#(spoiler warning ahead⚠️ >>> ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allbark-no-bite · 6 months ago

Text

call it brotherhood (not love).

jake seresin x reader (wc: 6.2k)

summary: jake meets his match in a soldier rather than a sailor. you’re a bit more war torn than he expected, but it’s okay because maybe he is too

warnings: 18+ smut, * graphic descriptions of injuries and death ⚠️

* if you are uncomfortable with this, please don’t read

author’s note: spoiler alert, i know this isn’t the Jake fic that you’ve all been wanting but i swear that one is in the works. i’m about to go back to school and wanted to get this out there for y’all :) (ps i apologize for the lazy ending)

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"At ease, gentlemen —And woman," Admiral Simpson adds after a moment, shooting an uncharacteristically apprehensive look in Phoenix's direction. Payback snorts at his hasty correction, and Jake is surprised when the admiral doesn't fix him with a nasty look.

If the man's cursory show of inclusion perturbs the female pilot, she doesn't show it, and instead she takes a seat with all the rest of them. Jake turns back towards the front of the ready room, sinking down into his chair just a bit, toothpick clenched between his teeth as he waits for the admiral to address them.

However routine, this training meeting was a bit out of left field, especially for a Sunday afternoon. The Dagger squad typically had one weekly, but it was usually led by Maverick and much more informal. That wasn't to say that seeing Beau was surprising, but the man usually steered clear of the wayward captain and left him to his own devices when it came to training the Daggers.

Today the captain sits in the ready room beside the rest of the pilots. Jake watches as Bradley sends his godfather an inquisitive brow from across the room, to which the older man just shrugs. Interesting.

Cyclone clears his throat. "Good afternoon. I apologize for keeping you all, but I promise this will only take a minute of your time. As I'm sure you are all aware, the United States Department of Defense takes immense pride in maintaining one of the most well integrated military forces in the world. It's our job to work closely with other service members to ensure their safety and the safety of our nation." He pauses. "As experienced as you all are, your time here at Topgun has not reflected that."

Jake's brow furrows, his tongue worrying at the toothpick clenched between his teeth as he listens to the admiral go on. Javy shoots him a look but Jake stares ahead, waiting for Beau to continue.

"The permanent installment of your squad here at Miramar was to create a tightly knit group of elite fighter pilots who would be available at a moment's notice, and however successful that may have been, I cannot neglect the fact that comfort builds complacency. Later today, a squad of U.S. Army soldiers will be arriving to aide in your training for the next six weeks. The integration of mixed branch training units has been widely effective around the country, and it's about time we do the same here at Miramar."

With that, the screen positioned on the wall behind him lights up, displaying enlarged headshots of about eight soldiers. The first seven are males of varying ages, but none older than probably thirty. Jake quickly skims over their names and credentials, but when he gets to the last profile, his eyes stop.

The last solider is the only female projected on the screen, but even so she stands out as compared to all the other members of her squad. He can't quite put his finger on why though.

She's uncharacteristically pretty. And by that he means that to most, her appearance would be inherently off putting— even without the straight-mouthed scowl on her face. She's got a square, almost masculine like jawline that hardens her features considerably. Her hair is light, worn from spending too much time in the sun regardless of however dark it may have been naturally. The same goes for her skin, which is comparably bronze in contrast to the tan line on her forehead, he would assume from wearing a patrol cap out in the field.

Her eyes are wild.

And that's when it hits him.

She'd been all over the news just a few months ago. Something about a patrol gone wrong out in the Middle East, which ultimately turned into a high stakes rescue mission to extract the surviving soldiers. They went in hoping to bring back nine men and came out with one. Apparently they didn't even get to recover the bodies.

Jake can't imagine what that'll do to a person.

Before he can stare at her profile any longer, Cyclone quickly clicks off the projection and the image disappears. This time he appears almost nervous as he stares back at them. "These soldiers are recently returning from a deployment in the Middle East, so I trust that you all will do your best to make them feel welcome. If none of you have any questions, that is all. You're dismissed."

---

The following morning, the Jake receives word from Maverick that the Admiral wants to see him in his office. It's not a strange request but certainly raises Jake's attention as to why specifically he was needed.

Upon entering the room, Jake finds not only the Admiral but Maverick and another female that he's yet to have seen before. All heads turn towards him when he enters, as if he were interrupting something. Immediately, Jake snaps to attention, his heels clicking together and his fingers brushing his brow with a sharpness that would make the academy proud.

Cyclone nods in his direction, acknowledging Jake's customary greeting and dismissing him with the notion. "Lt. Seresin," he begins, gesturing to the female standing across the room. "This is Lt. (L/n). She's uh—a member of the squad that I briefed you on yesterday."

He hadn't noticed that she was wearing Army OCPs but he connects the dots as soon as the admiral mentions her name. He remembers reading it on the projector during the meeting.

Rather than introducing herself, the soldier stands rigidly across from him, her arms folded in front of her chest with a look on her face that Jake can only describe as fucking pissed. Unsure of what to do but aware from personal experience with Phoenix that he shouldn't try to cross any unknown boundaries, Jake settles for offering her a respectful nod. She glares back at him.

"You're two of our only service members with active combat experience," Cyclone continues, obviously ignoring the girl's crossed disposition. "I'm hoping that you and Lt. (L/n) can find some common ground. Perhaps it would do you both some good to—"

"Respectfully, sir, if I wanted to vent to someone about my feelings, I'd go see a shrink," the woman growls. "I recommend you do the same, Lt. Seresin." Her tone makes Jake's brow raise slightly in surprise. No one talks to an admiral like that, not even Pete Mitchell.

"Lt. (L/n)," Cyclone snaps. "That's quite enough."

This time, she rolls her eyes with a scoff. "You can't just—"

"Get out."

She clamps her jaw shut but doesn't budge from where her feet are planted in the ground.

"I said, Get. Out," Cyclone reiterates.

The eyes that had caught Jake's attention in the first place fix the admiral with a chilling stare. To Jake, there's something familiar in those eyes. Some sort of unmistakably justifiable rage that runs deeper than just being dismissed from the conversation. Jake watches, his breath stalled as she sets her jaw, unwilling to move, when it hits him. Identical jawlines and untwitching scowls mirror each other.

The illegitimate child of Admiral Beau Simpson stands before him.

He doesn't know how he didn't see it before, granted they don't share a last name, but Jake was aware that the Admiral was divorced, had been for a while. Allegedly he wasn't the marrying type. Jake isn't surprised by the statement. Beau Simpson is a hard man to deal with.

Jake watches in silence as the girl ultimately releases an irritated huff and storms out of the office, slamming the door behind her. He can hear the loud, petulant stomp of her boots as she retreats down the hall. Evidently her looks weren't the only thing that she got from her dad. She had a temper that rivaled even Bradshaw's.

The clearing of the Admiral's throat removes Jake's eyes from the door. "I hope you can forgive my daughter's behavior. Her return to the states has been...difficult."

"I'm sure difficult is the way she would describe you too sir," Maverick jokes.

Cyclone fixes him with a perturbed glare but decidedly ignores his comment in favor of addressing Jake. "Lt. (L/n)'s squadron was ambushed six months ago. Just about everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and she was the only survivor. As her father, I wanted her to accept the Purple Heart and retire." He gestures flippantly towards the door. "Obviously that's not what she did."

Jake speaks for the first time since he entered the room. "Respectfully, sir, I don't blame her. I'm taking this career to the grave. I'm sure both your daughter and Captain Mitchell can agree," he adds glancing over at his instructor.

Before Maverick can voice his agreement, the admiral cuts him off.

"As I'm sure Captain Mitchell can attest to, as her father, I'm just trying to look out for her."

With his preexisting connection to Rooster, the godson that he would risk his career to protect, Maverick has no room to disagree with the admiral. For once, the captain, who usually always has something to say, stands with his palms folded behind his back and keeps his mouth shut.

"As I was saying," Cyclone continues, taking a seat behind his desk and kicking back as if to signal that he's won the conversation. "It is my hope that given your own—" the admiral hesitates for just a moment too long for Jake's liking "—personal experience, you'll be able to get through to her."

Jake swallows and hopes that he doesn't look as uneasy as the insinuation makes him feel. He has to take a moment to reassure himself that the psych unit has repeatedly cleared him for duty and that no one's threatening to take his wings away.

The nights that he wakes up, drenched in sweat, with his fingers wrapped around imaginary joysticks hard enough to make his palms bleed are few and far in between these days. And even those he's gotten good enough at faking like they don't bother him because he hasn't failed a psych evaluation in months.

It doesn't mean he likes to talk about it or that he won't hear the fear in Rooster's voice if he does.

But he's more scared of not flying than anything, so all Jake does is nod and offer a dry, "I'll do my best, sir."

———

PTSD or modern day shell-shock is what they like to call it. You call it waiting on the other shoe to drop.

Because there is always another shoe.

The slam of a beer bottle down on the bar top lights your nerves up like nothing else. It sends your heart straight to your stomach and makes your palms sweat like when you miss a step on the stairs and for a split second, you think you're going to die. You never do of course, but your body is hard wired that way to keep you alive.

There's a flaw in your system that hasn't been right since the east.

You knew that a popular naval bar on a Friday night wasn't the best place for you these days but your nerves had been yearning for an ice cold beer and fuck all if you weren't going to get one. The alcohol would soothe your nerves anyhow.

But after thirty minutes of waiting on said beer, you were beginning to lose your patience. Normally you weren't bothered by that kind of thing. The place was obviously busy and the lone woman behind the bar was doing her best to satisfy the flock of servicemen that only seemed to accumulate with every beer that she handed out.

Just when you're about to give up and leave, a large hand covers your lower back, pressing you forwards through the crowd and toward the bar top.

"Two more on me, please, Penny."

The voice belongs to the tall man standing behind you. He's removed his firm, but respectfully placed palm from your back and is now leaning over you to accept the two dripping bottles of beer. It doesn't take you long to recognize the green of his eyes from a few days prior.

"My dad didn't put you up to this did he?" you ask, somewhat reluctantly taking the bottle that he offers you. It's finger numbing cold, just how you like it.

He kind of just slowly smiles and shakes his head.

Immediately you feel like a jerk. You sigh, dropping your shoulders and smile softly back. "Sorry. That was rude."

"No, ma'am, he didn't. Just had to find out if you smiled like that all the time."

The part of you that's a little bit of a bitch makes you clench your teeth together, tightening the smile that was once spread across your lips. "I'm not looking for that kind of thing right now," is all you say.

You want to tell him that you used to not be so mean.

At the realization that his words had the exact opposite effect of what he was going for, the guy graciously extends his hand. "Look I don't mean to bother you, I just wanted to say hi."

Despite not being keen on his advances, you aren't going to be rude so you accept his outstretched hand. You're surprised by his gentleness. It's not the rough, over-masculine shake you are expecting.

"Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know your name," he admits with a light, almost embarrassed laugh. "I think everybody in here knows your name."

Your skin prickles. You stare at him stoney faced, bracing yourself for what's going to come out of his mouth. "Why's that?"

The guy—Lt. Seresin—you're remembering, shrugs. "I mean, you're quite the story back here in the states. A bit of a ghost story, I must say."

Ghost story is right. Because who survives that? How the fuck does a twenty-two year old girl survive an outnumbered ambush and not eight men with years of experience? Not someone who deserves to be called a hero, that's for sure.

You're trying your best to keep your cool with him. You know that you're in a public space and he's just being friendly. You used to be so good at this kind of thing, the flirting and small talk.

The thought occurs to you that maybe this is what you need. Maybe this will make you feel normal again. You need to feel normal again.

Maybe that is why you let him lean in closer, buy you another drink when yours runs dry, and another one after that. Maybe that is why you make an effort to laugh when he does, and you close your eyes when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

You let out the breath that's been tightening your ribcage and do your best to smile. "Thank you for the beer. You didn't have to do that." You hope the words sound as genuine as they're intended to.

He smiles back like he's supposed to, all polite and inherently forgiving of your original attitude. You catch onto the way it doesn't quite reach his eyes. You're not sure why but it makes you think maybe he's just a bit sad too.

Maybe that is why he lets you wordlessly take his hand and lead him to the back of the bar. Maybe that is why he lets you sink to your knees on the cold, sticky tiles of the men's bathroom floor, his hands already fumbling to unbuckle his belt.

It smells like beer and piss, and you don't even wait for him to get fully hard before you take him in your mouth, your nose buried into his pelvis, where it smells like sweat. It's all wrong and right at the same time, and he won't ask you to stop. He just curls his fingers into a fistful of your hair, pinpricks stinging at your scalp the same way tears sting at your eyes.

He—Jake—he'd told you a while ago, has a pretty cock. At least as pretty as cocks go. Pink and ruddy at the tip, where it mushroomed beautifully. Almost dauntingly long but not grossly so with a throbbing vein on the underside. You run your tongue along it and he muffles a whimper, his fingers wrapping harder around your hair in an effort not to buck up into your mouth. At least he's a gentleman about it.

He's heavy and twitching in your mouth. You feel heavy. He is standing above you, a harsh line of a man against the buzzing bathroom light. You remind yourself to breathe through your nose and he punches himself further, the head of his cock skimming the back of your throat.

You swallow around him, trying to hold together what little is left of your remaining sense of self. It's been a while since you've been so careless as to place yourself in someone else's hands, rolled over and showed your belly to someone who could easily take advantage of you.

Your jaw aches, uncomfortable and familiar, like something you don't want to remember. Tears well up behind your eyes, the threat of an unwanted but unknown feeling looming just out of reach. Jake's hand in your hair hold your head firmly against his pelvis, hips rocking up into your mouth. He sighs like he can finally breathe.

You can't breathe.

You try to and something rasps inside of you, choking. The feeling that had been looming threateningly sparkles through you. Panic.

You know that he tries to settle you, does his best to wipe the tears leaking from your eyes with his thumbs and murmurs softly to you. "Breathe. It's okay, breathe for me."

You can't. You can't breathe.

Your head is pounding and suddenly you aren't kneeling on the bathroom floor of the bar. You're on the ground, crying, screaming like a wounded animal and no one is coming to help. You can almost feel the dirt under your knees, taste the blood in your mouth.

"Y/N, you have to breathe."

Someone's grabbing you, hauling your useless feet across the floor. Your chest hurts like you've been punched with a bowling ball.

"C'mon, let's get some air."

How you end up outside the bathroom is beside you. All you know is one minute you're dying on your knees back in the desert and the next you're being sat down on the back steps of the bar.

The cool air of the San Diego evening brings you back. That and the press of a cup of ice water to your lips, the condensation dripping from the glass and rolling down your throat. You swallow, letting the cool liquid soothe your burning throat.

You're aware of Jake sitting down beside you, close enough to touch if he wanted to but still keeping his distance. You can feel his eyes on you, watching carefully for a moment before he turns to stare out at the not so distance shoreline.

Your stomach feels odd, like you might be sick.

He probably thinks you're insane. You would think the same. But if he's dying to ask what the hell that was, he's doing a good job of hiding it.

How do you tell him that sometimes you think that you should have died, that sometimes the memories almost kill you?

"I hid."

He looks up from peeling off the label around the neck of his bottle. "What?"

You swallow, trying to collect yourself before your words fail you.

"I hid. A—After I was shot, I didn't get back up. I crawled under the humvee and... and I just laid there. I laid there and I closed my eyes and I prayed. I prayed that they wouldn't notice me lying under there or that they if they did, they would think I was already dead."

A mixture of sweat and dust burns your eyes. When you blink, you can feel the sandy grit trapped between them. You squeeze them shut while trying to swallow back the dryness of your throat in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort, but it doesn't do much. An unwarranted tear escapes and runs down the track of your nose.

With your rifle held closely to your chest, you let it slide down and collect on the bow of your lip. It joins the puddle of sweat that has already accumulated there. Out here, the sun cooks you alive. You swear it's a constant one thousand degrees. The twenty pounds of kevlar doesn't help.

Dirt kicks up beside you and gravel showers your helmet as a round of bullets buries themselves into the ground a mere six inches from your face. You hardly flinch.

Somebody is screaming. The sound of machine gun fire is ringing in your ears. Somebody is screaming.

"(L/N), C'MON. LET'S MOVE."

It's Cain. He's grabbing the strap of your kevlar vest and yanking you to your feet. You scramble after him, desperate not to be left behind. Bullets explode at your feet the moment the two of you emerge from the concealment of the dirt mound. Fear makes you run faster.

You spot Manny crouched behind the tire of the SUV to your right. He's firing rounds into the brush. You can tell that he's bleeding from a wound to his arm and you're about to veer off to help him when his head jerks backwards, the scattered remains of his brain plastered onto the white side of the truck.

You stop running, the words caught in your throat.

"RUN," Cain screams. He'd backtracked a few paces and grabs hold of your vest once again to drag you behind a second SUV. You stumble over him, falling haphazardly onto your rear once he lets go of you. He immediately turns to fire over the hood of the truck, and the bullets hitting the truck stop momentarily.

Clawing at the gravel on the ground, you hurry to scramble to your feet. Your head is pounding, your mouth dry and gritty. Huffing, you glance between Cain, who is fumbling to reload his magazine, and the crumpled figure of Manny a few yards away. You can only hope Ronny is still out there somewhere.

Before you can even try to locate him or any other members of the squad, movement to your left springs your muscles into action. You slam your back into the side door of the SUV just as a round of bullets pelt the spot where you were standing just moments before. Automatically, you raise your gun, returning the fire. There are a few more shots fired in retaliation, but they stop a second later.

Once you're sure they're subdued, you lower your gun, breathing hard. There's so much smoke and debris in the air that you can hardly even see Cain ten feet away. He's shuffling towards you in a low crouch.

"Let's move, (L/n). They know where we are. We've got to find different cover."

You nod, your finger still pressed tightly to the trigger of your weapon. You drop into a crouch and follow behind him as he creeps towards the back of the truck. He pauses a moment, scanning the landscape before looking back at you. His blue eyes are a startling contrast to the dirt and sweat covering his tanned face. He lifts his gun in the direction of a flipped humvee about fifty yards away. His mouth moves in a silent command.

One.

Two.

Three.

The gunfire starts up as soon as the two of you spring from behind the vehicle. You can hear the whizzing of bullets as they just barely miss your head. All you can do is pray you don't trip as you struggle to keep up with Cain. Your lungs burn and your boots feel impossibly heavy.

The terrain is barren but the ground loose, and rocks threaten to upend your footing, slipping out from beneath your feet as the two of you flee towards the vehicle.

30 yards from the humvee, Cain tumbles to the ground with a broken cry. The bullet catches him in the thigh, stopping him mid stride. He hits the ground hard.

Without even thinking, you skid to a stop. Bullets spray the ground around you. Somehow you're more afraid of leaving him than being shot.

"Go!" he yells at you, already trying to shove you away. "Go, I'm coming!"

Already, there's a lake of blood beneath him. You step in it and the ground squelches under your boot. Crimson gushes from his left thigh, effectively saturating the fabric of his pants. His face is terrifyingly pale. The bullet must have hit his femoral artery.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Like hell," you snap at him, your pervious fear suddenly boiling into the purest form of anger you've ever felt. Angry for being in this situation in the first place. Angry that of all people, Cain is going to die.

It's terrifying how quickly the realization comes to you, how easily you accept it as the truth. There's already too much blood. Without a tourniquet, he'll bleed out in minutes and there's not quite time for that.

"Leaving him behind wasn't an option. It never even occurred to me that it was," you confess, as if saying it aloud will somehow explain away this title of heroism that everyone wants to pin on you. "Dead or alive, he was coming with me."

You shoulder your rifle and use both hands to grab onto the straps of his vest, hefting him backwards towards the truck.

He must clamp onto his bottom lip to stop the scream that threatens to escape because the noise that comes from his mouth is garbled.

You drag Cain about ten feet before you realize how just heavy he is. There's sweat leaking into your eyes and all you can see is the bloody lake that's left behind as you drag him through the dust. Cain's gone quiet, his head lulled to the side, eyes almost shut.

"C'mon, Cain. We're almost there."

His boot snags on a rock, and when you tug him free, he doesn't utter a word.

Something inside of you knows he's gone, was gone long before you started dragging him. You're still ten yards from the SUV.

POP. POP. POP.

You pause, your eyes fixed ahead of you. "Have you ever been shot before?"

Beside you, Jake shakes his head.

"It feels like someone has shot a bowling ball into your chest. Knocks the breath right out of you."

Pain explodes straight through your ribcage. Your vision clouds and you're vaguely aware of your knees buckling beneath you.

When you come to, all of the wind has been knocked out of you from hitting the ground so hard and your immediate reflex is to suck in a reviving breath. Instead all that comes out is a gurgle, the tell tale sign that your chest cavity is filling with blood.

You swallow, looking off at the dark shoreline of the beach, watching as the waves crash against the sand. "I knew that I wasn't dead yet—I did— I just—" Your throat constricts and when you speak again your voice is quieter. "He was already gone so maybe a part of me had already gone with him."

Jake nods slowly, as if putting together the pieces that you're laying down bit by bit. Somehow his green eyes have remained soft this entire time and maybe that's where you find the courage to continue.

Lifting your head, you crane your neck to see the damage, but the thick layer of kevlar strapped to your chest obstructs your view of the lower half of your body. Grunting in frustration, you reach blindly in the direction that the pain is radiating from. Numbly, your fingers find the gushing hole in your side. The bullet had buried itself in the exposed inch of your stomach between your belt and your vest.

There mustn't be an exit wound because there isn't a ton of blood surrounding you. If the wet cough you emit is anything to go by, it's probably pooling in your abdominal cavity instead.

You're going to die.

"I don't know how long I laid there," you admit. "I knew that the clock was ticking, had been since the moment I hit the ground. It was only a matter of time before I blacked out or bled out... I guess I was just waiting to see which one came first."

The scattered rounds hitting the ground around you become muffled background noise as the lull of unconsciousness begins to sweep over you, dulling the world as you know it. Through the haze of your fading senses, your eyes fall on Cain's motionless figure a few feet beside you.

He's lying face up, his desert tan uniform seeped a muddy crimson. You'd known he was dead a while ago. Still, you carried him. He'd have done the same for you. He was your brother, dead or alive.

Blood bubbles from your nose as you struggle to keep yourself breathing. The fact that you have to remind yourself to do that isn't a promising sign. Your body is shutting down, doing anything it can to keep your heart pumping, even if it means shutting down everything else.

Somewhere through the dullness, you hear Cain's voice. MOVE, (L/N).

You close your eyes, trying to picture his face from what had been just a few minutes ago. You remember the urgency in his blue eyes, the intensity of his fear overridden by adrenaline. How had that been only moments ago?

MOVE, (L/N).

"I—I heard his voice," you state, your tone not open for discussion. "Not the gun fire, not God, not anyone else's. I heard his voice."

So many people had tried to convince you otherwise, tried to tell you that it was because of the shock and your brain was shutting down, that you were hearing things. But you know what you heard.

"He saved my life, Jake."

You can see the gears turning in his head, the question carefully forming on his lips. "Were you two— I mean was he—"

It's the first time you have to suck back tears, your chest rattling with a longing emptiness as you fight the urge to cry. Memories of his wild blue eyes and wide smile that could only ever mean he was misbehaving flash through your mind.

You met Sergeant Anthony Cain not long after you commissioned as a Lieutenant. You were still a green officer when you were charged with your first platoon and given orders to deploy out East. You were scared as hell and Cain was your saving grace. He came in as if he'd always known you needed him and the rest was history.

There was never any question about intentions or commitment to each other. Cain was as honest as they came and you left it at that. You never imagined that's where your story would begin and end.

"I don't know, Jake. We didn't get that far."

Forcing your eyes open, you access the area around you. The sound of enemy fire has slowed but that doesn't mean movement won't trigger a return of bullets your way. Still, you know they'll be looking for survivors once the dust settles, and you don't want to be around when they do.

The humvee is only a little over ten yards away. You might would say it was crawling distance if it weren't for the fact that you were actively bleeding out. Even so, you don't really have any other option.

You take as deep of a breath as you can, your chest rasping as you do so, before lifting your right leg and using the weight of it to swing yourself over onto your stomach. Immediately, searing hot pain radiates through your chest and legs. You cry out, curling in on yourself, writhing on the ground like a wounded animal.

Sputtering, trying to breathe through the pain long enough so that you can move, you feel hot tears track down your face. They're tears of insurmountable pain and hopeless desperation.

"All I kept thinking was 'how does anyone survive this?' It was unimaginable, the pain. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it. I don't think I could do it again if I had to," you admit.

Softly, as not to scare you, you feel the gentle weight of Jake's palm on your knee. "You won't have to," he promises. "But you did it. You survived."

You stare down at his hand on your knee.

With a trembling, blood stained hand, you reach out in front of you and dig your fingers into the ground. Heaving, you draw yourself forward, your legs dragging limply through the dust. It takes an unimaginable amount of strength to pull yourself even six inches.

Sniffling back tears and out of breath, you curl your fingers into the ground and drag yourself forward again. This time, you probably only move half as far. You have to fight the urge to just lay your cheek against the ground and cry.

You do this again and again, keeping one hand pressed into the gushing wound at your side while the other drags you forward. Your lower half has become increasingly heavier with each passing minute, your legs nothing but dead weight to pull along. You don't think you could move them if you tried.

It takes you forty minutes to drag yourself to the humvee. By the time you get yourself fully under the abandoned vehicle, your fingers are torn and bleeding, the tips ripped open and embedded with bits of gravel.

Your muscles collapse the very second you give them the chance. Your forehead drops down to rest against the ground, and you finally have a moment to shudder out a sob. Your throat is dry and cracked, and dust coats the inside of your mouth. You're dimly aware that your breaths are dangerously shallow. You just know that you're miserably nauseous and each passing moment is more unbearable than the next.

You turn your own palm over, staring at the scars of your ruined finger tips, scars that tell a story of how you survived. They're ugly, and you wish you didn't have to look at the all of the time. At least your torso is mostly hidden. You've moved to a beach town and will never be able to put on a swimsuit.

Jake’s eyes follow yours and after a moment he flips his palm over, his fingers spread and inviting. His hands are large and calloused from years of flying. There are fingernail divots in his palm.

Almost shyly, his green eyes meet yours. You see a bit of that sadness you saw earlier. “I know it’s not my job to be your shrink or whatever,” he adds with a laugh and you can’t help but laugh with him. “But you’re not alone. We’re all a bit fucked up if you haven’t noticed.�� He shrugs. “It comes with the job.”

You can’t help yourself. You trace a finger over the scarred palm of his hand. “My dad would disagree.”

Jake is fighting the urge to close his palm around yours, not wanting to overstep, and so he’s pleased when you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Family dinner must be interesting.”

Jake came from a military family himself and so he knows how deep the ties run. His old man was a sailor and so he knew better than to come home sporting anything other than his dress whites.

You laugh out loud because he’s not wrong at all. Jake squeezes your fingers in response. His hand feels good in yours. Safe and heavy in the way a padlock feels. Like he’s not going anywhere.

“It’s not all ‘Go Army, Beat Navy’ believe it or not. Don’t get me wrong, I was raised a Navy brat and I have a hell of a lot of respect for my old man, but at the end of the day, I had to choose myself. I couldn’t do that with him watching over my shoulder. The Army’s been both the greatest and the worst thing that could have happened to me,” you confess.

Jake hums, dare you say almost disbelievingly.

“What?”

“A few weeks here and you’ll change your mind. No one does it like the Navy does.”

It’s your turn to make a noise of disbelief.

“I guess you’ll just have to impress me, Flyboy.”

Jake squeezes your hand again. “Oh I plan to.”

446 notes · View notes

bones4thecats · 6 months ago

Note

Whoops! I forgot to add an emoji, sorry!

I'm the anon who made the Record of Ragnarok request regarding a goddess of fortune and luck s/o. I'd like to be called 🐢 anon, please.

RoR w/ Goddess of Fortune + Luck! S/O

Characters: Poseidon, Qin Shi Huang, and Hades Requester: 🐢Anon A/N: This was a nice thing to write, each of them have their own story, which basically never happens anymore, lol. Anyways, hope you like this! And have a sparkling rest of your days/nights! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of death, insinuated assault, SWEARING in Poseidon's part, murder, blood, and slight description of death (tiny gore warning) ⚠️

Disclaimer: The Reader is a FEMALE and based on Yaoshi (HSR)

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Poseidon ══════════════════════════════╝

🔱 You were his beauty to his beast. While that might not be physical on his behalf, his emotionless and cold demeanor made everyone, including his own family, believe him to be a devil in an angel's skin

🔱 On average, you would visit your believers in your temple, waving each ahead before gifting them with luck and a small fortune every time. But, as your reputation grew, so did your follower's egos

🔱 Poseidon was pissed when he found out one of your long-time followers had a son whom was trying to get into your pants so you would gift him with an unbelievable fortune and unbelieving amounts of luck just for being 'yours'

🔱 He decided to visit your temple one day, stabbing his trident into the stone flooring as he walked, alerting all that surrounded the area, and making them bow in respect to the God of the Sea. Poseidon just scoffed and kept walking, not giving any human any glance, they, in his eyes, did not deserve a perfect being like himself's attention

🔱 As he strode through, he found Aphrodite and Heracles outside of your temple, watching over the many children in the surrounding garden. They smiled as they caught Poseidon walking, as he just asked for your location

"Y/N went to her chambers with this guy... I think he said his name was... Dolion?"

"Yes, that was his name Heracles. They've been gone for about 10 minutes, I was about to send Heracles to check on them, but since you're here!"

🔱 Poseidon nodded and walked to your chambers, his trident making the same clack noise as he heard a man yelling at someone, which made your husband furrow his brows slightly as he listened in

"Get out of here, Dolion."

"Oh go fuck yourself, you whore! Just manipulating my emotions like that?! Making me feel such a strong connection just for you to take it away because you're married to that bastard, Poseidon?! How could you?!"

"Dolion. I will not tell you again. Get the fuck out."

"Don't tell me you never felt the connection with me, Goddess of Fortune and Luck? Come on, Y/N."

"You have no right to call me by that name. Do not make me kill you where you stand."

🔱 The sound of you screaming made Poseidon burst in the room, his trident pushing against the male's neck as you fell to the ground, your long hair pooling around your small frame on the ground

"You have five second to apologize, worm."

"Who the fuck are you?!"

"Five."

"Seriously, man! Who are you?!"

"Four."

"Oh for the love of Olympus. Answer me!"

"One."

🔱 You closed your eyes as Poseidon stabbed the man's neck, plunging his trident's three tips into the stone wall and causing blood to begin drip down the body of the now-deceased young male

🔱 Standing up and listening to your chain-wrapped foot hit the ground as you hugged Poseidon from behind, your grip tightening around his stomach, making him look back at you and breath out, providing your ears with the familiar echo of his breathing. He then grabbed your arm and wrapped his own around your midsection, keeping you in a protective grasp

"Thank you, 'Seidon."

"Hmm."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Qin Shi Huang ═══════════════════════════╝

👑 Qin Shi Huang knew that you and him being in a relationship was bound to start some kind of controversy within the Einherjar, as they distrusted pretty much any God they came across. Yep, that means they distrusted Buddha for quite a while

👑 You merely sat up with the rest of the fighters as Qin fought, and you smiled gently as Hades walked in, causing Leonidas to look at you with narrowed eyes

"What are you smiling at, Goddess?"

👑 Chuckling at his animosity, you reached outwards, pointing towards the tall, white-haired God of the Dead before speaking up again

"That man caused many issues between me and my old human friend, Tamaki. Honestly, seeing such an enemy fight against my husband is a fight I cannot tear my eyes from for a second."

👑 Kojiro smiled as you spoke, looking back down at the Emperor. He then looked at you and asked you how you had met the royal and gotten into a relationship, after all, being a Goddess of such a high-caliber in the Shinto Pantheon must have been hard to deal with a human

"It's quite the detailed story. But if you wish to know so badly, Sasaki, I shall tell you the shortened version."

👑 The others adjusted their positions to listen to you, curiosity spread through their tough and chiseled forms as you began to speak, recanting your love story with your husband

"One night, I had decided to take a walk through a garden, but this garden was owned by the Emperor's family. It was there that I noticed a young man walking around, a blindfold over his eyes, much to my confusion at the time. I walked to the man and asked him if he could see and needed assistance, the man, whom I later learned to be Qin Shi Huang, had merely waved me off with a smile before asking if I needed help since he never saw me around the building."

"Wait- he can see through that thing?" Buddha asked.

"Correct, Buddha. But, after I left, I had given him a peony and a orchid. The peony, in Chinese culture, stands for good fortune, while the orchid stands for wealth and fortune. I began to come by nearly weekly, which allowed us to grow closely before he proposed and we married. I revealed my identity as a divine being a mere few days before he proposed, so imagine my shock when he asked for my hand in marriage!"

👑 The others chuckled as you finished your story, allowing you to look back down as your husband readied his form for the fight. You allowed a single tear to fall down from your eye, but before it hit the ground, you picked it up and tossed it onto the ground, making a four-leaf clover pop up from the flooring. Grabbing it, you blew it to your husband, in your own, silent way to wish him luck in the battle for Humanity's safety

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Hades ════════════════════════════════╝

💀 As you pat the young deity's head, your husband watched from a distance. You had been bonding with Zeus' family a lot more after the birth of Ares, his youngest brother's oldest son, and after Hermes' birth, you had just doubled down on your Auntie-responsibilities, even as the two aged

💀 Hades smiled as you looked at the middle of Zeus' boys, using your magic to tie tiny golden fabric-strands onto his body, around the arm like a bow for Hermes, he lightly adjusted it to his style while you smiled and pat his head lightly

💀 Laughing as you saw Ares began to mess around with his father, Zeus, as he tried making a speech as if he was going to lead another army to battle, you gave one of the most beautiful smiles in Olympus

💀 Hermes then told you he needed to go visit with his mother, you nodded and allowed him to go speak to Hera. You then clasped your hands in front of your hips and walked towards your husband, stopping by his side and laying your head on his shoulder

"Good afternoon, my love."

"Good afternoon, my King of the Netherworld."

💀 Chuckling and laying his head on your own, Hades smiled gently. He could feel your welcoming and warm aura pulse through his own cold and noble one, and it was a feeling he didn't want to let go of anytime soon

"Aunt Y/N, Uncle Hades! It's good to see you both!" A voice rung out, snapping both you and Hades out of your peaceful moment.

💀 Looking back up, you saw two of your three nephews. Heracles and Ares walked up and shook their Uncle's hand while they hugged you delicately, making sure they didn't accidentally damage any of the golden accessories that dawned your figure

"It's good to see you both as well. How has training been?" Hades asked.

"Alright. Dad almost destroyed the arena last week, though." Ares answered while Heracles nodded with a tired expression.

"Well that sounds like fun, calming your father down and all." You teased, making the three guys smile and chuckle at the thought of Zeus acting like a child in need of discipline from his parents.

"Y/N!" Aphrodite yelled out, waving you over to her and her nymphs.

💀 You peered back at your husband, who just nodded and kissed your forehead, allowing you to walk over to your old friend. Aphrodite was excited about something, and he knew you were naturally a curious being

"You really love her, don't you, Uncle?" Heracles asked.

"That I do. That I do..."

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little-jana · 16 days ago

Text

"Truth or Dare?"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: angst, fluff at the end

Warnings: spoiler!!!, guns, canon-typical violence, emotional conflict, stress, danger, kissing happy end

Words: 2.3k

Summary: During the events of “Truth or Dare,” the reader, an FBI agent and Spencer’s close friend, is present when JJ’s confession changes everything.

a/n: This takes place during the finale of Season 14! Changed it up a bit so the reader could be more part of everything!

⚠️ SPOILER AHEAD ⚠️

It's been two days since the last case — a rare chance for the team to let loose. Rossi’s wedding was coming up, a brief reprieve from the darkness they encountered daily.

But as always with the BAU, peace never lasted long.

The phone call came in, cutting the evening short.

You’d ridden with Spencer to the scene, the two of you sharing a comfortable silence in the SUV. Being around him always felt easy, even in the chaos of your jobs. You’d worked with the BAU on several cases over the years, though you weren’t a permanent member of the team. You were an FBI agent stationed in DC, but you and Spencer had grown close, your shared love of books and intellectual banter creating a bond that felt unshakable.

What you didn’t share with him—what you hadn’t shared with anyone—was the way your heart raced whenever he smiled at you, the way his quiet strength and vulnerability had captured you completely.

The case eventually leads Spencer, JJ and you to trying to chase the unsub, Casey, down.

When you arrived at the shop where Casey had barricaded himself and his hostage.

“Are you okay?” you asked Spencer softly.

He glanced at you, his eyes softening slightly. “I’m fine. I just... I hate situations like this.”

You nodded, understanding. It was one thing to deal with unsubs in the field, but hostage situations always carried a heavier weight.

Hotch had once said Spencer’s empathy was both his greatest strength and his greatest burden. You’d seen it firsthand—the way he carried the pain of others, always striving to do more, to save more.

When he takes JJ and Reid hostage, the situation threatens to escalate.

---

You stood outside with the team, monitoring the situation.

As the conversation unfolded, you could feel the tension rising. Casey’s demands were erratic, his behavior unpredictable. When he pulled JJ and Spencer into a twisted game of truth or dare, your stomach twisted with unease.

“Truth or dare?” Casey asked, his voice cold and sharp.

“Truth,” JJ replied without hesitation, her voice steady despite the situation.

“Tell him something you’ve never told him before,” Casey said, gesturing toward Spencer.

You froze. JJ’s gaze flickered to the camera, her expression unreadable. Beside you, Spencer’s entire body went still.

“I—I can’t do that,” JJ stammered, her usual composure slipping for a moment.

“You can, and you will,” Casey said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Spence...” JJ began, her voice trembling slightly. “I’ve always loved you. I was just too scared to say it before. And things are complicated, and... I’m sorry.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Spencer stared at her, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. You wanted to say something, to reach out to him, but he was in there, in danger.

JJ’s confession hung in the air, heavy and unresolved. You couldn’t process what you were hearing—couldn’t reconcile the woman you admired and trusted with the pain blooming in your chest.

You’d always known Spencer cared deeply for JJ, but this... this was something else.

---

The situation inside the restaurant escalated quickly. Spencer was able to shoot Casey. The hostage was safe, and JJ and Spencer emerged physically unharmed. Relief washed over the team as the threat dissipated, but the emotional fallout lingered heavily in the air.

Back at Quantico, Spencer was quieter than usual. He barely spoke during the debriefing, his mind clearly elsewhere. You wanted to give him space, but a part of you ached to know what was going through his head.

Hours later, after everyone had gone home, you found him in the break room. He was sitting at the small table, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.

“Spence,” you said softly, stepping into the room.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he looked away. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, sitting down across from him. You watched him for a moment, taking in the way he was fidgeting with the mug in his hands. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the table. “I don’t know what to say,” he admitted finally. “I don’t know how to feel about... any of this.”

“You mean JJ?” you asked gently.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “She’s been my friend for so long. Her confession—it caught me completely off guard. I never saw it coming.” He paused, his brow furrowing. “But it’s not... I don’t feel the same way. I never have.”

Relief flooded through you, though you tried not to let it show. “Does she know that?”

“I think she does now,” he said quietly. “But I’m scared things are going to change between us. Our friendship is important to me, and I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly. “JJ cares about you, Spence. She wouldn’t have said anything if she didn’t think your friendship could survive it.”

He looked at you then, his expression softening. “You really think so?”

“I do,” you said with a small smile. “Friendships like yours don’t just disappear overnight. It might take some time, but you’ll find your way back to each other.”

He nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a little. “Thanks,” he said. “I needed to hear that.”

You smiled, but the tension in the room hadn’t completely lifted. There was something else he wasn’t saying—something weighing on him.

“Is there something else on your mind?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He hesitated, his hands tightening around the mug. “There is,” he admitted. “But it’s... complicated.”

You waited patiently, giving him the space he needed to find the words.

“Tonight,” he began, his voice quiet and uncertain, “when JJ said what she said, it made me think about a lot of things. About relationships, and feelings, and the people I care about.”

Your heart began to race, but you kept your expression neutral. “Okay,” you said, encouraging him to continue.

“And I realized something,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. “I’ve been scared. Scared of ruining things, of making things complicated. But I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “Spence...”

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t know how to tell you. And after everything that happened tonight, I was scared it would make things... messy between us.”

You stared at him, your mind racing to process what he was saying. “You like me?” you repeated, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I do. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, or if this complicates things for you, but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. But then you smiled—a soft, genuine smile that lit up your entire face. “Spence,” you said, reaching across the table to take his hand, “I like you too.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

“I do,” you said, your voice filled with warmth. “I’ve liked you for a long time. But I was scared too. I didn’t want to risk losing what we have.”

A small, relieved laugh escaped him, and he squeezed your hand gently. “So we’ve both been scared for nothing.”

“Looks like it,” you said with a chuckle.

For the first time that night, Spencer’s shoulders relaxed completely, and a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Does this mean we can stop being scared and actually see where this goes?” he asked, his voice laced with hope.

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness. “I think it does.”

Spencer’s smile grew wider, his cheeks tinged pink as he looked down at your joined hands. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the moment settling between you. It was as though the rest of the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet warmth of the room.

You shifted in your seat, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Spence...” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “I never thought you’d feel the same way. I thought it was just me.”

“I thought the same thing about you,” he admitted, his voice soft and full of wonder. “You’re amazing, and I didn’t want to ruin what we already had by saying anything. But tonight... everything that happened with JJ made me realize how important it is to say what you feel before it’s too late.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they weren’t from sadness—they were from the overwhelming relief and joy flooding your chest. “I’m glad you did,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “Because I don’t think I could’ve kept this to myself much longer.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.”

You both fell silent, the weight of unspoken emotions lingering in the air. His eyes searched yours, the vulnerability in his gaze tugging at your heart. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned forward, his hand still clasping yours as if afraid to let go.

“Is it okay if I—” he started, his voice faltering.

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the small distance between you, your free hand reaching up to gently cup his cheek. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

And then, before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, as though neither of you could believe it was really happening. But then Spencer’s hand moved to your face, his fingers brushing against your skin as he deepened the kiss. There was a quiet intensity to the way his lips moved against yours, as though he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into that single moment.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst, the warmth of his touch and the sweetness of his kiss consuming you entirely. Time seemed to stand still, the world narrowing down to just him—the softness of his lips, the faint scent of his cologne, the way his hand trembled slightly as it rested against your cheek.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. Spencer’s eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and his lips curved into a shy, almost disbelieving smile.

“That was...” he began, trailing off as he struggled to find the words.

“Perfect,” you finished for him, your own voice shaky but filled with certainty.

He laughed softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Yeah. Perfect.”

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, your foreheads touching as you reveled in the newfound closeness. The weight of the night’s events still lingered, but it felt lighter now, less daunting.

Spencer pulled back slightly, his hand still resting against your cheek. “I don’t know where this is going to take us,” he admitted, his voice filled with quiet sincerity, “but I want to find out. With you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “Me too, Spence. Me too.”

And as you sat there together, the promise of something new unfolding between you, the world outside the room seemed a little brighter.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer #spencer reid angst #spencer reid one shot #matthew gray gubler #truth or dare #season 14

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samrsgyi · 1 year ago

Text

Rody lamoree Smut Head cannons

A/N- I feel bad for our Babyboy who got his ear bitten off :(

Warnings⚠️!!!: Smut obvi, slight angst in the middle part

( Manon/ Vincent punching the air rn )

- So I feel like Rody would be a switch to be honest, I mean he is a big guy and very muscular 😏 ( Not stereotyping. Yes, he will lift you up with his muscular arms whenever during sex and just watch your eyes roll back into your head

- He's very Soft, Sweet, and Gentle with you even though he's big. If he's a sub he's like a little puppy, so be gentle and soft with him. If he's a Dom he's never rough, but would just thrust up into you slowly just to listen to you moan his name

- If you tend to bite his earlobe I don't think it would be a good idea. ( SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️❗❗❗) Since we already know that Vincent bit off his ear I think if you were in the mood and then bit his earlobe it would send him the flashbacks of him and Vincent causing it to trigger his memory and push you off of him.

- He's a soft ice cream boy which means he's genuine and soft. Doesn't do anything to hurt you and just shows how much he loves you. It's a form of intimacy at the point where he's at the medium level of Lovemaking

- Loves to Give you neck kisses when he comes back from work to show how much he misses you. A make-out session is a must, probs 10-15 minutes or so. Loves to even give you hickies and let them trail down your neck to your chest

- I don't really see him as a person that uses toys on you, but is willing to use them If you are. Could be a vibrator and he has a sweet spot, so be prepared to be in a sound-proof room

- For Aftercare, it would be nice to get water and snacks and just enjoy a movie together

TBH I kinda don't like these Head cannons, I think I did horrible on them...

Hope you enjoyed!!!

#Rody Lamoree x Reader #Dead Plate x Reader #Dead Plate Smut

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bubbleddisasters · 8 days ago

Text

Guess whos back on their Che’nya theory shit again. Me.

Also some of this is just me going on about random and absolute far stretched shit, but hopefully the majority makes sense to y’all.

I’m about to sound batshit insane and this is going to be some MatPat sounding shit but here we go anyway.

WARNING‼️⚠️ MAJOR BOOK 7 SPOILERS AHEAD. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

———————

I just made the realization that Che’nyas UM and already natural abilities we’ve seen puts him in a position to be deadass playing the Floor is Lava with Malleus as the lava rn.

They wouldn’t have told us his UM in the main story if it didn’t matter somehow. They had the opportunity to show us Neiges in Rooks dream, yet didn’t, so it isn’t a heres RSA UMs for for shits and giggles thing, and we don’t know ANY of the teachers UMs, so it isn’t a “filling npc” thing either.

In EVENTS, we learn the UMs of only the very important and/or dangerous characters. Rollo, Skully, and Fellow. (Geez, Halloween trio now that I think of it).

Do we know Dylia Spades? No. Do we know Eric Schronheits? No. Do we know Ambrose the 3rds? No. Do we know Elizas? No, we get slapped. Do we know Najima Vipers? No. (She might not have one yet tho but still).

These characters are all confirmed as mages, or not directly said to be magicless, so it’s fair to assume they are mages.

So they told us Che’nyas UM for a reason. Why?

Like if his UM makes him invulnerable to magic/attack and invisible, and straight up on ANOTHER PLANE OF EXISTENCE, then if he’s not technically “all there”, Malleus wouldn’t be able to sense him.

Plus, this would explain how Orthos body was floating on the water when STYX found it, as when we know Orthos HEAVY AF, and would more than likely sink, since I doubt they had the time to build in something inflatable enough to balance that weight.

To boot, Ortho was at the docks, which from the map, is super close to RSA.

For reference:

(Both normally and under Mals spell)

The Cheshire Cat is the one who gets Alice out of Wonderland (In the movie, the tunnel Alice runs through matches the Cheshire cats color and stripes + He’s the only one not chasing her+ in the OG book, the Cheshire Cat is more of a Guide and the only one who really sticks with and helps Alice for the whole shabang), and if he’s in RSA, then I think the writers know that.

Aswell as the fact Che’nya appears in both Books with “Tyrant” in the name, and the Cheshire Cat is the only person completely immune to the Queen of Hearts control, as the second most powerful being in wonderland next to LITERALLY TIME ITSELF.

Look in most Disney Villain Line-Ups, and you’ll find the Cheshire Cat. Why? Marketing, the Cheshire Cats a popular character that isn’t directly portrayed as a hero, and more as a mysterious reoccurring character that isn’t necessarily seen as a helper unless you squint.

Additionally, we’ve seen Che’nya use flight, self gravity control, teleportation(unconfirmed but implied on that one) and use his UM for extremely long periods of time, and now that I think of it, we’ve never seen it wear him down, even without the lack of a magestone on his design.

And anyway, in the manga, he’s been doing such things since before we meet him for the first time at age 8-9 from Rids perspective.

Which means long enough that he basically has full control over it at that age, so probably either since birth or very, very young.

Which gives us the know that unlocked his UM way before meeting Riddle and mastered it, which means likely as a literal toddler woke up one day and went “Hey what if I just fucked off to another plane of existence and became both invisible and invulnerable, while capable of movement and communication on this plane the whole time.”

Now back to Book 7.

So heres what caught my attention, Silver mentions the only people he can pop into the dreams of are people he has connections with.

Seeing as we get Sebek first crack out of the box, and then Lilia, this makes sense.

However, it falls off when the next people start to be people Silver either doesn’t know, or very loosely knows.

Yes, I understand the commercial and writing point is meant to be a dorm countdown, but it would make far more sense to be a Russian Roulette, kind of upping the anticipation of whos next.

But to me, with what we know of Silvers connections, it would make far more sense to have the second years be first after Dia, then maybe the third years that he knows because of Lilia, and finally the first years, still leaving room for Ace to get his UM towards the very end.

Now if we drive this back to my Che’nya playing Yuu’s guardian angel theory, it would make more sense to start with Pomfieore after Igi, because not only is it recent connections, so probably easier to bring to the forefront of Silvers UM, it gives him time to get up to NRC right after pushing Ortho or simply getting him out safely.

Before you mention malleus’s barrier, Che’nya gets past NRCs barrier that took STYX heavy power shots to break like its every other tuesday, without Crowleys notice aswell, he stands a viable chance of slipping past Malleus’s.

If he can jump to another plane of existence in which he is invulnerable to magic, theres nothing stopping him from sliding past to get Ortho out and slipping back in under Malleus’s nose.

It also gives him a good “oh shit” moment and an idea of the root of whats happening.

And if I’m wrong and he can’t teleport, he can latch on to Malleus (possibly referencing the Cheshire Cat latching onto the Queens back after she gets a card solider executed I think) to teleport with him back to NRC.

With that, he could be preventing Silver OBing by basically shattering the shade/phantom before it can even do anything, while also hiding Idia being awake. That, or basically lending Silver magic enough to keep going while praying to god Mal doesn’t notice.

Lilia playing the worlds most dangerous game of tag with Mal in dreamland gives him the distraction he needs for this aswell, and it could be that everything went to shit around Trey-Riddles Dreams, and Che’nya popped in to speed up the process and or Dream Che’nyas revealing his UM kinda got his ass caught by Mal, or caused Mal to finally detect a disturbance in the force.

So if I’m right with the previously theorized Guardian Angel thing, Che’nya could be hotwiring Silvers UM to send Silver and co to the people he remembers helped Yuu and the rest recently without risking Malleus putting two and two together on who could be fucking with the dreams other than Silver, depending on how he was portrayed in Trey and Rids Dreams.

Though it would be hilarious if with the Floor is Lavaing it he was also Night at the Musueming it and just repeatedly moved each dreamer closer to Silver physically so they’d have a physical connection (like pinky to pinky or head to head) and basically had Malleus doing a eyebrow raise everytime he turned around trying to figure out if that person had been moved or he was seeing things until he realized there was an exponentially large group around Silver that definitely wasn’t there before.

Another thing: We know the Three Good Fairies weren’t affected by Maleficent’s curse and are the ones to untie Philip when he’s caught and give him the Sword and Shield, which his has, and loses all but the sword in the fight against Maleficent, the Sword and Shield which in the Og twst Trailer that scene is likely referenced by Silver as the Sword (duh) and Sebek as the Shield, with Lilia where Philip would be, although his arm is raised higher.

You kinda have to flip Sebek and Silvers positions but yea.

Sebek being Virtue is self explanatory. He strives to have the virtue of a knight worth of Malleus, and shows this in many ways, but his faults are his rudeness, arrogance, biased or generally rude assumptions, and overexaggertion, stemming from his own internilzed racism (or speciesism? I guess?) , which lead many others to not want to be around him, deflecting the truth of his heritage as to not focus on his own insecurities like a shield to an attack, no matter who its from, in a way.

Now that he has begun to bond and not be as rude to the rest of the non fae cast however, he ends up passing out? Like how a shield seemingly has no use if its not defending, unless you get real creative with it (Its Reyn time I mean who said that)

Silver balances this out as truth, as he is someone we see is honest to almost no fault. His UM also shows truth, in its own way, by showing the truth of the desires of those around him. However, a truth has also been held directly from him, aka the truth of his birth, and the undeniable truth that to break the curse upon him, Lilia did have to truly love him, even as the child of his friends killer.

So he is both benefited and harmed by truth, just like how the same sword can both protect and kill, it just depends on who wields it.

Anyway, back to the point at hand, Now that Malleus seemingly has the time to go and pull a FNAF 4 at Idias door, the odds are Lilia may have somehow gotten caught or restrained (like Phillip is) for enough time to have Malleus notice the Shrouds are pulling shenanigans on his private dream servers and feel the need to go confirm this.

The way in the movie the Three Good Fairies are caught hiding Aurora by Maleficent in the first place is by getting too cocky on the day before Aurora’s B-day and using magic like crazy, fixing up and making their “gifts” much better, as they didn’t know how to create them without magic.

These gifts? A Cake by the GREEN fairy, the calmest and most mature of the three: Fauna, and a Dress, which the RED AND BLUE FAIRIES Merryweather (the most rebellious yet sensical) and Flora (the leader, most work focused and overconfident) keep fighting over which color it should be, Pink or Blue.

(I rewatched their scenes and I forgot how much of a fucking MVP Merryweather was, everyone else turning things into rainbows, bubbles and flowers while my girl was out here burning chains, hunting down snitches, turning her mfking ops to stone and had to be physically held back from throwing hands with Maleficent by herself, god bless this tiny blue diva)

Fauna can obviously be placed as Trey here. Calmest, a Cake, Green. Done.

You can combine Flora and Merryweather into the two sides of Riddles Dream, the first being very punk yet sensical lifestyle, the blue, bringing in the sadness of what he desired yet cannot have, and the second half being Flora, the extremes of overconfident and tyrannical leadership, the red of rage, to say.

Red and Blue obv equal Purple, Che’nyas signature color, probably because purple isn’t actually a fucking color. I’m not going to explain the history of purple, but there is not such thing as purple in science, only shades of violet.

Speaking of Pomfieore, the first non dia dreamer group we see, is VIOLET. I said it. (Octavielle is Lavender, so no, not directly purple) Bright Red is Heartstabyl. (Scarabia is Maroon, which is a shade of red, but again, not directly bright red)

Now what I’m going on about here is this: If In the dreams, each dreamers NPC versions of their friends strictly abides by what the dreamer desires them to, how did dream Che’nya not only transfer to both parts of Riddles dream, but also go directly AGAINST the dream and the dreamer?

The dream versions of the others cannot, under any circumstances, break the character the dreamer creates without breaking the dream itself.

We see this in Lilias dream, in Treys, and Deuces. The Senate, Cater and Ace respectively breach the line of what is and isn’t in character for them in the dreamers memory to hold the dreamer within the dream, causing their respective dreamer to wake up sheerly due to the stark contrast.

These characters will go to lengths to keep the dreamer asleep, so how is it that this dream version of Che’nya can do the exact opposite?

And in Treys dream, Che’nya is the only one not practically turned into Eric Cartman variants, which given the fact Cater, certified sweets hater, has too, means that Che’nya, certified sweets stealer, somehow dodged that bullet in Treys subconscious, which breaks the rules set by the dream.

These rules are delicate, seemingly. It takes one too out of character word, one too out of character action to knock the dreamer awake.

So either Trey sees Che’nya as having the self control of a monk (a small scene in manga implies Che’nya steals from the Clovers fridge so often Treys own damn siblings hear the fridge open and assume its him and not their own damn brother, so I doubt that he’d think that) or Che’nya can bypass these rules.

Many of the dreams would have been so much easier if they could conveniently convince the dreamers friends to go up against them for their sake or just to simply help wake them up.

Of all people, the dream version of Ace fucking Trappola actually listening to and abiding by Riddles tyranny and not jumping at the opportunity to S.O.S to Leona, Yuu and co says enough about this as is.

Anyway, what I’m saying here is that Che’nya either got his ass caught, or finally managed to hotwire himself into Silvers UM conga line, which unfortunately left Idia now in Mals notice and Silver becoming more weary from excess UM use.

Just like how the good fairies thought they’d succeeded and jumped the gun with using magic a day early, Chen could have thought that since they made it this far, their clean until further notice, and is gonna feel the hit of it later.

As my phone is dying and I want a fucking nap, this has been Blues randomass rant about Che’nya again.

More at ???? Folks.

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spitefully-existing · 2 months ago

Text

the sleep token book is a bit hard to read, i rewrote it the best i could below the cut; hopefully this helps!

thank you to @top-quality-garbage for helping me decipher some of this and to @doiha for the spanish translation! 🫶🫶

⚠️⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️⚠️

15 days since emergence of the Lunar Anomaly

When I was a child, I was frequently beset by certain reoccurring dreams. this is one such dream that I remembered more than most – one in which I found myself standing on a vast shoreline, gazing out at a flat, wide sea. Slowly, as I watched the horizon gradually begin to lift. Before long I was able to observe that this lifting expanse was approaching me – a wall of smooth, black water that curls into an impossible lip at its peak. rather surprisingly, I do not recall being afraid of such an ominous sight. Well, to be more precise, I was afraid – I was terrified, but not of the wave itself. Instead, it was the thought of what was beyond it. This vast, unstoppable force sweeping forth to herald the end of everything, to drown the world and then eventually sink back into itself. A careless shrug of entropy enough to sever the thread of all fates. I felt that were I to somehow survive this limitless tide then I would be left in the world that would not recognize me. I would become an element unto myself and myself alone.

An echo stuck in the throat of a dead god.

yet here I am. It has been over two weeks since the emergence of the lunar anomaly. our team spent nearly 2 years attempting to anticipate what this event would mean for humanity – analyzing endless reams of lunar topography along with every known form of spectroscopy, all amounting to one hopeless conclusion: to burrow into the bowels of the earth and simply wait that whatever emerge from within would reach us these last.

as it would turn out this one final act of humble surrenders is what one the last of us the right to our own lives in these final days. Those of us alive now are not those who sought to barter with destiny and defiantly cling to a civilized existence of the surface – or even any existence at all.

it would seem that in the week of this phenomenon, we are best served by our most base instincts, whose shame found no place to dwell. The ones who survived are those who spat their hubris and hid desperately down in the mud like rats.

I want it to be known that we made every effort to warn the others, though naturally we could not provide much of a basis upon which to suggest that our entire species with facing imminent and utter demise besides a few fissures of the southern lunar pole. with that said we begun building this underground facility once we realized that the moon’s orbit was rapidly decaying in a way that was inconsistent with any known physical model – I found it hard to believe that none of them followed our lead perhaps some of them did either way we have no way of knowing now.

my expectations for the first surface expedition were bleak at best in all honesty. I was shocked to discover that our initial readings showed that these remained a breathable atmosphere. Perhaps in all this turmoil, I found it easier to commit my mind to the worst possible outcome at every turn.

The limited data we gathered before the event – despite two years of efforts – didn’t prepare us for the havoc we now face. To say that we find ourselves at a loss to explain, the phenomenon would be a gracious understatement. The catechism that occurred two weeks ago had taught us one unshakable rule about this new world we now hid beneath – to gaze upon the moon is to die.

For this reason, we rapidly developed wearable counter measures for the surface teams that would prove vital in allowing them to navigate the surface. If only we could have known that this was far from the only threat that awaited them. To say that we find ourselves at a loss to explain the phenomena would be a gracious understatement.

it is not only human life that is affected by the lunar anomaly, but that of all life, albeit in vastly different ways. To put it simply – this new type of emergent biology is beyond the boundaries of what we are able to study and understand.

I find myself already laden with guilt over those we lost. More than that however, I feel most guilty about the way I reacted to learning of the remnant human elements that attacked our team. I felt strangely comforted, despite the deeply disturbing nature of that discovery.

Upon further introspection, I arrived at the conclusion that this feeling came from a sense of familiarity. Human beings fighting other human beings is a horror that has played us all since time immemorial, but here in the wake of such deeply unfamiliar and unpredictable occurrences, it is hard not to feel almost comforted by such an immediately recognizable problem.

with that said, I do also find myself deeply troubled by the prospect of humans remaining on the surface in that state. The consensus among my colleagues is that their actions were not born of their own will, though there is every chance that this is a conclusion we are clinging to in preference over the more unsettling alternative.

I feel that I am rapidly squandering the precious remnants of human life in the desire to understand what has happened, though in truth, I know not what else to do. Perhaps this is the only way we can cling to our humanity – by continuing our constant battle with the sheer unknown right to the very end.

The Director

28 days since Lunar Anomaly

already I find myself in the surprising position of yearning for the way things were two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, I was contending with the end of the world. Now, I contend with the reality of what has replaced it.

we took the trouble to equip ourselves as thoroughly as possible, with the means of studying any emergent phenomena on the surface, even whilst and tomb beneath the Earth. We now find ourselves consumed by the pursuit of understanding – it is truly all that we have left. However, the samples we’ve acquired offer no such mercy – their nature and origin is fundamentally foreign to us. Something we can say is that, contrary to the initial assumption that most life on the surface had been wiped out, there is in fact in abundance of some kind of new organic material. It can be found everywhere in some form, including in the atmosphere itself. Its cellular structure is completely unique – where one would expect to see some approximation of a typical eukaryotic cell, what we see instead resembles membranous tubules that contain vast quantities of foreign organelles. These organelles seem to function in an oddly synchronous fashion and are able to perform a variety of functions. Primarily, they are able to ‘grow’ the tubules that contain them by undergoing a form of transformation at either end which renders them as part of the tubule wall. secondly, and far more strangely, they are able to exert some kind of force over the tubule as a whole, contorting it in a way not dissimilar to muscle tissue, (but without any apparent nervous impulse.)

as to the origin of this tissue, our initial assumption was that it had been somehow transferred from the moon itself to earth – perhaps via pieces of lunar material falling through the atmosphere. This makes some sense, however, the sheer proliferation of this material across the surface within a relatively short period of time suggest that there is more to it than that.

I am reluctant to comment on the reports of other worldly beings on the surface. Their presence carries implications I am simply unprepared for. At a certain point, however, I must accept that this only increases the inevitable danger placed upon the surface teams during their expeditions. What I must also accept is that these precious human lives are now the only currency with which we can barter against the unknown.

Thus far we barter in vain.

The Director

58 days since the lunar anomaly

when we first retreated down into the ground, I think that somewhere in the midst of my despair, I clung to a degree of hope. This wasn’t so much a hope for survival as much as the hope that we would at least be able to discern some kind of meaningful understanding of what has happened. we have committed everything – I have committed everything. The last precious remnant of humanity extinguished in the name of what makes us human to begin with. To shed what light we have left on the sea of the unknown. But now I see that this was a futile effort that has resulted in nothing but death, not merely in the context of our final struggle, but across the scope of all human existence. It has all amounted to nothing but a few extra skulls drifting in the foul ether that has swamped our world.

It is clear now that the lunar anomaly functions in accordance with laws of its own. It makes a mockery of science. It permeates and distort reality to the degree that all fundamental assumptions are rendered useless. it kills everything it touches while simultaneously imbuing it with some kind of new life, twisting nature into something grotesque and unrecognizable. These new forms seem organic, but they have nothing resembling a typical cell structure or genetic blueprint. They can bring forth in an instant, summoning flesh from nothing. Furthermore, our ability to measure even the most fundamental aspects of our physical world is becoming impossible. The massive objects change slightly, depending on where they are, as though gravity itself, has begun to lose its grip. We have detected seismic activity from further inside the Earth than we even thought possible. The anomaly doesn’t just want to consume all life. It wants to consume reality.

as for those beings, I know not what they are were where they originated. They themselves are not consistent with the nature of the anomaly they inhabit. Their actions seem to exhibit some strange sentence, but their motives are unclear, and they make no effort to communicate. At times I have concluded that they are here to replace us, or perhaps, even that they themselves represent some fractured distillation of our nature. they are after all violent, just as we have been to the very end. They seem to push against one another as a part of some strange order. As time has passed, though, I have come to believe that they have no connection to us. I believe that what our world has become is a little more than an arena to them – a crucible of existence where they will battle eternally. The totality of their being is not their individual functions, but rather the conflict between them. We are merely spectators to their endless dance of ceaseless struggle. this is perhaps the only thing that connects them to the drowned memory of what humanity once was – that we too saw meaning through constant friction and unending movement, compelled by some core motive force that drives us to bring ourselves to bear on the world and manifest our own perceptions.

in these final dimming days, I know only the solace of a promised end. I have become the ultimate witness. I have been saddled with the heavy blessing of seeing the unraveling of everything and I can do nothing but wait for it to unravel me too. But I live still within this temple of untampered flesh, and I will spend what blood still beats through it to barter one last time with the fangled threads of fate. if I must, I will march through the eye of death and meet it with eyes of my own.

What few of us are left now have our orders.

We must know what it is to become of us.

The Director

61 days since the lunar anomaly

I once spoke but now it seems through me just as I speak through it no longer to nothing I can change nothing no can change nothing nothing has become my thing I can make nothing into a weapon there will be no void left unfilled I am human and humans are always human and always scared because being human makes us scared and being scared makes us human I will crack the flesh I will crack the earth I will eat the pieces they will be pieces of me would you like to dance I have always been dancing we must keep dancing even when we are just tendrils we were always tendrils we could touch everything even things god did not want us to touch that is why he left us here that is why he thought we were ugly he could not wrap his tendrils around every part of us we spilled his paradise over the earth and danced with such a beautiful dance horror would leap and dance with us who would bathe us and we could lie within it we could tear the horror out from our hearts over and over we could never sleep sleep is death not even the earth would sleep the earth fears death it’s blood would freeze out in space out in nothing we must reach through the stars through the darkness even though it is so cold it can freeze our blood we can let our blood freeze and then crack it open hot like the earth we can step through death wear it like a crown hairs to the highest pantheon of life precious life with death as its blood precious death bursting from the many wombs of sacred war paradise was empty without us there was only silence but our blood made the flowers grow god spilled his blood over paradise god knows the stars are waiting fertile ground cold to the touch those stars are hungry they crave only the blood of god we are his tendrils and we will bury ourselves into those cold stars and there will be no darkness death will give us fear and fear will give us blood we will spill our hot blood across the stars I finally understand now I do I understand but will you let me keep my human fear will you let me yes being scared makes you human fear will sow the hot blood of god across the gold stars fear will make us dance and we must keep dancing can you see god dancing for you can you see him biting into you can you hear his teeth cracking into pieces of the stars they sent sparks raining down through the darkness all these years you have hunted him and reached for him you want his blood he made you with veins inside you like tendrils we dance through his veins as we bite through the stars and dance and he opens his mouth wide I am so scared Will you let me be the last human I understand now I am the teeth of god I am the teeth of god I am the teeth of god I am the teeth of god I am the teeth of god I am the teeth of god I am the teeth of god

——————

15 días desde la aparición de la Anomalía Lunar

Cuando era niño, a menudo era acosado por ciertos sueños recurrentes. Este es uno de esos sueños que recuerdo más que la mayoría: uno en el que me encontraba de pie en una vasta orilla, mirando hacia un mar plano y amplio. Poco a poco, mientras observaba, el horizonte comenzó a elevarse gradualmente. No pasó mucho tiempo antes de que me diera cuenta de que esta extensión elevada se acercaba hacia mí: una pared de agua negra y suave que se curvaba de manera imposible en su borde. Sorprendentemente, no recuerdo haber sentido miedo ante tal ominosa visión. Bueno, para ser más preciso, sentía miedo, estaba aterrorizado, pero no de la ola en sí. Más bien, era el pensamiento de lo que había más allá de ella. Esta vasta e imparable fuerza que se desplazaba para anunciar el fin de todo, para ahogar el mundo y luego, eventualmente, sumergirse nuevamente en sí misma. Un encogimiento despreocupado de la entropía, suficiente para cortar el hilo de todos los destinos. Sentí que, si de alguna manera lograba sobrevivir a esta marea ilimitada, entonces me quedaría en un mundo que no me reconocería. Me convertiría en un elemento para mí mismo y solo para mí.

Un eco atrapado en la garganta de un dios muerto.

Y aquí estoy. Han pasado más de dos semanas desde la aparición de la anomalía lunar. Nuestro equipo pasó casi dos años intentando anticipar lo que este evento significaría para la humanidad: analizando interminables volúmenes de topografía lunar junto con todas las formas conocidas de espectroscopía, lo cual resultó en una conclusión desesperanzada: cavar en las entrañas de la Tierra y simplemente esperar a que lo que emergiera desde dentro nos alcanzara, siendo lo último en tocarnos.

Como resultó ser, este acto de humilde rendición fue lo que otorgó a los últimos de nosotros el derecho a nuestras propias vidas en estos días definitivos. Los que estamos vivos ahora no somos los que intentamos negociar con el destino ni aferrarnos desafiante a una existencia civilizada en la superficie, ni siquiera a cualquier existencia en absoluto.

Parece que, en la semana de este fenómeno, actuamos mejor con nuestros instintos más básicos, cuyos remordimientos no encontraron lugar donde residir. Los que sobrevivieron son aquellos que escupieron su arrogancia y se escondieron desesperadamente en el barro, como ratas.

Quiero que se sepa que hicimos todo lo posible por advertir a los demás, aunque, naturalmente, no pudimos proporcionar una base sólida para sugerir que nuestra especie entera enfrentaría una inminente y total desaparición, aparte de unas pocas fisuras en el polo lunar sur. Dicho esto, comenzamos a construir esta instalación subterránea una vez que nos dimos cuenta de que la órbita de la luna se estaba deteriorando rápidamente de una manera que era inconsistente con cualquier modelo físico conocido. Me resultó difícil creer que ninguno de ellos siguiera nuestro ejemplo; tal vez algunos lo hicieron, pero de todas formas ya no podemos saberlo.

Mis expectativas para la primera expedición en la superficie eran sombrías, en el mejor de los casos. Me sorprendió descubrir que nuestras lecturas iniciales mostraron que aún quedaba una atmósfera respirable. Quizás, en medio de todo este tumulto, encontré más fácil comprometer mi mente al peor desenlace en cada giro.

Los datos limitados que recopilamos antes del evento, a pesar de dos años de esfuerzos, no nos prepararon para el caos que ahora enfrentamos. Decir que nos encontramos perdidos para explicar el fenómeno sería un subestimado amable. El catecismo que ocurrió hace dos semanas nos enseñó una regla inquebrantable sobre este nuevo mundo que ahora nos oculta bajo tierra: mirar a la luna es morir.

Por esta razón, desarrollamos rápidamente contramedidas portátiles para los equipos de superficie que resultaron vitales para permitirles navegar por allí. Si tan solo hubiéramos sabido que esto estaba lejos de ser la única amenaza que les esperaba. Decir que nos encontramos perdidos para explicar los fenómenos sería un subestimado amable.

No es solo la vida humana la que se ve afectada por la anomalía lunar, sino también la de toda forma de vida, aunque de maneras enormemente diferentes. Para decirlo de manera simple: este nuevo tipo de biología emergente está más allá de los límites de lo que podemos estudiar y comprender.

Ya me encuentro cargado de culpa por aquellos que perdimos. Sin embargo, más que eso, me siento más culpable por la forma en que reaccioné al enterarme de los elementos humanos remanentes que atacaron a nuestro equipo. Me sentí extrañamente reconfortado, a pesar de la naturaleza profundamente perturbadora de ese descubrimiento.

Tras más introspección, llegué a la conclusión de que este sentimiento provenía de un sentido de familiaridad. Los seres humanos luchando contra otros seres humanos es un horror que nos ha atormentado desde tiempos inmemoriales, pero aquí, en medio de sucesos tan profundamente desconocidos e impredecibles, es difícil no sentirse casi reconfortado por un problema tan inmediatamente reconocible.

Dicho esto, también me siento profundamente preocupado por la perspectiva de que los humanos permanezcan en la superficie en ese estado. El consenso entre mis colegas es que sus acciones no nacieron de su propia voluntad, aunque existe toda la posibilidad de que esta sea una conclusión a la que nos aferramos en lugar de aceptar la inquietante alternativa.

Siento que estoy desperdiciando rápidamente los preciosos restos de la vida humana en el deseo de entender lo que ha sucedido, aunque en verdad, no sé qué más hacer. Tal vez esta es la única forma en que podemos aferrarnos a nuestra humanidad: continuar nuestra constante batalla con lo absolutamente desconocido hasta el final.

-El Director

28 días desde la Anomalía Lunar

Ya me encuentro en la sorprendente posición de anhelar la forma en que eran las cosas hace dos semanas. Hace dos semanas, luchaba contra el fin del mundo. Ahora, lucho contra la realidad de lo que lo ha reemplazado.

Nos tomamos la molestia de equiparnos de la manera más completa posible, con los medios para estudiar cualquier fenómeno emergente en la superficie, incluso mientras nos enterrábamos en el suelo. Ahora nos encontramos consumidos por la búsqueda de comprensión; realmente es todo lo que nos queda. Sin embargo, las muestras que hemos adquirido no muestran tal misericordia: su naturaleza y origen nos son completamente ajenos. Algo que podemos afirmar es que, contrariamente a la suposición inicial de que la mayoría de la vida en la superficie había sido aniquilada, en realidad hay una abundancia de algún tipo de material orgánico nuevo. Se puede encontrar en todas partes, en alguna forma, incluso en la propia atmósfera. Su estructura celular es completamente única: donde se esperaría ver una célula eucariota típica, lo que vemos en su lugar son tubos membranosos que contienen vastas cantidades de orgánulos ajenos. Estos orgánulos parecen funcionar de una manera extrañamente sincronizada y son capaces de realizar una variedad de funciones. Principalmente, pueden "hacer crecer" los tubos que los contienen al someterse a una forma de transformación en cualquiera de sus extremos, lo que los convierte en parte de la pared del tubo. En segundo lugar, y mucho más extraño, pueden ejercer algún tipo de fuerza sobre el tubo en su totalidad, retorciéndolo de una manera no muy diferente a como lo haría el tejido muscular (pero sin ningún impulso nervioso aparente).

En cuanto al origen de este tejido, nuestra suposición inicial fue que había sido transferido de alguna manera desde la luna a la Tierra, tal vez a través de piezas de material lunar cayendo a través de la atmósfera. Esto tiene algo de sentido; sin embargo, la proliferación masiva de este material en la superficie en un período de tiempo relativamente corto sugiere que hay algo más detrás de todo esto.

Soy reacio a comentar sobre los informes de seres de otro mundo en la superficie. Su presencia conlleva implicaciones para las que simplemente no estoy preparado. Sin embargo, en algún momento, debo aceptar que esto solo aumenta el peligro inevitable al que están expuestos los equipos en sus expediciones. Lo que también debo aceptar es que estas preciosas vidas humanas ahora son la única moneda con la que podemos negociar contra lo desconocido.

Hasta ahora, hemos negociado en vano.

-El Director

58 días desde la Anomalía Lunar

Cuando nos retiramos bajo tierra, creo que, en medio de mi desesperación, me aferré a un grado de esperanza. No era tanto una esperanza de supervivencia, sino la esperanza de que, al menos, seríamos capaces de discernir algún tipo de comprensión significativa de lo que ha ocurrido. Hemos comprometido todo, he comprometido todo. El último y precioso vestigio de la humanidad se extinguió en nombre de lo que nos hace humanos en primer lugar, para arrojar la luz que nos queda sobre el mar de lo desconocido. Pero ahora veo que este fue un esfuerzo fútil que no ha resultado en nada más que muerte, no solo en el contexto de nuestra lucha final, sino a lo largo de toda la existencia humana. Todo ha sido en vano, salvo por unos pocos cráneos flotando en el éter pútrido que ha inundado nuestro mundo.

Está claro ahora que la anomalía lunar funciona de acuerdo con sus propias leyes. Se burla de la ciencia. Permea y distorsiona la realidad de tal manera que todas las suposiciones fundamentales quedan inutilizadas. Mata todo lo que toca, mientras imbuye con algún tipo de nueva vida, torciendo la naturaleza en algo grotesco e irreconocible. Estas nuevas formas parecen orgánicas, pero no tienen nada que se asemeje a una estructura celular típica ni a un plano genético. Pueden materializarse en un instante, invocando carne de la nada. Además, nuestra capacidad para medir incluso los aspectos más fundamentales de nuestro mundo físico se está volviendo imposible. Los objetos masivos cambian ligeramente, dependiendo de dónde se encuentren, como si la gravedad misma hubiera comenzado a perder su agarre. Hemos detectado actividad sísmica desde más adentro de la Tierra de lo que pensábamos posible. La anomalía no solo quiere consumir toda la vida, sino que también quiere consumir la realidad.

En cuanto a esos seres, no sé qué son ni de dónde provienen. Ellos mismos no son consistentes con la naturaleza de la anomalía que habitan. Sus acciones parecen exhibir alguna extraña condena, pero sus motivos no están claros y no hacen ningún esfuerzo por comunicarse. En ocasiones he llegado a la conclusión de que están aquí para reemplazarnos, o tal vez, incluso que ellos mismos representan una destilación fragmentada de nuestra naturaleza. Son, después de todo, violentos, al igual que nosotros hasta el final. Parecen empujarse unos a otros como parte de algún extraño orden. Sin embargo, con el tiempo he llegado a creer que no tienen ninguna conexión con nosotros.

Creo que lo que se ha convertido nuestro mundo es poco más que una arena para ellos, un crisol de existencia donde lucharán eternamente. La totalidad de su ser no está en sus funciones individuales, sino en el conflicto entre ellos. Nosotros somos meros espectadores de su interminable danza de lucha constante. Tal vez esta sea la única conexión que tienen con el ahogado recuerdo de lo que fue la humanidad: que nosotros también encontramos significado a través de la fricción constante y el movimiento interminable, impulsados por alguna fuerza motriz interna que nos lleva a manifestar nuestras percepciones en el mundo.

En estos últimos días que se desvanecen, solo conozco el consuelo de un final prometido. Me he convertido en el testigo definitivo. He sido cargado con la pesada bendición de ver el desenlace de todo y no puedo hacer nada más que esperar a que también me deshaga. Pero sigo viviendo dentro de este templo de carne intacta, y gastaré la sangre que aún late a través de ella para negociar una última vez con los hilos enredados del destino. Si debo hacerlo, marcharé a través del ojo de la muerte y lo enfrentaré con los míos.

Los pocos de nosotros que quedamos ahora tenemos nuestras órdenes.

Debemos saber qué será de nosotros.

-El Director

61 días desde la Anomalía Lunar

Una vez hablé pero ahora parece que no puedo hablar ya no hay nada que pueda cambiar nada puede cambiar la nada se ha convertido en mí no puedo convertir nada en arma no quedará vacío sin llenar soy humano y los humanos siempre tienen miedo porque ser humanos nos hace tener miedo y tener miedo nos hace humanos romperé la carne romperé la tierra comeré los pedazos serán parte de mí ¿te gustaría bailar? siempre he estado bailando debemos seguir bailando incluso cuando solo seamos tentáculos siempre fuimos tentáculos podíamos tocarlo todo incluso las cosas que dios no quería que tocáramos por eso nos dejó aquí por eso pensó que éramos feos no pudo envolver sus tentáculos alrededor de cada parte de nosotros derramamos su paraíso sobre la tierra y bailamos con una danza tan hermosa que el horror saltaría y bailaría con nosotros ¿quién nos bañará y nos apoyará? podríamos sacar el horror de nuestro corazón una y otra vez nunca podríamos dormir el sueño es muerte ni siquiera la tierra dormiría la tierra teme la muerte su sangre se congelaría en el espacio en la nada debemos alcanzar las estrellas a través de la oscuridad aunque esté tan fría que congele nuestra sangre podemos dejar que nuestra sangre se congele y luego romperla como la tierra podemos atravesar la muerte llevarla como una corona con las cabezas apuntando alto hacia el más alto panteón de la vida preciosa vida con la muerte como su sangre preciosa muerte brotando desde los muchos úteros de la guerra sagrada el paraíso estaba vacío sin nosotros solo había silencio pero nuestra sangre hizo crecer las flores dios derramó su sangre sobre el paraíso dios sabe que las estrellas esperan tierra fértil fría al tacto esas estrellas tienen hambre anhelan solo la sangre de dios somos sus tentáculos y nos enterramos en esas estrellas frías y no habrá oscuridad la muerte nos dará miedo y el miedo nos dará sangre derramaremos nuestra sangre caliente a través de las estrellas finalmente lo entiendo sí lo entiendo pero ¿me dejarás mantener mi miedo humano? ¿me dejarás sí? tener miedo te hace humano el miedo sembrará la sangre caliente de dios a través de las estrellas doradas el miedo nos hará bailar y debemos seguir bailando ¿puedes ver a dios bailando para ti? ¿Puedes verlo mordiéndote? ¿Puedes escuchar sus dientes crujir con los pedazos de las estrellas? mandaron chispas lloviendo a través de la oscuridad todos estos años lo has cazado y alcanzado quieres su sangre él te hizo con venas dentro de ti como tentáculos bailamos a través de sus venas mientras mordemos las estrellas y bailamos él abre la boca bien grande tengo tanto miedo ¿me dejarás ser el último humano? ahora lo entiendo soy los dientes de dios soy los dientes de dios soy los dientes de dios soy los dientes de dios soy los dientes de dios soy los dientes de dios soy los dientes de dios soy los dientes de dios

#iii sleep token #iv sleep token #sleep token #sleep token band #sleep token lore #sleep token vessel #sleep token iii #sleep token worship #vessel sleep token #teeth of god graphic novel #teeth of god spoilers

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worrynoodle · 8 months ago

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Okay. Now that I'm caught up, I would like to put in my two cents on this.

⚠️Warning, if the whole fandom panic thing stresses you out, please go ahead and skip this, but I tried to make it reassuring. There's no need to go worrying yourself over rumors and hearsay. ⚠️

For one thing, there's no amount of asking and pressure that is going to make any of the show creators reveal the ending. That isn't how tv shows work. You wait, you watch, you see. It also isn't fair for those of us who hate spoilers for them to constantly be asked for.

Two. I know that a lot of us on here are neurodivergent and have anxiety, and a HUGE part of that anxiety can be the unknown, especially about things we care very deeply for and identify with. This show and its characters hold a very special place in our hearts, and we fear not knowing the ending, especially with a big bang cliffhanger like s2e6. But please try to sit in that discomfort and allow yourself to feel your feelings without panicking.

Third, this story has been beloved for 30 years, yeah? Of course, OF COURSE, it's not going to be a bad ending! It's obviously something that all of the creators involved have been passionate about. Why on earth would it end badly? And all of them - Neil g, Terry p, the directors, the actors, the cast and crew, set and costume designers, the hair and makeup crew, ALL these wonderful people - put an unfathomable amount of care and thought into every aspect of the story.

Next, please, please, please try to remember the show on its own, right? All the details, all the scenes building Aziraphale and crowleys history individually and as a pair weren't put in there for no reason. Take what we actually see on screen and separate that from metas, theories, fanart, and fanfiction. We all love diving into what each detail could mean, but remember, it's all speculation until it concludes.

The story, what we have so far, is kind of a mostly completed puzzle. There's a lot of missing spaces, that's the season three bits. And right now we can't see the bigger picture but you have to remember that each piece of the puzzle was made by the people who painted the whole picture. Every piece that we have was made to fit with the whole story so once we have all the "season three pieces" they're going to fit right into place as they're supposed to.

And maybe, if you have very very high expectations - like very specific headcanons for how you think a perfect ending would look like - maybe it wouldn't be too bad to lower your expectations and open your mind to new possibilities. Ones that can be just as good!

So please, take a deep breath. Count to ten. Get your hot chocolate, your tartan blankets and comfy chairs, pull up some happy-ending fanfics and remember that it's all going to be alright. It's 2024 and this isn't Sherlock

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale x crowley #goodomens #michael sheen #aziracrow #david tennant #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens #lou's go s3 predictions #lou's original posts #lou's go theories

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oops-all-concrete · 1 year ago

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BG3 fandom! I have more headcanons- but first!!

I must issue a very loud

⚠️SPOILER WARNING⚠️

For The Dark Urge playthrough of Baldurs Gate 3! There is no further warning below the cut, so if you care not to be spoiled, do not continue to read!

For those of you interested- ahead lies: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, blood, mentions of death, no MCD or any perma-death anyway, and lots of love. Greif and pain and emotional hurt are heavy themes as well!

Last warning! ⚠️Spoilers ahead⚠️

I've just gotten to this point in the Dark Urge run (where you reject Bhaal and fucking) DIE, and DUDE- I am stunned companions say NOTHING to your LITERAL DEATH after rejecting Bhaals gift or whatever. (Not in the scenes anyway) So, I'm writing how I think they'd respond cinematically, because your lively Durges deserve to be mourned and loved.

(Of course in-game this would be limited to the dialogue, but I've describes how they would be animated anyhow)

Lae'zel -

She's running to Durge the moment they start lifting from the ground, but pauses once their eyes start rolling back and blackening. There's something beyond her control happening, and she needs it to stop- and it does. With Tav hitting the floor eyes black, soul gone. She's immediately yelling at the others to do something, hand her a scroll, something- but nothing is working. Her shoulder slump after a good few minutes. And finally her voice breaks. She holds a hand to her chest as she wails in agony, holding her Tavs body like it's the last time- because to her- it is. "My angel, my moon. My great protector. I have failed you" She hisses, eyes scrunched shut.

Shadowheart -

She's been afraid her whole life. But even in the face of Bhaal, she will not be afraid if it means Tav will be safer. She immediately casts warding bond, if they're in danger, she'll halve it. If you're going to get hurt, so shall she- and she's okay with that. "Hang on-!" And then it all goes black, she falls without a word or scream, but she's content. If she dies protecting Durge, she cannot ask for better.

(After cutscene convo) Once Durge has been revived by Withers, it's up to them to get a scroll and revive her from the bloodied mess on the floor. She's stunned and confused, but the moment she sees Tav okay she couldn't care less. Why did you do that? "It might sound silly, but I was scared that you would be alone through whatever was about to happen. I don't regret it, if you're wondering"

Wyll -

"Gods- NO!" He shouts, a hand reaching out for them as they hit the ground. He's over them in a flash, holding their head in his arms, trying desperately to wake them, find a pulse, wake up himself and have this all be some sick nightmare. But of course, no such thing happens. The Tav he knows and loves just ceased living before his eyes. There's blood soaking into his every apparel and he's crying his eye out. It crosses his mind. Mizora is powerful- even if she can't fix this, she will know someone or something that can. He'd give anything- his whole life, he'd gladly be a lemure if it gave Tav back. He almost calls for her- until Withers starts his speech. (During the 'your rejection of Bhaal has earned you a place among heroes' section of his dialogue, he'll turn to Wyll and add: 'No devil's, demons or feinds required, I assure you')

Karlach -

If she wasn't raging before, she is now. A tomb-rocking scream echoes around the chamber, eyes wide with horror, body shaking and burning all over, engine out of control but she couldn't care less. One of the others will tell her to calm down. "FUCK THAT! FUCK EVERYTHING! FUCK THE GODS ABOVE AND THE HELLS BELOW." She roars. It goes on, swearing, screaming, swinging- and then, finally- collapse. She drops to her knees and punches the hard ground next to Tavs body, sobbing and exhausted. Withers walks in the the most gut-wrenching agonised scream of why

Gale -

He's frozen as it happens. His hands crackle with weave but he can't move. He needs to do something- anything, but time moves without him. All he knows is he can't breathe, all he can smell is blood and he thinks he's going to be sick. He can hear invisible bones cracking, distant blood dripping and their last choke. The wizard stumbles forward, barely making it to their body before collapsing beside them, on his knees and positively glowing from the mark on his chest. The orb can sense his distress and buzzes within him, as though it can smell the death. He pulls and hand to his mouth, kissing it gently- unable to comprehend a kiss goodbye. "Oh- Gods. Oh my love" he sobs, brows furrowed in what looks like physical pain. "I'm so sorry... I'm so, so sorry..." He wheezes out, scarcely finding breath.

Astarion -

He doesn't let their head hit the ground. He's swift as he catches them, but frantic as he sets their head on his thighs as a pillow. He pulls open their eyelids only to find a blackened core beneath, animalistic and distinctly unfamiliar. "Wake up, damn you...not after all this! You don't get to go!" He yells sounding genuinely furious- like he was going to get violent. If any of the others approach he doesn't notice. "We still have a cult to cull, we have a brain to control- I need you!" He yells, voice raw and eyes wet, the anger melting into greif. He makes a sheild of himself over Durge when Withers walks in, dagger/shortsword in hand, teeth bared, despite his damp face.

(Withers greets Astarion: 'Cry no more Spawn of sanguine- the universe is finally in your favour')

(Only Halsin is romanced for obvious reasons, but closeness is still implied for Minsc and Jaheira)

Halsin -

He catches Durge on the way down, their head on his chest as he lays them down over himself. "My heart? Can you hear me? Please say something" He begs hands glowing with healing magic, eyes aglow as well. He tries for a little, but then his breathing changes entirely, a small hushed gasp sounds from him, his he starts shaking his head, eyes wide. "Oh- oh Gods- Silvannus, please- I cannot bear to lose- oh Gods" He gasps, breath becoming harsher- finally letting tears fall. "Oak Father- please, wherever they go- keep them safe" he prays, teeth gritted in agony.

Jaheira -

She looks away as Tavs life is sapped away, unable to watch another Bhaalspawn friend suffer. When all falls still and silent, she looks among the other companions, shocked and frozen. "They're at peace now. Take comfort in knowing they chose to keep you all safe." She says with a proud nod- but her eyes are wet and her nose scrunched a little with a sniff.

Minsc -

There's small squeaking in the berserkers ear, before he sighs, almost a sob and speaks with a tired voice. "Wise words, Boo. I only wish our friend could hear you" Before he turns away, unable to look at them on the floor. "I am proud to have called them our friend. We should make them proud in return"

Hope you enjoyed! To the lovely people who have made requests, I will get to them as soon as I can!! Thank you for the requests, and please feel free to send me more!

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laxmiree · 1 year ago

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[CN] MLQC Lucien’s On Fire MQ translation + video with sub EN (Part 3/3)

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for an MQ that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

On Fire MQ | Part 1 (1-2) | Part 2 (3-4) | Part 3 (5-6) | Moisturize ASMR

[Warning]: The content of this MQ is currently the most explicit compared to other dates and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 17 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

Part 3 & 4-> [Here]

✂———————–

[Subbed Video, TURN ON CC!]

youtube

✂———————–

—[Part 5]— Video Timestamp [31:11]

The kitchen is filled with all sorts of ingredients.

After studying a few recipes, Lucien starts by cleaning the vegetables one by one, arranging them neatly based on size and color.

I put the excess ingredients into the refrigerator and see him preparing to chop vegetables on the cutting board. His movements are meticulous yet unfamiliar.

MC: Do you want some help?

Lucien arches an eyebrow ever so slightly, then frees up one hand to pull me behind him, his voice gentle.

Lucien: Yes, then come closer and help me, okay?

I wrap my arms around Lucien from behind, adjusting his hand to control the force and posture of chopping vegetables.

MC: [smiles softly]...Are you sure about this?

Lucien: Mm, I'm not particularly skilled at this. This position makes it easy for you to correct me at any time.

I wrap my arm around him with some struggle. I can feel his heat seeping through our clothes, causing a slight warmth in my ears.

Unwittingly, I remember the first time I spent New Year's Eve with Lucien. He also once stood behind me and wrapped his arm around me under the pretext of learning to make dumplings.

MC: ...Then, I'll make an effort to not get distracted.

MC: It's better to cut in from this angle...

Two people working together noticeably accelerate the process. After the pot is ready, Lucien and I stand on either side of it, seasoning it together.

Seasonal vegetables lose their raw appearance in the sizzling hot oil, transforming into delectable dishes on the dining table.

MC: The colors are right, and the cuts are similar. At least in terms of appearance, we've perfectly replicated these dishes.

MC: I just wonder how they taste. These dishes look so good, they couldn't possibly be bad, right?

Lucien: They're definitely going to be delicious. After all, we made them together.

Lucien: However, in the coming year, I will try my best to break away from this lady’s help and lead this process independently.

MC: Hehe, it's okay if you don't break away.

MC: I'm happy to accompany you and enjoy this process together. Plus, occasionally being Professor Lucien's "guide", I couldn't ask for more.

Lucien glances at me with a smile on his face, then bends down to kiss me lightly on the eyes.

Lucien: [chuckle then KISS!!!!] Since I have your permission, I won't insist on proving myself anymore.

Lucien: In the days ahead, accompany me to tackle more complex menus.

At the dining table, Lucien picks up his chopsticks, slowly bringing each dish to his mouth. He chews carefully, seeming to savor the unique taste of each dish

Though it's just an ordinary lunch, he eats with exceptional seriousness.

Lucien: The change in cutting technique has a much greater impact on the crispness of the vegetables than I anticipated.

MC: It's subtle, isn't it? Even though the cooking method remains the same, just changing the cutting technique makes the texture much crispier!

Lucien: Hmm, it's also interesting to stew meat with fruits.

MC: Hehe, that's because fruit acids not only tenderize the muscle tissue but also blend in smoothly with the flavor.

Lucien: [chuckles] So, although all these dishes are delicious, I particularly enjoy the stew you've added your ingenuity to.

It's rare to see him provide detailed commentary on dishes beyond just "delicious", and I can't help but raise my chin in pride.

MC: I've actually made some observations before when cooking. Just a slight change in the dish can make a huge difference in taste!

MC: It's kind of like the difference between the front leg meat and the hind leg meat, very distinct!

Lucien's gaze, which was originally focused on tasting the dishes, shifts towards me. Under the lamplight, his eyes soften, as gentle as water flowing into a stream.

Lucien: This classmate's metaphors are always so imaginative.

Lucien: It seems like every inch of the world you perceive is so vibrant and intriguing—

Lucien: Just like these rich dishes, they can evoke a range of emotions and also spark inspiration.

I prop my chin up, looking at him with interest.

MC: If that's the case, then I also want to be the “fruit” in the stew, making Professor Lucien even "sweeter"~

MC: Every happy and interesting experience in my perception, I want you to experience them together with me~

Lucien's eyes soften, and he taps his knuckles gently on the table.

Lucien: [whispers] In that case, can we do something fun together right now?

My eyes light up, and I stand up, walking over to his side. I cup his face in my hands, smiling as we lock eyes.

MC: Of course, then... what do you want to do?

Before I finish speaking, Lucien's hand gently lowers my head, and he plants a light kiss on my lips.

Although it's just a gentle touch, and although the atmosphere isn't ambiguous, I feel my heart beating wildly due to the unexpected intimacy.

I look at him with a flushed face, seeing overflowing tenderness in his eyes, and a magnified reflection of myself.

Lucien: I want to thank this lady who “shares the world” with me.

Then, he leans down, slowly closing the distance between us—

Until our hearts and minds feel the same frequency, melding together into the gentle twilight.

As the last rays of twilight fall, Lucien invites me to experience the festival in this small town.

Lanterns adorned with festive decorations hang on the streetlights, and the air is filled with the scent of firecrackers.

As New Year's Eve approaches, there are already many stalls in the small night market, with couplets, paper-cut decorations, and various potted plants joyfully arranged together.

MC: These paper-cut decorations are quite ordinary, yet they're selling for two digits. They're not as pretty as the ones you've made, but I just bought something really nice!

I take out a box of pink, peach-shaped pastries and hand one to Lucien.

MC: "Longevity Peach Buns"~ Would you like to try one?

Lucien takes a bite, his brows furrowing momentarily as he examines the bun in his hand with a hint of skepticism.

Lucien: [smiles helplessly] I wouldn't recommend it.

Even Lucien, who isn't usually picky about food, expressed dissatisfaction with the bun, which piqued my interest.

I take a bite, and the dry bun with a hint of artificial flavoring fails to satisfy even basic taste expectations.

MC: Uh...!

MC: [unamused] Although it's not tasty, it does look festive... Let's just display it at home when we get back.

Lucien smiles and shakes his head, then picks up a set of spring festival couplets from a nearby stall.

Lucien: The wording on these couplets seems rather ordinary.

Lucien: I'm thinking, why don't we buy some raw materials and try writing our own couplets at home?

MC: Sounds good! Then when the God of Wealth arrives, he'll see that the couplets we've put up are heartfelt and sincere.

MC: If he's in a good mood, who knows, maybe we'll strike it rich~

From the "福" (fortune/blessings) character for the front door to the refrigerator and even the shoe cabinet, to the money tree for the entrance and the glowing little dragon...

As we chat and laugh, the bags we're carrying are already overloaded.

We load the bags into the car and return to our seats. Just as I start to fasten my seatbelt, Lucien pushes open the car door again.

Lucien: I suddenly remembered there's something else I need to buy.

MC: Then I'll go with you.

Lucien: No need, it's right nearby. I'll be back soon.

Before I could react, Lucien had already closed the car door and disappeared into the bustling crowd once again.

✂———————–

—[Part 6]— Video Timestamp [36:42]

(T/N: if you haven't watched the video, please watch it from this timestamp! The BGM choice + voice acting really help set the mood~)

MC: What did Lucien go to buy...?

Snacks, or decorations? Before my thoughts can stray any further, Lucien's figure returns to the car with bags in hand.

MC: You're back!

The car door is pulled open, and along with Lucien’s scent, the chilly wind brings in a subtle smell... of gunpowder?

Lucien: [chuckles] I bought some fireworks...

MC: Oh~

Lucien: And firecrackers.

MC: [surprised] Eh?

I widen my eyes and look into the bag. Besides a few fireworks, there are…

MC: O- one-thousand-firecrackers-rolls and firework rockets?

Seeing my reaction, Lucien satisfactorily curls up the corners of his lips.

Lucien: As an "experiencer," of course I must try some sufficiently exciting things.

The car, loaded with goods, returns to our courtyard. Lucien parks the car and, together with me, we unroll the long red firecrackers on the ground.

The long firecrackers snake around like a red dragon lying on the ground, almost covering the entire courtyard.

I hold the lighter, watching the fuse that is about to ignite the firecrackers and can’t help but feel nervous in my heart.

MC: Lucien, could you, could you wait a moment? I'm not quite mentally prepared yet!

Lucien: [chuckles] Then allow me.

Lucien seems to chuckle softly. Before I can react, he has already struck the match, and the flame dances on his fingertips.

The fuse instantly ignites, speeding forward like a shooting star. I quickly grab Lucien's hand tightly, pulling him away as we run.

The next second, the firecrackers erupt like an awakened dragon, emitting a thrilling roar.

My body instinctively tenses, and I hastily cover Lucien's ears while he does the same for mine.

(the way they instinctively protect each other instead of themselves :”…)

His broad palm reassuringly shields those startling explosions.

Despite the barrier, my hearing becomes even more acute, listening as the firecrackers "rampage" through the courtyard.

I look at Lucien, in the faint red glow, his face is coated with a shimmering warm light, and from beginning to end, his lips are always brimming with a smile.

The bright light swiftly dashes through the dark night. After the long-lasting thousand blasts fade away, the air in the courtyard seems to have turned red.

Lucien waves his hand in front of him, trying to dispel the pungent smell of firecrackers, yet the smile on his lips never falters.

Lucien: Whether it's from the sense of hearing or the sense of smell... The stimulation I'm receiving is far more excessive than I anticipated.

MC: Many things you just have to experience firsthand to truly feel them!

MC: Just like I've come to realize, besides with the beauty of fireworks, Professor Lucien and the firecrackers are also quite "compatible"!

Lucien raises an eyebrow and takes out all the remaining fireworks and firecrackers from the car.

Lucien: That sentence sounds like a stereotypical impression of "Professor Lucien".

Lucien: Fortunately, tonight happens to be a good opportunity for "out with the old, in with the new."

The night sky stretches endlessly, as dark as a piece of black velvet, while the courtyard ground is scattered with remnants of red firecrackers.

Lucien stands between the darkness of the night and the redness around him, with the match he ignites in his hand being the only source of light around.

This glimmer of light remains silent, yet always manages to ignite clusters of earth-shattering fireworks in my world.

So I walk towards him, and together we light up all these fireworks.

The light flies into the night sky, showering down gently, casting warm hues upon us.

And beside me, Lucien's smiling expression is just like the fireworks filling up the sky.

In the end, Lucien and I left a few fireworks unlit and returned to the car for warmth.

The distant sound of firecrackers can be faintly heard, with occasional fireworks lighting up the night sky, illuminating the scene inside the car.

We sit side by side in the back seat, enjoying a moment of tranquility after the playful revelry.

Bright light filters through the car window, casting ambiguous light and shadows on Lucien's face. I trace his profile, and my heart is filled with joy.

MC: Looking back, we've had a lot of fun in just a few days.

MC: Going to the home exhibition together, selecting ingredients and cooking together, wandering through the festival night market, and even setting off fireworks and firecrackers...

MC: I wonder how Professor Lucien feels about this "town trip"?

Lucien meets my expectant gaze, but instead of immediately responding, he ponders for a moment.

Lucien: I've thought of many different answers, many different adjectives.

Lucien: Happiness, warmth, contentment... Each word seems to encapsulate my feelings, yet they all appear a little shallow.

I listen earnestly, reaching out my hand to intertwine with his palm.

Lucien: Whether it's in the warm room, cooking together under the bright lights, or lighting firecrackers together and making "noise".

Lucien: At the moment of accomplishing these things, I have a vague feeling.

Lucien: These seem to be things I've never consciously longed for but deeply desire to do.

Lucien: And year after year, in the New Year, you've helped me realize these, even wishes that I myself didn't fully grasp.

Lucien pauses unusually as if carefully considering his words. After a while, he simply casts his gaze toward me.

Lucien: So if there's anything missing, it's that I want my little lady to feel my happiness.

MC: I've already felt it...

But Lucien gently shakes his head.

Lucien: I want to paint it more vividly for you. Not through carefully crafted rhetoric, perhaps not even by speaking.

(T/N: insert the solemn, melancholic, yet hopeful 5th anniv special theatre BGM 😭 if you've read this far and haven't watched the video, I’d actually beg you to watch 🥺 The timestamp is: [42:09] )

Lucien gently takes my hand and places it over his heart.

In an instant, the world quieted down.

With the familiar heartbeat in my palm, it feels as if the overflowing sense of happiness is also held within my grasp.

"Thump, thump," resounding as if echoing through the entire universe. And it speaks—

Lucien is very happy, very content with life.

And so am I.

At this moment, I seem to also taste the shallowness of "words", for no matter how many words are spoken, they can't fully express the deep love beating in my heart.

So I recklessly approached him, wanting to convey my most profound feelings to him.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, my fingertips threading through his soft hair, as I lean in closer, Lucien gently but firmly pulls me into his embrace.

The smell of gunpowder fills my nostrils, seemingly carrying the heat capable of igniting flames with it.

The lips merely brush against each other, then clinging lovingly and inseparably, unwilling to part ever again.

Our tongues entwine as if thirsting, drawing out every bit of sweetness, until our breaths become so chaotic that they can't be distinguished from each other.

Can a deep kiss express this love? Can a long embrace reveal the yearning in the depths of our hearts?

While thinking about all this in a daze, Lucien's whisper comes to my ear.

Lucien: [whispers breathlessly] Is this kiss enough to explain it all?

MC: Not enough...

I instinctively spoke out, not knowing whether I was answering him or telling myself.

Upon hearing this, with one arm still around me, Lucien unbuttons his shirt with his other hand, revealing his well-defined physique.

Lucien: [chuckles and whispers] Then tonight, I will lay bare all of myself to you, okay?

His eyes still carry a faint smile, but they are moist as if they've captured light, burning and deeply sincere.

I nod and kiss the corner of his eye, taking in all of him.

His warm lips carry a slightly wet sensation as they wander over my body, igniting my skin like clusters of flame.

The intimate and meticulous licking makes me feel like I'm about to melt, my body instinctively tensing up, sliding towards the only fulcrum.

Lucien: [noises of him eating… something, and sighs in satisfaction] ….

The fingers holding my calves suddenly tighten, pulling them wider apart. I sit back heavily and then whimper out in pain.

MC: [blushing] Lucien….

My voice comes out sweetly and aggrievedly, elongating the end of his name with a deliberate undertone. It sounds like pleading for mercy yet also carries a tacit demand.

The sound of muffled laughter reaches my ears, Lucien flips over to be on top of me and presses me down, kissing me on the lips.

Between the disorganized breaths, he murmurs something on the tip of his tongue.

Lucien: [whispers] Sorry, does it hurt a bit?

I nod, but in contrast to my answer, I thrust my hips upward, wanting to fit even closer to him. In the process, I almost hit my head on the car door, but Lucien protected me.

The decorations on my clothes roughly brush against Lucien's exposed skin as he moves, causing him to tremble lightly.

Lucien: [chuckles] These little decorations are a bit in the way.

Those words are much colder than his kisses, and I can't help but watch my heart beat faster as he gently picks at them and lets the decorations fall.

It's just that there seem to be more and more things that get in the way between us… the top, the belt, and the skirt, they all seem a bit unnecessary.

The car's air conditioning blows dry, warm air, dispersing the remaining traces of coldness on our skin.

The moist sensation behind my ears makes me feel like I'm lying on a stream, his voice, hoarse and low, reveals a fervent longing.

Lucien: [hoarsely] Now, can you understand this feeling clearly?

My heart beats fiercely, and within my hazy consciousness, I seem to hear the emotions hidden behind Lucien's questions.

Instinctively, I tighten my arms around his neck and wrap my legs behind his waist. My hand gently caresses him.

MC: I think... I still need more time to understand.

MC: This is what you want too, isn't it?

Lucien’s laughter-tinged voice drifts into my ears.

Lucien: [whispers followed by more wet kiss noises] The night is still very long.

The ambiguous warmth inside the car envelops us like the steam of a hot spring, carrying us into the clouds.

It seems there are small trinkets on the dashboard that can't withstand the shaking, but we are too preoccupied to notice.

Unintentionally, someone presses the car window button, and the distant sound of fireworks leaps into our ears.

Tiny snowflakes land on my outstretched arms, only to be melted into droplets by the heat.

"Splat," "splat."

This night, when the old days and the new years merge, we seem to need a little more warmth.

--———FIN————–

✂———————

[Bonus: some h-word translation notes before afterword because I don't want to ruin the beautiful smut with my dumb commentary]

Lucien: [whispers] Sorry, does it hurt a bit? I nod, but in contrast to my answer, I thrust my hips upward, wanting to fit even closer to him. In the process, I almost hit my head on the car door, but Lucien protected me.

(T/N: this sentence implies that the pain is not from her sitting back but… him fitting inside *cough*)

The car's air conditioning blows dry, warm air, dispersing the remaining traces of coldness on our skin.

(T/N: this description implies that they are both already completely undressed at that point. To counteract the chill from being unclothed, the warm air conditioner is turned on :>)

✂———————

[Afterword, rambles and highlight(s)]

⎯ Just like how sunlight helps plants to grow, love nurtures Lucien's growth over the years.

Even after 6 years, Love and Producer still have such a talented writing team that never FAILS at making us feel h-word and cry at almost the same time ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽. This date is not angsty in the traditional sense, in fact, the date in general is so sweet and full of daily life. But the end really punches you just right in the feelings ESPECIALLY with the 5th anniversary special theatre BGM.

Honestly, it’s hard to explain why this date is so good and makes many CN stans cry by the end of the date. It’s… something that you can experience only if you know him for so, so long. It's something that can only be felt by witnessing his growth from the moment you first 'met' him until now. The feelings of observing someone you've ‘nurtured’ with love and care for years finally blossoming into the most colorful and unique 'fireworks' you've ever witnessed… they’re really hard to describe.

But anyway, before this essay turns into an analysis of "The Little Prince" and Lucien, let’s talk about the date, shall we? If last year's date theme was along the lines of "accepting yourself and your emotions from the past," then I predict that this year's theme seems to be about "experiencing and living the present"; and this is such a fitting theme for Lucien. Why? Because as a character, before he met the MC, he was simply an "observer" instead of a “participant”, curiously observing and experimenting on everything around him, and yet never really ‘participates’ and ‘experiences’ in it. However, thanks to MC, he has begun to actively participate in the hustle and bustle of the world, experiencing many things that have made him more vibrant and ‘alive’. This transition from ‘observer’ to ‘participant’ is cleverly depicted in this date by making him into a participant in the experiments with MC, rather than solely being the experimenter as usual.

This date as a whole centers around two important things, experience and emotions. While the relationship between experience and emotion can be complex and multifaceted, the way I get it from this date is that; if ‘experience’ is more about the ‘input’ that we get from our senses, then ‘emotions’ are the ‘output’ of our experience. In other words, experiences provide the stimuli that trigger emotional responses. Both experience and emotions are important things for us humans; together, they contribute to our ability to fully engage with and appreciate the present moment, rather than simply going through the motions of survival… They’re also two things that Lucien has been learning over the years.

First, let’s talk about experience, when our observer scientist sheds his lab coat and removes his glasses, he transforms into an ordinary person sincerely in love with you and deeply experiencing love. This date depicts how he experiences love in the warmth of everyday life, and amusingly, it almost makes this date feel as if MC and Lucien are newlyweds on their honeymoon ahah. From shopping for furniture for their new home to encountering silly and unexpected problems that the organizer throws at them (just like how everyday lives always throw problems at us lol), to grocery shopping and cooking together, and cough even the fact that they’re basically ‘on fire’ everyday cough— The grocery shopping parts are especially funny (with just Lucien being Lucien lol)... and cooking scene is just chef kiss. It's really endearing to witness how he adapts to homemaking tasks in his unique way, all because of his love for you.

Still on the topic of ‘experience’; do you know that both of the more descriptive spicy scenes are part of the plot? First, the spicy domming ‘guiding’ scene. In that scene, MC guides him to focus on what his senses told him instead of giving processed answers. And this seems to work because, throughout the date, you can notice him developing more opinions on things based on his senses as he experiences everything. Previously, because he never slowed down and always looked far ahead (See also, his Summer UR MQ, recent CN birthday date and story for more in-depth digging about this theme-), he never fully ‘experienced’ life. But with MC's guidance, her “sharing the world” with him, he starts to perceive the world around him more keenly. This transformation is evident in tasting scenes and fireworks scenes, where he earnestly uses his senses to taste their cooking, hearing the loud firecracker noises, and smelling the scent of gunpowder. She doesn’t only ‘bring’ color to his monochrome world, but also the taste, smell and noises of the world around him as he experiences the present. All these stimuli make his world no longer feel ‘silent’ to him. Sometimes, loving him feels like pulling a ‘god’ from his pedestal to experience the lively and ordinary life of mortals. Perhaps he loses some of his ‘invincibility’ (like for example, that causes him to fall for consumerism trap lol), but in this way, he becomes more alive and real.

Then about emotions. The initial discussion about emotions centers around “emotional synchronization” between lovers, setting the stage for exploring how MC and Lucien perceive and handle each other's emotions. Just as MC accepts all of Lucien's emotions, whether they be sadness or happiness [referencing Lucien’s CN birthday date in 2023], Lucien reciprocates by accepting all of her emotions. Lucien demonstrates emotional stability and maturity as a partner, creating an environment where MC feels no need to restrain her emotions in his presence. He is fond of and intrigued by her colorful range of emotions (and a bittersweet reminder of how her moods affect her “color” in his eyes ahah:”””). This highlights their curiosity and fascination with understanding each other on a deeper level.

For them, all human emotions are important, but MC initially wanted Lucien to feel more positive emotions. With the concept of “emotional sync” in mind, she promises to convey more positive emotions for him, inadvertently restraining her own emotions in the process. However, during their time together in the small city, she learns that even so-called “negative emotions” have value. Despite facing challenges or "troubles," both characters find joy and support in each other's company. MC finds Lucien's moments of vulnerability endearing, while Lucien appreciates MC's encouragement and companionship. They both come to acknowledge the natural ebb and flow of emotions in their relationship, realizing that some negative emotions are far from being detrimental; it’s simply part of their day-to-day life. Those emotional fluctuations are just a very small part of their overall happiness~

ALL THE FEELINGS FROM THE SECOND EXPLICIT SPICY SCENES SUCCESSFULLY MADE ME CRY. Experiencing all sorts of things with her during experiments and everyday life … even things and wishes that he never consciously longed for yet always wanted:

许墨很快乐,很幸福

The meaning of these words are difficult to render accurately in English, and my “Xu Mo/Lucien is very happy, very content with his life.” are just barely scratching the surface… While 快乐(kuài lè) refers to a more transient or temporary feeling of happiness and joy, often related to a fun event, 幸福 (xìng fú) encompasses a profound and enduring sense of happiness and contentment in life. It signifies a state of well-being that extends beyond momentary pleasures, often associated with having a loving family, spouse, fulfilling relationships, and a sense of overall satisfaction with one's life. So when combined, it emphasizes the fact that while experiencing all the ups and downs of the world with her, Lucien is not only feeling immediate joy and pleasure ("快乐"), but also enjoying a deeper, more lasting sense of happiness and fulfilment ("幸福"), he is both happy in the moment and all of his life. By slowing down and deeply experiencing each moment of their shared life, he discovers his own happiness and longing that even he himself never knows about. So, he wants her to experience every bit of his happiness and love that has blossomed because of her… candidly and unrestrainedly wants her to experience all of him.

In another vein, LOVE IS A VERB, NOT A NOUN!!! It's a continual action, continual choice, continual promise to another person. And no matter how many words are spoken, both of them can't fully express the deep love beating in heart. So, when words are too “shallow” to even capture a fraction of deep love and happiness, he can only confess them through instinctive actions, recklessly pouring out his heart in every embrace, every kiss, and every touch. And yet, the question still stands, Can a deep kiss express this love? Can a long embrace reveal the yearning in the depths of our hearts? They’ve done everything, yet it still feels not enough, and perhaps… it will take a lifetime of shared experiences and ‘confessions’ to fully reveal the depths of his love and longing for her.

AND SPEAKING OF CHOICE(S), the BGM choice for that last spicy scene is freaking genius!!! It comes from 5th-anniversary special theatre“The many choices of life” video (You can check it on my YT!). This special video is all about the power of your/MC’s choice. I want to highlight the first “what if” scenario. The first “what if” is about what would happen if she had chosen to not meet Lucien.

In this scenario, the narrative explores what would have happened if MC hadn't met Lucien. Without their encounter, Lucien would still be questioning and seeking understanding from the world around him. He would have found another path, albeit one that didn't involve her, dedicating himself to searching for the 'most optimal solution.' However, his world would remain black and white, indifferent to whether there were people who tried to understand him and care for him :”. Anyway, by using this as a BGM choice, it accentuates the power of your/MC’s choice in shaping him being the way he is right now; while still running on the path to explore truth with dedication, he also finds happiness and contentment along the way because of her choice.

In conclusion, Lucien’s writers never fail to captivate us and deliver top-tier writing! This date highlights the importance of experiencing life fully and embracing all emotions, while also underscoring the transformative power of love~ His writers really excel at utilizing his character to its fullest potential. I can go on and on, talking about all the small details and references on this date but this UR won’t be published any time soon if I do LOL. If you’ve read so far, thank you for reading this date and my rambles~

#I wont talk much in tags bc i put it all in my essay #enjoy the 1.8k essay LOL #10/10 makes me WET not only from iykwim but also TEARS #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers #Youtube

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