through, we have been there. "

You laughed again and you couldn't help noticing their particular reactions to your chuckles.

" Save it, blondie. You have no idea. "

" Where you made an orphan? Is that how you ended up here? " She insisted. " I have been one all my life, i know about fighting to survive. My brother over here, i got to know him when Chucky made him a temporary orphan. "

" My mother ended up in an asylum because of him. " He concluided in a heartfelt tone. " More kids are on the way of getting hurted, abandoned or utilized. They need our help."

You followed in the name of your troubled childhood and the resentment towards your brother kept growing. Andy and Kyle showed you many things about him that resonated with your experience in the suffering of other children. It made you think that to Chucky you were nothing but an experiment. His prototype of subservant kid, he tested in you all the manipulations he perfected with the others.

For the first time ever, you were arround people who had a close idea of what it was to be raised by him. Andy had some troubles understanding your initial apathy, why you haven't done nothing about Chucky in all those years. Neither him or his sister knew the truth of who you were, since you gave them a fake name with a fake story making you seem a more presentable victim. They never questioned it and the hunting duo became a trio. Your help brought a productivity increasement, but the hunt also got you closer.

He got under your skin, more than what you could have dared to admit. Over time, and behind a facade of semi-mockfull teasing, you began to hide some true interest on him.

You were a pair of well intentioned psychos who just had suffered for way too long and were used to Isolation. He was impressed to find out that, no matter what he would tell you, you always seemed to have something worse to share. When he told you about how Chucky killed his foster parents, you told him about living in the streets. When he spoke about being sent to the military school, you said you spent a time in jail. Whenever Kyle was arround she would try to make that sort of talks sentimental, but you always approached things with irony and he liked that.

He discovered that he enjoyed being arround you. The more time you spent together, the less he cared about the outstanding resemblance with the enemy that once catched his attention. When he meet you, he did have the impression of being talking with another female Chucky, but that was just a shocking first impression.

You weren't like him, not at all in his eyes anymore.

The bits of progress you were making weren't ruined by Chucky because your secret was relatively safe. The dolls you found together didn't recognize you, the esence of who your brother was seemed diluted in the act of splitting his soul.

They resembled him, but Charles wasn't there completely. Some of his memories weren't there, his core personality was altered. Killing those dolls was to you like stopping a bunch of copycats, the posibility of reuniting with your brother seemed forever lost.

When the traces went cold you all ended up crashing at Andy's place, your first time in the cabin. He said that they were going to see someone there who could give the ríght push to the search and you would be of great help for that.

At the arrival there was no one to be found, what confused a little bit

" Feel yourself at home." Andy welcomed you ríght away. " It's a small place, but it will be enough for us."

" Can i borrow your bed? With you inside, i mean." You teased him and chuckled briefly. " C'mon, you know it's alright. I live in a shithole. "

He was still getting used to your particular sense of humor. The amount of inadecuate jokes per hour you would dedícate him sometimes was impressing, but the oddest part was feeling strangely proud hearing you.

It was shameless flirting and you weren't shy at all about it. Andy felt encouraged by it, knowing that at least he was sure you found him attractive.

" Can i get you something? Except for a well cooked meal, i can bring you anything."

You shared a few chuckles.

" A beer! ... and one of yours, Kyle?"

She was about to pass you a cigarrette, but he intercepted it and you groaned in protest.

" I thought you said you were going to quit smoking."

" I'll leave it when you leave the joint, hypocrite." You mocked him in return, frustrated. " I said no more smoking in front of you."

" Leave her have it, Andy." Kyle defended you. " She is going to need it. "

" For what? Since when the voice of reason is on my favor?"

" Our old friend will get on your nerves and, no offense, but you can be dangerous when someone pisses you off."

" I plead guilty of all charges, your honor!"

Andy chuckled and returned you the cigarrette.

" I would keep it for later if i was you. "

The first image that the chopped living doll head got of you showed you standing up behind Andy. Personal space was non existent, you didn't care for it and he didn't care for that.

That one doll looked very different from the rest. Scarred, severely tortured. Its eyes had a different shine, more sinister and vibrant, and those were fixated on you.

" Holy fucking shit! Is that thing still alive?"

Andy couldn't help noticing you were a bit impressed, but not necesarily horrified.

Fascinated.

" He doesn't shut up if i don't keep him gagged."

" Have YOU done this?" You asked him, in awe. " You are insane."

You rounded him with your arms, dragging him even closer to you, and peppered kisses over the section of his neck that you were able to reach in that position.

Shy smile on his face, he was barely keeping himself together.

" The plan is getting answers, but you can get some revenge in exchange. " Kyle pointed out, resigned and weirded. " Andy finds it... cathartic. "

" Sounds fun, but i don't get it." You commented, disconcerted. " None of those airheads is the real Chucky, I would have recognized him. "

" I am the real Chucky. " The doll head spoke, freshly released from the gag. " On brand an original. The real question here is... Who the hell are you?"

" I can't believe this! Charles ' I never forget a victim' Lee Ray is having memory issues." Andy began to make fun of him without hesitation. " You don't remember her, but she surely remembers you."

If that thing was your brother, if he was there for real, it was just a matter of time untill he would recognize you.

You decided to act first, hoping he would not find chances to twist the narrative and turn your new friends against you.

" Hi, Chuck! I'm Wendy. "You introduced yourself through a memory of your childhood. " Eddie used to call me like that. You said i should never reach Tiffany, so he was the onlyone who knew about me. He was terrible at babysitting, I used to have more common sense than him and i was the little one so it was me taking care of him for most of the time. You two used to make fun of me for being a know it all, i learned to read with your voodoo books. "

Everyone else lost all control of the situation, Chucky incluided.

" (Y/N)? " He called you by your real name, his voice tone showing a glimpse of heartbreak unusual on him " No fucking way! It can't be!"

He stared at Andy with an animal fury.

" YOU ARE GOING TO PAY FOR THIS, YOU LITTLE SHIT!!! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

There was a lot to unpack, and you were going to become the center of the interrogatory.

#chucky #chucky fanfiction #andy barclay #andy barclay x reader #andy barclay imagine #alex vincent #alex vincent x reader

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arrow90-art · 9 months

Text

9 Ship Songs

Thank you sm for the tag!! @dujour13

For Larksharius & Rimerock! Their love story and lore. :3

I don't have 9 songs yet, and some of these are their character theme songs. I will share the lore with the songs, here we go! ^^

Link to the Playlist (the order of songs follows their story timeline)

1. Lost at Sea - Rob Grant, Lana Del Rey

Pov Lark. Timeline before they met Ri in Lost Chaple again (their second encounter).

Once you told me Look for the North Star Then you'll see Heavenly, I hear Found my way to the beach There were waves over me I was lost at sea 'Til you found me, 'til you found me ... I was found lost at sea

As I mentioned before, Lark falls unconscious when they overused their power and exhaust their soul&body to an extreme. Their soul is forced out of their body to the bank of the River of Souls. They will perish if their soul can't wake up and get back to their body in time.

Lark carries a radiant scale (fallen from Ri when he rescued the sinking ship hundreds of years ago. Lark was a small boy on the boat. It's their first encounter). Whenever Lark is unconscious, the scale glow and radiant coldness to wake them up. It's a North Star, glowing even at the darkest part of the river, guiding the lonely soul back home.

(Their love story is a hundreds years long Lost & Found.)

*My art is still a wip! Lark's soul wanders on the bank of the River of Souls.*

2. Windswept - Crywolf

Pov Ri. Timeline before he met Lark in Lost Chaple.

Ri's gold dragon mentor Mirikshul was killed. He missed her too much, and suffered from severe corruption.

(I only love the loneliness and desperation in this song. Most of the lyrics don't mean anything. Ri never loved Mirik in a romantic way. )

But in my head I am still there I can still feel you Breathing slow I've known this dream for a long time In the air Suspended here With thousands of words we've spoken Can I soar Up through the clouds Leave all of this behind ... All alone I feel your breath I hear your whispers Dark like storms Telling me, "Dear, I'll never leave your mind."

3. The Beach - Wolf Alice

Pov Lark. Timeline when Lark (still a lich) visits the Osirian deity Set in its realm.

Imagine the song starts with the two bargaining.

(1: 55) is the time when Set's scythe cuts through Lark's body and soul. The blade cut off their 50+ years of existence as a lich. The process only took a second, but it feels like actual 50+ years because Lark has to experience these times again and made their way out.

Set and related lore here, for those who haven't seen my Egyptian deity with 2 dog heads. :3

Pressed in my palm Was a stone from the beach The perfect circle Gave a moment of peace Now I'm lying on the floor Like I'm not worth a chair I close my eyes and imagine I'm not there

4. Surrounding - CHPTRS

Pov Ri. Timeline after the two meet again. They built trust and love slowly kicks in.

Lark enchanted the radiant scale and return it back to Ri as a necklace. It helps him maintain a clear mind from corruption madness. (but nothing can cure the corruption, Ri is still dying.)

By now I'd be gone but You found me, you found me I now know the love that's Around me, Around me And the people surrounding me In the face of the worst in me Don't lose hold of me now I'm barely hanging on Don't go far from me now I'm barely holding on somehow

5. Obvious - CHPTRS

Pov Ri. Timeline after the two meet again, Chapter 5. Right before Ri's ritual to become a dracolich (hopefully an arch dracolich, the ritual is special, reinvented by Set).

The two now accepted the fact they love each other. If Ri can make it through the ritual, they will officially be lovers. Lark feeds the Potions of Dracolich Transformation to Ri in a long kiss. This is their first kiss too, Lark is saying please come back to me, don't die, I love you.

If I'm not swinging, then the war is won Caught beforehand Falling forward All in front of us Light bestowed The heavens open Was it obvious? Isn't it obvious? You were right in front of me With the answer

At the end of Windswept, the lyrics are "Are you still my answer/To the question I've asked since I was born". Ri was seeking his answer, and now he found it.

6. End of the Earth - MARINA

Pov, Ri & Lark. Timeline after Ri's successful ritual and the crusade ended. Now the two stick together forever, planar travel everywhere.

(also thanks to Blackstar, Ri ascended. The divine power let his body capable to run almost in the same way as a living dragon. He can eat, sleep, and do whatever he wishes to.)

Lark:

Do you ever think how this life could've been? If you never took the chance A leap of faith and danced with losing it all

Both:

But I'll give my love, I don't care if it hurts 'Cause I'll love you 'til the end If we're torn apart then I won't let go 'Cause wherever we are it feels like home ... 'Cause I'll love you 'til the end of the earth

Anyone who'd like to do this plz consider yourself tagged! ^^

#arrow answers #oc: rimerock #oc: larksharius #pwotr pals #my wip #tag game

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melishade · 1 year

Note

Number 2?

This ask game

Beloved Timeline. Specifically after Optimus and Eren find Elita and they return to the walls. For more context: Part 1: Elita’s Survival and Reunion

Hanji and the Survey Corps waited expectantly at the gates of Wall Rose. Hanji in particular, couldn't contain her excitement. Optimus had told her that the titan's numbers could be reduced to nothing. The Walls would be free of the titans. Even though this wasn't exactly how she envisioned it, and there was still an enemy to deal with from beyond the sea. But even so, at least one dream of the Survey Corps was going to be achieved.

They watched with anticipation as the soldiers slowly opened the gates. The Survey Corps saw Eren step in the walls in his titan form, with Megatron following behind. Levi; however, noticed something was off. Eren just looked confused, glancing back behind him towards the gate. But Megatron....Megatron looked scared.

"Hanji," Levi began, but Hanji didn't listen to him as she walked up to Eren. Before she could ask what happened, Optimus stepped through the gate. Everyone's confusion turned to shock, as they saw Optimus carrying another Cybertronian on his back.

"What the hell?!" Jean yelled, and it only lead to a bombardment of questions as they approached Optimus and the newcomer. Optimus tried his best to keep track of the questions, but Levi quickly noticed how the newcomer's grip on their sword tightened, and the arms around Optimus' neck grew closer. Not out of warning...but...out of protection. They eyed all the humans with caution, like they had never seen them before.

"Optimus, who is that?!" Hanji exclaimed.

"Commander, I will explain in due time, but for now, I need to take her to a place where she can rest. Can you help me with that?" Optimus requested.

"Her?!" Connie yelled.

"A female Cybertronian?" Armin questioned in confusion.

Hanji took notice of the weary and tired expression on the woman, and...she couldn't help but feel bad for her. "Sure. This way."

Hanji grabbed a horse and mounted it before guiding Optimus through the town. The rest of them couldn't help but notice how weirdly unresponsive Optimus was. Eren suddenly remembered the shield on his arm before removing it and handing it over to a rather fearful Megatron. Megatron finally noticed the shield in his vision before snatching it from Eren's grasp and flying off, stunning everyone.

"Where is he going?!" Jean demanded.

==========

Later

"I know that this isn't the best I could provide," Hanji began as she gestured to the cave, "But it's the best that I could do."

"Thank you, Hanji," Optimus said, "Your help is greatly appreciated."

Hanji noticed the female Cybertronian still eyeing her with caution, but it also looked like she so desperately wanted to collapse. "Is there anything else? I'm sure the Survey Corps want to know what's going on."

"I am staying here," Optimus declared rather tightly, the strain and exhaustion clear in his own optics. Hanji realized that there was no room for debate and walked back to her horse. She looked back to see Optimus setting the female Cybertronian down ever so gently before riding back to her comrades.

"You will be safe here," Optimus reassured as he sat down to face her, but Elita didn't respond to him.

"Forgive me, Elita," Optimus continued, "I know I have much to explain to you. I only ask that you give me some time."

Optimus saw Elita hang her helm while her arms trembled. "Is anything damaged? Do you need energon, Elita?"

Optimus nearly gasped as Elita reached out and grabbed Optimus' face with her servos. She forced the Prime to look her dead in the optic with such a fierce gaze.

"Say it." Elita commanded, "Say it again."

"Elita?" Optimus could only question in confusion.

Optimus could see lubricant forming in her optics, but they did not fall.

"Say it again," Elita's lips trembled, "Please...say my name again. My conjux endura."

Optimus' optics widened at that. The adrenaline, the disbelief, the fact that his body was running on autopilot to get Elita to safety, it all vanished in that moment. He was finally able to process...that she was here. Elita was here on this world. She was living. He could feel the warmth of her touch. See the blue in her optics. By the Allspark, Elita is alive!

Lubricant began to fall from Optimus' optics, making contact with Elita's servos. That ultimately caused Elita's tears to finally fall down her own face. Optimus moved his servos to wipe her tears, but the act of him touching her face ever so carefully, caused her to cry more.

"Elita." Optimus felt his voice tremble, the joy and ache in his spark growing larger by the second, "My conjux endura. My beloved."

"My beloved." Elita echoed back through her tears, "My conjux endura. Mine. Optimus Prime."

Optimus broke at the sound of his name on her lips. He wrapped his arms around Elita and held her so tight. He trembled and sobbed in her shoulder, but Elita didn't care. She herself wrapped her arms around his neck and cried. They were tears of joy and tears of shame. There was so much that both had wanted to say to the other, but the reality of their situation needed to settle in. The two sparks, long separated by war and conflict, had finally reunited. And that was all that mattered in that moment.

(...Is this romance? I don't know if I did it right. Anyway, the list is still up there. You are more than welcome to ask from that list.)

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mrdrhenwardhykle · 10 months

Text

I was in a silly goofy mood, so here’s a Bad End/Goons Dragon’s Lair AU +drawings c:

(Body horror, blood, rotting flesh, +kinda sad tw ig)

Idk, this may be set up like partially disorganized DND stats

Hollow:

Alrightly, so the first one we're talking about is more of a remake/redesign on an established character in the franchise. 'Hollow' is a character from the possibly non-canon 3D game, and is like the evil Dirk or something (idk-I tried to look into it, but looking at this game for too long makes me cringe)

Yeah, this guy.

But instead of just being a recolor and a copy of whatever Space Ace did that one time, in my version he's just Dirk from an alternate timeline.

So basically, in this timeline either a. this follows one of the deaths where it doesn't fully show him die/just shows him fail and get stuck somewhere, or b. a timeline where Mordroc and his goons take another route and attack him all at once when he first enters

Anyways, Mordroc (with intention of getting another servant to his castle) gets to Dirk and places an amulet over his neck, explaining he just gave him the 'gift' of immortality; confusing Dirk, wondering why he just did that in the first place. In a turn of events Mordroc stands back and allows his goons to tear Dirk's eyes out and throw him in a random room.

With the amulet, the victim cannot remove it themselves- but have to rely one someone else taking it off for them. You can gain fatal injuries with the amulet and not die, but the injury will likely never heal (other than maybe bleeding stopping), and the one who wears the amulet will never have the pain ease.

'Hollow', as the inhabitants of the Dragon's Lair have come to name him, isn't inherently evil; nor has any forced villainy caused by the amulet, and is still just normal Dirk- but cannot hear or see, and is thriving off of desperation to leave the castle without adding anything else to his anguish. Having a good intuition at first, he has forced himself to concentrate enough so his instincts can help him 'survive'. But no matter who you may be, good or bad, Hollow takes no chances and swings first.

To survive, remember to be smooth and agile in your movements if you see freshly killed goons/knights, smell old blood and rotting flesh approaching, or hear a man crying, screaming in anguish, or calling out 'Daphne' or help. Remember that harming him only makes him more desperate and hostile. If you have his well being in mind, avoid harming him at all costs and just sneak and dodge- and barricade the nearest door if possible.

If you don't care and just need to get closer to saving the princess, just disarm him by cutting off his arms and/or legs but that's pretty cruel. It's actually frowned upon to do that and should only be the last resort.

You can actually befriend Hollow, and it's one of the most recommended routes (other than taking the amulet off yourself). To do this, you need to dodge his attacks, and reassure through some way of touch or presence to show you are a friend or to reassure that he's safe. Show though grabbing his hand or arm that you're going to be guiding him, and just stay in literal touch or out of range when enemies are near-and he should take care of the issue. If you are able to lead him out, let him know he's safe and comfortable before paying your debt by taking the amulet off.

It's unclear if you can save Hollow, as taking off the amulet will just let his fatal wounds catch up to him and instantly kill him (Aka the amulet keeps him alive). Asking most guides, they would just tell you that yanking the amulet off is the best you can do, as he's 'cheating' death and won't suffer any longer- but there may be a 1% in reversing it. That is, to begin the route; take Hollow out and find the best healing mange you can. It's hard to say if healing magic or medical attention can actually 100% help him out, as there's plenty of issues causing him anguish, and either magic or medical care can miss that. And that being said, it's likely difficult to find a good mange in the kingdom, and an even better mange to cure full blown missing eyeballs and other organs- and he might still live with difficulty. This isn't the most recommended route to deal with Hollow, but taking the chance is by no means frowned upon.

Any time Hollow gets close to the exit, a goon is sent to pull him back to another room to screw him up again. It's unknown if they would do this if he got close to the gold room. They've lost a few goons while doing this, but Mordroc insists in keeping him as a guard and a good selection to his 'collection' of knights.

Anyways, ignore the quality of my horrible colored pencil drawings

The Banshee Princess:

After Dirk's 'failure' to save her, Daphne officially became another new 'toy' to Mordroc's collection. Mordroc basically went through the same ritual as seen in the second game, and casted the Banshee curse on her through marriage. The Banshee curse itself forms out of loss and grief, and being that Daphne was in a slightly different position of grief (Aka, no children or husband to lose-but rather just a whole kingdom and boyfriend((?)) ) her form composed into a different and lesser variation.

After she was let out of the bubble, she claimed Singe's room-even to the point of becoming to agitated with him to the point that she killed him by eating him from the inside-out while he was sleeping.

This rendition of the banshee is smaller and more agile like a lizard; and can be found mostly at the back end of the castle. She can crawl on walls, and uses that to her advantage to sneak on her prey. While she can attack goons, she mainly aims for and lives off of knights (as Mordroc won't announce her change to the kingdom and also won't bother to come close enough to feed her).

Her scream is loud and shrill enough that it instantly paralyzes her victims- however she only does this at a very close perimeter.

Look for signs of the Banshee once you enter this area. Keep alert if you feel like your eyes are making up something crawling on the wall beside you. Don't follow if you hear a woman's voice crying out anything like 'help me!', 'save me!', 'mom!' or 'Dirk!'.

Unlike Hollow, there's more of a chance to save Daphne from this fate (albeit she will revert back due to fatal injuries). The one and only cure is a kiss of true love (maybe where befriending Hollow comes in,, but you can try if you wanted to ig)- but the issue with that would be in getting her to remember who she was before so she could stop attacking. Memories are quite rare to get, but it's at least worth the try. Memories are also quite temporary, and she'll just quickly revert back to her animalistic instinct if you're not quick enough to communicate to her.

The ring is no longer there, and the deadline for the ring to enact the curse is long past due. She ripped it off herself while she still had a little bit of control at some point.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the random angst

#idk if you can foreshadow the tragedy I'm thinking of in my head #aka nobody comes for hollow and he makes it into the gold room thinking Singe is attacking him #gore tw #bad ending au #blood tw #body horror tw #rot tw #angst au #banshee #curse #dnd #you can use it for dnd idk if it works that way but ig it's cool #dragon's lair

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josnhoes · 2 years

Note

Obey me Self-aware? I have never seen anything for it. Mind giving me some of your thoughts on it? Genral or for specific characters, up to you. Sincerely, a wolf.

Sorry for the delay I was asleep. I'm happy to share my thoughts. I haven't gotten around to figuring out the angels, Solomon, and newer characters so this is just Dia, Barb, and the brothers.

Content warning they view reader as a God

Now for their self aware it's not they realize their in a game. It *could* evolve into it but their version is they realize some 'higher being' is guiding them, helping them get stronger, and giving them their love. Which for the brothers is a bit jarring. Last time they had feelings like that it was their father but this feels fundamentally different. There is more to it, it's stronger, and it feels actually with out biased. No matter their actions you accept them.

The first person to become aware is unsurprisingly Diavolo. Contrary to not being dateable at the start of the game he is aware of you. Yes you are a tad distant but he can occasionally her your voice praise him or talk of loving him; and he gets addicted fast. Never having any true unconditional love growing up he's in a frenzy to find you and bring you to him. He has to thank you for your support after all. The day your 'vessel' appears he's surprised. It wasn't you you obviously but behind those dull eyes of your puppet he can 'see' you, he can feel your presence stronger being near you. So rather then you going to live with the brothers, he has you in the castle.

Barbatos is the next to sense you, and at first it makes him uncomfortable. The only being who supposedly makes angels and humans feel like this is God and he is a demon so his gaze shouldn't be on him. Slowly he comes to realize you aren't that God, you are something else something *more* powerful and with such kindness you show love to even demons. He searches the timelines to see if he can catch a glimpse of the true you.

The brothers are next in line. Unsurprisingly it goes from eldest to youngest but all relatively close together. If you can't tell people are becoming aware based on their power levels. The brothers who were angels have mixed feelings for a while. There is a bitter resentment, because where were you when they suffered? But at the same time that feeling of being loved, and treasured despite their sins it grows comforting and they grow to accept you.

Lucifer does his best to impress you, his pride demanding he becomes your favored. Mammon is desperate to have the positive feeling on him at *all* times. Levi tries to figure out how you see them and can effect them so, but fears you'll look away from him once you realize he's a gross Otaku shut in. But you never do, he is the first to hear your voice amoung the brothers and brags about it.

Satan wants to understand who and what you are. A scientific curiosity that develops into a passion and low key worship of you. Asmo feels your love and grows addicted, you praise, your love he wants to feel and hear it as often as he can. It's a love he's never felt before, so powerful yet gentle; please tell him he did a good job again!

The twins are actually the hardest to accept your love and attention. Beel fears being hurt again, that you'll end up being like his father and make him loose another sibling. But after a while he let's you in, ever so cautious. Still after you used your vessel to save belphie he knew you weren't like his father.

Speaking of Belphie he hates you more then he hates humans at first. You granted such power yet overlooked them when he needed you most, when Lilith needed you most. Until he hears what happened to her. Then he fully believes while you can't influence as much, you were the reason she was spared and given her happiness. It's bitter sweet but he knows you did all you could.

#shall we date obey me #obey me

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angelofthequeers · 2 years

Text

Free to Be You and Me: chapter 13

Chapter 12 | Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

“Alya, you don’t understand! This is a matter of life or death!”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m counting on you to have my back when I need it!”

“Yep.”

“I need you to – are you even listening to me?”

“Hm?” Alya blinks and shakes her head, like she’s snapping herself out of a trance. Marinette throws her hands up.

“What use is telling you my secrets if you won’t help me?” she wails. Alya sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Marinette. Girl.” She reaches out and grabs Marinette’s hands from where she’s sitting on the bench in the school courtyard. “I’m begging you. Stop.”

“I thought you’d be happy that I finally did it!” Marinette gestures wildly. She narrows her eyes when Alya snorts.

“Okay, one, please never say that out of context. Ever. Second, I’m thrilled for you. I mean it. But I’ve been listening to this since the moment you called me at five in the morning to scream at me. Just…stop freaking out.”

“Stop freaking out? Stop freaking out?” Marinette clutches at her pigtails and yanks, trying to keep herself grounded in the face of the Thing that happened last night and the other Thing that’s coming up. She starts to pace again. “Alya, it has to be perfect! Red roses? Way too cliché! Eiffel Tower date? Everyone and their mother goes there! Picnic in the park? Yeah, sure, if we want everyone to know we’re a thing and then my identity will get exposed and everyone in Paris will know and Shadowmoth will kidnap Adrien and use him against me and then Chat Noir will try and sacrifice himself for me and – and –” And then white. And then freezing blue. Broken moon, cold water, muted and cool, blue and white, white, white –

“Okay, okay, whoa.” When did Alya end up standing in front of her? Marinette sucks in a deep breath, rattling in her chest, and grabs Alya’s wrists with shaking hands. “Marinette, what’s going on?”

“I – I – just nerves! Over the date!”

Alya sighs and guides Marinette to sit down on the bench. “No. This isn’t just some major nerves. I looked into your eyes and you were in another place. What’s wrong?”

Marinette chews her lip. She looks away. She ducks her head, trying to think of what to tell Alya apart from the truth. But, well, she’d told Adrien the truth last night, hadn’t she? Part of the truth, at least. And having someone to hold her, to comfort her while she loses her mind, trapped in her own nightmare…if she can trust Adrien, she can definitely trust Alya. Her shoulders slump.

“Remember the beret I made for Adrien? The one you guys made me deliver?”

“Yeah. You said he wasn’t home.” Alya’s eyes narrow. “What happened?”

“I…did deliver it. I signed my name and everything. But Adrien saw me jump out the window. He realised…”

Alya’s hands fly to cover her mouth. “He realised who you were.”

Marinette inhales shakily and nods. “Then Bunnyx – she’s the Rabbit hero from the future, I haven’t given out the watch yet – she told me that I had to fix it. I had to capture the akuma just like I always do. And she took me to another Paris – another timeline – but – but it was –” White, blue, cold, freezing cold. “White. Everywhere. The moon – the Eiffel Tower – everything – broken – dead –” Her breath hitches. Alya immediately sidles closer and wraps an arm around her.

“What was it?” she says. Marinette shakes her head feverishly. She hadn’t quite spoken it last night to Adrien – hadn’t named him – so she’s still safe. It can’t happen if she doesn’t say his name. But Alya looks at her so earnestly, so desperate to help, and another wall inside Marinette starts to shake and crumble.

“I…”

“Marinette, you can tell me. But if you can’t, I understand. Whatever it was must have been horrific.”

“Ch – Chat –”

“What about him?”

“Chat…Blanc.” Marinette’s entire body crumples, like a marionette whose strings have been cut, but Alya’s there to catch her and hold her close as a wrecked sob forces its way out of her.

“Oh. Oh no. I’m so sorry, girl.” Alya’s voice is soft, soothing, and Marinette desperately latches on to it to keep any semblance of mental stability when she’s on the verge of the hundredth breakdown this week.

“He was in so much pain,” Marinette whispers brokenly. “And he knew who I was. He somehow figured out my identity. Our l-love did that.”

“And that’s why you don’t think you can love Chat. Why you can’t let him know who you are,” Alya says. Marinette nods and throws herself at Alya, who holds her close and strokes her back. “Marinette, that won’t happen. You’re in love with Adrien, not Chat. He must have found out who you were some other way. Adrien would never betray you like that.”

“But what if he does?” Marinette’s voice cracks. “What if this is a bad idea? What if I can’t be happy without destroying the world?”

“Rubbish. You do so much for everyone. You deserve to be happy. And so does Adrien. I don’t know how him finding out your identity led to…that timeline, but it won’t happen here. You know why?”

Marinette shakes her head. When she looks up, Alya’s smiling gently at her, and she can’t help but grin weakly back.

“Because your best friend in the entire world has your back.” Alya jabs her thumb at herself, wrenching a watery giggle out of Marinette. “No one else is gonna find out your identity if I have anything to do with it. And whatever made that timeline happen won’t happen here. But you get that, don’t you, Marinette? You deserve to be happy. You got that?”

“If you say so, ma’am,” Marinette says, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Great, now she probably looks like an emo panda. “Alya…thank you.”

“Of course. What else are friends for?” Alya nudges her. “Now, back to your scheming –”

“Are we scheming?” someone says brightly. Marinette yelps and practically throws herself off the bench across Alya’s lap when Adrien sits next to her, beaming. A grinning Zoé sits on the ground, neatly crossing her legs, while Nino leans against the brick wall behind them, looking like the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Hey, babe.” Alya waves at Nino as she pushes Marinette upright, then frowns. “What’s up?”

“I don’t even know,” Nino mutters. “Dude’s been weird all morning. But he won’t tell me why, ‘cause apparently best friends don’t mean anything.”

“I told you! I’m just happy!” Adrien’s practically vibrating where he sits. Gosh, he’s beautiful.

“Uh huh,” Nino says with a long-suffering sigh. “Look, dude, I get if you can’t tell me, but you’re creeping me out. This is beyond happy. This is, like…akuma levels.”

“Oh, you’re happy?” Alya says with a terrifying grin. She turns her grin onto Marinette. “That’s good, Adrien. You deserve to be happy.”

Marinette flips her best friend off when Adrien’s not looking. But Nino notices, and he narrows his eyes at them, making Marinette smile sheepishly back at him.

“You know,” Zoé says, “if I knew being friends with you guys would be like this, I would’ve just stayed in New York.”

“Rude,” Marinette sniffs, her heart still recovering after Adrien’s jumpscare. “We’re a delight to be around.”

“Dude!” Nino throws his hands up and gestures wildly at Adrien, whose leg is bouncing wildly. “Do you need to pee or something?”

Adrien shakes his head frantically, his blond hair whipping all around his face, and Marinette almost faints on the spot at his sheer, radiant beauty.

“Nino,” Alya scolds.

“I’m just…ecstatic! Overjoyed! Euphoric!”

“A thesaurus,” Alya says dryly. A snort-giggle escapes Marinette before she can help herself. This is her. Adrien’s happy thanks to her!

“Is anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?” Nino says. Adrien just keeps bouncing and beaming. Alya’s still got that fox-like grin on her face. Zoé looks like she’s questioning every one of her life decisions until now. Marinette can’t keep her eyes off Adrien. After a moment, Nino shakes his head and pushes himself off the wall. “Yeah, I’m outta here. Call me when you’re all not possessed or whatever.”

“I’m not possessed!” Zoé protests.

“Ah, dammit,” Alya sighs as Nino slumps off with his hands in his pockets. “I’d better go after him. Marinette, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Wait, what?” Adrien’s smile vanishes in an instant, like the sun disappearing behind a cloud. Marinette would’ve glared at Alya for disturbing that sunshine if Adrien wouldn’t have seen it. “Something’s wrong with Marinette?”

“Nothing’s wrong with me!” Marinette says, pasting on a smile. “I’m fine!”

“Are you sure? You look like you’ve been crying!” Adrien’s brow crinkles. He leans towards Marinette, resting his hand on her arm, and oh no, this is dangerous – she knows now how it feels for him to touch her as more than a friend, the shape of his lips against hers, the lips currently downturned in worry that she’s kissed but he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know he’s sitting next to Ladybug, the girl of his dreams –

“Um, I think she’s about to have a stroke,” comes Zoé’s distant voice.

“Wait, what?” Firm hands grasp Marinette by the shoulders and then Adrien’s face is next to hers, and she shrieks and throws herself over Alya and to her feet before she can make a serious mistake and throw herself at him.

“I’m perfectly fine! Everything’s right in the world! I don’t love you!” Marinette lets out a hysterical laugh, grabs Alya, and scrambles out of there so fast that she might have been akumatised into a speed demon. How the hell is she going to survive the rest of her life with this boy when she can’t even make it one morning?

“Okay. You can do this.” Ladybug takes deep breaths, staring at Adrien’s lit bedroom window from the nearby rooftop where she’s perched. “He’ll like it. He likes you.” Butterflies burst inside her at those words, at that realisation that he loves her, and she giggles and hops from foot to foot. “It’ll be perfect! Just…go over there! With your yo-yo! And knock! And secret him away like a trapped princess!”

Tikki may not be here, but Ladybug can still clearly see the Look that her kwami would be giving her right now. Groaning, she unslings her yo-yo and swings over to the Agreste mansion and goes through her now-usual routine of hanging outside Adrien’s window, knocking, and waiting for his eyes to light up as he rushes over to let her inside. Except this time, she doesn’t accept his waiting hand.

“I, um…planned us a date. Somewhere,” she says through her heart hammering in her ears. “That is, if you want –”

“Yes! I want!” Adrien’s face brightens, then falls. “But, um…I’m not exactly dressed for it.” He gestures down to his pyjamas. Ladybug giggles.

“You know what? I’m in my pyjamas under the suit too. I don’t think either of us thought that far ahead.”

Adrien’s mouth drops and his face flushes a brilliant red. It takes Ladybug a few more moments to realise what she’d said: that if she dropped her transformation, she’d be in nothing but her pyjamas in front of Adrien. She squeaks and almost loses her grip on her yo-yo but catches herself just in time.

“Just come with me already!” she half-shrieks at him. Adrien blinks and shakes himself out of his trance.

“Right!” He takes her hand and lets her pull him out of the window, and she takes extra care to arrange him bridal style with her free arm so that she’s in no danger of dropping her precious cargo. Then they’re off, swinging through the cool Parisian night, sticking to rooftops and dark spots to avoid being spotted by nosey civilians on their way to their date.

Their date. Ladybug almost drops Adrien at the very thought. As it is, he yelps when Ladybug accidentally misses a step on the rooftop and almost ploughs into the tiles face-first. Ladybug gasps and tightens her grip on him.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I won’t drop you.”

“I know.” Adrien looks up at her as though she had personally hung each star in the sky. “I trust you, Ladybug.”

Ladybug dies on the spot. Thankfully, she manages to claw herself out of her grave and get herself and Adrien to the Eiffel Tower in one piece, where she yo-yos them up the metal beams until they’re on the top deck. Waiting for them is a picnic blanket covered in a variety of baked goods and a single red rose in a black jar.

“D-Do you like it?” Ladybug twists her foot nervously as Adrien, open-mouthed, stares around at her set-up, taking it all in. “I know a picnic is super cliché and all, especially on the Eiffel Tower – like, what else do people think of when they hear Paris? – but I just wanted to give you a little piece of what Chat Noir and I get to see, since we can get up here whenever we want –”

“Ladybug.” Adrien turns to grab her arms and kiss her softly. Ladybug dies for the second time that night. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I couldn’t have asked for a better place for our first date.”

“R-Really?” Ladybug stammers. Adrien smiles and nods and leads her towards the blanket, and she can’t help the relieved grin that breaks free. “That’s a relief. I was so worried all day – Rena was about ready to throw me into the Seine after I woke her up screaming at five this morning and wouldn’t shut up –”

“Well, I am a catch,” Adrien winks as he sits down and holds out his hands for her to join him. Ladybug moans and covers her flaming face.

“When am I gonna get over that?” she complains. “I should be used to you by now.”

“Maybe I just like to keep you on your toes.”

“Listen, I have to deal with an ugly butterfly slash bird guy with dreams of grandeur. And the crushing weight of being the Guardian. And having to see you as a civilian and not tackle you to the ground and kiss your brains out. I think I’m on my toes quite enough, thanks.”

“Oh?” Adrien leans in with the same smirk he’d worn while teasing Marinette about having photos of him in her room. “You saw me today? You know I wouldn’t complain if you did tackle me and kiss me.”

Ladybug gasps and frantically fans her flaming face. Adrien bursts out laughing, so she growls, grabs a muffin, and stuffs it into his mouth, cutting off his laughter with a choked cry.

“Stop teasing me!” she huffs. “You just have to make my whole life difficult!”

“M’t’pl’se,” Adrien tries to say. He takes a bite out of the muffin, letting the rest of it fall into his lap, and then swallows and repeats himself. “I aim to please.”

“Whoever made you should be arrested,” Ladybug says sullenly. “They did too good a job.”

“But if you arrest my father, where else am I gonna go?”

“Not my problem. That’s your fault for being too gorgeous.”

Adrien laughs and sags against her. They bask in the silence for a long while, eventually ending up on their backs together staring up at the stars, the rest of the food untouched. Thankfully, Adrien isn’t perfect, and Ladybug’s finally found one thing he doesn’t know: astronomy.

“I have no clue,” Adrien says. He reaches up and traces a random couple of stars. “I think that looks like a cat. Hell if I know anything about constellations.”

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” Ladybug teases. Adrien laughs.

“I have to let everyone else think that.” He rolls until he’s tucked into Ladybug’s side, and she grins and slips an arm around him so that they’re cuddling. They’re cuddling. Adrien’s cuddling her. It takes every tiny bit of Ladybug’s willpower to not scream that amazing fact out to the whole of Paris.

“Oh?”

“Well, yeah. I can’t be the sunshine prince of Paris if I’m not perfect at everything.”

Ladybug giggles. Adrien grins back up at her, and she leans down and kisses him sweetly before she can stop herself.

“Chat and I do this sometimes,” she says. “Obviously not this, of course. But sometimes, when it’s just too much, we lie up here together and just forget the world exists. That’s why it was the first place I thought of when I was planning this date. I’m not in love with Chat but…” She sighs. “I seem to compare every guy I come across to him. And girl. Just everyone in general. You’re the only person who can match him. Rena too, but she’s got a boyfriend and I’m not interested in being a homewrecker, or whatever the Americans say.”

“Oh,” Adrien says softly with a mysterious little smile that Ladybug can’t decipher. “That means a lot to me, Ladybug. To know that I can measure up to Chat Noir.”

“Just don’t tell him I said that, or he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.��

Ladybug shows her gratitude with a kiss. Except that it doesn’t stay a simple kiss. It evolves as their mouths press against each other, tongues swiping at the other’s lips but not quite breaching, and Ladybug lets out a pleased hum and drags Adrien so that he’s half-sprawled over her. It takes every fibre of her being, but she finally manages to pull away before the kiss can cross a line into something that neither of them is ready for; Adrien gasps and flops so that his head is on her chest and his legs are awkwardly entangled with hers, and he sounds as wrecked as Ladybug feels.

“You,” Ladybug says breathlessly, “are a menace, Adrien Agreste. You’re too much for me.”

“You’re Ladybug,” Adrien rebuts. “How do you think I feel?”

They laugh together and then Adrien settles so that he’s staring up at her with his arms crossed over her chest and his chin resting on the back of his hands. Ladybug just hopes that the depths of her adoration for this boy can be seen in her answering gaze; it seems to be visible, because after a moment, Adrien gives her a gorgeous, toothy smile that she answers in turn.

“I love that you brought me up here,” Adrien says after a few silent minutes. “Thank you, Ladybug.”

“Of course.” Ladybug brushes Adrien’s cheek with her hand. “Anything for you.”

Adrien’s cheeks darken and he ducks his head. After a moment, he looks back up at her with his bottom lip working between his teeth.

“It’s more than just the view,” he says. “This is where I fell in love with you.”

Ladybug’s breath hitches. “R-Really?” she stammers. Adrien grins up at her and nods.

“That second day, when those Stonehearts were everywhere, and you thought you’d failed. You stood up here and you looked out at everyone and swore to protect them all. You stood up to Hawkmoth. You showed him that you wouldn’t just roll over and let him win. That’s when I knew that I loved you, whoever you were beneath the mask.”

“I – uh – I’m –” Ladybug’s brain is currently offline and not about to reboot any time soon, so she’s reduced to garbled sounds in a feeble attempt to communicate something about the words that Adrien had just strung together and delivered right to her. Adrien’s brow furrows.

“Too much?” he says.

“No, no!” Miraculously, Ladybug manages to remember what words are and how they work. “I’m just – I was so afraid. I’d already messed up and I knew I wouldn’t make a good superhero and I – I was gonna give the earrings to Al – to Rena –”

“You what?” Adrien’s eyes bulge.

“I put them in her bag and everything! But then Alya was in trouble and Chat Noir needed help and I just…I knew I had to step up. I knew I had to fix my mistake.”

“No, see, that’s why I love you.” Adrien reaches up and starts to brush Ladybug’s forehead with the back of his hand, sweeping strands of hair away. Warmth shoots through Ladybug’s veins every time Adrien touches her bare skin. “I liked you before then, yeah, because you were a superhero and all and I love superheroes. But then you did…that. That speech – the way you just caught all those butterflies and got rid of Hawkmoth’s face…I told you, I just love that you’re not perfect. You make mistakes like the rest of us, and you always fix them. No one else could be Ladybug. You’re Ladybug.”

“Stop it!” Ladybug buries her face in Adrien’s warm, silky, spicy golden hair. “Just…stop being like that!” When she finally musters the courage to remove her face from its safe space, she’s greeted with that one grin of Adrien’s that always sends tingles down her spine and into her legs and turns her muscles to jelly.

“Can’t,” Adrien sings. “You’ll just have to put up with it if you want to keep me around.”

Ladybug sighs, and a smile slips out, unbidden. “If that’s what it takes to keep you,” she says, brushing her fingers over Adrien’s cheek, “I suppose I can deal with it.”

#aotq fic #aotq: free to be #miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain-cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #zoe lee #ladrien #ladrien kiss #cuddles #ladrien date #flashback #chat blanc

12 notes · View notes

comfortbucky · 3 years

Note

requests? did someone say requests??😌

fluffy headcanon, mafia boss!bucky comes home after being away for a week or so and it’s just a cute ass reunion between the reader & him with lots of kisses & hugs n shit

or(take your pick) :)

one shot, where john walker is really rude to reader(insults her & shit), but she stands up for herself. they(her & john) get into a fight & bucky finds out by surprisingly swinging by her apartment. of course bucky is pissed, but he tends to her wounds. then for some stupid reason, john shows up at readers apartment & bucky loses it. but it ends in bucky admitting his feelings to reader n some fluff 😩

hope you find motivation for at least one of these:😚

hi yes hehe i did say requests🙈

i’m a sucker for tfatws!bucky so- (and john walker is a rat bastard🤣 so lemme go off)

𝗶 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚ ⋆

pairing: tfatws!bucky x fem!avenger!reader

warnings: john walker (grr), violence! and descriptions of bloody injuries

A/N: also! i sort of changed the prompt i hope u don’t mind too much🥺 // this oneshot will not be taking place during the canon timeline btw but inspired by the events/themes of tfatws

word count: 1.5 k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

Y/N sighed, as she plopped onto the couch after a long day. She, Bucky, and Sam had spent the whole day researching the Flagsmashers to try and track them down. It took all day, partially because Bucky needed a little extra help with learning how to use his laptop. She chuckled at the memory, grabbing the remote to turn her TV on. Suddenly, a loud, aggressive, knock interrupted her thoughts. She sighed and leaned her head on the back of her couch, taking a moment to debate leaving her very comfortable spot, before getting up to answer the door. Y/N knew that she probably should have peeked through her peephole before answering, but she wanted to return to the comfort of her couch as soon as possible. She opened it to see none other than John Walker, greeting her with a smirk. Y/N rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here, John? How the hell did you even get my address?”

“All government property has GPS tracking in it," he said, pointing to her laptop on the kitchen table behind her. She turned and frowned as he continued. "Look, you need us, me and Battlestar, to take down Karli.” She looked back at John, laughing at Lemar’s alias.

“No way I’m letting someone who goes by Battlestar help me out.” He glared at her comment. “Or you, a Captain America wannabe.”

John took an aggressive step closer, way too close for Y/N’s comfort, as he replied. “I am Captain America, whether you like it or not.”

"You'll never be Captain America," she snapped back. "You don't have what it takes." He glared at her and put his face right in front of hers.

"How would you know? You're a pathetic excuse for a soldier," he spat and Y/N grimaced at John's spit landing on her cheeks. He looked at her, his eyes examining her body. She hated every second of it, his stare making her feel grimy all over, like she immediately needed a shower. “Who’d you fuck to get into the Avengers anyways? Bet it was Steve.”

John’s comment was immediately followed by Y/N’s fist connecting with his cheek, forcing him to stagger back into the hall. She’d heard concerns about her abilities as an Avenger before, calling her weak, fragile, a bitch, etc. But she knew they almost always came from misogynistic men, and was able to shrug their comments off because she knew that she could easily beat all of them to a pulp, no problem. But thinking that she would sleep her way into becoming an Avenger crossed a line. Especially someone she respected and had admired as much as Steve.

John held his hand to his cheek, where he’d been hit, and looked up to make eye contact with Y/N. He smiled and before stating in a condescending tone, “That was cute.” John kicked her in the stomach, launching her onto the floor of her apartment. As she groaned and started to get up, John chuckled and kicked her down before she got to her knees. He went to kick her again when she rolled away, dodging his kick and standing up quickly, panting as she responded.

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up?”

She kicked her leg up to deliver a roundhouse kick to John’s face, spinning around to punch his nose. He stumbled a couple steps back, regaining his balance before swinging a punch towards Y/N. She caught his fist before it hit her and John took the opportunity to use his free hand to grab his shoulder and knee her in the stomach. She gasped, getting the wind knocked out of her. He then threw her into a shelf, shattering several photo frames on the ground. She landed on her stomach, attempting to get up by pushing her self up on her forearms. Y/N felt a warm liquid on her cheek and touched it, pulling it away from her face to see her fingertips covered in blood.

“Asshole,” she mumbled, before standing up to continue fighting.

Several moments ago, Bucky had made the decision to show up at Y/N’s apartment. He pressed some random keys on his computer, and now there was an error message that wouldn’t go away on his screen. Stubbornly, he tried to fix it on his own but ended up making it worse. He sighed in defeat, closing his laptop shut and tucking it under his arm before heading over towards her apartment. Bucky was just down the hall when he heard the sound of glass shattering, his leisurely stroll turning into a sprint to Y/N’s door.

Bucky arrived to see you pinned up against a wall with John’s hand around ur throat. Your hands were desperately clawing at John’s, attempting to free yourself from his grasp. Fear and terror consumed him before a wave of fury took over. Immediately, Bucky launched into action, dropping his laptop in the process. He ripped John away from you, tossing him on the ground. Bucky moved to hover over John, punching him repeatedly in the face. Y/N finally caught her breath and crawled over to Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder, signaling him to stop. He kept his eyes on John’s bloody and bruised face, lowering his fist.

“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” he snarled, releasing John from his grasp.

John rolled over, took a moment to catch his breath. Bucky was standing, fists still clenched by his sides, as he watched John get up and exit Y/N’s apartment without another word.

He closed the door behind him and immediately spun around to see Y/N struggling to get up, attempting to push up from one of her knees. Bucky instantly rushed to her side, helping her to her feet. He grabbed one of her hands in his own and placed his other hand on the small of her back, as he guided her to the couch. He examined her and felt a pain in his chest, looking at her black eye, cut cheek, and her bruised neck outlined with John’s handprint. Without saying a word, he stood up and returned with a first-aid kit from her bathroom. He sat back down and immediately started to tend to her wounds. As Bucky started to disinfect the cut on her cheek, he spoke.

“That was stupid of you,” he mumbled, gently dabbing antiseptic ointment on her cut. It was a drastic contrast from his behavior only minutes ago, nearly ready to murder John. He took a bandaid from the kit and delicately placed it on her cheek. Bucky then moved his hand to assess her black eye, his thumb softly grazing a soft patch of skin under her eye. She frowned and lightly pushed his hand away.

“I would’ve been fine on my own, you know.”

“Sit still so I can take a look at your bruise.” He responded gruffly, lifting his hand and attempting to look at her bruised eye again. She shoved his hand away, this time more aggressively, and tried to stand up.

“Just leave me alone,” Y/N said, wincing and clutching her abdomen in pain, causing Bucky to grab her waist and slowly lower her back down onto the couch. Fucking John Walker.

“Y/N.”

She pulled his hands off her and reluctantly sat down to face him.

“You don’t need to defend me, Bucky,” she spoke, Bucky sensing anger in her voice. “I’m not some weak, helpless civilian. I’m a god damn Avenger for christ sake!” As Y/N shouted, her voice wavered and her eyes started to well up with tears.

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and Bucky sat with his hands resting on his lap. Although she was speaking to Bucky, she felt like she was more-so trying to convince herself of what she was saying.

“I know,” he said calmly, but with a stern tone, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“Okay, so leave me alone.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not!”

“Because I fuckin’ care about you!” Bucky shouted, causing Y/N’s face to immediately soften.

Her arms dropped to rest in her lap and she froze as Bucky softly raised his hand to cup her cheek, captivated by his touch. He cautiously moved, worried she would push his hand away again, but she didn’t. His thumb gently caressed her non-cut cheek and he pulled her face close to his. She felt his breaths fan her face as he spoke.

“I know you’re one of the strongest Avengers,” he started. “And I know you could kick John’s ass any day of the week. But I care so much about you and I need you to be okay.” Bucky’s lips hovered over Y/N’s, lightly brushing against hers.

“I need you, Y/N.”

She responded by crashing her lips onto his, moving her hands to hold his face closer to hers. The kiss was full of passion, love, and unspoken feelings. When they broke apart, gasping for air, Y/N smiled at him and ran a hand through his hair.

“I care about you too, Buck.”

Bucky had never seen such a bright light in his 106 years of living.

292 notes · View notes

frogecstacy · 3 years

Note

Hi! I really love your writing! My favorite is the one where the brothers don’t notice MC’s lipstick. Could I request you continue it with the newdateables (minus Luke) or just do Barb if that’s too much

OOf course lovely!!!

I’m so happy you liked it!

I’d be happy to do the new dateables (except Luke of course because I consider him my son)

For anyone who sees this first here are the brothers

https://frogecstacy.tumblr.com/post/645300851675709440/maam-may-i-please-request-mc-getting-a-new

Part 2 of the new dateables not noticing they are wearing MC’s new lipstick (except Luke)

Reader is gender neutral

Hope you like it

Diavolo

Your relationship with Diavolo had to be very appropriate and mature when addressing the public and attending meetings

Never really getting to fool around (if you know what I mean)

However while still dating a royal Diavolo always made sure he had time for you and that your relationship was fun

He had read somewhere in a human world magazine that keeping you partner happy and living life to the fullest was how a relationship lasted

He vowed to live by that. I kid you not if not for Barbatos this man would have pledged his life to make sure your every need was acquired

Diavolo had been very busy recently and you thought maybe this new lipstick you had bought would spark his attention

OH BOY WAS THIS MAN SMITTEN

He wanted you to paint a picture on his face

Your lips and the brush and the lipstick as the paint

Sadly you two were in a meeting regarding a new lunch menu, but the only thing this man had on his mine was eating your lips

His brain going BRRRRRR

You quickly picked up that his attention for this conversation was dropping quickly and was trying to end the conversation

As soon as the chef that runs the cafeteria left, Diavolo gave you no chance to say goodbye

His lips were on your quickly grabbing your cheeks so you could face him

“Now darling I must say this new lipstick of yours is quite tempting” Diavolo was smirking giving you a teasing tone

“Is it a crime to want my boyfriend’s attention” you loved giving him those innocent puppy dog eyes

“Why yes it is my dear, I’m afraid your punishment will be giving me more kisses”

How you loved Diavolo’s “punishments”

This led to a quick make out session but it was cut short as Barbatos called reminding Diavolo he had a meeting with elderly demons regarding some RAD students getting out of hand

“We’ll continue this later my love, I hope you’ll be reapplying the lipstick. It tastes amazing.”

As you looked over at Diavolo you saw the lipstick marks on his face and was going to tell him but he was already gone

You were a bit worried but thought that Barbatos would remind before he entered the meeting

You were wrong Diavolo had quickly ran into the meeting and was met with wide eyes

“I’m sorry I am late I had... ugh, some important matter to attend to” he had thought maybe they were mad that he was late but Barbatos had quickly pulled him aside for a private chat

“My Lord I believe you have MC’s lipstick all over your face” Barbatos was smirking

He could have stopped this but I mean who doesn’t love a bit of excitement

Diavolo looked at himself through his camera phone and turned bright red

He just walked in to a meeting with a bunch of elders lipstick smudged all over his face

I mean the man jinxed himself, he wanted you to paint a picture

He quickly than realised something, why be embarrassed, these geezers should know he’s in an active relationship and he doesn’t care for their opinion

He wiped off most of the marks but left one on his neck for them to know he enjoyed himself, reminding them they took him from his enjoying moment

He walked right back into that board room with his signature smile and laugh and continued with pure confidence

You later found out and was so embarrassed but that thought was quickly swept away and Diavolo said he wanted to wear your love all the time

Damn sorry I got carried away with Diavolo’s

Barbatos

They should seriously make a UR+ card of this man ASAP

Okay Barbatos is 24/7 butler so you don’t always get time with him

BUT... you had a plan to get his attention today

You had bought a new lipstick that you knew would be to Barbatos’s liking

You had went to the castle for tea but you just wanted to get Barbatos (Sorry Diavolo we kinda used you as pawn today)

You had come to the castle in a new outfit that made you look stunning

You already are stunning lovely this outfit just made you God’s competition. Simeon have to step up his game

Okay so you enter the castle giving a small kiss to your boyfriend and saying Hi to Diavolo

Barbatos quickly saw your new lipstick and outfit and man had to hide the small blush on his cheeks

I mean he could’ve known you were going to do this but he still would be blushing

Your chit chat with the two was small as you could Barbatos was watching the way your lips moved or the way you sipped on your cup of tea

He was not subtle in any way today

Wanting to feel your lips on his he reminded Diavolo of some work he had to complete

Barbatos insisted in guiding you to the door and for Diavolo to return to his studies

As Barbatos was leading you out he put his hand on your lower back and said “I see what you’re trying to do my dear. You want me to give you some attention”

Now at the door and facing him you said shyly “Is it working?”

“Mhm” as Barbatos hummed his answer he leaned into you and kissed your lips

But one kiss wouldn’t suffice, he need more

Now pining you against the wall he was holding you

Your kisses started to get more desperate and Barbatos was addicted to to your lips

You were kissing all over his face

His neck, his lips, his forehead, his cheeks, he was lost in the feeling

Being so lost in your loving lips he didn’t hear Diavolo walking down the hallway to ask a question

You both froze when Diavolo stopped talking and was staring at you two

Barbatos quickly pushed you outside and closed door

Was calm and neutral Barbatos embarrassed

He didn’t hear the end of it from Diavolo

However the prince was now reminded he assistant was in a loving relationship and need to give him more time off

Barbatos was trying to explain himself but Diavolo cut him off laughing and saying “Barbatos you should wash your face first before you explain yourself”

He left to wash his face confused but knew why when he saw himself in the mirror

He was tempted to walk out and enter a new timeline

But how could he leave you, he loved you more than any teasing Diavolo could give

Simeon

I could not find a good gif for him so I’ll have to get one of my own for future posts

Okay I know everyone thinks this man is Holy as hell but I think NOT!!!

I mean look at him, look at his angel outfit you can not tell this man isn’t a tease

If he asked I would give him all the kisses he wanted

Okay so you and Simeon were going to go on a nice date in the DevilDom and you decided to wear a new lipstick

I think sometimes this man just throws out all levels of holiness when it comes to your hotness

I mean who would be able to resist your beauty. No one bam!

You and Simeon were going to Ristorante Six for a well deserved date

You two had agreed to meet there, but Simeon had the wind knocked out of him when he saw you

He seriously had to have conversation with Micheal asking why you weren’t an angel

I mean your his angel though soooo

Okay so not only is your outfit jaw dropping he can’t get his eyes of your lips

While you two are eating dinner you remind him that his eyes should be up here, looking at your eyes

While dinner was nice all Simeon wanted to do was kiss you lushes lips

He watched you reapply the lipstick before leaving

He burned the brand name into his head and made sure he would but it again

When finally reaching the house of Lamentation he couldn’t leave without a kiss

So when he received a kiss from you he couldn't get enough

Your small kisses quickly became long and needy

Simeon had you pushed up against the door and was kissing you like there was no tomorrow

You both making sure no spot on your faces were unkissed, the moment had to come to an end as you could someone approaching the door

One last kiss and whisper of a goodbye before Simeon left to go back to Purgatory Hall

When he got home Luke screamed

Poor baby probably doesn’t even know how to make out with anyone

Soloman was smirking and suggested that Simeon go look in the mirror

When he saw himself and he blushed

He had to admit though he looked good wearing your lipstick

Solomon

Okay so this man loves getting handsy and intimate at random moments

Like you could be walking together at RAD and then he’ll just start kissing you and go into an empty classroom

He loves keeping the name of the sneaky and mysterious sorcerer

But behind his little act he just loves kissing you

So when he sees you wearing a new lipstick at RAD he pulls another one of his stunts

However maybe it kinda backfired on him

So you two are talking about a new spell you were working on

I mean the two most powerful sorcerer’s dating makes the most powerful power couple

While you’re talking about one ingredient you can’t seem to prepare right you find yourself suddenly pinned against a classroom door

His hands are at your hips and his lips are mere inches away

He’s looking at your lips and asks “Is this a new lipstick”

“Ugh, yeah it is. Do you like it?”

Solomon wasn’t usually this bold or so revealing in the halls

He responds with the gears in this already wanting to kiss you “I love it”

He already has his lips on you and he’s hoisted your legs around his waist

Opening the classroom door and closing it behind him, he places you on the desk turning your light kisses into a hard make out session

Your lips trailing everywhere from his lips to his neck to his forehead

After almost trying to see who could go without air for the longest you two heard the bell rings and quickly separated going to your different classes

Solomon had ran into Asmo and he got a handful of questions from him

Solomon was confused but than it him, he must be wearing MC’s lipstick all over his face

“Ahh, you and MC getting real bold at school Solomon” Asmo loved the tea on your relationship

Solomon’s pride didn’t falter and just said “We did an experiment and that was it”

He walked away smirking

What a sneaky bastard

#obey shall we date #om shall we date #obey me diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #obey me simeon #obey me simeon x reader #obey me simeon x mc #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #fluff

540 notes · View notes

cafeinthemoon · 2 years

Text

Portrait of a Monk - Chapter III (UPDATED)

Chapter 3/?

Wordcount 2,2k

Title You Will Always Find Me

Fandom Jujutsu Kaisen

Previous chapters

1 . 2

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warning (s) none

Tagging @darling-imobsessed Since you asked me to tag you in all my works, here you go ^^ (if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message 😉)

N. A. Can I just use this gif without having watched the movie yet

For months I've thought I only had a small draft for this chapter, but last week when I opened it I realized I had material for almost an entire chapter lmao I just revised what I had and wrote the second part (the flashback/dream). For the ones who remember the portrait scene of the previous chapter, this one might be confusing and not following a clear timeline, so to clarify things: the rescue scene in this chapter happened first, then the scene with the portrait. There's a reason why reader seems unable to differ memories from dreams and for the fact that these scenes at the temple appear in an unconscious way, and this will be explained soon. What I can say without giving spoilers is that it has to do with a Jujutsu technique utilized by herself at the moment she left the temple and Geto's interference with it whenever he interacts with her.

Anyways I hope you enjoy this chapter and forgive me for almost "forgetting" about this story >.<

If it was a dream or a memory, you couldn’t tell, and you didn’t think it’d make a difference if you knew. What you saw in it would still be there, and you couldn’t change how it made you feel; like a cycle, it left you no chance to get rid of it.

There, you were a like a foreigner. Away from your home, though you didn’t know if you had one, alone in the stormy night, with no guide for your mind and no protection your body besides a dress that might have been white a long time ago. Your ears were whipped by the thunder and your bare feet were running, stumbling, desperate to find shelter. You looked around, seeking a direction in the dark, your soaked hair falling over your face, your eyes blinded by water and tears, but the shadows of the grove were all you had before you – the tall, menacing silhouettes of the trees and the deformed figures that lived there, sneaking and growling among them.

You just couldn’t remember how they were used to be called. You only remembered they weren’t human, and that not everybody were able to see or sense them, and even among the ones who could see them, only a few had the ways to deal with them. You weren’t sure if you were on of those few, but your instincts told you to stay away, though it was difficult sometimes: some of those creatures could fly even under the storm, and others would jump from tree to tree with agile paws while you had only your tiny feet with thin skin to count on. Yet you continued your journey, the said feet drowning in the mud until you made a final, greatest effort and left the grove’s area.

You had no time to sigh in relief: you were still exposed to the storm, and the open air didn’t stop the beings. It was a shame the you couldn’t remember anything useful to defend yourself: did you make the same mistake again, that is, erasing your knowledge about them instead of just the terrible things you might’ve experienced with them? How could you be so stupid? Didn’t you know they wouldn’t stop chasing you just because you took them out of your mind? Well, now was too late for regrets: you had to find a way to survive.

There was a moment when you glanced what could be a wooden stair before you; you forced your feet toward it, but couldn’t climb it: you fell upon the lowest step, the wet, harsh material scratching your skin, your legs numb from the long walking.

The hissing and screaming voices behind you became louder and louder, but there was nothing you could do now. You were going to wait there for the next day, even when there was a chance of you never seeing it coming…

But an unexpected vision scared and surprised you.

By your side, upon the step you were lying, a pair of sandals stopped, the storm not bothering their owner given the calmness of the gesture. You wanted to raise your head and look at the person’s face, but you were too weak even for this. And even if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have had the time, for the stranger’s gestures were too quick to register: in a second, they leaned over you and took you in their arms, hidden under long layers of clothing; a sudden silence came from the creatures of the grove, as if they never existed; no sight of the previous events were noticed, the only thing you were able to capture being what appeared between one flash of light and another. It was during one of them that you saw that the trees around you were not from a grove, but from a garden, and in the next one you saw you understood that the stairs were part of a temple’s entry.

A thunder exploded in your ears and you turn to the stranger’s chest, closing your eyes with all the strength left in you.

A voice was heard above all the noise, speaking close to you in assuring whispers, the words entering your ears and your heart with the warmth of a fireplace or the advice of a loved one.

– Fear not, my dear. We are almost there.

You gave up on consciousness having those words disputing your ears with the thunder.

***

Y ou found yourself dry and clean, large sheets covering your body inside what seemed to be a wide, warm room, dark except for a yellow ish light somewhere beside you. Thanks to it, you were able to find the direction of the shoji door. Through its translucent matter, you could see two silhouettes behind it, two individuals turned to each other, with the lamp between them, speaking low as if exchanging secrets.

You were tired and your sight wasn’t clear, but with enough concentration you could distinguish something of what was being said.

One of the voices belonged to the person who brought you there. It was the voice of a young man.

– Tell all the inhabitants that they do not need to worry about it as long as I am here – he was saying – In the right time, I will take care of this myself.

The second voice was a mature, harsh one, coming from the throat of an older man. There was a note of anxiety in it.

– We have experienced people here, ready for tasks like this and willing to serve. There is no need to spend your valuable time with this child. You know well, my Lord, it’s not the first time she attempts to escape, and it won’t certainly be the last. And we don’t even know how much harm she might have caused to her own body now – the old man sighed in disapproval – If she has no scruples in using her innate technique against herself, what else she could do…?

You felt a cold, painful twinge on your chest. You knew he was talking about you.

With a politeness that you didn’t remember seeing in anyone before, the young man dismissed the other’s preoccupations and explained the reasons for his involvement.

– I am aware of all of this, but it doesn’t represent a problem. This one… she’s precious to me. A jewel lost among monkeys. Even worse than that, among sinners, traitors who agreed in cohabiting with monkeys – the young man’s voice trembled at the pronounce of the word monkeys; he lowered his tone a bit, as if lamenting something from his past – Only I know how I’ve got to get my hands dirty to bring her here.

There was a moment of silence, during which you could hear their breaths. The young man was the first to speak after this.

– For now, there are things that need my attention, but I won’t be away for too long. Keep her here in the Secondary House. Choose skilled women to take care of her basic needs. Instruct them to not let her out, neither speak about the events of tonight with her. Both her mind and her body need complete rest.

When the old man replied, his voice was much calmer.

– Shall I do this right now, my Lord?

The young man confirmed.

– Yes. After this, go back to your usual tasks. Spare yourself from this burden.

Burden? So, apparently, you were trying to leave this place, but were brought back to be a burden? You bit your lip, but didn’t feel as ashamed as you expected. Something in the way he spoke didn’t let you think of his choice of words as an offense.

You kept listening and for the first time one of them, the young one, had an identity attributed to him.

– Very well – the old man’s shadow seemed to bent down before the other – Things will happen as you wish, Geto-sama.

There was no verbal response from the young man, Geto, and the old one might have understood that he had permission to go, for his shadow straightened up after the reverence and walked away, disappearing from light’s reach.

Apart from the distant sounds of the rain, the place was silent. You held your breath and continued to observe, at the same time eager and scared to see what's next.

The young man stood in his place, quiet, maybe lost in his own thoughts. But this deliberation didn’t last too long: soon, he turned to your door and raised a hand toward it, pulling it to the side. The fire inside the lamp trembled with the sudden change in the room’s inertia, and you didn’t have time to do anything but to close your eyes and pretend you were sleeping. That’s why you never came to see his face.

Geto closed the door behind him, the subtle whistling of the wooden structure spreading around, then being replaced by quietness. You’ve heard his soft steps approaching your spot, followed by the rustle of his clothing when he knelt beside your futon. You didn’t see the movement, but sensed the exact moment when he stretched his right hand at you; you held your breath when his palm touched your forehead, but his skin was so warm that you stood still, and even ceased your trembling. In your current situation, you had no ways to analyze job hierarchy, but the delicacy of his touch suggested the absence of physical, prolonged work. That man might never have been a servant in his life.

You heard his voice and noticed he was talking to you. If you were awake or not, it didn’t matter to him.

– It seems that your fever is leaving, my dear – he commented in a cheerful tone – You might be better by the morning.

You caught a fever? Well, you felt your body sweating.

He moved his hand away and continued his talking.

– I am praying for your recovery, both because of yourself and because I am eager for you to come back to your place among my family. You see, all the people here, from the newborn to the eldest one, all of them are my children. As a family, they live and work for me, and I live and work for them. Everyone has their place here.

Silence. He approached his hand again, this time to caress your cheek. His sleeve rubbed your neck and you sensed a smell of incense on the fabric.

– I am so sad for what happened today. I just thought you finally found contentment in being part of our family, but you showed me I was deceived. I really wanted to know what I have to do in order to give you a happy life – a sweetness was added to the melancholy in his voice – I love you so much, dear... I only wish you knew that. But, for now, it doesn’t matter. Just rest, and take all the anxieties from your heart. And, about your place in my family, know this: nothing changed; it is still there, waiting for your return.

You had the sensation of fingers tangling in your hair, then a thumb moving it away from your forehead. Your heart jumped inside your chest, but you tried not to move as you felt his approaching. The warmth of his presence and the scent of incense increased as you felt him give a kiss on your forehead, a chaste gesture, full of care and devotion.

You sensed his voice close to you ear, as if he wanted to share a secret.

– I have to go now, my dear, but not without giving you my blessing – and, at the sound of your name coming out of his mouth, you shivered – Y/n, wherever you are, and wherever you go, you will never leave. Whatever the place you find yourself in, you will only have one home. I will never lose you, and you will always find me.

***

Back to the present time

Though your body have left the coffee shop hours ago, your mind was not going to forget the events at it so soon. It was almost certain that you would spend one more night rolling from one side to the other on your bed, recollecting everything until you passed out of exhaustion. But even that, you thought, would be better than dreaming.

What if I start having nightmares about him or that creature?

Even in your denial, you knew it was a possibility; after all, the man might become a costumer, insisting on being served by you, engaging in unwanted small talking – thanks to this, you knew more about him than you wished now, and he knew about you more than you considered safe to reveal, by the way. Well, he didn’t tell you much besides his name, but hearing it was like discovering everything you needed to know about him.

Geto Suguru…

You were so sure you’ve never heard that name before, yet you couldn’t ignore this sensation in your chest telling you otherwise. As if you did hear it. Several times. And as if in many of them the name was spoken by you.

And, for some strange reason, you were just unable to remember.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk x you

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el-im · 3 years

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ok no one cares but i am once again thinking about how andrew j. robinson’s writing in a stitch in time fundamentally changed the the way i’ve come to view garak and how i interpret the “Of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't?” / "My dear Doctor, they're all true." / "Even the lies?" / "Especially the lies.” interaction from the wire (which initially i was very thrown off by). by suggesting that the stories garak fabricates are indicative of how he chooses to define himself, i think the stories from the wire serve specifically to illustrate what garak most covets/coveted in life, and that they contain elements of the circumstances/relationships/motivations/etc. that garak never had, or were beyond his reach. by making up these particular circumstances, garak is juxtaposing his words against the actuality of his life, and by that comparison his lies demonstrate the truth of his relationship with tain, his work in the obsidian order, and his personal convictions...

Story 1: “During the occupation, I was a Gul in the Cardassian Mechanised Infantry. We were stationed just outside the Bajoran Capital. Shortly before the withdrawal, a handful of Bajoran prisoners escaped from my custody. My aide, a man named Elim, tracked them to a Cardassian shuttle about to depart for Terok Nor. Elim got aboard, but the captain refused to let him search the ship, because he claimed he was under strict orders from Gul Dukat to depart immediately. So I had the shuttle destroyed, killing the escapees, Elim, and ninety seven Cardassian civilians... I followed my orders. None of those prisoners escaped off of Bajor alive. Unfortunately as it turned out, one of the passengers on the shuttle was the daughter of a prominent military official. I was stripped of my rank and commission, and exiled from Cardassia.”

-> what i get from this one is that garak wants a) companionship (in this “aide”, elim), b) authority (in my mind, this is more of a past item of desire. in his youth in the obsidian order, he wanted to emulate tain, and was indoctrinated to think that power should be sought after above all else, and not relinquished), and c) ruthlessness. the crowning jewel of tain’s service as the head of the obsidian order, garak grew up with detachment and brutality being demonstrated as the guiding principle of leadership, command, delegation... the funny thing about all these garak episodes, and which I am glad to see that the fandom so readily picked up on (see one of my favorite posts: “i don’t understand why ds9 fandom casts garak as some sort of suave oscar wilde daddy dom when he’s clearly the kind of older man who gets trashed at a casino at 3pm on thursdays and tips dabo boys extra to hold him while he cries”) is that for all his posturing, for all his discussion about the difference between cardassian principles and “federation dogma”, for all we actually, genuinely learn about what garak did during his time in the obsidian order (for all interested in garak’s life pre-terok nor/ds9, please take this free link and read a stitch in time it’s one of like... two trek novels i’d ever recommend and is so good i promise <3), for all we learn about what he did after (the assassination of senator vreenak “in in the pale moonlight”), garak still doesn’t... come off as hardened, or unfeeling. he repeatedly demonstrates a willingness to put himself in harm's way to save the people he cares about (most notably, bashir/martok during their time in the jem hadar prison, but even once going to cardassia to save kira, who detests/detested him (depending on if you believe their relationship changed over the course of the show) and risking arrest/execution by returning to cardassia during his exile). for all his pretending otherwise (from second skin: GARAK: “I have no intention of sacrificing my life to save yours. If it looks like we're in danger of being captured... if there are any signs of trouble at all... you're on your own. SISKO: Mister Garak, I believe that's the first completely honest thing you've ever said to me.”), Garak isn’t selfish, or at the least isn’t constantly, predictably selfish. He’s self-sacrificial more often that he’s given credit for, he’s occasionally kind. I think the first story he tells in the wire is so indicative of the inner conflict he feels. inside him is a child who was brought up to revel in the glory of violence in the middle of a military occupation of another world. there is a part of him that persists in believing strength is only fortification, obfuscation, invulnerability. and yet there is a part of him now wrestling with the belief that he can only be saved through honesty, by telling bashir about the implant and why it’s there and who he is that warrants it. one of the most remarkable things about this wholly incredible episode is this struggle between these two parts of himself.

and really, garak isn’t stubborn, or stupid. he knows if he wants to save his life (and for a moment... for some inexplicable reason, he does), he’ll have to give bashir some tipping hint. he has to tell him enough of the truth to give him a way to help him, and that’s what all these stories come down to. he is hinting as best he can. he is explaining as much as possible, so as not to betray the angry little boy inside him who sees this addiction as a weakness, who sees his attachment to bashir, and to his life on the station as a vulnerability, exploited. then there’s a second layer in which (after discovery that garak is elim) the audience gleans that garak (in his youth) desperately wanted direction, for someone to tell him what do to and how to do it--that he wanted to be excused from his actions on the basis of “following direct orders”... god, but then I think about how garak chooses to kill the figure of elim he paints here. paired with the resignation to his own fate at this point in the episode (garak knows a replacement device can’t be obtained, that his body is too reliant on the implant to function on its own, and that withdrawal without supplement will be deadly... which is to say garak is sure he is going to die), this seems so poignant. does he wish he’d have died years ago? killed in some random shoot out at the orders of someone higher up on the obsidian order’s chain of command? and can you imagine that? tain would bury the report so as to conceal his son’s involvement with the order (sentimentality always coming second to security, of course), letting this “elim garak” be listed as some citizen at the wrong place at the wrong time, a random victim of the violence of the bajoran occupation... garak, in an instant, would be forgotten. brushed aside by his father in favor of obscuring the actual operation undergone.

in the end i think the most i get from this version of the story is that subtle death wish. if he had been a less important operative, or if he had died then, he wouldn’t be enduring this now (return to the conversation about a lifetime serving cardassia re: “the neverending sacrifice” at the opening of the ep....). part of me believes garak wishes he would have died then, before he could have been exiled, before setting up his shop on the station, before meeting bashir...

garashir side note: “At first, he just wanted to have sex with him. That's absolutely clear. That's all he wanted from him. ‘Come to my shop, I got some nice clothes for you... but you'll have to change first.’ But then it really got complicated, especially when Garak's addiction and despair began to surface. He needed someone to share it with.” - Andy Robinson, from “What We Left Behind”. / “What we should've done, after The Wire in season two, the episode where Bashir helps him get over his addiction, we should've had Garak come out to Bashir as a gay Cardassian... Garak comes out as gay in season two, we have five seasons to play that Bashir and Garak relationship. Where that would have gone, who the hell knows, but it could've been so cool.” - Ira Steven Behr, from “What We Left Behind”.

Considering these two quotes from the actor who played Garak and the head writer on DS9, another thing about this episode I’m throwing my two cents in for is the obvious implications for this deepening the relationship between garak and bashir. One of the most frustrating things about this episode is how much it just begs for more, more, more. The casual banter about literature they start up at the beginning of the episode, the refusal on garak’s part of letting bashir take him the the infirmary (hello cardassian stubbornness, the whole scene reeks so much of ‘I do not want you to see me vulnerable, I want you to think me strong and independent and not in danger’. the whole charade reminds me so much of a wounded animal putting on a brave face so as to not be found out. garak does not want bashir (specifically!) to see him sick, to see him needing. he does not want to admit that he needs his help, that he needs him)...

then everything else that follows that, bashir worriedly reaching out to his friends for help and advice: talking to o’brien about his concerns for garak and asking about retrieving the cardassian medical files, then to dax, who tells him flatly “It sounds like you're taking this personally.... It's not like you two are really friends.”. the affront on bashir’s part at hearing that. “It's just that Garak and I have been having lunch together once a week for more than a year now. You'd think he'd come to trust me a little!” he exclaims. then how defeated and angry he is (violently stabbing her plant with mycorrhizae), the strong thread of bitterness humming in his honey-sweet voice, “If he doesn't want my help, that's his prerogative.”

there’s something so magnificent about the timeline here. how long they’ve known each other by now, the fact that bashir is the only person garak really considers his own on the station (“it isn’t bashir who dies, is it? Ira, you’re not going to kill off julian, are you? I mean, where does that leave me? I mean, he’s my only relationship in this show! I don’t have him, I have nothing. I’m hanging out in space with nobody to talk to!” - DS9Doc's Ira Steven Behr pushes for more DS9 in HD!)... it’s so plainly laid out that bashir is the only thing garak has, the only reason he has to be curious about what else life could bring him at this point in his life, so far from home, from his family, from the only job he ever felt he had been suited for.

which is not even to mention julian’s reaction to this first story. “So now you know, Doctor. I hope I haven't shattered too many of your illusions.” garak concludes. There is a pregnant pause of still hesitation (in which i imagine garak is reeling--because, at the same time, i think, despite this relay being an attempt to communicate his own misery, these stories are also made to push something in bashir. Garak is at the end of his rope, drifting (almost) untethered into unknown space and he is reaching out in the hope that julian, (despite, despite, despite...) will take his hand. Garak is trying to see just how far Julian will go to save him, to forgive him. He is trying to discover if there is an exception to his “federation dogma”, if there is really truth to that myth of human kindness he’d heard so much about... in this moment, Garak is playing this horrific, dangerous, loving, desperate game of cat and mouse. “Could you still love me if I...” he seems to say, and believes at some point he’ll be responded to with a “no”, but hopes, against his better judgement, beyond belief, that he wont be. And then Julian looks up at him, faces close enough for Garak to feel his steady breath on his cheeks as he says, calmly, “Listen to me, Garak. Right now I'm not concerned with what you did in the past. I'm simply not going to walk out of here and let you die. We need to turn that implant off and whatever withdrawal symptoms or side effects you may experience, I promise I'll help you through them. I need to know where that triggering device is. Where is it?”

And that line is it for me, beyond so much of the other golden ones in this episode. This is the first time that Garak hears that unequivocal acceptance, and it just sends him staggering. In all his life, he’s never been faced with love like that. His father pushed him away, let him believe for years that he wasn’t his son. Mila didn’t, or couldn’t, or wouldn’t put up a fight for him when Tain exiled him...

this is one moment in ds9 where i am particularly grateful for ds9 being filmed on a 4:3 aspect ratio that forced characters so close together to be in a shot. in this scene, a line from Shauna Barbosa’s “GPS”, Cape Verdean Blues comes back to me, and I look at the pair of them so close on the screen, Julian so open and Garak so agast, and I just think, “You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. Only / the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

all is to say: andy robinson himself has said that bashir is the only relationship garak has. assuming garak’s killing of elim in this first story is indicative of his own wish that he might have died during his work with the obsidian order (and thus been spared exile, the torture of life on the station, the gradual dependency he forged on the implant, and the inevitable withdrawal he was going to experience), there necessitates a question of why garak should agree to treatment (thus saving his life) only to continue living on a station he found so hellish in the past*

*oh... the magnificent (perfectly summative) conversation between Tain and Bashir... “BASHIR: He's dying. TAIN: And you're trying to save him. BASHIR: That's right. TAIN: Strange. I thought you were his friend. BASHIR: I suppose I am. TAIN: Then you should let him die. After all, for Garak, a life in exile is no life at all.”

to me, this question has three answers: 1. he is appeasing an insistent julian (though this begets the suggestion that garak doesn’t have much faith in julian’s treating him--in which case, garak decides that one of his last acts in life will be making julian happy) 2. he is choosing to live because he is... intrigued by julian. because he likes his company and the meals they share and the books they trade... and because he is curious to see where this relationship will go. Julian has made his life bearable (dare I say enjoyable? see: “GARAK: [They] left me to live out my days with nothing to look forward to but having lunch with you. BASHIR: I'm sorry you feel that way. I thought you enjoyed my company. GARAK: I did. And that's the worst part. I can't believe that I actually enjoyed eating mediocre food and staring into at your smug, sanctimonious face. ”) and has thus given him some reason to get up in the morning, even if it is for a frivolous little lunch appointment in another few days or 3. he is choosing to live not for julian, but directly because of him. even if this relationship has a platonic reading, it can’t be denied that julian opened up a new world for garak, and if nothing else was able to stay his boredom/disgust with life on the station

Story 2: GARAK: There was a time, Doctor, oh there was a time when I was a power. The protégé of Enabran Tain himself. Do you have any idea what that means?... Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand. My future was limitless until I threw it away. BASHIR: You mean when you had that shuttle shot down to stop those prisoners from escaping? GARAK: Stop them? I only wish that I had stopped them. BASHIR: You didn't? GARAK: No, Doctor, my disgrace was worse than that. Unimaginably worse. BASHIR: What could you have possibly done worse than that? GARAK: I let them go. It was the eve of the Cardassian withdrawal. Elim and I were interrogating five Bajorans. They were children, Doctor. None of them were older than fourteen years old. They knew nothing. They lived in bombed-out rooms, scrounged for food on the streets. They were filthy and they stank. The room was freezing cold, the air was like ice, and suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless. All I wanted was a hot bath and a good meal. So I let them go. I gave them whatever latinum I had in my pockets, and opened the door, and flung them back into the street. Elim couldn't believe his eyes. He looked at me as if I were insane.”

-> from this version of the story there’s a much clearer division between the elim garak (a young agent of the obsidian order baptized in fire) he was in his youth and the elim garak he is now (a disgraced former agent, exiled, alone save for one ambitious, self assured federation doctor). this, i think, seems to show the separation between what this character “elim” (young garak) wanted: which was uncompromising brutality and dedication to his work, and what present garak wants: peace, a full belly, the ability to be charitable (specifically to young, hungry bajorans)...

this story to me is one that best places this contemporary incarnation of garak relative to his bajoran counterparts on the station. in the beginning of this episode, when telling bashir why he initially chose to activate the implant, he speaks about how he, as the only cardassian living on ds9, is viewed by the bajorans living there. (“Living on this station is torture for me, Doctor. The temperature is always too cold, the lights always too bright. Every Bajoran on the station looks at me with loathing and contempt.”) In this story, by releasing the children and giving them the latinum he had, he’s trying to repent to Julian, asking to be forgiven for the part he played in the occupation of bajor by showing that he was/is (depending on how you view the timeline of the progression of his attitudes) sympathetic to them, and that he regrets the hand he had in bringing war, famine, and subjugation to them.

Story 3: “GARAK: Elim wasn't my aide. He was my friend. We grew up together. We were closer than brothers. For some reason, Enabran Tain took a liking to us. Before long, we were both powerful men in the Obsidian Order. They called us the Sons of Tain. Even the Guls feared us. And then there was a scandal. Someone in the Order was accused of letting some Bajoran prisoners escape. There were constant rumours of who was going to be implicated. Fingers were being pointed at me. By then Tain had retired to the Arawath Colony. He couldn't protect me, so I panicked. I did everything in my power to make sure that Elim was accused instead of me. I altered records, planted evidence, only to discover that he'd beaten me to it. BASHIR: He betrayed you first? GARAK: Elim destroyed me. Before I knew what was going on, I was sentenced to exile. And the irony is, I deserved it. Oh, not for the reasons they claimed, but because of what I had tried to do to Elim, my best friend.”

-> whenever I think back to this, my first impression remains that this is one of the stories where Bashir is considered. At this point, Garak’s been transferred from his room to the infirmary. Despite turning the implant off, toxins are continuing to accumulate in his lymphatic systems. He’s been sad (even woke bashir up with his weeping), he’s been angry (destroyed the vase and flipped the desk in his room, attacked bashir...), and now he’s calm, and tired. He thinks this is the end. He refuses to have the implant turned back on, which nurse jabara estimates might give him another week to live. This is the end of the line for him, and he’s accepting it with dignity and grace. He goes to release Bashir from his obligation to him “you’re done enough, Doctor. More than I deserve...” and goes to tell Bashir “the truth”. To me, this is his goodbye. Even if it isn’t a true story, this is the gift he’s giving Bashir. This is what he (spinner of wonderful lies, obfuscating agent of the despicable obsidian order) can give him as a parting gift--it is what he wants him to have.

in this story, Garak is not friendless, as he is on the station. He has a close relationship with someone (’see, then, doctor?’ he seems to ask playfully, life sputtering out of his eyes. ‘i am capable of it!’)... and yet, there is also betrayal. It reminds me of an assurance, in a way. “Bashir,” he seems to say, the entire weight of all the good doctor’s efforts to save him pressing down on his every word, “look what might have come to you had I allowed you to care for me. There is only danger for you to find in me.” In this, Elim stands in place of Bashir. A steadfast friend who Garak works against for the sake of self preservation. In this moment, Garak is pleading with the man standing above him next to the biobed. He is insisting Bashir be grateful for the shallowness of their relationship (something I Garak ensured deliberately), and telling him that, though he is grateful for him, that if they had been closer, Garak would only have caused him pain.

The heart of this story is Garak’s appraisal of his own self worth. Regardless of how much he’s changed since his time in the order, he persists in thinking he functions in the world to cause harm, much so that it is the only thing he’s able to do. Garak sees himself as the knife in the backs of others, or the hand raised, dagger in clutch.

the second thing i see is contained wholly within the line: “By then Tain had retired to the Arawath Colony. He couldn't protect me, so I panicked.” aside from assurances made to bashir, i think the purpose of this speech is to demonstrate (in the fashion of the lies being true) that garak wanted, and still wants safety. he wanted someone (Tain) to come to his defense then. while this extends to the implication that garak wanted tain, as his father, to stand up for him out of pride, or love, or even a perfunctory sense of parental commitment rather than exile him (a recurring desire illustrates/suggested in the show/books), i also think its perfectly suited to the care julian is exhibiting in tending to him in this episode. for all garak’s refusal to acknowledge his pain (a mere headache, as he claimed when they stood outside the replimat), for all his refusal to go to the infirmary when they meet at quark’s later, the care julian is constantly exhibiting through this episode is what garak is most endeared by. it is the thing he wanted most in his youth, and the thing now (because it was denied to him then) he finds so difficult to accept. there are many (many) instances throughout the show of garak and bashir talking about the extension of federation help/kindness, and this being something bashir embodies, btu this is one of the illustrations that sticks with me because of its particular placement. In the story, Garak wanted protection. He was alone, and afraid, and wanted help. As it now stands, he is not alone, he is calm, and has help. That is perhaps the most startling revelation for him of all.

and last but not least another... intriguing part of all garak’s stories is his repeated separation of himself and elim. the illusion of separation is one of the most intriguing (and heartbreaking) aspects of these story to me. garak has always struck me as the kind of character who sees grief and regret as an impetus for amputation. he believes what is unpleasant or unnecessary about him he can cut off and live through. he believes he can build up a wall between himself and what he doesn’t want to see or experience without repercussion (this being why he activated the implant in the first place). by making elim and himself two separate people he is not only distancing himself from whatever it was he really did, thus taking responsibility for it in part and allowing the other half of himself turn away in disgust and without sympathy, but suggesting that he cannot be culpable entirely for what it was he did. in each of his stories, the blame is to be shared, divided. the hardest part of all of this to swallow is that even after all this time, he’s begging for someone to spare him of the crushing loneliness of disgrace, begging for someone to understand fully what he’s done, accept him, and shoulder a part of his burden, much so that he creates an entirely new incarnation of himself just to sit with him in hell.

anyway ive also been fucking around on memory alpha and this was intriguing to me so im putting it here:

"When I was writing the story," stated Robert Hewitt Wolfe, "the movie Schindler's List had just come out and Ira was saying, 'Maybe he was Schindler; maybe he was the guy who let the prisoners go.' And then it was, 'Maybe he wasn't; maybe he was the Butcher of Budapest.' So we just kept telling all these lies, and I think the truth lies somewhere in there. Maybe he did let people go. Maybe he did shoot down the ship. Who knows?" (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine Companion (p. 141))

#trek #elim garak #sorry for longposting but once again i am thinking about him (garak)#he's just such a fantastic character that i read SO MUCH into #its a shame they didnt do more w him really im upset he wasnt as cherished by fans when the show was in production as he obviously is now #also. reminds me why i have this url #he's deeply fascinating and i love him and hate him and sympathize with him and think hes unforgivable and i ....#ANYWAY i am not even going to talk about the . hand holding 'i forgive you... for whatever it is you did' thing because that opens a BREACH #this is one of the longest posts ive ever written on this god awful site #anyway it is from the heart #i love him so much and i love this episode.

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