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aleburton · 10 months ago

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Beneath her faux lashes, Alex scanned the venue, searching for any familiar faces amidst the sea of strangers. Her smile widened as she spotted a figure she recognized, a distinctive tattoo gracing caramel-colored skin. He looked different now, his once dark locks now shaved close to his scalp in a sleek buzz cut. Clad in a perfectly tailored suit paired with trendy Nike sneakers, he exuded a newfound confidence. Clearly, Amanda had worked her magic, giving him the full Hollywood treatment. As Alex observed Issaq from afar, she couldn’t deny that it suited him well. It had been two years since their last in-person encounter. Surprisingly, he had taken her admission of not being ready for a serious commitment well. He had taken it in stride, even continuing to check in on her from time to time, ensuring her well-being. It was evident that he still harbored a tender spot in his heart for her, despite their paths diverging. Once Issaq became aware of the deepening seriousness of Alex’s relationship with Drew, his messages gradually tapered off. Alex understood his distance, especially as his career underwent a significant transformation in a relatively short span of time. With Zach taking a temporary hiatus, Isaaq found himself stepping out from behind the shadows cast by his former tourmate. A void emerged in the music industry, yearning for a sultry heartthrob, and Isaaq was more than willing to seize the opportunity. He was undeniably talented. Alex had witnessed Isaaq’s journey firsthand, but their audience perhaps felt similarly to her – that he wasn’t a direct replacement for Zach Winthrop. Nevertheless, she took genuine joy in witnessing his success and the opportunity for him to share his music with the world on his own terms. However, she couldn’t deny the feelings that stirred within her when Issaq confessed that several songs on his new album were inspired by their past relationship. It served as a reminder of why she was relieved to no longer be romantically entangled with musicians. Luke, too, had likely channeled his emotions into music, possibly crafting songs filled with bitterness over their one-night stand. She silently prayed that any such compositions would remain buried and never see the light of day.

Isaaq, feeling a familiar gaze fixated on him, turned, instinctively orienting himself towards Alex. A radiant grin spread across his face, his arms extending in a welcoming gesture as he eagerly approached her. “Ale,” he crooned in his melodious tone, enfolding her in a warm embrace as if no time had passed at all. They held each other tightly, swaying gently back and forth. “You look amazing. It’s so good to see you. It’s been, what?” he inquired, before Alex interjected with a soft laugh, “A long time.” She took a slight step back, delicately balancing on her towering heels to regard him. “Look at you, a bona fide pop sensation, selling out your own arenas,” she remarked, admiration lacing her words. She remembered the days when he had been just another struggling artist, and now, seeing his success, she felt a swell of pride. Issaq chuckled, his hands instinctively resting over his heart, a gesture of gratitude for her kind words. “Yeah, it’s been wild. Amanda’s been keeping me on my toes. She’s probably lurking around here somewhere, trying to sniff me out,” he joked, his gaze drifting to Alex’s left hand. His eyes widened in surprise as they landed on the sparkling diamond adorning her finger. “Oh, shit. So, it’s true then. You’re engaged to Drew. That’s awesome, Ale,” he exclaimed, genuine happiness evident in his voice. Detecting the sincerity in Isaaq’s voice, she noticed the contrast with the hollow congratulations she had received from Zach. It was clear now, if it hadn’t been before, that his words had lacked any genuine sentiment. “Drew’s a great guy, isn’t he, Dupree?” Isaaq’s voice broke through, his hands clapping around Drew’s shoulders to draw his attention. Drew turned with a grin adorning his chiseled features, immediately recognizing Isaaq’s familiar voice. They exchanged a handshake, their ease in each other’s company palpable. “It's good to see you, Isaaq. You’re absolutely killing it out there, man. I love to see it,” Drew commented warmly. Isaaq graciously accepted the compliment, expressing his gratitude. Despite their shared history, the interaction between Drew and Isaaq seemed effortlessly natural. As Alex observed them, she wondered if such ease could ever be achieved with Zach. Perhaps in due time, or when hell froze over, she mused wryly.

“I really appreciate that. Your support means a lot,” Issaq responded gratefully. As the lights flickered within the stadium, signaling the imminent start of the ceremony, Issaq realized he needed to return to his seat. “I better head back, but it was great catching up with you both. Take care of her,” he added, gesturing towards Alex with a playful wag of his finger before stepping away. Alex rolled her eyes affectionately, dismissing him with a simple wave of her hand. “He looks good, doesn’t he?” Drew suggested, his hand finding its familiar place on Alex’s inner thigh as they settled into their seats. With a comfortable spread-leg position, he leaned back, ready for the show to begin. Before long, the host took the stage, welcoming the audience to one of the most anticipated nights in music. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as the host cracked a few lighthearted jokes about their attendees, including a playful jab at Zach’s dating history. Alex’s eyes widened as she spotted his face on one of the many television screens, Kylie by his side. “Kylie! What have you done to my man, Zach Winthrop?” Kylie played to the cameras with a hint of mischief in her eyes. In hindsight, it was foolish for Alex not to expect Zach to be in attendance, especially considering his girlfriend’s multiple nominations for awards that evening. She assumed that he might have been in one of his infamous moods, projecting his inner turmoil onto those around him and refusing to comply with anyone’s demands. If he was unhappy, it seemed like those in his vicinity would inevitably suffer too. However, as she continued to watch him, she considered that she might not have given him enough credit. His appearance at the event suggested that he had matured past his selfish tendencies. His bright smile and sparkling eyes hinted that he was there for Kylie, out of love for her. “There they are,” Drew remarked, breaking Alex’s train of thought with a clap of his hands.

Watching Zach effortlessly slip into the role of the perfect supportive boyfriend would always be difficult. While a hint of jealousy swirled in the pit of her stomach, the predominant feeling was one of sadness, wondering where this remarkable version of him had been hiding throughout their relationship. Alex made a conscious effort not to dwell on these thoughts for too long. She knew they would only sour her mood, potentially casting a shadow over Drew’s big night. She was determined to support him wholeheartedly, fully present for one of their first major events as an engaged couple. She didn’t want to risk embarrassing him again. As the night progressed, Drew found himself applauding almost every single one of his artists for their well-deserved wins. Kylie was no exception, earning the coveted title of Best New Artist of the year. The camera panned toward their section, capturing the former friend group that Alex had once intimately known rising to their feet to celebrate Kylie’s success. A pang of bitterness stung Alex’s heart as she watched the scene unfold. It felt as if she hardly knew them anymore, and perhaps she didn’t. Two years had passed, bringing with it a gulf of distance and change. Despite the ache of nostalgia, she couldn’t deny the genuine happiness radiating from the group as they cheered on both Zach and Kylie. Zach’s gentle gesture of cradling Kylie’s face in his hands, urging her to take the stage to accept her award, spoke volumes about their bond, leaving Alex feeling like an outsider looking in. Lost in the moment, she hadn’t even noticed Drew beside her, also rising to his feet and joining in the applause for Kylie. Her attention was solely fixed on the screen, where Zach stood beaming with pride. The audience hushed as Kylie delivered her heartfelt speech, her words stumbling through tears of joy. She expressed gratitude to everyone who had supported her, including Zach, whose presence seemed to fill her with an overwhelming sense of appreciation. Alex smirked softly to herself.

It was amusing to hear Kylie thank some higher power for delivering Zach into her life. God or Satan, indeed. Those were humorous ways to refer to Alexandra Burton. If she hadn’t closed the door on her relationship with Zach years ago, Kylie might not have the man standing before her now. Shaking off the nasty thought, Alex gently squeezed Drew’s hand, seeking comfort. He glanced over at her with a concerned smile, his brows furrowing in worry. “You okay?” he asked quietly. Alex simply nodded in response, though inside, she was grappling with the discomfort of enduring the Zach and Kylie love fest for much longer. If she had known they would be the focal point of the evening, she might have reconsidered attending, if only to preserve her own sanity. As night went on, awards were bestowed upon the most deserving artists, including an unexpected win for Lola Fonseca. In a peculiar twist of fate, the only award she claimed that evening was in a category pitted against Kylie. Alex thought of how Zach must be feeling facing Lola once again. He had never disclosed the details of their relationship, but Alex suspected Lola had been incredibly cruel to him. Perhaps that was why she still didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about the altercation that had left Lola with a black eye all those years ago. Alex’s disdain for Lola Fonseca was evident. Though she had little affection for Kylie, her feelings toward Lola were even more intense. Lola’s smug demeanor on stage, coupled with her awareness of who was in attendance and their respective dates, only fueled Alex’s animosity. Lola seemed to relish in stealing the spotlight away from Zach’s new love interest, basking in the satisfaction of her victories. For a brief moment, Alex felt a twinge of sympathy for Kylie, until her triumph in other categories forced Alex to endure another round of saccharine speeches. Drew, ever the proud mentor, reveled in the moment, turning to Alex with applause as Kylie exited the stage.

“Her performance tonight is going to be amazing. I caught a bit of the rehearsal. Just wait.” Something within Alex told her she could indeed wait, though whether it was with anticipation or dread remained to be seen.

Zach! Kylie! Beautiful! This way! Smile! Put your arm around her! This way, there you go! Zach! Zach! Zach! He had become separate from himself, a gluey, ghostlike stretch tethering his floating consciousness to his physical form as it systematically maneuvered the red carpet. His manner was practiced, experienced and sure: Kylie, lilac gown catching on the faint breeze, flourished beside him like a garden in late summer; a burst of brilliant life beneath the flash of a dying sun. Her hand pulsed rhythmically in his, keeping him present and somewhat sane as they traversed the hectic terrain together. Though within the confines of his body he had proactively become but a wisp of himself, his external form glittered with charm and poise. His smile winked confidently, his physical health exuberant and evident, and he remained sturdy as he latched proudly onto Kylie’s rounded hip. They were a perfect picture; it was undeniable, even for their few and far between naysayers. Kylie was nominated for not one but three awards that evening, and was pitted to win all three, along with her headlining spot as one of the several performers mid-show. A brilliant new thing for Hollywood to play with, and they adored her, not to mention the impressive man on her arm who had so graciously stepped back and allowed her to shine solo in the spotlight for two years. Her global phenomenon of a beau, more publicly adored than he ever had been by having utilized that old trick: distance makes the heart grow fonder, rumored to make his greatly anticipated return to the public eye very soon. And this very public appearance confirmed it. So, wouldn’t it track that they were two of the happiest folk on earth? By appearances, they were. In Kylie’s mind they were, too. But Zach had been soundlessly drowning for a month. If Alexandra Burton were his holy water, he’d choke on it.

They were filtered graciously inside, then shown to their seats alongside Ryan, Eden and two of Kylie’s friends, Pearl and Sienna. Zach, frequently apprehended by enthusiastic industry folk and long-time acquaintances, grew rapidly exhausted with the frivolity of it all. Perhaps if he were not so plagued with his secret indecision regarding his upcoming career moves, he would be infected with the fervor. Instead, it only irked him. He had been dodging conversation attempts left and right from both Andrew and Amanda, and he was aware that they had been conversing without him, about him, also. Though Amanda was allied to him above all else, he felt her impatience growing thorns, pricking him with every tired response she gave him when he avoided another one of her questions. He felt her weariness with offering constant excuses to those needling her for answers Zach refused to give them. He had both considered his options obsessively and, simultaneously, without much critical thought at all. Each time he attempted to parse logic from his internal arguments, it always veered sharply back to Alex, and rationality abandoned him. He had hoped some distance would offer him clarity, but this did not come to fruition. He was frustrated beyond all else. Why couldn’t he simply stomach the truth that their diverged yet parallel realities did not mean he had to cease his whole life just to run from it? Kylie leaned into him, rolling onto her platformed tiptoes. “Hey, hey,” she whispered, getting his attention. He turned, lowered, allowing her to speak privately into his ear. “You’re somewhere else. Are you okay?” Zach looked at her, and she squeezed his hand. She knew enough that he did not have the option lie. “I can handle it,” he assured her, and though her brow furrowed in concern she nodded faintly, kissing his jaw.

However, as the night went on and the whir of camera flashes and screams of his name grew distant, he began to settle. It was easy to get swept up in the grandiosity; at the end of it all, he was a fan of the art, and watching something he loved executed well held his attention like a tight fist. He loosened, found himself engaging with the songs he was familiar with and cheering for artists he was both fond of and knew well. He and Kylie exchanged their typical ridiculous quips into one another’s ears, with his hand on her knee, or clasped on her shoulders as they stood up to dance, around the back of her neck as he commented something inappropriate he was glad he wasn’t mic’ed for. By the time the main categories came around, he sensed Kylie’s nerves and found himself naturally pillaring her. This, over time, had become common practice in their dynamic; oftentimes one would need the other more ardently, it would be sensed in the subtle shift of air, and their needs would be tended to. He held her hand clasped between his two, hanging them between his parted knees, rubbing the inside of her arm reassuringly. The first time her name was called, it was as the winner of Best New Artist. Their entire party shot up from their seats in shared mania, rallying around her as she almost buckled at the knee in disbelief. It was her very first award ever, and a notable one at that. She had been fretting for weeks trying not to get her hopes up, but Zach had known she had dreamt of this moment constantly. “Oh my fucking god,” she breathed as they celebrated her. Tears shone in her eyes, as she was wont to do, and in the frenetic charges between moments her hands frantically grappled for his face to kiss him. The crowd rippled around them. He felt her shaking as she held onto him, so he pried her hands from his face, laughing, wiping an escaped tear from her cheek and he pointed to the stage. “Go, Ky,” he encouraged happily. He ushered her gently away. “Go get your fuckin’ moonman.”

Once she made it to the mic, she was evidently flustered. “I - thank you. Thank you so much. God, I don’t know what to say. I mean, I planned what to say, but then I didn’t want to jinx it, so I didn’t learn my lines - Jesus! Get it together,” Kylie stuttered over the speakers, elated as she blinked teary eyes out to the cheering crowd and down at the shiny award in her ringed hands. She reeled through what she could remember of her practiced speech until they began hurrying her off stage, to which she grabbed the mic and held the award out to the room. “No, no, just - my mom, my manager, my team, my - thank you! Thank you to Ryan Santos for making even my worst takes sound amazing, and Zach - for everything - Zach, thank God for you. Or thank Satan. Whatever side spat you out and gave you to me, I’m so grateful. Thank you all for this. I’m sorry I was so bad at remembering my speech.” She later went on to lose her second category, Best Pop, which coincidentally went to Lola Fonseca. Watching her accept her award was both nothing at all and absurdly strange; Zach had not seen her since Alex had sent her reeling to the bathroom tile all those years ago. Kylie won her third and final nomination, Song Of The Summer, and was more composed during this speech, though she still verged on tears the entire time. By the tail end of the night, their party was riding the high of her success, bubbling with shared energy. Kylie had left and not returned after her win, preparing to change outfits, hair and makeup for her impending performance. Amanda visited him in the interim, raving about Kylie, about Andrew, about how excited she was for Zach. He swallowed his hiccup of bitterness. He wouldn’t let the threat of his own future bring down his high - not if he could help it.

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fleursdemeduse · 3 years ago

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Remembrance AU: Constant Dying

This is not going in the direction that was originally planned, but I'm not sure I'm too upset by it. I'm glad to finally post a part that goes a bit further into Techno's feelings about you this time, though. I'm also starting to work on an angsty Simpbur fic alongside this one, so keep an eye out for that.

Warnings: Mention of death ; Near-death

Words: 3.6k

Your legs throbbed as you trudged through the multiple paths to where you and Techno had been mining. Your neck wasn’t fairing much better. There was always residual pain after a death, especially when you were killed by your own stupidity and not mobs or someone else. You were more than happy to take hits for your friend, often shielding his body with your much smaller one to protect him, but natural deaths were pointless to you. Not to mention that dying this many times in such a short period made an ache develop on the right side of your brain and you knew you wouldn’t be able to be rid of it for hours. You finished descending carved stairs to where you believed you had been and let out a sigh at the effort. Your chest filled with a dull ache at the action. A firework to the chest was certainly a quick way to die. It was far from the most painful as long as it got the job done in one or two shots and the ache would only last another hour or two if you would stop dying.

You thought back on how the events from earlier in the day had transpired. The entire thing had been a shit show and you loathed the next time you’d speak to Wilbur, knowing you were likely going to just yell at him. You weren’t in a great mood because of his little stunt. At least you knew why Techno had killed you and several others on the server. There was no reason for him to sit back and watch Tubbo be executed by your dearest friend. You could only hope that the boys new scars weren’t too bad. He’d have to display them for the rest of this lifetime, after all. Maybe he’d think they were cool like Tommy did.

You slowly unclenched your jaw and relaxed your shoulders, smiling a little at the thought of blond that you spent the other half of your days doting on. He was like the little brother you had always imagined wanting. Mumza had filled your prayers in some fashion, you supposed. A small chuckle spilled from your lips, deciding you’d make Technoblade pay you back somehow for your deaths today. You were up to three now.

A smile curled your lips as you thought of the possibilities. Maybe you’d steal his crown for a little bit. Or his cloak. You giggled to yourself as you crossed the lava pit that you were going to use later for obsidian. Mining in caves this deep was difficult enough without mobs so the lava was a good way to make sure none spawned nearby. Perhaps you could get away with all of the above with the addition of forcing him to make you a cup of tea. That would certainly be fair, wouldn’t it? You were sure if you convinced chat, you’d be able to make him do it.

The ore had been mostly cleared out, all that remained were long tunnels deep underground spanning for what felt like forever. It took you a good chunk of time, but finally you approached him from behind. He had continued mining, cobblestone covering the hole that you had fallen down and ultimately died upon impact in. “You grabbed my stuff, right?”

He pointed to the chest that had been set up, not stopping his assault on a piece of diorite. You flipped open the lid, pulling out several stone pickaxes he had managed to pick up. You didn’t suppose he had kept most of the stone, leaving it in the cave, but the ores, redstone, and lapis you had gathered sat untouched in the chest. “I don’t understand why you continue to use those. They’re flimsy.”

You shrugged before joining his side again, mining away the soft rock. “Because I can keep a large stock of them and don’t have to waste the durability of my diamond one.” You stopped paying attention to the coal you mined at above you as you looked towards him. “Besides, they’re expendable and I don’t have to worry about retrieving them every time I-”

Gravel began to fall on and around you in heavy chunks, obscuring your vision. You were startled for a moment at the sudden assault and you cursed your horrible luck. Of course the moment you were back and trying to resume your task, you’d almost die again. You recovered quickly, feeling the pressure around you as you were crushed and tried to dig your way out of the pile, but more seemed to just fall and replace the gravel you had just removed. It was suffocating. Rocks grated against your skin and you cringed at the sound of them rubbing against each other. You tried to claw your way through, fingers getting scraped as small pebbles cut the flesh. You were running out of air. You hated dying like this.

A hand grasped your bicep and you grunted as you were yanked out of the rubble. Rocks and flint shifted around you as it gave way and filled in the spot where you had just been. A broad chest cushioned you as you stumbled forward. You sucked in air as you rested your forehead against him. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before."

Your laugh was more of a wheeze as you smacked your hand against him, next to where your head rested. You didn’t move, however. Techno chuckled as he pat your back. He’d let you have your moment to calm yourself back down. He wasn’t particularly scared of you dying again, but he knew it had to have sucked. You had been taking the brunt of damage meant for him since, well, every time the two of you spent time together, and he didn’t understand why you were so eager to do it. On top of your clumsiness that already resulted in countless other deaths he didn’t know about, you died for him often when it would have probably only resulted in a minor wound for him. You were so reckless. But that smile you gave him every time somehow dissipated his annoyance more than it should have. It was familiar somehow. The voices loved it more than they should have. They loved you more than they should have.

You didn’t care who he was, how he was, what he did, if he could do something for you. You cared about him. Whenever he was giving too much to the rebellion, whenever he was hyper fixated on tasks and was trapped in his own brain with only chat as company, you were always there. They didn’t mind receding to the back of his head while you two talked, adding in small quips here and there. The loud roar they normally were was typically a small rumble when you were talking. It put him on edge with how much they liked you, but he couldn’t blame them. You provided conversation more often than not. You offered simpler solutions to long problems in his head he’d been breaking apart over and over until it had spiraled into a bigger one than it had started out at. But besides that, you also forced him to sleep, to remember to drink water, to take time for himself. To care about himself the way you did. He didn’t know how to repay you for the unending kindness you showed him. Especially when all you asked for was his friendship in return.

He felt you sigh against him and he moved his arm to free you. You were looking up at him, though, not stepping away.

"Are you alright?" His lips twitched. Shouldn’t he be asking you that?

"Yeah, why?"

"You look mad." A snort escaped him. You couldn’t even see his expression past the mask.

"That's just my face.” You didn’t look convinced. He ran his fingers through your hair, knocking some debris loose. It fell to the floor at your feet. He ignored the way you leaned into his touch. “I’m alright, [y/n].”

You smiled at him. You smiled that cursed smile. It made him feel worthy of the title god; so full of reverence and kindness. You had to have been blessed by Kristin herself. How could you still look upon him like that after what had happened at the festival? How could you show such adoration for a-

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He turned his head away. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be the recipient of that smile made from sheer adoration. Your eyebrows furrowed and your smile wavered.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like how Wilbur looks at you.” Your laugh rang through the tunnels. It echoed off the walls and he couldn’t help the swell of something in his chest. For a moment, you reminded him of Phil.

“Why is it a bad thing if I look at you like he does to me? He’s a really dear friend.” Oh dear.

“Don’t tell him that.” The idea of you only seeing him as a friend would break his heart floated unspoken in the air. You didn’t seem to notice it.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.” Techno stepped back from you when it was obvious you weren’t going to do it yourself. He watched you deflate slightly and felt like he had done something wrong.

“It’s not like he wants to talk to me now anyways.” You picked up your pickaxe again, moving to work on the pile of gravel. He offered you his shovel and you took it. “He hasn’t said a word to me since the festival earlier.”

“I’m honestly surprised you’re still talkin’ to either of us after that debacle.” You paused your digging to look at him curiously. “After me bein’ peer pressured into killin’ Tubbo and everyone else. Killin’ you. His plan to do nothin’ ‘bout it. It’s surprisin’ that you aren’t givin’ us both the silent treatment.”

You scoffed, going back to the gravel in front of you. “That wasn’t his plan.”

Techno stilled, his eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“Wilbur wasn’t planning on just doing nothing. He has TNT planted all around Manburg.” You hesitated, the grip on his shovel tightening in your trembling hands as you continued digging. “I don’t know why he didn’t set it off.”

There was no sound next to you or behind you. Stopping your work, you looked at him, only to see him looking towards where the mouth of the cave was. “We should be gettin’ back.”

A soft sigh left your mouth. “Go on ahead, I’m right behind you.”

You didn’t want to face the fallout.

You returned to Pogtopia late that night. Mining alone had been a good way to soothe your nerves after the events that had happened earlier. Whilst you had wished Techno had been there longer, you understood wanting to regroup. Today had been stressful for all of you.

You walked down the crude steps that had been made after putting the excess resources into the communal chest at the top. There was soft murmuring and the distant sound of Wilbur’s cackle put you a little on edge, but you soldiered on. It’s okay. Tubbo hopefully would have respawned by now. Things would go on. You froze at the top of the walkway down to the primary meeting area.

Techno was wrapping his knuckles with some extra gauze you recognized to be from your chest. Tommy was sitting a little away from him, his back to the wall and his knees to his chest. There was a distant look in his eyes as he stared at the ground in front of him. You could see a sliver of one of your plasters on his face, the bluish purple fabric and white dots a dark galaxy against his pale cheek. Your feet were moving before your brain as you ran to the teenage boy and knelt before him. You should have come back sooner. You reached out to hold him before hesitating, choosing instead to extend your hand to examine the flesh around the bandage. “You look horrible, Tommy. What happened? I thought you were safe after what happened at the festival.”

Techno grunted from the sidelines. “We resolved our issues.”

The boy before you huffed, still looking at the ground, but he leaned into your touch. “Resolved is a strong word, but we’re okay. For now.” He looked up at you and you pursed your lips together. He relaxed at the worry in your eyes. He was safe with you. “Where were you?”

“I was mining. I needed to blow off steam after all of that.” The blond just nodded, pressing his face further into your touch. You moved closer to brush some of the golden locks away from his face with your free hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Techno was suddenly beside you both, towering over the two of you. “It stays in the pit.”

You sent him an inquisitive look. “The pit?”

He only nodded and your frown deepened. Anger started to fester in you. Did he do this? To a child? “We are definitely discussing this later, Technoblade.” You watched his shoulders tense for a moment. You didn’t know if it was because of your tone or the use of his full name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. You’d take care of it later. You two always talked things through, and now would not be any different, but you had to worry about Tommy. “You can’t just hurt people and say things are better now.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but you were already helping the blond up to shuffle him to your bed. The child kept trying to wave you off, but you persisted. Despite your ire against him, something shifted in his chest at watching how gentle you were with Tommy. His bond with you was truly something to behold.

Why aren’t they paying attention to us like earlier?

They’re so sweet to him.

Tommy's lucky we didn’t accidentally kill him.

I wonder how they’re so close.

I don’t want to talk to them later.

Why are they mad at us?

So they’re not upset about the festival, but they’re upset about a fight with Tommy? That makes no sense.

Follow them.

This is stupid.

Do they like him more?

Techno sat back in his spot against the ravine wall. He saw traces of a fireplace and used the heel of his boot to push around the sooty remains. Most of the questions chat had were valid, but he didn’t want to pursue you. He didn’t want to have that conversation later, either. He just wanted to move on. But he knew you wouldn’t. Something about how resentment ruins friendships and miscommunication was the biggest cause. He could never resent you. Sometimes he resented the gods, but never you.

He wanted to know what kind of entertainment DreamXD and Kristin got out of watching them over and over and over again. Did they have nothing better to do than continuously create and orchestrate each new lifetime? Each new world with different rules and a different storyline? Or recreate other worlds just to change the plot? There had been so many, but this was the first where they all remembered. This was the first where he had met you.

Techno closed his eyes. None of his lives had been bad. Well, particularly bad. Wilbur always seemed to get off worse than he did. Tommy sometimes worse than them both.

He remembered a life of gilded castles, one of many. He trained Wilbur and Tommy in combat. He studied politics and was a general. He watched the two of them grow up in Phil’s absence. There were handmaidens that were too bold in their words, butlers that were too polite, and inside jokes between him and the guards. There were dinners made of things that he only wished they could recreate here. He remembered that despite any squabbling, they were still very much a family. He knows Tommy remembers that one all too clearly. He doesn’t talk about it often, but Techno knows the look in his eyes whenever Phil is mentioned. He also speaks sometimes about the servant that once tended to his mother but he nor Wilbur could ever recall one. Too many faceless employees. Too many nameless soldiers.

He remembered a different life where Hanahaki Disease roamed rampant. The flowers infected most of the people he knew. Sometimes they got better, sometimes they didn’t. Phil would never catch it. The blurry memory of his friend saying so flashed briefly in his head. That fact didn't surprise him in the least. Phil was a catch. But he had never had to deal with the deadly buds either. He couldn't remember why. His head throbbed gently as he tried to wade through the fog. Wilbur had suffered from it, though. It was devastating when he passed. The flowers choked him, stuffing his airways with petals. Who had he loved so much it killed him? Didn't he love anyone like that? Didn’t he find someone so beautiful that dying was more preferable than a life without them? Maybe he did. There were small flashes in his head of the gentle squeeze of a hand and a smile that could snuff out the sun. Why couldn't he seem to remember their face?

There was another life. A life where markings appeared on his skin. Little scratches, cuts and scrapes that weren't his, doodles, words that he would have never written himself. He remembered sitting through a lecture once, smiling at the little stars that speckled his arm and slowly appeared like the night sky in the twilight of the setting sun. Wilbur had shown off the same markings, and it was brutal irony that the two of them shared this connection with a third. They would play games frequently. Mostly twenty questions or tic tac toe, but locations and true names were always burning scribbles on their flesh when attempted. They tried many tactics to find out more before Wilbur had told them both off. He wonders if they had found their third in that life.

There had always been gaps in his memory, especially when it came to his other lives. Lulls where the mundane had become just a bit too mundane, moments where he just shut his brain off and went by instinct. Things were easier when you didn’t have past lives to think about. When he didn’t have to consider if he had already learnt a lesson and was doomed to repeat it. When you weren’t around to give him glares and words of encouragement and cause disruption in his life. Were Tommy and Wilbur’s lives more difficult with you here too? With someone to tell them what to do and to patch up their wounds and give fleeting touches that were so soft it was like touching a petal? He hopes not.

A sound of distress comes from the direction you and Tommy had gone in and he turns to look. You’re standing there, facing away from him, reaching out towards empty space to someone who wasn’t there. You must’ve been the one to make the noise.

You turn around and his frown deepens. You look tired and more than a little frustrated. It was amazing how much of a difference you stood now compared to the person that clung to him throughout the nether when he had first met you. Your presence was easy. You didn’t ramble like he would disappear anymore. You didn’t look to him for validation with every move. You didn’t act out of the desperation isolation had instilled in you. You had settled like the missing puzzle piece they didn’t even know was missing. Did you ever visit the library that you had once called your first home?

He watches you finally approach him, sitting and leaning against his side as if you weren’t upset. You move to intertwine your arm with his, hand slipping into his own. He didn’t stop you. “Wilbur, he’s-”

“Crazy? Yeah, I know. He wants me to set off withers.” You sat straight up. Shock painted your face a hue that didn’t suit you. Or perhaps it was fear. He didn’t like it.

“Withers?” He nods. Your head spins back to the direction of your bedroom. “Does Tommy know?”

“Tommy knows. I went along with it.” Techno feels you scoot away, releasing your hold on him and he already misses the feeling. “It’s not like we’re tryin’ to salvage the place, [y/n].”

“I don’t want more innocent people to lose another life, Tech.” You look at him once more. “Do Tommy and Wilbur know that you’re hoping to leave nothing behind? Because they both talk about reestablishing L’manburg when given the chance.”

“I keep tellin’ them the truth, but it seems like they’re not gonna listen.” He watches your face fall into a look that he hopes meant acceptance. Your eyes moved to the ground between you both and you just nodded. You didn’t know where you would sit in the aftermath of this all.

Techno felt your hand slip back into his as you take your place back against his side. Pink hair was soft against your cheek as you rested it against his shoulder.

“One step at a time. Let’s worry about getting rid of Schlatt first, okay?” He just nods back, resting his head on top of yours. You squeeze his hand in response. You felt safe again, especially with him next to you “Now-

Tell me about this pit.”

#RemembranceAU #dsmp au #dream smp au #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: death

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pokedash55 · 3 years ago

Text

ULTRA LONG TIME TWIN HEADCANNONS

@sippin-on-waterfalls your post is ready

From Pokedash and Purplefern

Ooooooookay here we go.

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-Krux perceives time slower than others so he is easily late to events (plus he gets distracted and way into projects so he can easily lose track of time, ironically) so he could end up missing a lot of Elemental Alliance meetings

-Acronix made sure he informed Krux it was time to go (whenever he remembers, anyway) otherwise he’d be uber late all the time. Good thing they always go together

-Acronix is super early all the time because of his powers and he and Griffon Turner’s grandfather got along really well

-All the same, between lack of attention span, focusing on other things, and not caring for the meetings in general, Krux and Acronix miss a LOT of meetings

-Before alliance meetings Wu is training little Morro and the Twins and the Master of Speed just waltz in the monastery doors an hour early

-Acronix teaches Morro some sick fighting moves (some rather underhanded)

-Krux advises him to never let people get away with harm cause you are the most important thing in your life. (Revenge!)

-Wu be like plz stop encouraging my kid into violence and dishonorable tactics.

-Krux brought refreshments to an EA party exactly once. It was pickled beet tea and nobody liked it. He took it very personally.

-Back during the war, the love triangle with Misako was actually a love rectangle. Krux had a crush on her too but he literally had no idea how to act on it so his part of the rectangle was staring at her longingly from afar and not saying anything.

-Yes Acronix teased him immensely about this. And tried to act as a wingman several times but Krux swore if he did he would murder him

-Pre-series, Misako would do work for the museum a lot, so she ended up working with Sanders Saunders quite often. Despite her relationship to Wu and Garmadon and their “history”, he did like working with her ok

-They both also worked with the Explorer’s Club a lot, and have equal disdain for Cecil Putnam and Clutch Powers

-Krux hates Cecil’s stuffy rules (even though he couldn’t show it while being Dr Saunders) and Clutch’s….everything

-Krux’s doctorate is real, and he has a doctorate in History and and Master’s degree in Museum Studies

-He’s the Curator of History at the museum, and the other curator is the curator of natural sciences

-Acronix is a big nicknames guy. He doesn’t usually call people by their actual names. Only the people he actually cares about or that he super hates.

-But he also generally despises nicknames given TO him. The only people allowed to call him Nix/Nixie are his brother and mother (and later Shannon).

-Krux only calls Acronix "Nix" if he's feeling particularly vulnerable/scared/etc (so like, when being the older twin isn't feeling that fun and he decides to ignore those 3 minutes and be more like the "younger" twin.) So this becomes a lot less as he becomes more arrogant.

-(Based on how he describes Dareth getting beat up by the Vermillion warrior) Krux likes watching wrestling. It’s a guilty pleasure of his

-And of course Acronix loves it once he learns about it, so the two watch it together

-Krux occasionally plays strategy board games. He tried to get Acronix into them but he found them boring.

-(Sometimes he’ll suck it up and play with him anyway, though.)

-Both are sass masters

-Both also like science

-But like completely different facets of science.

-Krux of course likes the more stable and earthy sciences. Biology and geology, ecology. Those elemental science that have always existed but we just haven’t yet understood them

-Krux is also a total history nerd. Things like paleontology and anthropology are also really interesting to him

-Yes he was a dinosaur kid. (Especially since dinosaurs had just started to be discovered back in his day.)

-Acronix of course likes advancement and the otherworldly sciences. Technology, Astronomy. Sure we build upon the discoveries of the past but what about creating something new for the future?

-Acronix does like bioengeneering since it is a new advancement but he knows saying so would make Krux grin with “I told you bio was cool” vibes

-Krux can engulf himself into his work or his schemes for days. As he is very patient.

-Acronix is less so. He sees time constantly moving forward so sitting idle to “Plan” seems a ridiculous waste of time.

-He jumps from activities quickly as the novelty of it wears off and he is always on a quest for what's new and what may work, not really what has been confirmed to work

-Krux of course sees this as a fool's errand. We need to respect the knowledge we have and use it and plan with it.

-But when they are in sync you should be SCARED

-Both thinking in the Present can make them in perfect harmony, Both in fighting and talking.

-Their different planning methods can help eachother get things done. So yes, when they work together you should be scared

-Krux can get really fixated on an idea, and get into major creative blocks. Acronix helps propose out of the box solutions that keep his ideas moving forwards that he wouldn’t have thought of himself.

-But as we see they can also be reeeeallly different and fight over the miniscule things.

-Krux lingers on Grudges easily as he physically cannot not put value to the events of the past.

-Acronix’s main grudge with the alliance came from his ego and arrogance, not his element. I think he feels very internally about wrongs to him in the moment but if he sees nothing really changed a couple of days later he loses interest in holding such a grudge easily

-Each of them have the ability to not be affected by the other’s powers

-Acronix has no patience to listen to anything he doesn’t want to hear. Back when he had his powers he COULD and WOULD just “skip” peoples’ dialogue if he got bored of it.

-Krux has a bad habit of “freezing” people if he feels like they’re interrupting him. Like, he will freeze people who are trying to get him to stop working on something while he’s trying to get something done, and then get back to them when he feels like it. Everyone has to work on his time. (Annoyingly, this does not affect his brother, which is why Acronix is the only one who can actually get him to stop working on his projects.)

-Whenever Krux & Acronix would hang out with Chen, Acronix loved messing with Clouse. Clouse reminds him of his brother, but even more stuffy and annoyed somehow, so he just has an instinctual urge to annoy him as much as possible.

-(Clouse does not appreciate this, but Master Chen says they’re “important” to his plan so Clouse just suffers quietly.)

-Acronix likes the Master of Speed, but also finds it annoying that he can resist his slo-mo powers by going really fast. (On the bright side, though, this does make him the closest thing to an equal he’ll get for a sparring partner, if Krux doesn’t want to train with him for whatever reason.)

-Because of his element, Sound is one of the rare people who doesn’t really mind Krux but REALLY dislikes Acronix. Acronix is just so loud all the time and it physically pains him because he is so sensitive to vibrations and volume. Krux is generally pretty quiet so doesn’t bug him as much.

-Acronix is an Entrepreneur (ESTP) and Krux is an Architect (INTJ)

-They have no Feeling whatsoever

-Otherwise, they are complete opposites

-Both of these personality types hate rules, regulations, and micromanaging restricting authority figures (hmm, wonder why they broke away from the alliance…)

-Acronix is arrogant in the way that he doesn’t care about his flaws, because obviously he is awesome and everyone else is just jelly, Krux is arrogant in the way that he hates people pointing out his flaws, because shut up he doesn’t have any

-Their mother is Polaris, they take after her physically

-Father is Kronos, they got their powers and ego from him

-Their father actively encouraged them to have immense pride in their element -- being the former master of time himself

-Ordered them the sweet matching armor

-He was a samurai back in his day, which is why the Twims wore samurai helmets.

-Between their two loving parents, the Twims were nearly spoiled

-Krux and Acronix grew up pretty rich, Kronos was pretty much high society and Polaris was too

-They went to a fairly fancy private school growing up

-But everyone there were snobs so they didn’t get along well with their classmates (what a surprise)

-Their parents died in a skirmish with Serpentine, leading the Twims to join the alliance full of vengeance.

-Acronix has a battle scar from being grazed by an anacondrai sword on his left pec cause I said so

-Also a lot of misc snake bit scars and a burn scar from that one time (Ray’s got a bad temper and Acronix likes pressing people’s buttons, so that went super well)

-Acronix super cares about his looks so has a ton of, like, haircare and beauty products. Krux has a single bottle of 3-in-1 and a bar of soap and says that that’s sufficient.

-Back in the day Acronix had a bunch of oils and whatever for his hair, and when he’s in the present he’s got a bunch of fancy shampoos and such. He’s definitely the vain one of the two twins

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A collection of Neurodivergent Twims HCs

-Acronix has ADHD and Krux is autisitc

-Acronix is early, but only to things he remembers. He often forgets dates. And Krux will get involved with something else, and has a warped sense of time. Together, the two miss a lot of EM meetings

-And when they’re at them, neither of them are good at conversations. Acronix talks a mile a minute and doesn’t let anyone get a word in edgewise. Krux either doesn’t talk to anyone or similarly dominates conversation and doesn’t let anyone else talk.

-The two also get sent on solo missions alot

-They don’t focus well in a group setting (Acronix generally ignoring the plan for what he prioritizes as the better option and krux simply not being popular with the others and only really battling well beside his brother)

-They are generally strong enough to protect a village by themselves

-The other EM work better with them out of the way since they are “annoying” and no one really likes their arrogance, pride, or entire personhood

-They seem to be happier working only together than with the whole group

-Once during a group charge on a collection of Serpentine races Acronix notices a horde heading in a different direction and follows them impulsive

-All of these things together make them especially unpopular with the other EMs

-Especially with the Master of Ice, who considers their actions disrespectful and often scolds them on their behavior

-Krux and Acronix can BOTH get hyperfixated on things they are interested in, and can also forget to eat and sleep.

-Acronix struggles with insomnia a lot because his brain doesn’t shut up. Luckily his brother never really sleeps either. They spend a lot of long nights talking about nonsense

-Acronix tries to use time skip powers to not waste time while sleeping. He skips the night, but he still didn’t get sleep. He crashes after a few days of this and Krux tells him that he’s a moron

-Acronix has a fidget spinner, which he got for the memes but ended up finding unironically helpful, and gives Krux a fidget cube (which Krux reluctantly accepts and actually does use pretty often.)

-Before learning what a fidget spinner was he would flip his phone a lot. It was both an easily accessible stim and assurance he knew where it was cause he tended to leave things around at random.

-Krux used nail-biting as a stim, mostly because it can appear pretty neurotypical

-Acronix is “annoying” around the ninja during his lil redemption arc, but instead of reacting like the elemental masters, the Ninja actually do research and come to an understanding (especially Zane, who is perceptive, understanding, and has an instantaneous link to the internet).

-Altogether he’s a little surprised when they actually put effort into tolerating and understanding his differences. Huh. How’s bout that?

-Jay is also pretty understanding, he’s got a lot of nd cousins and has ADHD himself so it’s kinda just *shrugs*

-Modern dyes and preservatives really trigger Acronix’s ADHD to be even worse than usual.

-Zane picks up on this, and like the mother hen that he is starts to put in a special effort to keep dyes away from Acronix (or to keep Acronix away from dyes, as the case may be)

-Jay has a similar problem with dyes (which Edna let the Ninja know about, thanks a lot ma ) so Zane works double time to keep them both away from dyes

-Makes special dishes that are “ADHD safe”

-Neither appreciate it (well Jay does but will complain openly at every chance he gets)

-Acronix got into a lot of trouble with their dad when he was a kid, because he just couldn’t pay attention

-Has bursts of anger a lot, oftentimes this happens during things like parties or pre-meeting conversations. (which easily leads to him getting a label of “aggressive” or “hotheaded” by the EMs)

-DEFINITELY struggles with Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria

-Ninjago history is Krux’s special interest

-Krux freezes people around him when he needs a sec to destim

-Krux is pretty high-functioning, but is on the borderline. He's high-functioning enough to be aware of himself and mask, but not enough to avoid things like shut/melt downs

-Acronix is fiercely protective of his brother whenever he shuts down. Messing with Krux while he's like that (whether the antagonist is aware or not) is a one way ticket to his wrath as well as physical punishment.

-Whenever things got too intense at a meeting/party type thing, Acronix would ditch and sneak them both out whenever Krux was heading towards a shut down. Being the awesome supportive twin that he is, he learned to pick up on the signs of one and was certain to prevent them pretty much whenever possible.

-Acronix failed in his efforts only once (he was kind of sick that day and wasn’t at the top of his game to be keeping a watchful eye on his bro), and Krux kind of ended up time freezing a few of the EMs in the process. It was something the elemental masters (or Krux himself) did not soon forget or forgive.

-He'll go nonverbal sometimes, to the minor aggravation of the alliance. Sign language isn't a thing yet so anyone trying to understand him when he's like this are pretty much reliant on Acronix and his twin sense to translate.

-When their parents died Krux went nonverbal for a little over a month.

-Krux was pretty delayed in learning to speak, he didn’t say his first word until he was 3 ¼

-Even during his redemption arc, Acronix does not tell the Ninja about Krux's autism, from a built in fear that the knowledge would be used against him in possible future battles. (Also because he knows Krux wouldn't want them to know.)

-Krux doesn't just hate phones because “ugh technology”, he also just hates talking on the phone because it’s super difficult

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OK there are way more that we have but... did you know there is actually a word limit on Tumblr? Heh heh... If you want more Twim goodness you can read our extensive fanfic collection... or maybe we’ll make a part two (That’ll probably consist of Home life pre-war stuff, post-canon AU junk, Vermillion family nonsense, and more random stuff)

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penrose-quinn · 4 years ago

Text

Musubi [Preview] | Suguru Geto/F!Reader

posted: 04.02.21 | full: [Ao3]

word count: 2.2K

content tags: pre-hidden inventory arc. can be read as an excerpt.

tw: slight mentions of blood.

a/n: i haven’t written a fight scene in such a long time so apologies for the rusty writing. as for the full one-shot itself, i can’t give a date yet but i hope ya’ll can settle for this. enjoy the laughs for now! *cries in the corner*

First impressions were always drawn by an encounter, and tied tautly between bravado and cutthroat competition in the annual Kyoto Goodwill Event, the curious color of the string tugged out of Geto running into you was one of interest.

Strategically speaking, it made sense in any fight.

However, a downside to this was that they were inevitably a precursor for nasty introductions when names were traded like bruises and conversations for combat tactics.

Openings made for a good invitation for a counter, but Geto was quick to parry them with a looming many-limbed pillar of a curse that walled between the both of you with a screech; jolting back the memory and taste of sickness. A spirit of obsession.

Deformed hands, riddled with watchful eyes, reached for you, fixating in your every movement to resist them. You were fast, he’d give you that, but you were paired against a curse that was built from vile adamance. In short, a pain in the ass. Capturing it was, undoubtedly, and now, offered leverage to him when it made things a little simpler and interesting to watch from afar.

Attention to stances and a razor-sharp interest in the opponent; they were all inevitable, after all.

The moment your strings began to unravel from the pads of your fingers.

They were something to look out for when seemingly anything with cursed energy were bound to be entangled by the subtle manipulation of your hands, and in a span of a minute, the curse was left dangling and viciously writhing in suspension, held fast on the tough bark of oak trees like a fly to an intricate web.

“A Grade Two.” You gawked at it, giving in to a low whistle. “Cool.”

“Can’t believe you ate it up, though,” you said, hinting on that you already knew about his cursed technique. “Did you have to hack it up to pieces?”

Then you made a hand sign – two fingers pressed together – and with a smooth motion, your wrist rotating in an arc, the strings tied to the curse tightened, almost twisting its body for good measure. Or to flaunt. The two never seemed to be far from each other from what Geto observed from you. Typical senior behavior.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Geto said anyway, but unwilling to elaborate further.

From your distance, you peered back at him. “Not the chatty type like Six Eyes, eh?”

But he had a feeling you were.

“I’m afraid not.”

“You’re not gonna show your cards then?” you asked, perhaps alluding to a binding vow.

Geto was uncertain with what you’re trying to get out of this. Cautious as he was, he knew better than to play along, though something about your blatant drawl made him realize how he’d been curious enough to take the risk, mirroring that lazy confidence that curled up your peach-stained lips.

“Not going to show yours, senpai?”

There was a flicker of challenge in your eyes that appeared to make them brighter, like a glint of a knife. However, for whatever reason, you downplay it with a halfhearted shrug. “I’ll be honest,” and in a low amused voice, humoring him, “kouhai.”

The corners of his mouth bent into a slight smirk.

“I’m not really in the mood to help out anyone. Hell, I don’t even care if your school wins,” you admitted, pausing for a moment to listen in to the devastation of some uncharted area of the school grounds. Satoru. “See? We’re on the receiving end anyway.”

“Fair point,” Geto said with a nod. Though he kept the sentiment to himself, he would argue that you should have at least made an effort to appear concerned for your team.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to back out from this fight either. That’d be no fun. So how about it?” you offered. “Want to try something?”

Geto did contemplate on it—you. What your whole angle was about, why you went about it in such a roundabout way. Perhaps, the Kansai dialect had a hand in it when your manner of talking turned your inflections more offhanded and overfamiliar. Though he couldn’t deny that he caught on that you sounded more cryptic in comparison to his friend’s open, rather crude bluntness.

Something about your exchanges were like that, full of traps and layers, and as tired and eye-rolling as they were on another person, Geto wasn’t annoyed of you. Rather, he was keen in pursuing answers himself. What kind, he wasn’t sure yet. You had a way of making things interesting, and drawn by the pang of something like inquisitiveness and hunger, he arrived to a decision. “What do you have in mind?”

“Great! That settles it then,” you grinned, clapping your hands together. Another hand sign. “I’m setting your curse free.”

Once the strings began unwinding from the many-limbed curse, Geto felt a tremor from his gut; body apprehensive and prepared to strike.

Then it all came crashing down with a wink and a red and gold knot forming between your fingers, untwisting it with one decisive pull.

“Unbind.”

It was a sharp breathless feeling.

A sudden relief, followed by a sense of loss. A kind of detachment, brief but deeply harrowing like losing a limb to a cleave, losing the weight of it all at once, where the curse tethered to him had been released, his control slipping, senses disoriented. Severed. It wasn’t bound to his will anymore.

Resentful in its newfound freedom, the many-limbed curse lunged at him to attack, hands spread out and reaching, eyes crimson and pulsing wide when it set its sights on him.

Snapping out of his stupor, Geto was quick to react with a bolt. Shadow and silhouette bloomed under the ground by a summon, and what stretched forth was his massive hookworm curse, mouth gaping open to devour the Grade Two, and now, snapping shut for the kill before disappearing entirely from his bidding.

Geto would have rather reserved the curse for later, but he won’t gamble losing another one to your technique.

“Personally, I think we’re a bad match,” you mused aloud.

Then your strings whipped at him in a lightning second. Evading them, Geto leapt back and landed aptly on his feet.

“Especially when I can bind and unbind things with my inherited technique. Seals, shikigami, curses … hm, I suppose yours is an interesting case,” you stared at him thoughtfully before shrugging. “But it’s a kind of attachment either way.”

“Now you’re showing your cards,” Geto hissed out a breath, running through a new game plan.

“Sure, why not.” Your mouth broke into an easy grin. “Keeps the ball rolling, you know?”

There was a cool refinedness in your stance, feet anchored to the ground while your hands were doing all the fighting: flexed out, full of precise flourishes albeit strained, with strings unspooling from your deft fingers. The distance worked to your advantage, though closing it between the both of you was jumping headfirst into a trap in itself.

Geto surmised. But—

“I’d rather end this sooner.”

Mind set and carried by a surge of adrenaline, Geto sprinted towards you, dodging each assault for a closer range, until your strings finally coiled around his wrist, and in reaction, he tugged at it in a vice-grip with a strong pull; drawing out a look of shock from you, and then an eager anticipation. Your body shifted into a steady position, ready and waiting, arms posed for a counterattack.

Geto kept on his pace, charging at you with a wave of his free hand; darkness unfurling and taking shape of a half-formed spirit. Eyes wary of another summoned curse, you took the bait when you made another motion with your other hand, and he took it as a sign of withdrawing the curse back and kicking dust on your face, temporarily blinding you. The strings loosened on him. You recoiled.

When your guard was lowered, Geto seized the chance to swing his foot up at you; a swift kick to your forearm, minutely braced into a block to offset the full brunt of it, but it was powerful enough to send you skidding back your heels.

“Cheat,” you spat, cracking one vigilant eye on him.

Stubborn and quick to recover, you pulled at your strings to reel him in for a mean right hook, knuckles meeting his face. He was able to buffer the blow with his cursed energy, though the hit still landed, hard and fast.

“We’re even.” Geto winced from the bruise on his jaw. Your fist was imbued with cursed energy too, and now, was hurtling back at him with a ferocious amount of force. He side-stepped, dodging the hit that smashed against the tough bark of a tree, splintering it from the impact, and as you were about yank your arm back, he finally found his opening.

All it took was a faulty step; a split-second of being swept by the heel, knocking you off your momentum as you fell back to the tree, ensuring his victory through a newly summoned amorphous curse restraining your hands and feet.

Geto lunged forward. His fist hurtled down at you, mere inches from your face, until he felt something taut restrain his wrist and his wide eyes followed the cord curled around your two fingers, protruding out of the oozing wound of the curse grappling your hands.

Leaning back, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Okay, kouhai! I forfeit.”

Geto stopped to think for a moment, and testing the string latched onto him with a careful tug, he cocked his head at you to ask. Just in case. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes at him, blowing a strand of hair from your cheek. A faint waft of mint. “Unlike you, I can’t get my face bruised.”

It was only a fraction, but the insouciance of your smile cracked a little from the edges. More brittle and thinner, from whatever sentiment you hid between your lips. Regardless, he sensed no insincerity from your words.

It was his turn to sigh.

“All right.”

Once the string disentangled from his wrist, Geto stepped back from you, drawing in a raspy breath, as he held himself upright, still tense and arduous from the heat of the fight. He felt heavy from the sweat, dull ache, and spent adrenaline straining on his shoulders, the backs of his legs, everything. He wouldn’t have to undergo through this ordeal if he could only use his cursed technique against you.

“You’re right,” he admitted, tugging at his collar. “We’re really a bad match.”

“Told you,” you crooned.

A set-up? Geto considered it, recalling how they were separated in the fray with the other team; Gojo getting sidetracked at some point and you luring him here with your strings. “Was that intentional?”

“Everyone was counting on it,” you answered, wrenching out your hands from the curse in a violent splatter. “But honestly? The whole plan doesn’t matter in the end. We’re still worse off. And I’m no one’s backup either.”

Noticing his stunned reaction, you amusedly held out your open bloody palm at him. A gesture of reassurance. “Don’t sweat it. This is still your win.”

While Geto was still wary around you, he eased a little from your words. He nodded.

“If that’s the case, why did you go along with the plan?”

“Didn’t want to pass up something,” you said vaguely, looking back at him before tearing off the other curse clinging on your feet, cringing at the sight of gore on your shoes once it was split open by your fingers. “These things aren’t cute at all.”

“You could’ve been more careful with them,” Geto pointed out.

“Gotta get back at you somehow. They have teeth, you know.”

Which you nonchalantly ripped apart with your bare hands.

Before you could wipe off the blood on your hand to your skirt, Geto still went out of his way to give you his handkerchief for the mess, which you stared at for five agonizing seconds before accepting it with a mutter of thanks.

You began to clean your knuckles, bunching up the fabric on your palm. “Well, this is ruined.”

“Not really planning on getting it back,” said Geto, flipping up his phone. He received a photo of Gojo with some members of the other team, ragged and beaten shitless, followed by a text that went somewhere along the lines of everyone being so weak and a demand as to why he was taking so long.

“Geto-san.”

Geto snuck a glance back at you from his phone.

“You’re pretty strong for a first year.“ You hummed in thought and he listened more intently. "Ah, but that’s expected. Judging from the rumors circling around, I suspected you lot from Tokyo Tech were either a piece of work or something else.”

“Something.” Geto smiled.

“Cheeky.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Geto was going to reply back to Gojo until you chuckled, light and airy, drawing his attention back at you.

“Oh, and another thing,” you said, and for a moment, beneath the long spidery lashes, there was a quiet profoundness to your eyes that made a glance blur between an appraisal and a clarity one could find from a thin thread of interest, tugged up by a wry tilt of your lips.

“What kind of woman is your type?”

a/n: . . . that last line is so cursed. i wish todou was the one who asked. for context, reader is one of yuki’s students.

↣ side note: i thought satosugu were already both classified as special grades upon their enrolment like yuuta, but i didn’t realize later on that they were only promoted as special grades after the spv mission. i won't be rewriting this and will be keeping it as it is, but apologies for getting those details wrong!

↣ side note: nvm. i caved. [revised: 04/17/21]

#suguru geto x reader #suguru getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #geto suguru #jjk #short drabble #pen writes #i just want to swoon how badass geto is as a tactical figther #and i want reader to be badass too so...#musubi

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sta-bright · 4 years ago

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My First Tumble

Hi Tumblr,

I was inspired to get a Tumblr account, believe it or not, from Netflix's 2021 four-part docu-series "Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel." Although I highly doubt anyone cares enough to read any of my posts or has the attention span to read anything longer than a few sentences written by a 23 year old with her boobs out, *just in case,* SPOILER ALERT.

The (main) topic of the show focuses around Elisa Lam, who vanished in early 2013 when she was staying at the Cecil Hotel and was then found dead in one of the four water tanks on the roof 19 days after being reported missing (I think I have that correct but don't hold me to it, imaginary readers. It was something like that.).

Anyway, "...to make a long story short"... "too late" #cluereference, Elisa had a Tumblr blog. It seemed to be a good setup for how she was writing very personally, which is what I want to do, so here we go. I have a blog page for the business I own, but to be honest, it's geared more toward, well, business, so I don't feel like I can write freely, or only like the "good" or "normal" part of myself, the good stuff geared at an audience without scaring people away or whatever. So for this one, I don't really care as much about proper grammar or spelling, just somewhere to write my real thoughts if and when I can focus enough to sort them out enough to put them down. I have a bunch of journals, but they are all over the place and I can't write fast enough, so I'm going to try this out. I have a lot to say, and I think even just putting it out there even though I know no one cares might help me feel a little bit of relief, even if anyone does read it and might think I'm an idiot or whatever.

I wasn't sure what to name my blog, and I'm not sure if there's a way to change it in the future, but for now I have decided on "Sta-Bright." Most of my family and some of my close friends call me "Sta" and my partner David calls me Sta Bright, which I think is really cute and makes me happy, so here we are. I use the word partner because I think the word boyfriend is a little too young for us and our relationship warrants a higher level than that. ANYWAY, there is the background information for you, my new friend, Tumblr. I already feel better.

So, this show really pissed me off for a few (many) reasons. I've legitimately been pacing around all morning. First, even the title of the show is misleading. The death of Elisa Lam was not a "crime." It was a devastating incident of accidental death highly likely (as confidently confirmed by all professionals involved) related to a psychotic episode of her mental illness, Bipolar I, which I also happen to have. Netflix using the title "Crime Scene" to lure watchers in is disgusting within itself. Good for you, Netflix. Holla for the dollas! Make that money, baby.

Then, beyond the fact Netflix milked four episodes out of a glamorized case that was ruled an accidental death for this reason not even long after finding Elisa, it is the whole ordeal of the reality and dramatizing of this saga that is so sad.

Upon the release of the famous elevator footage the day she went missing, it went viral almost instantaneously.

*Hold please* I actually just read an article by BBC.com where director of the series, Joe Berlinger, says, "For the average viewer it's another compelling story you watch and then move on to the next. But for who this happened to, it's the worst moment in their life. It's a real tragedy for that person and that family." LOLOLOLOL OKAY JOE!!!! Is this why you spent FOUR EPISODES talking about bullshit theories to keep people hooked and open more discussion? You know that this is not out of respect. Shame on YOU!

"If you look at the other tellings of the story, you'd see she's the victim of some horrible, evil presence that took control of her.

"Those kinds of narratives, I think, are incredibly disrespectful and probably why the family just didn't want to deal with another show that was going to exaggerate the circumstances of the tragedy."

So is this why you made a show exaggerating the circumstances of the tragedy? Lol. "We need to talk about the ghost stories" Or do you need to talk about them to open a can of worms to more losers who fixate on the case? OR IS THAT JUST ME? I don't know. Lemme tell ya what. If anything ever happens to me, please make sure this Joe Schmuck doesn't make a pathetic docuseries about it.

Then, aside from the pathetic profit of Netflix, the actual details of what happened and how society and the "web sleuths" investigated, obsessed, and chimed in on this case is a whole other ballpark about society's minimization and lack of knowledge or respect for mental illness on its own.

THEN, there is a quote by Amy Price, the manager of the hotel during the incident, who is now profiting on a book she is writing about HER experience:

"I want to share my story," she says.

"But this isn't a horror story or anything like that. This is a story about struggle."

Okay, Amy. Whose fucking struggle are you writing about here? I legitimately don't know if she is referring to hers or Elisa's, but either way, it's gross.

It makes me so sad that this whole situation warranted MILLIONS of theories, millions of internet trolls writing articles about the "BIZARRE" death of this girl. This case is not fucking bizarre. It is unfortunate but it is not bizarre. This case was plastered all over internet lists with the titles "bizarre, unexplained cases of missing people." It's not unexplained, and it only was not for long.

These "web sleuths" were busy having a blast, going to the crime scene, smiling as they recorded, posting videos about their stupid theories. Trolls posting their dumb, far-fetched theories without knowing all of the facts, thinking they know better than the professionals, who DO have the findings, did do the labs, did do the investigations. And people still insist that THERE HAS TO BE MORE.

Of course, I don't know all the facts either. BUT, according to the actual professionals involved rather than the entire population of people who love a good "mystery," Elisa's toxicology results showed that her levels of the medications she was supposed to be on signified she had not been taking them as she should have been. They also found bottles of her medicine that had more pills than prescribed, also showing that she had not been taking them.

THEN, she was removed from the room she had been sharing with a few others due to "odd behavior" leaving weird post-its telling them to go away, or whatever. THEN, apparently going into the hotel lobby and screaming "I'm crazy!" or whatever it was.

Although all experiences with mental illnesses are unique, all of these details plus the footage, both detailing erratic behavior, leave no doubt in my mind that the professionals, SHOCKINGLY, CRAZILY, may be right! Who thunk it! I have legitimately acted in the ways described and shown in the video. I don't and couldn't understand HERS, but I understand MY paranoia, hallucinations, experiences I have had, and the actions that are presented, and I guarantee some would look very similar to that footage. Ask the few people who know me best what it's like when I'm not on my meds or fuck them up. I legitimately saw myself in her actions.

Yet, the internet losers had to fixate on a death metal artist who had stayed in the hotel for a few days A YEAR before any of this happened and legitimately ruined his life. His alibi was completely valid and he was dismissed by investigators. He was out of the country, he had tons of substantial paperwork and proof that he was, but that didn't matter.

Because no one takes bipolar disorder seriously, dismissing it as just mood swings, people being dramatic, seeking attention, being lazy, and everyone needs something more sensational, THIS wasn't even an option. They needed to fixate on crazy, fun conspiracy theories, watching the footage over and over and over again, sitting in their caves with their thumbs up their asses writing about their ballpark theories, internet bullying innocent people instead of doing any research on bipolar disorder, instead of defending or considering that it was a psychotic episode, which literally all of the official facts and footage present.

Clearly I'm not a professional either, but like... watch the show and you tell me. You tell me what you think is likely. You tell me what the professionals agree on. But before you make that call, try reading a little bit about bipolar disorder. Try reading about the psychotic episodes that can come with it. It probably won't change your mind, but oh well. It probably is just the hotel being haunted, ya know. Right? This is just my little rant that doesn't matter.

If you want to think it was a ghost, a demon, if it was a murder even though she literally had zero signs of any physical violence and there was zero evidence of it and all evidence the other way, you do that, boo. Have a blast. Hey, I 100% could be wrong, right? Absolutely. Who am I? Just a little dramatic, stupid, crazy nobody.

That's just my take, no better than any other internet trolls, I suppose. When all is said and done, in my little fantasy world, I guess people would just take bipolar disorder seriously and understand the severity of it. People would take it to consideration for the actions and words of those who have it. That's not fun, though. Everyone loves money, everyone loves a good story. Everyone loves making fun of people. Everyone loves a disability you can see. Everything I do is just me being an oddball. Everyone loves to be an internet bully.

I'm sorry for Elisa and her family who have had to deal with years of this. Years of people dismissing the severity of mental illness and obsessing over ghost stories, obsessing over the number of likes or views they get, money they make off of it.

Wow, that was a blast. I'm fairly confident no one will read this, but I feel a lot better that I put that out there. Again, I'm a little nobody, so nothing I say matters, but that's just my take on all of it. I've given up trying to convince anyone that I'm anything but weird, because I know no one will care or accept that. I'll just keep making people feel uncomfortable and keep looking like an idiot. Woe is me, am I right?

You have a blessed day now.

#mental health #mentalhealthmatters #bipolar disorder #bipolar 1 #fuck you netflix

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visual-explorxtion · 4 years ago

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Vinylic Taste [Carlos Oliveira x Reader] - One Shot

Summary: You’re trapped and alone in the midst of an outbreak, struggling to survive. In the depths of your despair, Carlos came to the rescue. Through your ups and downs, Carlos soon became your best partner and vice versa. But...you soon realise Carlos isn’t who he appears to be.

A/N: Are you reading this at night time? Good...Wanted to write a Carlos fic but also wanna try and write something different from my usual stuff. But also got super distracted by other ideas and this fic got pushed waaaay further back and kinda took a different turn from my original plan and 11 pages in, I panicked. Still in first person POV.

TW: Graphic depiction of Violence, Blood, Gore, Angst, a bit of horror (idek), prob not as graphic as you think but it’s still graphic, uhh language and bit of a Mind Break.

Words: 6.0k

How did things turn out this way? Blood seeped its way across the vinyl floor, forming a pool around my feet as I sat helplessly with my body shivering in fear. Chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked wide open, my blurry gaze fixated onto a man but I could only make an outline of them. Him; on his knees, lays a lifeless corpse in between them, all drenched in venous blood as the deep red colour streams down every rigid and curves of his face. The air is thick combined with the stench of iron and gunpowder. He stares at his hands, covered in liquid but not his own. He laughs- echoes through my soul and pulsated the room- never have I ever heard of something so harrowing and sinister coming from a human. If he even had any sanity left in him. Neck twists abnormally towards my direction, head tilts eerily as if it's only supported by a thin piece of string. A soft gasp left my mouth, throat scorched with fear and lips quivering. My limbs lay still no matter how much I tell myself to run. My sense of self is being sucked into his dark, endless gaze. The light behind his eyes had vanished, all that's left is a soulless carcass I no longer recognise.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

---------------

The thunderous rain came washing down my face, lowering my field of vision. The moisture trickles down from thick strands of hair and onto the rubble concrete in a light rhythmic pitter-patter. In the span of 24 hours, everything turned from just an average day in this town to be engulfed and corrupted by a fiery shitshow. Humans eating humans, without a hint of remorse. They have no emotions, no pain tolerance. Their sole purpose is to feed on anything that has a heartbeat. It creeps me out. Like somebody playing a joke too far to the point of no return. That's what I'd initially thought. In my struggle to keep myself alive in this godforsaken town, each bullet is scarce but every item you gather is expendable. As the gun recoils, a leftover shell would flicker out with each bullet piercing the head of the undead. A steady hand, steady trigger finger and steady breathing. One by one, I shot them down. The feeling of ambivalence surrounds my mind with every shot I take. This isn't right, they are...were...humans, flesh and blood.

The ringing in my ears grew louder with each squeezing action I take. The heat of adrenaline coursing through under my skin, my peripheral vision gradually disappears until I'm left with the image of head to head. Before I could react, my back was already on the ground. The backside of my head slams against the solid sidewalk with a loud crack, the noise echoed inside for a nanosecond. My self-defence mechanism kicks in- forearm struggle against the zombie's throat, it's jaw hinges wide open with blood oozing out as it frantically pushes it's deadweight onto me. Its skin texture is abnormal, like every part of them is set in stone. Why didn't rigor mortis happen? My fingers tremble, trying to grasp for the handle of my gun that's just out of reach. Muscles burn and ache as my defence is crumbling to its limit, teeth-gritting with every last strength that I have. I refuse to die like this. Not like them.

As my forearm grew tired- inching closer and closer to my face- I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look Death in its soulless gaze and let it consume me slowly in the space of darkness. The next moment, I felt liquid splatter across my face but the pain never set in. My eyes flew open and watched as the corpse lay limping on my arm and the rest drop dead around my vicinity. I grunt as I discard the corpse aside, inspecting it one more time for any sign of movement. Face frozen in place as blood runs dry from the temple. The sight of this made my stomach churn.

"Hey, are you alright? Can you stand?"

A muscular figure towers over me, fully equipped in tactical gear. One hand armed with an assault rifle and the other extended out towards my direction. His hand is all worn out, even though the gloves I can see his fingers covered in blisters and scratches. They have seen better days.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

I choked out as I accept his assistance. His grip heaved my weight without breaking a sweat but may have overestimated his strength a little. His aid offset my balance and my body crash-landed in his embrace. Even with me standing on my own two feet, he's still almost a foot taller than I am. Our eyes met for a brief moment but I immediately jumped out of his arms as heat flushed up my cheeks and I regain my composure. He chuckles.

"My name is Carlos, I'm with the UBCS and we're here to get you out of here."

The organisation doesn't ring any bells in mind, nevertheless, receiving help from a rescue team is better than trudging through this damned hell alone. I would be lucky if I could even make it out alive. But, this strange rescue encounter sends comfort to my mind and slowly easing off my anxiety, or maybe it's because I'm no longer alone with Carlos's presence next to mine. Either way, I shouldn't let my guard down even with the help I'm getting.

The rest of his team is gathered in the subway station, we've arrived just in time for the last train to bound. Every one of them is tattered and covered in rags, exhausted and in pain. I can't imagine what kind of hell they've fought through, compared to myself, it's nothing but a just a minor scratch. Carlos caught up with his crew while I took a seat as all my energy is drained from my soul. The cool metal sensation seeped through my jeans and triggered goosebumps and hair along my arm, I couldn't care less about the shock as exhaustion washes over my limbs. I've been beaten down mentally and physically enough for me to not realise the train was already in motion. The view from out the window is nothing but a fast pace blur of darkness. All that just happened felt so unreal- the gush of blood, the viscous touch of muscle fibres, so red yet so cold. Getting pinned to the ground by this...thing. Its strength is vicious and animalistic with a face that doesn't resemble a human anymore. And at that moment my mind went blank. What if, at that very second, nobody came to save me? What if, I just gave up? What if, I let its teeth sink into my neck? What if...I just died there and then?

"How are you holding up?"

Carlos appeared before me, interrupting all the trepidatious thoughts. A slow realisation sets in as my hands tremble in my lap. Immediately, I curl my fingers into fists to cover up the jitter from him. "Still holding" I swallowed and smile politely, hoping the lump in my throat won't betray me right now. He returned the smile and positioned himself in the seat next to mine. "You were brave out there. Fighting by yourself...not many people have the balls to do that."

I let out a quiet snort. "No, you saved my ass. I wasn't brave. I was just lucky. If it wasn't for you I would've..." A pause, "I would've become one of them by now." Tears tingled behind my eyes as I blinked several times to keep them at bay. Carlos catches my hands tenderly, unravelling my fingers one by one, releasing all the tension I took a grasp of and crimson liquid came dribbling out the crescent-shaped wound. The fear in my head numbs all my pain; unaware of the shallow cuts, the maroon shade stained the dents of my fingertips. He took out some bandages from one of his pouches and carefully bind them to stop the bleeding. "There. That should do the trick." he grins as I admire his patchwork. "Thank you." I returned the kindness and we sat in comfortable silence. Upon closer inspection, Carlos does look kinda cute. The corner of his eyes crinkles and smile line deepens whenever he laughs, not to mention, his voluminous mane is the centre of attention. It kind of reminds me of an Old English Sheepdog and that image alone made me giggle.

"Carlos, we have a situation." we turn our attention to another team member, dressed in the same gear as Carlos- except his appearance was more well-kept, clean-shaven. Carlos turns, face sombre, knowing the news that comes next won't be any good. "What's the status?"

"Charlie's comms are down. The situation currently unknown."

"And Bravo team's position?"

"They're en route to Charlie, but they've already lost half their men"

He ponders for a moment. "Alright, change of plan. We'll meet up with Bravo and rescue Charlie. Once we get there, see if you can call for extraction out of this city."

His colleague nodded and went off to relay the message to the rest of the squad. Carlos turns back and kneels down, looking at me in the eyes, he softly spoke. "Hey. We're gonna have to take a detour, but I promise you, I'll keep you safe." He paused, reading my reaction. "Are you okay with that?"

My gaze wanders around his nervous expression, but I simply smiled. "Yeah, it's better than being alone out there right now. And besides, I don't doubt your abilities to keep me safe." His face went blank for a few seconds to unexpectedly bursts into laughter as though my answer caught him by surprise. "Okay. We'll be getting off next stop. In the meantime, stock up on some supplies cuz we don't know what's out there. Talk to one of the guys and they can get what you need." Carlos winked before leaving me to psych myself up for what's coming ahead. Knowing the chaos that's happening out there, it's going to be a dirty fight.

Our clattering footsteps relay around the walls of the subway as the lights flicker in a retrospective beat. The place is bare and quiet. Too quiet, even. Not even a single croak or heavy breathing could be perceived. It is deadly silent. Why is it empty? With the city running amok, you'd expect people to be escaping this hell hole; or worst-case scenario, laying dead in this underground. But, nothing. Not a single body insight. That's what worries me. I could say the same for the rest of Carlos's team. Which means, whatever is waiting for us out there is greater than what we could imagine.

My knees are getting weaker by the minute, shuffling closer to Carlos as I grasp my gun tight. Fingers nervously fiddling with the indents of the grip; sucking in a cool breath of air and pulling my shoulders back, we press on.

The layout of the underground is intricate and labyrinthine- reaching an intersection every few minutes, but we haven't let our guard down. Turning the last corner, we finally arrived at the main plaza; still remaining empty but the place was already thrashed. Carlos signalled for everyone to spread out and search the area, while I linger next to him. My heartbeat is racing quick as ever since I stepped off the train with the rapid pulse stuck in the back of my throat. He gently touches my arm, worry flash before his eyes but I shook my head. 'I'm fine' I mouthed. He looked at me for a few seconds, unconvinced, but decided not to force it any further. This place is eerily bleak, what was once lively is now filled with desolation. Somehow there's a slight dread and sadness inside me. The noise of metal clanking took my attention away from my surroundings.

"Damn it. The exits blocked." He gave it another shot but the gate shows no sign of budging. A short, heavy breath escapes his nose. I examined his troubled look and spoke out, "I'll go look for a way to open the gate."

He was stunned. "No. I can't let you do this. It too dangerous-"

"Please, I insist. You've helped me enough so let me do this. Even if I am in trouble, you'll come to save me, right?"

Carlos's expression is tense; I can almost see his thoughts rotating, like clockwork, inside his mind. Considering and reconsidering my offer. At last, my words overthrows him. "Okay, but take this." He hands me a palm-size radio, all tattered and taped. "Anything you see, you radio in. And I mean that. If you see one of those things, do not hesitate to shoot. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I respond, sloppily saluting as I backed away to complete my new objective, continue to traverse down to the backside of the plaza. By the repetition of office doors, this justifies that I'm going in the right direction, but which one? The fluorescent lights blinked abruptly before returning to normal. Seems like the building is getting more unstable, with time quickly ticking away, I should hurry. And by some miraculous luck, I stumbled upon a door that catches my attention. 'Employees Only', this must be it. The door isn't locked but it took a great amount of energy to push a gap open, just enough for me to squeeze through.

Stacks of documents and brick computers blockade the door and next to it; a dead corpse that was once the employee of this place. He must have been dead for 2 hours- top, by the looks of it. The blood forms into a pool around the body and adheres to the sole of my boots. He took the quick way out. A blow to the head with his own pistol, laying dormant in his hand, now motionless in white. Crimson red liquid and shards depicted the blank wall, chunks frozen in place.

"I'm so sorry..."

Choking back my grief, I resume my search and in front of me is my mission objective. Monochromatic screens all tracking specific places of the building. Right on the bigger screen, displays Carlos and his men searching the perimeter. I radio in, "Carlos, come in. I'm in the control room. Hang on, I'll get the gate open."

"Good job. Hurry back and we'll get out-"

The building fades into darkness, heightening my sense of fear in this unfamiliarity. I draw out my gun and tightening my hold like it's my lifeline. My chest stiffens with each shallow breath I took, the effect of the blackout is developing claustrophobia within me. I heaved and the lack of oxygen in my brain cause me to hallucinate all my nightmares, but the image of Carlos flashed vividly in my mind. I took a deep breath and count to three. One...Two...Three... The emergency lights came on before my eyes and my anxiety reverts back to a sense of tranquillity. Talk about timing.

"Carlos? Carlos! Are you okay?" Please tell me he's okay.

No reply.

"Carlos? Are you there? I can't see you." I bit my lip, searching relentlessly on the screen for a trace of him. Just any sign at all.

"Yeah, we're okay. We've taken cover but it's pitch black out here, but...we could only see so much with our flashlight. See if you can get the power back on from your end"

Frantically, I pressed every button presented on the switchboard, nothing seems to be doing the trick. "Negative. I don't think I can do anything from here." All of a sudden, the floor began to rumble. And gradually it became stronger that shook the whole room, files and objects tumble to the ground until it subsides back down again, just like a tank passing by. "What was that?" I said in dismay.

"I don't know..." Coming from the other side of the line, a low growl and heavy footsteps. "But, whatever the fuck that is...It's definitely in here with us now."

In search of the monitor, I glue my eyes to the blurry image shown; even if everything doesn't seem out of the ordinary, my gut feeling is telling me otherwise. Still as a statue, they listened in closely to every motion IT makes. The sound is too quiet to be perceived. Out of the corner of the screen, something whoosh by. Its movements are too fast for me to catch but it's inching closer and closer to the lifeforms. With one swift swipe, it took a man down, and then the next. The claw marks on the wall...it stretches 10 feet wide from point to point, even looking through the screen, the blood is so vividly deep in hue. It crawls in close, but the team is still desperately searching.

It strikes! "Get down!" My voice is shaking down to its core.

They duck, but some did not make it. Their limbs severed; corpse dangling in half on the claw of the monstrous being, still clinging and screaming for their lives and then cease all at once. I shrieked out in horror. The size of that thing knocked the air out of my lungs. This being couldn't possibly be a human?! The zombie creation stood ten times its original size. The exposed skeleton is partially bound by its flesh- all swelled up and tainted, its tail bone morphed to a whip carrying a single-edge blade. Claws digging into the shallow pool of blood as the liquid cascade down the cracks of the marble flooring. The remaining squad open fire, bullets fly and ricochet off the wall. In the brief moment of spark, they lost sight of the target again.

"Shit, where is it?" I can hear the frustration in Carlos's tone.

Their flashlight drifts around the room as the tension sets in. You fear what you can't see, even more so if all you could see is darkness. The beast growls and encircles them, but the squad can't pinpoint where the sound is coming from. Intensity fills your gut as you watch the monitor closely, decoding its every move. After a beat, it leaps.

"Carlos, your 4 o'clock!"

He whips around at the speed of sound as he squeezes the trigger. The blast took impact greater than his expectation, every shot penetrated into its fleshy fibres while it screeched with a chalkboard sound. It struggles to keep a hold of itself up on the pillars as it collapses and tumbles to the ground. Without missing a beat, the team executes the behemoth until it turns into a bloody pulp, killing it with brute force. They inspected the pulverized mess further before they could ease off their defences. As if by command, the power's back on. My stomach turns into a knot. This is strange, but I pay no mind to it.

"Carlos, you alright?" I asked.

"Yeah...that was too close. That thing was too quick... We could've been killed here if it wasn't for you. You were our eyes when we couldn't see so...thank you." I could almost hear him blush at the other end of the line.

"Don't sweat it. Alright, I'm gonna get the gate open." I pulled the lever and watch the gate rise and retracted back through the screen.

"Got it. Now get your ass back he-" THUMP! Something's outside the door, trying to crank it open.

THUMP!

"Carlos? Carlos, someone's trying to get in here." my voice shivers.

"What? What do you mean someo-"

BANG! The door flew open. As an instinct, I drew my gun and aimed it towards them. A team of four heavily armed soldiers dressed in black armoury kicked in, almost like a SWAT team, weapons aimed ready. Without a second thought, I opened two shots on their thighs and calves to buy myself some time. They did not flinch, nor did it cause any pain to them. The unit moved in closer and closer towards my position by the time I made the first punch. My right hook collided with one of the soldier's throat and swiftly transitioned my elbow to another one in between the ribs. But all of that did not matter, my attacks took little effect as they soon surround me, putting me in a lock hold position, hands bound behind my back and dragging me away from the room. I can feel my heartbeat pulsating in my throat while I struggle to break free. Who the fuck are these people? What do they want with me? I don't want this. I'm scared.

"CARLOS!"

His name was the last thing that left my lips before the hooded squad inject my system with some form of liquid. My eyelids grew heavy, I fought back to keep myself awake but alas, the shroud of darkness consumes my mind, taking my soul to a distant world. The next time I wake up, the doors to the pandora's box had already open and it's already too late for me to stop it.

The snickering and one-sided conversation waver into my ear. I can't shift my body, still situated in darkness along with the effect of the drug. The icy metal clasp my limbs tight cemented on either side of my body and unable to produce any strength. The noises stopped and I froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Ah...you're awake. Good, good." The man sneered and carry on muttering in an absence. "You know, I was surprised by your...actions. You all exceeded my expectations. With this data you provided, we could improve on the flaws with our last experiment." He chuckled. "For now, my child, sleep. When you wake up, you'll be born anew again." His words became a slur in my brain, lowering into a hushed tone. Phrases repeat and distorting, just like an echo in an ice cave, cold and enchanting before my conscious slips away once more.

------------------------

"WHAT HAPPENED? HEY, COME IN. HEY!" The statics over on the other line holds its place. "FUCK!" Carlos's voice howls, the thunderous boom stunned the remaining of his teammates. His fists clenched in a fit of rage as he smashes the radio onto the bloodied floor. The radio explodes with shards flying across the hall, some splinters still clinging onto his hand.

"Carlos...umph..." Tyrell struggles, limping its way towards him as he compresses his wound. "The mutated monster...the lights and the locked gate...I don't think it's that simple." he sighs, pushing his glasses back up with his forefinger. "There's only one company that would create such a big experiment. Carlos, listen...you need to stop them."

Carlos shifts to look at him. "T, we still have to meet up with Bravo and we've already lost half of our men. There's no prediction of what's roaming out there."

Tyrell shakes his head, a stern look in his eyes. "No...You've seen what they are capable of, there's no saying what Umbrella might do to next. Go rescue them, I'll handle the rest." He waves him away, still clenched in pain but casually shrugs it off. Carlos conflicted for a short period but ultimately chose to listen to Tyrell. Tyrell gave him a quick pat on his shoulder before Carlos turns away.

[Umbrella's research facility]

The eerie sound of silence fills the whole facility. A silence that stayed constant in your ears, just like the tv sign-off tone. The uneasy feeling never left Carlos's mind as soon as he traverses through the isolated building, gun in position. Walls dressed in white, the distinctive chill in the air and corridors that lead to nowhere. Carlos grew impatient by the minute.

There, at the end of the hallway, lays a door just barely visible for the naked eye. 'Security Room, EMPLOYEES ONLY'. He breaches in; a vast space all clustered with fallen chairs and paperwork, the multiple screens project different rooms within the facility, some looked like its the cafeteria and another resembles a cool storage room with weird pieces of machinery scattered around the place. Yet they are all empty, except one. At the top left-hand corner of the display box, it presents various aqua chambers containing partially mutated humans and failed experiments. And in the centre of that screen, he saw his companion positioned upright on a surgical bed, unconscious and all tied up. But getting there might be difficult without putting up a fight as four heavily armed mercs all gathered outside of the laboratory. Carlos unclips his assault rifle and peeks, the ammunition is barely enough to fight four soldiers; hell, not even four zombies. At this point, every shot counts.

The build-up of sweat in his palm loosened his grip. He examines his hand; trembling and numb with uncertainty, what lies between him and his enemies is just one simple electronic door. Beyond that, someone important is there waiting for him, alive and afraid. Or perhaps they...no. That couldn't possibly be the case. He clutches the handle once more, on the count of three breaths, he bursts in. It only took a split second for bullets to fly across the room, landing hits in the enemies' calves and forearms. Carlos moves in closer before they could react, instantly killing a soldier with one shot under the jaw as blood and plasma spew out onto the ceiling. They return fire, only to hit their ex-partner's lifeless corpse. Carlos thrusts the body towards the two henchmen and staggers them to the ground, he flips; locking the remaining guy pressed up the wall with his entire body, they struggle but was immediately executed with a blow to the head. Blood splattered on Carlos's right shoulder but that didn't faze him. The sound of his assault rifle clicks empty as he saw the two crawling back up. "Tch." His tongue snapped as the gun launched across the room at a high velocity, knocking one in the face and stumbling backwards. Like a chain of effect, they’ve sprawled out on the floor once again. Stepping his right foot on their torso, his gaze shows pity as he ponders over them before pulling out his pistol from the holster.

"Hope you got friends on the other side."

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The aftermath of those four shots lingers in the room. A mixture of gunpowder and blood made Carlos's stomach twist up in a knot, but he got more important things to worry about. The life of his partner was the only thing that occupied his mind. The final door slides open; revealing a skinny, middle-aged looking man in a fresh set of lab coat, stood in front of a worktable and unaware of his presence. Inside, those hydro chambers stood twice his height with flesh substance floating inside the liquid. Some are just a blob of meat and others have fully transformed into somewhat human-shaped, but all are deformed. Upon closer inspection, one mutated monster's eye pop open. Carlos flinched. He examined around and was shocked to find that they are alive, all of them. What kind of sick joke is this? Is this what I've been fighting? He wondered.

"Admiring my creations, I see. Do you like it?" The man asked.

"Is this what's been running the city into a shitshow? What the fuck is this pharmaceutical company hiding?" He looks around. "Where are they?"

"Ah, yes! My precious little plaything. You're just in time to witness the beginning of my newest creation." The man chuckles, he pressed a button and the sound of machinery begins to whir. The glass cell shifts closer into the room, unveiling you in a comatose state, pretty as a picture. "They are sedated, for now. But soon, they will become humanity’s greatest invention and you will be the first one to witness it. Isn't that something?"

The blood inside him boils; the rage within could not be contained, white-hot magma erupting and coating every strain in his system. He pulled the trigger; the shots punctured through both of the man's legs as he knelt on the floor, screaming in agony. Carlos rushed to your side, unclasping any restrictions and carefully let you lean against the wall.

"Heh...what will you achieve by saving them...? The city's gone rogue...everybody's dead...and yet you couldn't save half your men. So...why bother saving them...the end is nigh!" His manic amusement shakes the whole room to the ground. But, the laughter was cut short and soon, it has been replaced by the clinking of a bullet shell against the hard deck and empty clickings. Gun drops as he struts towards the pathetic slob, straggling in the crimson liquid that's supposed to keep him alive. Well, not anymore. Carlos straddles on top of his weakened body, gaze bore into his soul. He wondered. How could someone like him still be alive? As the world burns and he gets to live? The ability to heal given to this monster and yet, he chose destruction. He must be purged.

The sound of his leather gloves creek as it made the first impact. The feeling of bone to bone seems odd to Carlos but...it excites him. With each hit, the pain pushes him even further, numbing and bruising. It felt right. He pants, the blood spews and paints him in a new shade of violence. The man weakly chuckles.

"The man who fights monsters have become a monster himself. Isn't that irony...?" He coughs, blood spilling out on the edge of his lips.

"Killing humans...how does that feel? Still want to play the hero and save them? With the world on fire and all those lives in your hands...you will only taint them. Lemme tell you a story...do you know what kind of flower blooms the brightest even in the harshest weathers?" Carlos looks at him quizzically.

"Snowdrops. They are the first ones to bloom long before spring comes around...the pure and innocent. At the beginning of time, Snow searched for a colour to borrow... The element admired flowers and their vibrant colours. One day, Snow asked and pleaded for one of the colours from the flowers, but the blossoms denied Snow's request; they felt Snow was too cold and undesirable. The snowdrop, however, felt sorry for Snow and offered it its own colour. It accepted the gift and the element itself became as white as an angel's feathers... To show its gratitude, Snow allowed snowdrops to bloom at the end of each winter with their own protection against the blizzard weather. From then on, Snow and snowdrops exist side-by-side as friends."

He heaves. "Like I said...irony... Their friendship is only a fabrication out of pity. Just like you!" The deathly cackle roams as he chokes on his own spit and blood.

Ears buzzed with white silence, his visions hazed with a red lens filter and heart palpate at an abnormal speed. Carlos felt every ridge of the handle on his knife and takes out his weapon, unhurried. The shiny metal pressed upon the wilting man's oesophagus- with only a little strength, it opened up. Blood spatter across Carlo's face, unflinching. His eyes darkened, tunnel vision focused on the crevice of the wound; there's friction on the thin layer of skin as the sharp edge glides slowly from one end of the neck to another. Carlos finishing him off with a fling of his blade, scattering red all over the wall. Both of his hands grip the handle tight; rising it high above his head, he paused for a moment to look at him one last time, then strikes down into the man's right chest in the speed of light. Pulverising his cardiac organ. He retrieves the knife and repeats over and over again with the red fluid gushes out with each stab until there is nothing left. A monster bathed in his enemy's blood. The man croaks in agony and over a few seconds, it stops. And so does Carlos.

The white noise has been replaced by his own rapid breathing. Thoughts are empty, his gaze quivers yet, he does not fear anything. He felt it...warmth. How did he not notice it? Is this how warm humans feel? He never realised this, this kind of feeling, it's something so different from killing a zombie. He looks down at his own two hands...so red. A smile crept along his face with the feeling of content. In a spark, he burst into a peal of harrowing laughter, vibrating the whole room.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

------------------------------

In my moments of wake, I find myself bestowing my gaze upon a beast gazing back at me with a musing look in his eyes. They're so dark and dire, almost like someone gouged out a part of him and replaced it with something so sinister. He snaps, now truly looking at me through the eyes of the actual Carlos, as if nothing happened.

"You're awake! Good, I was starting to get worried about you. We should probably leave and catch up with Tyrell. They should've called for the extraction by now." Placing his tarnished knife back into the holster, he made his way towards me. My fear of him vanished, he's just like the Carlos I met a few hours ago. Warm and caring. "Let's go." He said, both his arms shifts under my back and behind my knees, picking my weight up with ease. "Get some rest...I wake you up when went get to the rendezvous point." His voice is hushed and the sound of his heartbeat soothes out all my stress. By the time we left the room, I was already drifting between dreamworld and reality.

The sound of his footstep was kept at a constant pace, his movement rocked me side to side, gently without missing a beat. But the further he tread, the temperature in the air got colder and yet I could not feel the wind brushing against me.

"Stay here. I'm gonna fix something real quick." Carlos's body heat left my side and was replaced by the icy touch of a piece of furniture. The mechanical hum occupied my eardrums and everything sound muffled once again. Eyes weakly opened and the sight wasn't what I was expecting. What greets me was four walls made of glass entrapping my body as he stood and watched.

"Carlos...what are you doing? Let me out. Come on...this isn't funny, Carlos. Let me out of here!" I begged.

He shook his head, resting a hand on the glass in front of me, looking at me longingly. "I can't." His words were breathless.

"Why?"

"I made you a promise. And this is the only way for me to protect you...You would be safer here, nothing can hurt you." His thumb grazes something small in his palm. I looked up and saw a room that was surrounded by pieces of machinery and nitrogen tanks, placed accordingly in rows of four. Then, it hit me.

"Don't do this..." I cried. But, it was too late. His thumb clicked on the small device in his hand and soon, a strain of gas misted out from the tubings and masking the entirety of the glass cell, leaving me dazed and numbed as I crawl back to the shivering nothingness.

"I'm sorry...I promise I'll come back for you." His empty words circulated in my ears and through the air as he walked away, leaving me in the darkest den of Umbrella. Cold, afraid and alone; frozen in time without anybody knowing.

And there I was, still as a landscape; living on top on a snowy mountain at the beginning of Spring, as pale as Death herself. Bidding my farewell to him until next Winter comes; when a blanket of snow tops the upside of the greeneries and then, we shall meet again.

#i'm gonna take a break before writing again cuz you know...self care #i do like writing something different #maybe i should do that stage play...hm...#carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira x reader #re fanfiction #re fanfic #resident evil #resident evil 3 remake #re3 remake #⭐️.doc

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threadofdestiny · 4 years ago

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The opportunities we may take

Sinbad x Oc

Soulmate AU

Part 14

Two sides of a coin

---Kingdom of Sindria, Gardens---

Hours passed to days, days to a few weeks, since Salome and Malik had arrived in Sindria. It wouldn't be long until they reached a full month since Sinbad brought them from Dalmasca to his small kingdom, but it felt like an eternity had passed since then. It had taken a while, but over time the siblings had been able to adapt to the life in the palace and they found their own rhythm with which they began to shape their time. In addition to her training on her Djinn control, Salome had started to receive the people who sought her out for guidance as their Lady of the rukh. Many looked for advice or consolation and hoped to find it with their holy prophetess, who was always eager to help as much as she could. The king had opened his gates to those seekers, but also ordered his main adviser, Ja'far, to regulate clearly when they were allowed to see Salome. Despite the fact that Malik never stayed far away from her, Sinbad had gotten into the habit of having one of his generals and a few of his guards posted near her when she was in the presence of strangers. But above all Salome had also began to spend large parts of her free time with the eight generals and the King himself, when they were not busy.

Like many afternoons before, Sinbad and Salome took the opportunity to stroll through his well tended gardens, a place which the man had quickly learned, was one of the most preferred spots of his lovely companion. Within the short time-span of her stay, the prophetess and the king had also managed to find a relaxed rhythm with which they both felt comfortable in each others presence. Not that Sinbad changed much of his behavior, but it was the atmosphere that surrounded him that seemed to feel a little more open and honest towards her.

Salome was chuckling lightly, listening to the young king as he cheerfully described how he had escaped his adviser to be able to spend some time with the young woman, while she was picking some flowers to make a small, colorful bouquet. "Poor Ja'far! I bet he'll get wrinkles before you do, because you give him such a hard time, Sin!", commented the young lady with a tender smile on her lips as she turned to Sinbad, while she shook her head at his antics. The man, however, showed no remorse, while he crossed his arms behind the back of his head, as he sauntered next to her, grinning cheekily. "Believe me... he's used to it!", Sinbad replied in a good mood, while he stopped next to her when she turned away again, to reach for another plant, holding it thoughtfully to her small collection. "Hmm, I wonder how long it will take him to find you here in the gardens. "Salome mused aloud, before she turned back around to the king, leaving the small flower on it's stem.

Shrugging, Sinbad started to move again, but stopped immediately, when his gaze landed on something behind her. Before the girl could follow his look, however, he had began to lean down to his female companion, only to stretch his arm past her frame, to reach for something behind her. The king was so close to Salome that she felt his breath against the thin flesh of her ear, making the young woman began to blush furiously. In a shy manner, she bowed her head to let some of her windswept curls fall over her heated face. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose the moment she felt the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes, heating her smaller one. She could smell the scent of wine, sea salt and other various oriental spices lingering on his warm skin. Her senses were overrun by his presence, pushing her thoughts to wander to the few nights when they had shared the space of her bed, while drifting to sleep into each others arms. It seemed silly to get so nervous after falling asleep next to him a few times in the private of the dark, but now it was broad daylight and others would be able to see how close they really are. It felt so much more real to share an intimate moment in public. Not like their stolen moments in her chambers, that felt like treasured dreams which were to tender to share them with the rest of the world.

Only when Sinbad had straightened up again did Salome dare to let her stagnant breath escape from her lungs, before she carefully looked up at him again, just to realize that he had picked a lily from the higher flowerpots behind her. Grinning playfully, he twisted the flower between his fingers for a moment, while humming thoughtfully to himself and looking at her with appreciating eyes. "I guess I have to make the most of my time then!", the king said undeterred, before he carefully pushed the white flower behind Salome's ear. Her breath hitched again, but she didn't pull away, letting him secure his gift carefully and feeling how his fingers danced tenderly over her auricle for a brief moment, before he pulled his hand back. Salome looked up to the man with glistening eyes and opened her mouth without saying a word, while Sinbad let his gaze wander over his work before he nodded in a satisfied manner. "Perfect!", he said softly with a gentle smile on his lips.

Bashfully, the young lady lowered her eyes as she swallowed nervously. "M-Maybe you should be careful which flower you give to a person. Every flower has a meaning... So it could happen that some gestures could be misinterpreted, you know?", she explained carefully, as her fingertips danced over the soft petals of her new hair-accessory. "Well, then enlighten me. What is the meaning of this one?", the king asked in a curious manner, tilting his head inquiringly. Hesitating, Salome bit her lower lip, before she began to answer his question softly: "In the language of flowers, the white lily stands for purity, love, affection but also for a new beginning. I heard once that in some cultures lovers used to give these, when they were reunited! So... eh." Not knowing how to end her babbling without further embarrassing herself, the young lady paused briefly. Sinbad, however, chuckled lightly, reaching for her chin to lift it up and forcing her gently to look at him again. "Then it seems that I have chosen the perfect flower to give you!", answered the king in a velvet tone, before breaking into an amused laughter, when he saw her flustered expression. "After all, you are far too innocent and pure for this world!"

"Don't make fun of things like that, Sin!", Salome said in annoyance, before she paused, tilting her head to one side in a distracted manner. Concentrated, the prophetess began to listen to the rukh's whispers, not noticing how the expression in Sinbad's golden eyes softened tenderly, while he let his gaze slide over her features. When Salome turned back to the king, the purple haired man blinked shortly, before he curiously bent his head, asking in a nonverbal way what she had heard.

Excited beyond measure, the young prophetess grabbed Sinbad's arm, when she announced what the rukh had whispered to her: "He is finally here!"

Sinbad watched with interest how Salome nervously shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She stood a few steps away from him, playing excitedly with the amulet that hung around her neck, while she waited for the gates to open. The two of them resided in his throne room, keeping their silence in anticipation. The hall was quite deserted, with the exception of a part of the king's inner circle and a few guards that were posted at several doors.

Ja'far, who was sitting on the left side of his king, sighed softly, while still in a bad mood, after he had been ditched a few hours ago. Grumbling, he turned to the next page of his stack of papers which he had pinned to his clipboard, before scribbling something on the top of the document. He hadn't gotten around completely of being angry about Sinbad's neglect of his duties. Not even after the white-haired man had learned that they were expecting a relatively spontaneous guest within the same day. But in the end, this was the reason why they now lingered in the hall, waiting for their guest's arrival.

Sinbad had sent Spartos and Malik to go to the harbor, while he had convinced Salome to wait with him in the palace so as not to cause any more attention to her than necessary. Even in his own kingdom, the king did not want her to unnecessarily wander around relatively unguarded through the streets as long as the crowd around her was so fixated on the news of her presence. He felt more comfortable when she moved under his careful gaze for the meanwhile, even when he knew that Malik and Spartos would have been strong enough to protect her if necessary. But Sinbad kept that motive to himself for the time being, after all he was the one who announced her presence beforehand, so it seemed controversial to want keep her in the castle now.

While they waited for their guest to arrive, the king accordingly had enough time to study the behavior of his prophetess, as well as to wonder what he meant to her if she was already reacting so excited, before he actually had arrived.

Sinbad frowned surprisingly annoyed and crossed his arms over his chest, when Salome descended a few steps further away from him, as the tall doors began to open. Malik and Spartos, together with an unfamiliar man, led a small delegation of men and women in temple clothing inside the great hall. The style of their attire was not quite as expansive as Sinbad had seen on the recording several weeks ago, but it was unmistakably a cut that had been based on the Dalmascian robes, which were adapted for travelers.

"Well then!", Ja'far muttered next to Sinbad, before he dutifully stood to pay his respects to the guests. The rest of the generals rose slowly, as well, while Sinbad remained seated, studying the scene that played out before his eyes.

The unknown man, who led the group together with Spartos and Malik, supported himself on his ornate wooden staff, while he walked through the great hall, dragging his right leg hardly noticeable. He had a dark, neatly short shaved beard and chin-length hair that surrounded his quite handsome face in light waves. Despite his young looking features, Sinbad could tell from the gaze in his steal colored eyes, that this man must have already seen a lot in his life. His clothes consisted of a fine, high-necked white tunic that was worn down a little from his travels and a red wrap that hung from one shoulder down to his ankles and was held closed at the hips with a sand-colored cloth. As with all priests of the former Dalmasca, the amulet of the holy king hung also clearly visible around his neck, proudly resting on his chest to indicate his status.

After the king had briefly examined the newcomer and his followers, Sinbad's gaze flew to Salome, who stared at the arriving group with trembling shoulders. It didn't take long, however, until she had released her from her stupor and started to descend hurriedly the remaining steps, only to run towards her old friend in openly showed euphoria. "Isaac!" Salome shouted with exultation, before throwing herself into the leader's arms and hugging him tightly. Isaac had stopped when he saw his prophetess come running towards him to consolidate his footing before the impending collision. A small smile crept onto the man's serious expression as he pressed his free hand gently against the back of her head. "Salome!" He replied softly, closing his eyes gladly. "I'm so happy to see you!" Said the young woman happily as she pulled away from her old friend to look into his light-blue eyes. Nodding, Isaac slid his hand from the back of Salome's head to her cheek, stroking her soft skin with his ringed fingers. "Me too! You look just like the way I remember you! Blesses to the holy king to see you unharmed", he stated softly, but not surprised, after examining her carefully.

At that moment, Sinbad cleared his throat to get their attention with raised eyebrows. Salome immediately turned to look at the king in alarm, before remembering her etiquette and taking a few steps towards the reader of the waves. "King Sinbad, if I may introduce: This is one of my oldest friends, Isaac. As I have told you before, he's one of the former arch-priests of the Temple of Dalmasca.", Salome announced beaming while she curtsied at the purple-haired man, to show her good manners in public, while said man leaned back in his throne and smiled down at his lovely protege. Immediately after getting introduced, Isaac and the rest of his people got on their knees, but not without Sinbad to miss the fact how said priest briefly gave the young woman an attentive look.

"Welcome to my kingdom!", greeted Sinbad his new guests without a pause, as he put his elbows on his armrests to clasp his hands in a business-like pose in front of his chest. "We thank you for receiving us with open arms, Your Majesty!", Isaac replied solemnly, while he bowed his head a little lower in respect, before the priest slowly looked up again. Sinbad, who himself was a man who analyzed the people around him extensively, recognized the look with which Salome's childhood friend was appraising him. It was like he was trying to assess the king and compare it with what he had probably already learned from the ruler of the seven seas.

"I guess you've traveled all the way here because of Salome?" Sinbad stated in a serious tone. Isaac nodded curtly and gave the young woman a small smile as Spartos walked past them and took his position in the ranks of his king before all the generals took their places in their seats. "Yes, after I received the news from Malik that Salome was saved by you, I made the necessary preparations to go to Sindria, your Majesty.", The priest confirmed after slowly getting up again. "If you would allow me and a handful of my people, we would like to linger so that we can teach Salome as we did in the past and be of direct service to her. This and ensuring her protection were my, no our duties as priests even before Dalmasca's fall. But of course there is nowhere safer than in your care, King Sinbad, which is why the latter task has become rather secondary! But that's not the only reason we're here...", began Isaac to explain quite directly, while he put his fingertips on the golden amulet that was resting against his chest. Sinbad estimated the older man for a moment while he thought about what Salome's old childhood friend had said before the king let his gaze wander over the retinue of the former arch-priest.

"What's the other reason?" Sinbad asked calmly, without responding to Isaac's request for the time being. The arch-priest also scanned the crowd as he weighed down how detailed he should be. "You can speak freely. I place my complete confidence in each and every one of my people,", commented the King with a serious expression on his face, after he had read the dark haired man's thoughtful expression. Nodding in satisfaction, Isaac ran his hand through his hair before answering:"Just before the fall of Dalmasca, it emerged that the masters of the black rukh themselves had infiltrated our island. This, however, should have been impossible. So it can be concluded that we ourselves had traitors in our ranks. However, the person behind it had unfortunately escaped undetected. The losses within our ranks were to great to find the culprits, but of course I can guarantee, that those who followed me are free of such crimes. After... the sealing of the temple, the surviving priests set out to find out more about the black rukh and their masters background. Are you familiar with the organization 'Al Thamen'?" Sinbad nodded with a clenched jaw, while tension spread among the generals. With a grim face the king thought about the fall of his first kingdom and how said organization had played a great role in that tragedy. "Yes, I know who they are. We clashed with them a few times. It is them who are responsible for an incredible amount of injustice in this world and are therefore a thorn in our side.", answered the king with a grave tone.

A meaningful silence spread in the hall for a few moments, until Isaac began to smile with satisfaction after he heard the kings statement. "I'm happy to hear that you are working against Al Thamen. With that fact confirmed, I am able to reveal my last reason why I have traveled to Sindria.", the priest explained, while he pulled a scroll out of is his red robes. With his head bowed respectfully, Isaac held out the sealed document to Sinbad, which Ja'far accepted after the king had nodded at his consultant. Some rukh circled around the object, murmuring soft words that only Salome could hear. Listening quietly, she dropped her eyes falteringly, but otherwise continued to be silent while the men talked to each other. Sinbad inspected the item, as Isaac began to speak again: "This is a translated transcript of a part of King Solomon's writings, concerning the Reader of the waves and the Listener of the rukh. Should these two find each other, it is an arch-priests duty to hand the document to the Reader of the waves. In this scroll it is explained why King Solomon sent the prophetess into this world and which duty's she have to fulfill!"

Taking a deep breath, Salome looked up from the floor with her pupils dilated with shock, while Sinbad carefully opened the seal, after sending her a thoughtful gaze, before carefully rolling up the translation. With deliberate steps, the young woman began to climb up to the purple haired man who was sitting in his throne, while he eagerly began to read the contents of the document.

"Sin?", Salome whispered to him uncertainly when she saw the king suddenly look up at her in silence with an illegible expression. Salome nervously closed her hands in front of her chest while she waited for a reaction from the king, but it wasn't he who broke the tense silence.

"King Solomon's rukh are watching over the natural course of fate, while the black rukh, however, cause hatred and corruption, and transform this natural course of history in unnatural and tragic ways to create a fate full of cruelty to be able to form even more dark rukh, which were born within fallen individuals. In order to counteract this, the reader of the waves should use the wisdom of the Lady of the rukh. to be able to intervene if necessary.", Isaac explained in a solemn voice, while hammering the lower tip of his staff against the marble floor. The dull sound echoed through the hall like a clap of thunder.

"The knowledge about the true way of the natural flow and how it must not to be touched if not necessary was gifted to the prophetess...As well as the will and the power to change what is to be changed, which is inherent in your Majesty... in combination it will be the greatest asset against the black rukh." Isaac finished his explanation gravely. A meaningful silence spread in the hall, while all eyes rested on Sinbad and Salome, who at that moment only had eyes for one another. It was Malik who took a step forward and broke the quiet moment: "The possibilities that the two of you can seize together can completely reshape the structure of this world."

#sinbad magi #Sinbad #Adventures of Sinbad #Magi #magi labyrinth of magic #sinbadxoc

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all-of-your-mercy · 5 years ago

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Seiko D. Valentis timeline / life logs (under read more; from birth to present)

1998, December 24th (02:57); Born in Kawagoe streets, Japan Seiko Damien Valentis ( First name gifted by mother, second by father, surname originating from the mothers family) 1-6 months - No parent was active to their new parenthood, child cared by grandfather of the Valentis family side 6 months - Lack of responsiveness of either given name (Seiko as first, Damien as secondary named - It was assumed that the biological father rubbed off his silent attitude towards the child; no further questioning to the behavior due to that theory Comment: Doctors have told the parents that addressing the child with two different names may have confused the child and lead him to dismissing either names altogether 7 months - Sudden inability to crawl, no found body injuries of any kind - No interest in bonding with sibling(s) 1 year (12-14 months) Updated: 12-17 months - Show of anger, tantrums are common more than usual (spurred by inability to wear the same piece of clothing at longer periods time than usual, spurred by inability to remain in the house as desired) - Inability to stand for long, no sort of injuries of any kind found after second x-rays done 2 years (+24 months ) - No engagement with the kindergarten group; Focused on capturing (+ attempts on eating) wild hares that roamed nearby the kindergarten territory - Often wet the bed, possible fear of requesting assistance (later brushed off, as of no possibility of sexual abuse found in child as It was theorized) - Mother showed frustration and anger, sent to childcare classes as a result 4-5 years - Improved communication, able to structure better sentences - Scratch marks in ears, later found ticks residing and eradicated after - Scratching in ears continued for few months more until the habit died down 6-6.5 years - Unusual outbursts of anger, able to argue with mother often, fixation on the father and his mannerisms (child was intrigued by fathers cold demeanor and fixation on technology and bugs) - High pickiness for food (although many alternatives have been found and the child has been pleased with them) 7-10 years - Moments of self-isolation, remained in house until forced to be outside, befriended few children with similar interests: > Interest in collecting bugs (what may have originated from fathers interest / until mother banned the hobby) > Video games on the PS2 device or game cube > Collecting wild flowers > Capturing wild hares - Constant need to bicker, fight with the mother; - Avoiding the father, hardly recognized the male parent due to absence of work until recognizing him based on the familiar scent - Rapid increase and decrease of friends; 10 years - Mothers rage worsened due to attitude of child, child reprimanded physically, later as conflict faded he was brought to the porch of Jayden Erblindets home; child left there with guardianship papers in hand until the man was present 11 years Updated: 11-13 years - Depleted appetite, persistent pickiness ( Ate only sushi bowls, rice balls, handmade nigiri, and as beverage source he only consumed Dr. Pepper cola or the purified water garnered from the guardians mothers’ home ) - Improved social life, invested in lives of other pre-teens / other youths; Quite talkative, rarely shutting themselves down from a conversation ( What wasn’t common before ) - Noise sensitive over certain noises ( Laughter heard in German comedy shows, scrapping of plates ) - High attachment to the guardians partner at the time; theorized that the attachment spurred from the child's’ desire of a mother-figure - Guardian found frustrated in later time due to attitude of the child and their mannerisms, temporarily the child was put into care of the guardians parents (child's “grandparents”) for a few weeks - The main guardian proceeded to care for the child after few weeks; Now child more attentive to the guardian, due having a shared interest for horror games/films, and video games in general - Child began calling the guardian as his father; guardian hesitated to accept it for a while but later gave in and allowed it 14 years and later (symptoms best noted at 15-16 years of age): - Child endured a traumatic event, investigation began while the child was put under special care with an assigned therapist - Guardian under suspicion due to child's reaction towards his presence, interrogated on a daily basis in the span of two weeks per request of the law enforcement - Sister of the guardian dismissed the suspicion, evidence was brought and the guardian (Jayden Erblindet) was released, apologized to for the time taken and suspicion to begin with - Few detectives still carried suspicion for the guardian - Sister of guardian suspected for forging evidence; temporarily terminated from the field; documents of her office have been searched and the entirety of her house was examined - The child provided information to the therapist in later time that deemed the guardian and his sister innocent; a sketch was done by description from the child - Abuser found and arrested; law enforcement noticed that the abusers appearance features are similar to the guardian, hence the prior fear of the child [ In between of these events bellow and up, the child had an aggressive outburst and has bitten the guardians left wrist to severity; guardian lost sense in left arm for two months although did not deny guardianship of the child from such event and simply have undergone body-therapy to recover the function of his arm ] - Guardian modified his appearance by the request of the therapist - Child diagnosed with complex post traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD); showed many symptoms of such disorder: > Hyper-arousal, meaning he was on continuous high alert / worry > Difficulty trusting the guardian ever since the event, only being able to trust the mother of the guardian (the grandmother by definition) > Constant feeling of shame, relied on oversized clothing to hide his frame; > Required endless reassurance that he was a good person ( for he worried that people will react in anger as his biological mother / or presumably blame him for what happened ) > Body armoring (tension in the body, stiffness) > Constant need to isolate themselves in their personal room as a form of self-punishment; > Self-punishment form through starvation (although guardian countered the issue by sneaking in food / snacks when unnoticed by the teenager) > Picking the tail until the tip of it bleeds (deemed as self-harm by canine demons) > Alcoholic substance abuse ( Alcohol substance abuse was active at ages 16-17 years, later the teenager stopped once the guardian displayed disappointment and worry towards such decision; teenager worried of his image and stopped) > Outbursts of anger, although this was recognized prior in the teenagers life but has been noted in these years as well; > Hypersexuality (increased libido due to seasonal heats, trauma, strong desire for sexual exploration and due to puberty) 16.5 years - Suspicion of autism (or being under the spectrum) due to specific traits that could signal the possibility, although suspicion never went any further to screening due to the fact that the C-PTSD diagnosis interfering and having slightly similar symptoms 17 years - Constantly avoiding necessary medication - Began learning to cook more often by the help oft he guardian; pickiness of food choices countered as well - Difficulty in consuming more food; finding self hardly appealing if not under a lower weight than the norm to his body type ( This occurred during his discovery of bisexuality, finding intimidating men that showed remote interest toward men that carried feminine / frail figures; which lead to this result of keeping a low weight ) - Active on the internet more often; befriended a few people with similar interests 19 years - Began attending therapists sessions more often by reccomendation; - Began taking medication properly (rare slip ups) due to positive influence of guardian (now known as the adoptive father), friends and rest of the family - Active on social media further as therapist recommended gaming streaming as a form of expressing himself and displaying his annoyance through horror games as people watched him; allowing him to adjust to the idea of people looking at him - Rare but notable outbursts of anger, guardian is capable of handling those moments when present to care for them; has personal methods that are effective - Very slow, but noted improvements in eating choices and the amount of food that is being consumed 20 years - Reconnected with biological father in real life; was informed by same father by the potential chances of being autistic / being under the autistic spectrum - Increased interest in cooking, became the cook within the Erblindet family; motivated to eat well due to positive influence of romantic partner (y/n) who inspired him to garner a healthy weight; - Restarted an old hobby - began wild hare hunting again; although doing his best to resist the temptation on eating a live animal at times - Assisted grandmother with gardening, slowly building interest in growing vegetables after memorizing how to care for tomatoes and managing to grow ones by himself - Libido decreased for a few months as a sign of improved mental health; - Relapses in occasion: > Hyper-sexuality mixed up altogether with his natural instincts to breed > Bursts of aggression ( Although now the reason behind it can warry -- chances of the rage being inherited by his biological mother who relied on anger as a form of expressing themselves, one of the symptoms of autism or aggression coming from his canine nature to be hostile when threatened / angered to the slightest ) > Dissociating ( Seiko is capable of remaining still or finding a safe space to reside in for the time being as this event occurs until It dies down with time ); 21 years - Current time, no major events happening

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virtualteambuilding-blog · 4 years ago

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Team Building Activities

click to read more Virtual team building

Group Building Activities are animating critical thinking assignments intended to help bunch individuals build up their ability to work viably together. Many group building and activity errands resemble kids games, others are novel, complex assignments and intended for explicit requirements. Increasingly intricate activity errands can include ropes courses, evening exercises, and activities enduring more than a few days.

A few workplaces require to some degree bit of collaboration with the goal for things to run easily and with inspiration to each in everybody. Group building exercises are typically used to make a connection between associates or co worker. Then again, different workplaces need cooperation yet the representatives work independently. Representatives maintaining sources of income like these truly need group building exercises to assist them with remaining related with different specialists.

Group building exercises are frequently utilized in gatherings, introductions, workshops, preparing courses, instruction programs, corporate preparing, with school, high, center, rudimentary and pre school gatherings, sport groups, educator preparing, youth work, and restorative settings. Group building activities can be adjusted for all intents and purposes any setting, youthful or old, enormous or little, and across societies. A significant piece of group building practices is members' appearance and conversation about the action, how they moved toward the circumstance, and potential purposes of learning. For instance, a gathering could be videoed during a movement and the video viewed, broke down, and talked about, to help extricate likely gaining from group building works out.

As the top of the business division of an enormous organization, I'm the one answerable to all, particularly for the presentation of every one of my workers. At the point when deals are moderate moving, I attempt to utilize various impetuses to spur everybody. I used to offer them rewards and prizes for top entertainers to function admirably so as to come up enhancement for efficiency for a brief timeframe. In any case, this sort of thought came about to serious climate around the workplace, which isn't what I wanted for them to do. I need to use a group building exercises so as to work in the workplace, with the goal that my business power cooperate to come up enhancement for efficiency, not to function as person.click to read more Virtual team building

The primary thought that I was reached the human asset division to tell them of my needs to execute group building exercises among my business power. The head over yonder revealed to me that they don't have anybody workers there that had that sort of involvement with training them group building exercises, so she recommended that I utilized outside or different experts for that sort of occupation. I began to contact the names of a couple of nearby firms to get some answers concerning their administrations. I was very overpowered by the determination of group building exercises these counseling firms proposed for my business power.

Representative inspiration profits by group building games, works out, exercises, puzzles and tests. I attempt to utilize free group building games and activities thoughts to heat up gatherings, preparing, and meetings. These free group building games are additionally incredible ice breakers for instructional courses, gatherings, workshops, classes or meetings. Group building games and exercises are valuable likewise in genuine business venture gatherings, where games and exercises help agents to see things contrastingly and utilize distinctive reasoning styles. To guarantee these group building exercises agree to correspondence and separation strategy and law in regard of sexual orientation, race, inability, age, and so on. Albeit a portion of the group building exercises appeared to be excessively extraordinary for our specific needs, many seemed like they would be ideal for us. The best part is that he could show us these group building exercises through the span of a two-day workshop held right in our workplaces. This sounded entirely great, however tragically, I couldn't get endorsement from my supervisor for the spending consumption.

I didn't abandon this; still I began looking for reasonable or free group building exercises online that contained phenomenal group building exercises. I chose to attempt several these first that I discovered online with a proof that this group building exercises function admirably. What's more, I have a superior opportunity to my supervisor of getting endorsement for this sort of preparing in the up and coming.

At long last, I've modified the first round of group building exercises for one week from now. I'm paying attention to in the process very and am investing a great deal of energy in planning on this so I can be fit as a facilitator. I'm exceptionally idealistic about the impacts of these group building exercises will have on my business power. In the event that you help individuals with their life-parity and individual satisfaction they become all the more sincerely develop, lenient, positive autonomous, independent, and so forth. At the point when the individual is alright, so is everything else, including their connections and correspondences at work. Creating individuals includes more than conduct, connections, abilities, information and procedures. It's regularly progressively about helping individuals rest easy thinking about themselves; helping the individual to feel upbeat and satisfied. A decent pioneer can encourage this. Group building doesn't need to include games and activities - group building may be better accomplished by orchestrating different things which have all the earmarks of being detached to work.

Employments like this incorporate assistance arranged callings in places like cafés and specialists' workplaces. The focal point of some group building exercises includes taking the client's viewpoint. Any individual who has visited an eatery and gotten amazing help just to return and not get a similar treatment is bound to leave displeased than somebody who had standard assistance regardless.

Here's my experience when I was working in one of the foundation as a server and I tried to set aside additional effort to oblige clients uncommon solicitations. While this functioned admirably for me autonomously it truly neutralized my associates and there are times that you basically can't suit each ask for. There's an occurrence happened that, one of my standard client experienced an alternate servers they were disturbed when exceptional facilities were not made. The supervisor took care of this circumstance by presenting new group building exercises that included agreeing with the client's position. I figured this obliging methodology would prevail upon the "treat everybody similarly" approach.

I've discovered that through group building exercises I realize how to keep up a steady front for the client is obviously better than making extraordinary facilities that can not generally be experienced. Essentially, the group building exercises fixated on irregularities. Individuals like consistency. Amazements, particularly with regards to suppers, are not generally welcomed. One of the group building exercises worried in a trial. It was a cooking gem. After we done the test, the gourmet expert drew out a similar dish. It had sharp undercurrents that sometimes fell short for the flavor of the food.

The subsequent cooking masterpiece doesn't coordinate the procedure of a decent testing, and the culinary specialist rehashed it. He sent the second and a similar dish and it tasted precisely like the first. I realize that this below average dish wasn't close to as great as the underlying sweet dish yet we enhanced the second since we comprehended what's in store.

The opposite side of group building exercises can likewise help medicinal services laborers keep up steady data to patients. I get baffled when one medical caretaker advised me to quit breastfeeding following a year while a second attendant in a similar pediatrician's office proposed that I proceed. The clashing data imparted to me that this staff truly required group building exercises.

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garregmachmatchups · 5 years ago

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na hi, may i request a normal matchup? i’m bi so i don’t have a gender preference! also i’m an infp if that helps at all. my organizational skills aren’t the best but i’ll try to make this as understandable as possible:

to start off, i’m pretty scatterbrained! my attention span isn’t the best, and neither is my short term memory. i tend to get lost in my thoughts a lot, and when i snap out of it, it takes me a few moments to figure out just what i was supposed to be doing. it is a lot easier for me to pay attention to things that i find interesting, such as a really good story or a fun game! there is one caveat though, in that i tend to fixate on that thing for hours on end, to the point that i forget to eat or sleep.

i’m also overthinking and impulsive! i put these traits together since they kinda blend together. my overthinking makes me second guess myself, and i get restless and frustrated when i dwell on things for too long, so i kinda just… say fuck it and go with my instinct so i won’t have to deal with that uncertainty anymore.

that being said, i’m also quiet and polite, so i don’t really come across as, well, a dumbass to most people (at least, i assume so). i get good grades, i took a bunch of honors classes, and i’m pretty good at math, so i guess i seem smart and studious (…despite the fact that i barely study). apparently, i don’t seem like the type of person to cuss either, since a lot of people i know are surprised when they hear me start swearing like a sailor.

i’m also shy and awkward. i’m slow at finding the right words and figuring out what i want to say, so verbal conversations are difficult, especially with people who aren’t used to me and vice versa. due to my… scattery brain, i guess, i often need others to repeat themselves too, which makes things worse. i do try to be a little more outgoing, but it’s mostly small things like making casual small talk with classmates and making little jokes to keep things light. and this is just partially related, but i’ve… been told several times that i sound like a scared child. i don’t know how to feel about it.

lastly, i try my best to be helpful! i try to support and encourage my friends, and overall just be a positive presence. i like making other people happy. i’ve been really dependent on others in the past (and kinda still am), and i’m trying to make up for it, in a way. as such, i really admire to kind, strong (in more ways than one!) people as well. however, i’ve developed a bad habit of keeping my negative feelings to myself. i still do vent when i think that i really need someone to hear me out, but that’s only when i feel like i’ve hit rock bottom. i can’t help but feel embarrassed about depending on others. i’m… still really weak to praise and affection, though.

as for interests and hobbies, i love reading scary stories, though i like all forms of horror! i just find shorter stories much easier to get through. i’m also really into crafts like knitting and cross-stitching, since the motions are relaxing and making things by hand just feels nice - especially if they’re gifts! i dabble in other creative pursuits as well, like writing and drawing, and i’ve always wanted to get into gardening though i’ve never had the space for it.

i’m a huge dog person too - i have three dogs who i love very much and i have made it my mission to pet every dog i see (as long as i’m allowed to, that is). annnd i really like the thought of going on late-night walks, though i’ve never really gotten a chance to due to possible safety issues.

sorry for the length, i just wanted to try to cover as much as i could! i understand that matchups take a lot of work, so thank you so much and i hope you have a great day!

Hi!!! Happy New Year everyone!!! First matchup of the year oh yeah. And thank you for writing all of this down and don’t worry it seems very organized to me! Btw, for some reason, i’ve been having a lot of trouble concentrating on writing recently, so I hope your matchup isn’t too bad fam. Anyways, your match is…

Ferdinand von Aegir!!!

At first glance, you two may not seem so compatible, but the more I think about it, the more I think you guys would go really well together. Ferdinand is a thoughtful and attentive guy, on top of it all he is also very responsible, so he’d be able to aid you in your tendency to be scatterbrained. I’m sure he could look after you in this aspect if you asked him for help but he’d simultaneously try to help you best this as well. For your tendency to overthink, he’s definitely someone who would encourage you to believe in yourself and in the decisions you make. As a preacher of discussion and debates, Ferdinand who although is very competitive, also strongly believes in growth and development, therefore in his eyes, it’s okay to be wrong, as when you know you are wrong you can improve. This may prove to be something difficult for you to embrace at first, but even then the fact that Ferdinand would express that sentiment to you would let you know that he would not judge you for the mistakes you make. Ferdinand is very well mannered and defined, as he strives to be the ideal of nobility. Your politeness and the educated mien you seem to convey to others would definitely make an impression on Ferdinand. As he would later come to know, you are also quite intelligent, which would only prove his initial thoughts about you. He might be a bit taken aback when you start cussing, and might not personally like it, but it wouldn’t really take away from your other qualities. Ferdinand is also quite the social butterfly, and a skilled conversationalist, so first of all, he’d have no trouble making conversation with you, even if you might sound a bit like a scared child sometimes. Secondly, even better, i’m sure he’d be glad to give you tips and tricks on how to start a conversation with people. Lastly, INFP personalities I think really fit into Ferdinand’s concept of a noble, someone who dedicates themselves or feels the need to help others, in addition to being someone who is always willing to improve. In your case, this is best exemplified by your want to be helpful and make people happy. Even if you may not be completely independent right now, Ferdinand would nonetheless come to recognize and deeply respect your efforts. Most importantly, because of your open-mindedness and acceptance, Ferdinand could find you to be a very valuable conversation partner, even if you may feel like you have a lot of shortcomings in that area. For how kind and amiable Ferdinand may be, he can be a bit unmindful and clumsy with problems or concerns he doesn’t quite understand or grasp, despite not trying to be so. Therefore your more open and empathetic outlook on things could help him understand and connect with others better and ultimately help him grow as a person as he wishes to do.

Headcannons:

When Ferdinand first laid eyes on you, he was immediately drawn to you.

You were very polite but also quiet. In his eyes, you just seemed regal in a sense.

That’s why when he started talking to you, he was very confused as to why you were so shy and awkward while talking. He saw how much you tried though, and at that he couldn’t help but smile.

He notices, however, how helpful and kind you are to others, and how much effort you put into making others happy.

Afterwards he makes it his mission to help you in any way he can, determined to make people see you as he does, including yourself, truly the noblest of nobles.

You try to explain to him that you really don’t want to depend on others. At that he lets you know you aren’t depending on him, as you yourself are making the progress, and he is only lending a hand. He also tells you that despite you not knowing so, you’ve helped him grow as a person quite a bit as well, so the only thing he can do is return the favor.

We all know Ferdinand loves his tea time, but he especially loves it with you. He also loves hearing your heartening and positive outlook on things. It makes him see things through rose-colored glasses at times.

Tea time also comes to be of great help to you, as it’s literally an activity where the point is to make conversation.

He’s very patient every time you speak, and he listens to you with an amount of attention you aren’t sure you would ever be capable of, or anyone for that fact.

Speaking of which, the first time Ferdinand heard you curse he just sat there with his eyes almost popping out of his sockets, incredibly shocked to the point you thought he might’ve had a heart attack. That is until he started bursting out laughing at your sudden outburst.

Have I mentioned Ferdinand is super romantic? He’s known to smother people with praise to the point where they just would just rather disappear.

Of course, his praise giving and affection is only going to increase by tenfold with you. He literally almost praises you just for smiling. You swear to god you’ll faint one day from it all.

He always makes a cup of tea for you while you are knitting or cross-stitching. He’ll sometimes ask you to make something for him, maybe some gloves or a scarf. He either uses them a lot because he just loves them too much or almost never uses them because they are just too precious to him. Just one or the other.

He’d totally get you a small garden where you can plant whatever you want. If you ever planted started planting something to make tea out of he’d totally cry.

You two would sure make the noblest couple ever.

Other matches: Hilda Valentine Goneril, Ingrid Brandl Galatea

Hope you enjoyed the matchup! If you feel like you weren’t portrayed correctly/I misinterpreted your information let me know and I’ll make the corrections!

#fire emblem three houses #fire emblem matchup #three houses #black eagles #6 #submission #regularmatchup #matchup #request

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rkmiya · 5 years ago

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191019 ; AND*ROMA

A staff member leads you down NOVA’S winding hallways to Hyun Bin’s office, then opens the door and leads you inside, where the CEO awaits, sitting at his desk with his hands folded on top of it. His fingers are drumming against each other as he watches you enter. It seems as if he has been waiting for you already. Seated across from his desk, next to an empty chair, is a company lawyer whom you recognize from before; she’d been present when you signed your initial company contract. The staff member directs you to take the empty chair next to the lawyer and then leaves. You hear the door close and the latch click back into place as your CEO continues to look at you. After a moment of silence, he clears his throat and decides to speak up.

“Whenever I offer a position in this company, I am confident that this person is deserving of a spot in NOVA Entertainment and will be able to accomplish something great with our help and resources. I have high hopes for each and every one of my trainees to not give up somewhere along the path and make it until here: debut.”

“And you didn’t disappoint me. During the Supernova Project, you got your chance to show me what you are made of and made good use of it. I was able to follow your ups and downs and to watch you grow from every experience throughout your training and this project. You showed me that you are deserving of this spot in AND*ROMA. You had to wait a bit longer for things to come together, but it’s finally here.” He trails off, and diverts his attention to his desk, where he pulls a manila folder from a pile on the edge of his desk and sets it down in front of you. “This here,” he says, opening the folder to reveal a single sheet of paper, “is a contract exclusive to AND*ROMA and will tie you to this group, and to NOVA Entertainment, for the next six years.”

“Hard work doesn’t stop after debut. It only begins.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he hands you a pen. “But if you are ready to do so and want to become a part of the top new girl group of Korea with my help, you know what to do.”

hyun bin and sunmi have done this dance several times. quite literally as this would be her third time signing a contract in front of him and her….fifth? time strolling through his office concerning contracts in general. the last time they met on the basis of a contract he refused to bend to her conditions to a year contract should he not deliver with any group formations within a year. sunmi is always hard headed. she knows this. but how could one not be after so long with a company?

a part of her expects him to be more smug. it’s behaviour she expects from the man by now. he usually is ready to throw something in her face. sunmi can’t expect him to have a show of good faith. he must have an alternative motive. he almost always does. though this time there isn’t tension or animosity between them. sunmi doesn’t come in, teeth bared and glaring eyes fixated on him. it’s probably because she’s finally getting what she waited years for. what she sacrificed her years of prime youth for.

she wonders if he feels any guilt or responsibility for robbing her of a normal life like this. he made them all wait several years longer than what was necessary and even then, they were amongst the last to put out a fourth generation kpop group (or were they the very last of the big five? that seems more likely). though she did sign contracts on the promise of something happening soon always soon but never now. she kept signing on the faith that soon truly meant soon and not over two years again. sunmi would have been truly frustrated going on her sixth year training with nothing to show it since leaving sphere.

when he speaks, sunmi’s eyes narrow at the detection of bullshit in his words. he’s lost plenty of trainees on the path to debut do to his own inactivity. one of them being her fiancee but of course she can’t let the venom slip. it’s not until he gets to his next point that sunmi knows for sure that he isn’t saying this from his personal feelings. this is a business contract and he doesn’t really give a shit about them. she knows that.

“and you didn’t disappoint me. during the supernova project, you got your chance to show me what you are made of and made good use of it.”

sunmi couldn’t help the scoff that escapes her lips then. that was a whole load of shit if she’s ever heard any before. sunmi knows damn well she’s disappointed him. she knows damn well she’s gotten on his nerves and he’s done things in retaliation for her insubordination. there’s no genial feelings between them. there probably never will be after five, nearly six years of this. years of sunmi having to fight for her trainees. sunmi having to say that she would leave if at least the boys didn’t get something out of this year. maybe hyun bin was calculated in that manner. he held it away from them until he had the opportunity to hand it over, making it seem like he did give in to what she asked for. but the reality was that going to his office with empty, weightless threats did nothing. sunmi isn’t sure which pisses her off more.

“you had to wait a bit longer for things to come together.” sunmi so desperately wants to correct him that people have graduated collegiate academies in the time span she’s been training under this god forsaken company but she knows that him handing this contract, him even choosing her to be in and*roma meant she was supposed to bend over backwards and kiss his ass, praise him for the chance, for the opportunity, for what he was allowing her.

sunmi refused to do any that.

she remains passive for the remainder of his speech. if there’s something she truly learned to do in her years of training it’s learn to keep a straight face when it was important to. she bites back any smart ass remarks that threaten to come up. she resists the urge to give him the glare she so desperately wants to. no, today she’s supposed to be grateful right? sucks. she would have been grateful five years ago. now she feels entitled. this was something she was owed. not something she earned (not really.)

sunmi doesn’t smile when he does. there’s no happiness, no reaction at all really. she waits for him to slide the contract over and she picks up her pen, signing her name on the space marked unceremoniously. she doesn’t even bother to spare a fake smile. once her signature was in order, showing the lawyer the proof of her signature before she rises. she bows her head stiffly in hyun bin’s direction.

“pleasure doing business with you.”

because at the end of the day, that’s all this was. business. she refuses to spare any feelings or emotions towards a man who was only thinking of his wallet this entire time to begin with.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

OOC NOTE: First of all, congratulations to arriving at the final step before debut! I know it’s been a long and crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve stuck through it. When you are ready, feel free to post this prompt with Sunmi's response to it.

Should Sunmi choose to SIGN the AND*ROMA contract, she will be employed by NOVA Entertainment without a need to renew a contract until the duration of this one has concluded. As a reward for making it this far, she will receive THREE WEEKENDS unpaid vacation time to use any time between now and the end of January, so long as it doesn’t clash with any special debut activities (such as music show appearances, meaning she can’t actually use her vacation time until after her music show performances have finished.)

Should she choose to REJECT this contract with NOVA and AND*ROMA, she will leave the company, effective immediately upon rejection. She will be able to keep all of her debut points, but will not be able to take any trainee workshops or earn any more debut points/workshop points until she becomes a trainee again. She will not have any special advantage over newer characters when she auditions for other companies in the future, and should she become a trainee at a new company she will be considered a junior trainee all over again, even though she will still have her debut points and would be eligible for debut right away. She WILL have the right to audition for NOVA again, but the fact that she gave up a contract renewal, especially a debut one, WILL be taken into account in final casting decisions.

She will have up to one week to make her decision IC, meaning that if he does not make a decision by October 26th, she will automatically be cut from the company. Exceptions can be made for those on hiatus.

#and✧roma⁑#(( are we even surprised with sunmi's reaction? no ))#(( queen of hating her fucking company ))#submission #solo #rknovaent #a✧r⁑solo

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ancientbooshartifacts · 5 years ago

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The Even Stranger Tale of the Crack Fox

Author: PlanetBanjo

Year: 2008

Rating: NC-17

Characters: The Crack Fox

Thud. Thud. Thud. The rubbish bags land heavily somewhere above, waking me. Vermin. I sigh heavily, switch on my cine-film projector and sip some cat’s blood. Artic foxes fuck and flicker across a make-shift screen. Soon I’ll make you wear a little dress and hurt you. Soon. ^~*~^ Elderberry Wood bored me rigid today. Dante drove me to distraction with his incessant ranting. Yesterday, he shot a man clean out of a tree just for ‘looking a bit ginger’. I warned him that we can’t have humans taking an interest in a badger, especially not one with racist leanings and a rifle. OK, so there was the horrendous incident with the shovels but no matter how much Dante attempts to justify his actions, I shall always decline to agree with him. And there’s dear Nicholas with his fixation with tennis. I admire his tenacity and dedication to the sport yet his unwavering determination that a rodent will play at Wimbledon is becoming a little repetitive and grating. Poor misguided Nicholas. His habit of continually pissing himself plays havoc with his tennis whites. All so dreadfully dreary. I can’t shake off the feeling that life elsewhere is so much more interesting. ^~*~^ My cousin, Jack Cooper, sent me a letter! Jack’s an urban fox. He often tells me stories about London Town and the people he meets there. I must say, those town fellows sound rather over-familiar types. He once told me about an experience he had whilst staying in a peculiar-sounding place where animals are held captive so that humans can come and look at them. Jack said there was a tall, shifty-eyed chap with a moustache who worked at this odd place and that the man had tried to touch his cock. When this chap said he just wanted to clean him up, Jack said ‘no’ and tried to bite him but then he was given something that sent him into a deep slumber. Jack says that he doesn’t recall what happened afterwards but he was sure it was very bad indeed. He said the moustached fellow often passed by his cage and gave him a sinister sideways glance that made his hackles rise. My cousin is now free of the animal prison and lives on the streets of Dalston. He says he’s happy there and that his diet is better than the one he endured in Hackney. He advised me that a diet of fried chicken, false nails and crack pipes leads to acute tummy shame. However, Jack’s letter only served to increase my feelings of general ennui. Life here is dull dull dull. ^~*~^ Today I took a ride on my penny farthing along Leafy Lane and decided to rest a while on a grassy knoll. As I cast a disinterested gaze around me, I caught sight of a discarded magazine lying in a nearby hedgerow. Its glossy coloured pages fluttered in the breeze, sending out waves of a curious smelling perfume. I leant across and reached into the bush, tugging it free. Upon wiping the dirt from the cover, I saw that the magazine was called CHEEKBONE and so I sat down beneath a willow tree to read it. It is not like the usual magazines that I find tossed into the bushes. There are many photographs of people inside its pages and they talk of restaurants and nightclubs and music. And they are all wearing very nice clothes. The magazine is very exciting. I have already read it several times, over and over and over and over. I think I would like to go to London Town, one day. ^~*~^ I am on a train to London! Dante and Nicholas were resolutely against me going away. They said: “Jerome, this is a big mistake. You’ll be back here in a fortnight with your sorry tail between your legs.” Dante hit me hard with the butt of his rifle, as if to change my mind but I insisted that I want to see more of the world and that I must take this opportunity to sample the lifestyle I have seen in CHEEKBONE magazine. I told my friends that if I spend one more afternoon punting along the river through Cambridge Town then I would eat my own ears in pure frustration. After all, if all the stories Jack has told me are true, the life of an urban fox will be far more stimulating than an existence spent entirely in Elderberry Wood! So, I have new clothes, which are just like the ones worn by the people in CHEEKBONE and I have applied a little of the perfume contained inside the paper flap on one of its pages. I assume all people in London smell this way? ^~*~^ Oh, this situation is quite intolerable! I have visited all the labour exchanges in this part of town and yet there are no vacancies! Do these humans not recognise a hard-working fox of good breeding and intelligence when they see one? If my cousin were not an urban fox, I would blame those grubby town creatures for giving my species a bad reputation with their nightly rattling and scattering of dustbins and their yapping and yelping in back gardens. Should I wrap myself in plastic carrier bags and wear rotting fruit on my head? Would they employ me then? Would that be more acceptable? And Jack was right - the edible pickings here are atrocious. A young fox cannot survive on a diet of saturated fat and sticky sauce sachets. I must have freshly-made cucumber sandwiches and drinking fresh spring water, not this abomination on the taste buds! Isn’t it enough that I have to battle with the rancid humans that live on the street for the best scraps? They scuttle around in their filthy blankets like common vermin, scurrying amongst the rubbish, which means I often miss out on obtaining the better take-away leftovers. These people are thoroughly unpleasant and they smell nothing like the paper flaps of my magazine. This really isn’t cricket. ^~*~^ Three weeks in London now and nothing. Trying to survive on wits and wile alone is proving arduous, even for a fox of my calibre. Winter is drawing in and the nights grow colder. There are no snug burrows to retreat to when the black frost creeps across the pavements. I spend my days wandering aimlessly, growing increasingly grubby and despondent and sleeping under railway arches until I am shoo-ed rudely away by the Street People. My clothes grow filthy and worn. I pawned my monocle to pay for a few nights in a hostelry. The people there gave me hot soup and blankets. They found my copy of CHEEKBONE and told me that the people in its pages were immoral. They said a young fox shouldn’t believe everything he sees in fashion magazines and then they showed me some pamphlets. The pamphlets were filled with brightly-coloured drawings of a man with a beard and a flowing gown. He had light coming out of his hands and people looked up to him and smiled. My copy of CHEEKBONE magazine, constantly in my pocket, is now tattered and torn. Where on earth do I find the people inside its pages? ^~*~^ Finally, my fortunes have changed! Whilst sifting through the meagre pickings at the rear entrance of ‘Dixie Fried Chicken’, my eye fell upon a scrap of local newspaper that carried the following advertisement. ‘WANTED – FURRY FRIENDS FOR SELECT NEW CLUB’. Well, I’m furry! And I’m seeking a select club! So I spruced myself up a little and went along to the address to see what it was all about. The gentleman running ‘The Tufty Club’, Mr. Soames, was very hospitable. He warmly welcomed me into his office and gave me some freshly-cooked chicken and clean water, which I devoured hungrily. There were pictures on the office walls just like the ones in CHEEKBONE! He was a little evasive when I pressed him on the matter of wages and hours but I expect this will all be worked out as we go along. Then he provided me with a small cash advance, gave me instructions about the kind of clothes I will be expected to wear and told me that I could start tomorrow. Apparently I am exactly what the club is looking for! I’m still not sure exactly what I’m going to be doing there but...I’ve got a job! ^~*~^ What a night! There were lots of flashing lights and lots of smiling people and loud, loud MUSIC! At first I was a little wary about what I had to do. Lots of men with moustaches and white vests stared at me. Was this the place Jack had told me about in his letter? One of the men approached me and he held out a little glass pot, telling me to sniff it. He said it would help me work better. Well, I pressed my snout cautiously to that little pot and - WWOOOOOOOO!!! I felt really fine and the world was full of colours and the man span me round and held me in his arms and I was dancing! I danced all night and into the morning in my little white vest! And there were lots of other men who also danced with me and Jack shouldn’t have been so scared of that man with a moustache because he didn’t want to hurt me! He helped me feel good with his sniffy-pots! All I have to do is dance on a little podium and shake my tail around and let the men stroke me! Ha ha! These are fun-fun times! ^~*~^ Mr Soames pays extra attention to me. He lets me sleep in a nice warm cupboard in his flat. He says that he has a special job he would like me to do, and that he will pay me twice my hourly wage if I do it. I am not sure what my hourly wage is – there has been a cash-flow problem, apparently, which has resulted in a slight delay in my payment – but he assures me it will be easy work and that the money will be very good indeed. He is a kind man. I am happy to perform any extra tasks he has, especially if it pays well. Who knows? One day I might have enough money to have my own flat, and then Jack and I shall have dinner parties for other sophisticated intellectuals. We shall be proper urban foxes about town! ^~*~^ This evening, Mr. Soames showed me the job he wanted me to do. He invited me into his office after my shift. He said it wouldn’t take long. He asked me to remove my trousers and then told me to stand on all fours on top of his desk and face the wall. I was a little cautious but he had told me the job would pay well, so I complied. As I faced forward, I heard him undo the belt on his trousers. He gently took hold of my tail and pressed his large warm belly against my haunches. I tensed a little as I felt the hot, wet tip of something long and hard rubbing against my fox-anus. I gave a startled yelp as he pushed the hot wet thing – which I rapidly released was his man-cock – right inside me, sliding it in deep with a groan. I struggled against him but he held me fast, stroking my fur, telling me to be quiet and not to worry. Then he pushed himself against me, back and forth, making lots of grunting sounds that reminded me of Nicholas playing tennis. I dug my claws into the desk surface and gazed up at the people in the photos around the office walls, concentrating on their smiles, trying to bear the pounding at my rear, telling myself this job would pay well. After a few minutes, Soames gave a gargled scream. He tugged his cock out of me, hurriedly refastening his trousers, tossed 100 euros on to the desk and left the room. I delicately stepped down from the desk, hitched up my garments and collected the money. What a very interesting experience this is turning out to be! ^~*~^ The stupid creature screeched as I grabbed and twisted its neck, its front paws scrabbling frantically in mid-air, claws protruding sharply. I gritted my fangs and smashed its head hard against a brick wall. The cat’s body went limp in my grasp, its eyes rolling shut. With my syringes, I slit its throat and watched its blood begin to trickle slowly from the wound. As I licked at the warm viscous liquid, I noticed the tag around its neck read ‘Puffin’. Puffin shouldn’t have taken what wasn’t his. ^~*~^ Last night after work, Mr Soames introduced me to another man who wanted me to do a special job for him, too. I told the man that I felt a little weary after a night’s podium dancing and that I needed to rest. He laughed and said he had something that would help me stay awake, adding that he would pay me 200 euros if I went to his flat right away. The man gave a wide smile from beneath his large moustache. He reassured me that all I would have to do was wear a little dress and dance for his friends. It sounded easy enough. ^~*~^ if I have an entire paw of needles then I can take more drugs and I can forget about the cold and the wet and the terrible hunger because I’ve eaten nothing but old bottles of shampoo and squeezed-up tubes of toothpaste and pieces of shit for the last four weeks I’m not proud of it but when you’re hungry and you’re on the streets and you’ve got nothing to eat but handfuls of human faeces and a fox has got to do what a fox has to do and the Street People talk of a drug that’s so powerful that a single drop can make you King of the World and everyone will do your bidding but I don’t know because they are bombed out of their tiny minds for most of the time and what a ridiculous idea a drug that can give you special power over everyone and everything and who the hell would want power over those shambolic filthy creatures who spend all day gulping their electric soup and having fights and is this really what mankind has become it would be so easy to get them to do anything I wanted them to do ^~*~^ I can’t...I can’t do this anymore. The men never stop. They give me their special powders and they pound at me for hours and... They never stop. So I’m running away. Back to the streets. I can’t go back to Elderberry Wood. Dante and Nicholas will laugh at me and constantly remind me they were right. ^~*~^ The green-toothed man in the filthy blanket had it coming. His neck...it broke...beneath my claws. It broke...so easily. As easy as a cat. Then I plunged my syringes and pushed them deep into the veins of his throat and I watched in fascination as he screamed and struggled beneath me. I felt the pulse in his neck gradually fade away. A misty vapour formed around his mouth as he gave his last breath. FIDDLE-DEE-DIE. I see now that Dante was right. Humans are vermin and must be destroyed. Why didn’t I ever listen to him? ^~*~^ Thud. Thud. Thud. I watch and I listen. And I see the small man put the large glass bottle into his special cupboard and he locks it away. Then he gives the key to the pretty man who looks like a lady. I will rule these pathetic creatures. I will command them. So I wait. My time will come. I watch and I wait.

#the mighty boosh #mighty boosh #boosh #the crack fox

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iseul2056-blog · 6 years ago

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hiii everyone! i’m finally here. this is rosé bringing in my son, byun iseul, who’s also the biggest sponsor to damsu. tl;dr he’s a robin hood-esque slash masked vigilante that happened to have a superstitious father that foresaw a kind of incoming apocalypse, thus training him for survival. if you’d like to plot with him, i’m easily reachable via discord ( rosé.#6236 ) more than tumblr im, although i don’t mind the latter either. just like this plot and i’ll come running to you! without further ado, i’m going to dump information about iseul under the read more!

INTRODUCTION.

birthed in one of the richest families in south korea 5031, his father and mother used to be that quixotic couple with his father leading in a multitude of industries as both a stakeholder and in some, owner. both parents came from long lines of inherited money, legacies that only expanded in his father’s hands.

his father was rather unorthodox, predicting that the world would collapse soon with theories to back him up. survival of the fittest, so he trained iseul in terms of physical and material and mental advances. he was homeschooled until the end of primary school, attending various courses to support and enhance his physical and intellectual capabilities.

his friends as a child came from the same social circles, especially from his mother’s side as she is a socialite. when he started school in a public setting, he went along well with some people while remaining private for the most parts of himself. has a penchant for compartmentalization for sure. dishonest as a person in general, and in result of realizing this himself, has slight trust issues.

when he was twelve, his mother left the family due to not having enough attention from his father mostly — who was always busy with both work and thoughts. his mother remarried two years after the divorce, and her new husband is also within the same social status as them, so iseul did have a period where he would avoid attending galas and the likes.

he loved his father, and always does, but there are significant values that his father held which he couldn’t truly grasp, let alone practice. it enveloped the entire view of having their money for themselves, including preserving any means to survive the collapse. every man for himself was basically how his father drilled him, but he grew a good conscience that led him to feel internally conflicted.

unbeknownst to his father, he often stole from fellow influencers to give the money towards the poor. this was done out of slight malice, in which he believes that every rich person should be contributing to the cause. and when the great divide occurred, there was a huge rift between his father and him for the first time in forever. the difference in principles made him run away for approximately a few months, until his father summoned him during the last dying breath.

in 2054, he inherited his father’s wealth in its unadulterated form, including the bribes, the corruptions, the malpractices. he started understanding to what extent his father was willing to preserve their safety in a world where money rules. it touched him, yet startled him in a sense that he’s certain all the hates would be redirected towards him later on as the face of this extreme affluence.

he made a few changes to the companies his father previously had a power in, and started building and reaching out towards more ecosystemic endeavors. his money is mostly delegated to the greater good, spending so much to support the attempts to make seoul a better place. when he deemed it wasn’t enough anymore, he began to steal small, thanks to his father’s years of harnessing his abilities.

in 2055, he started adopting the alias zero, as both a masked vigilante and also a thief, a robber. he’s been creating a lattice of networks both inside and outside the borders, although it took a while for those in the outskirts to believe in his cause when he barely keeps in contact with them apart from dropping sums of necessities. his presence renders some dysphoria to happen, with some factions getting more fragmented seeing what he’s been doing for the poor.

his façade is definitely polished to perfection, parading accordingly to his status as a really wealthy man. he’s amicable, but he keeps his distance from most people, especially those who appear close to him. his lies are often coherent and cohesive, causing people to think it’s his actual self, when in fact, it’s somewhere far. he’s actually fairly private, constantly wedging a gap with others, although some managed to penetrate the barriers, getting to know him a tad deeper.

as his front in his daily lives, he has a dozen of bodyguards and k9 dogs to protect him. it makes him seem even more unreachable as it is, as it gets under his skin when plenty of people inquire over donation because of his status as damsu’s biggest sponsor. also, has enough servants for his old mansion, marbled with ivory walls.

actually distrustful towards the green party, and sides better with the poor since it’s whom he wants to protect. he has many underground channels as zero, helping him get his gears and technology, as well as other utilities he needs to perform his field thieveries. he’s not completely blank when it comes to hacking either, although he’d prefer allocating the work towards those more experienced than him.

he has a certain flair to his being zero, mixing various martial arts to concoct his own moves. parkour is a forte as well, with good instincts towards danger that he honed during his stay in the outskirts. will never show any fight as iseul seeing that people might be able to connect the dots if they notice his movement patterns.

CONNECTIONS.

the right hands ( 0 / 2 ): one person inside the border, and another in the outskirts to ensure that he can have backups sent to him as soon as he’s injured if necessary. they are the only ones who have discovered zero’s identity, and have been supporting iseul’s plans since he ran away from home. one of them might be a hacker and the other has connections with technological advancements.

rebel informants ( 0 / ? ): the outskirts people that happened to encounter him as zero — ones which exchange information with a sum of money, water, or sometimes with a deed. this is an underground channel that assists him in his endeavors; some of them would know his motives while some are there purely for the symbiosis.

the so-called social circle ( 0 / ? ): those who are of the well-off communities, meeting him as byun iseul. he’s one of the richest in the circle, and he’s always presenting himself well as his father’s successor. some of these connections could span from his childhood to adulthood. he tends to be charismatic, and oftentimes would refuse inebriating himself.

miscellaneous ( 0 / ? ): green party members, those working for the companies he’s sponsoring, also some journalists that make zero into news. also, victims of his stealing — especially stingy wealthy families.

INTERVIEWS.

what are your thoughts on the green party? are they really going to make a change?

❛ this might sound rather feigned to some, if not most, but i do want the best to occur for everyone’s benefits, even when it would cost me quite a fortune, and i urge for everyone else to do the same even when the price of a better world is not cheap. i understand that people will be in the sides they’ve chosen to be in, but we’re fighting for what we see as the better in any ways that we can. any ways that we see as… just. ❜ presses his lips into a thin line, as though he’s deep in thoughts. ❛ but i definitely want to believe that they would make a change, even if it has to come with various hurdles. in that sense, nonetheless, i wish that the next steps taken would bloom into something beneficial. ❜

on a scale from 1-10; how much have you suffered during the great divide and why?

❛ i didn’t deal with it entirely well when it comes to the psychological aspects, ❜ his syllables are almost too indifferent, edged with a distance set between him and the interviewer. ❛ however, compared to how the others outside our walls, physical and metaphorical, have suffered… i’d rate it as naught, almost. my battles were personal as they came, the great divide becoming nothing but an icing on top of it all… but i don’t suppose making this about myself is the right step to execute. suffering is, after all, relative… to rate it as a one, or a ten, they remain an illusionary perspective that i don’t think we can afford right now. material-wise, i did have no suffering to bear, but there were other aspects as well — ones which i don’t wish to disclose. ❜

what are your plans for the next few years? work? love? adopt an animal? any changes in your life?

❛ i’m not entirely sure. there are too many visions to be realized within a short span of this life that we have, with the crisis to be resolved. there are several plans in mind that i’d like to reap myself, of course, but my priorities lie in ensuring that there’s enough sustenance for everyone. ❜ a calm smile is splayed on his lips as he fixates his gaze. ❛ there’s a lot of worries, but as for me myself, i’d like to find more effective ways to maneuver around my line of work, distributing towards the better world than what we have now. as for love, i don’t think we’ll ever know when we’ll find the person that comprehends us best. it’s a matter of circumstances. animals, i don’t think i can divide my attention as of current, so the ones i have around me now have to suffice, even when i don’t take care of them personally. ❜

HEADCANONS.

circa survive, the world was never fractured for a boy that was prepared for when the structure would collapse. appa was a believer of anticlimactic armageddon, foreseeing the future just from the mere understandings in regards to the past and present. the fittest was destined to be a boy that shouldn’t be frail, and therefore, he was trained, groomed to the tallest skyscraper with a spine made of the strongest metal appa could get his hands on. appa lived in the paranoia that eventually killed him. there was no sustenance to a man that could never be sated; his lack of satisfaction led him to be one of the biggest giants in the industry. at home, appa was a figment of violent imagination, turning the only son malleable to seek delight from performing an open heart surgery on a nightly basis. there was knowledge poured into a casket too young, and iseul knew that when given a chance, appa would nail it shut with iseul alive inside. calculative, maladaptive, appa was everything that he was afraid of — the face of his night terrors, personified.

except appa eventually passed during the fall of the apocalypse. appa’s prediction was true, however: the world doesn’t come away with a bang. instead, it withers, slowly but surely. it’s been withering for a while now for a boy that grew into a man with too many teeth, and he’s been sinking all the canines into the core of this bereavement. appa paved a path that was too skewed for his liking, with the great divide erupting into a full-blown verbal argument between appa and him. there was an entire line that should’ve led to the head if he chased after the tail enough, and so, that’s what he did regardless of how appa disapproved. they should’ve utilized, exploited what they had as opposed to distributing it around the society. resources could be limited even when they probably were one of the wealthiest, their culture of affluence divided into too many strata. they fought, and he often walked away with anger. justice should’ve been preserved, but he wasn’t one to say a thing when he wasn’t one on the shorter end of the stick.

appa was his crux, still. the death did not do him well during the great divide, returning home to an open coffin ceremony. and so, for years he became complacent with what he inherited, trying to live off his legacy. when damsu came out unscathed, he was there first, believing that somewhat it was a compromise. and poured more into it until it became a bottomless well. he shouldn’t be the only one responsible when the rich still remained as the rich, the poor likewise. he began to steal, to lie, to cheat. everything that appa prepared him for in a world where there was no survival but through violence thrived in an environment that didn’t support justice. and so, he became the man in the myth, the modern robin hood with a supportive delegation with him as the head. he rebels against appa’s commitment towards selfishness, even if it costs him his sleep — a reminder that even after appa’s death, he still lives under appa’s shadows.

#2056intro #𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟕𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄: ooc.

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