#Bez hearing about it “But... That's not real... Is it? IS IT?!?!?!” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

formulapookie · 3 months ago

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19 with marcmarc?

19. "What can I do to be enough for you?"

Bez never was particularly confident with himself, and it wasn't even his fault.

It began during middle school, when he used to get teased and joked about because of his way of expressing himself and the great sensitivity he had towards everything.

If he scraped his knee, tripped and fell or simply felt overwhelmed he'd cry, and that got him not a few comments.

"Marco don't you know boys don't cry?"

"But I hurt myself of course I cry"

"Look guys Marco is crying like a girl!"

"But I'm not a girl, I'm just hurt!" "Boys don't cry when they're hurt!"

And obviously since then he had grown mentally, he still cried, but tried to hide it more, that bit to ensure people wouldn't think he was weak for doing it.

And apart from that, Bez has always been a lover. A great one at that.

He always gave his 200% in every little thing in every relationship, no matter how much he had been together with his current partner.

His partner mentioned liking a certain type of flower on the first date or while talking on chat?

He would show up the date after with a bouquet with those flowers.

Food? He'd make sure to learn how to cook it or inform himself on where they did it better in the city and have the date there.

Dates, anniversaries, birthdays, he remembers everything.

He feels, no, knows, that if he forgets even one of these things whoever he's with will leave him.

He tries to be perfect, do everything, but they always end up leaving for someone else. Someone prettier, taller, funnier, someone better.

When he and Marc got together, it was unexpected.

They began gravitating closer and closer until collision and after some rough months of not knowing they finally got together for real.

And he still can't believe Marc Marquez is his boyfriend.

Because Marc is MARC, he's so perfect and beautiful and funny and amazing and Bez is, well Bez.

He's got nothing great about him, no one nicknamed him alien, no one was scared of confronting him on track. And Marc had dated Vale. So he had a big competition to relate to.

He tries so so hard to be perfect, each day more, learn about everything Marc loves and hates, understand how to make him relax or make him happy. But it simply doesn't seem to work.

Everything he does, for how perfect it can be, doesn't seem to trill the reaction he wants out of Marc.

He always looks so monotone with his answers and expressions, like Bez is doing the bare minimum, while he's trying so hard for everything.

One day he simply cannot take it anymore, he's already overwhelmed and he's trying to make a good looking Paella for lunch, asking Marc how it is, and all he gets is "yeah it's ok".

It doesn't have to be ok. it has to be perfect.

He knows he's about to cry and can't let Marc see him being so pathetic, so he excuses himself and runs off to the bedroom, breath caught in his throat as a river of tears flows from his eyes to the ground.

It's just a fucking dish but it's too much.

Why can't he do anything right for Marc?

What does he have to do?

Does he have to be someone else?

Does he have to be Valentino?

He's sobbing too loud, and only realizes when Marc basically breaks open the door to the bedroom.

"Marco are you ok? I heard you crying. Are you hurt? Do I need to call someone?"

"No no no I am ok sorry I'm coming back just - I'm sorry I ruined everything Marc so so sorry"

"Marco calm down, what's going on?"

"I don't understand"

"What don't you understand? tell me I want to help you"

"What am I doing wrong? Am I saying the wrong things? Am I acting the wrong way? Do I- do I have to be more like Vale? I can't understand what's wrong Marc.

What can I do to be enough for you?"

Marc is frozen, because that's a lot, and Marco seems to be on the edge of a mental breakdown, and he doesn't know if he's capable of helping him.

He can just try and reassure him.

"Marco listen to me, can you hear me?"

Bez nods, his tears not hinting to a stop.

"You aren't - God I can't believe I have to say it - you aren't doing anything wrong, all the opposite of wrong! You are being so caring and so perfect. Why would you think you’re doing or saying something wrong? There’s absolutely nothing wrong in what you’re doing corazon, not in the slightest. And what - what has Valentino got to do with us? Marco Valentino is something I managed to bury in the past thanks to you, I’d never want you to be like him. He was - he was not what I needed, he was infatuation, you are not, you have to be you, never someone else.

You are enough already Marco, why would you ever think you’re not? You’re enough and so much more.

I neve had someone bring me peonies cause I mentioned once while talking about other things I liked them a lot and they remembered”

Bez can’t understand this shift in attitude. Marc is always somewhat distant and cold, with him like with everyone else.

“You don’t look like I do enough Marc. You always seem so distant from me, from what I do, from what I say and then I see how you were with Vale, how warm you were with him, how you laughed at everything he said, even the stupid jokes who weren’t funny, how you always looked for physical touch and how you gave it so openly and I want it to be like that for us but you just - you are just so cold.

If I try to hug you you flinch, you never initiate physical contact, you barely laugh at my jokes, I - I asked for the recipe to that Paella to your mother to make it look like home to you and you said it was ‘ok’ and I simply don’t understand why. Why were you so alive with him and with me the light in your eyes seems dead? I know I’m not the great world champion but I’m trying so hard, and I love the sport and I also love you and neither you nor the sport seem to love me back.

I didn’t think I ever had a chance with you to begin with, so I would understand if you want to walk away. If you want to break up I get it. I don’t expect you to keep me around”

Marc is sitting on the floor in front of Bez, looking at his boyfriend looking absolutely broken and desperate for an answer and his heart clenches.

He sees the pain, the doubt, the insecurity rise in his eyes and it hurts.

In a split second he’s next to him, hugging him tightly, like he probably only hugged Alex before in his life, he stays there, an embrace that doesn’t solve anything, Marc knows, but to Bez is the last drop.

He cries again, a lot, soaking Marc’s shirt, he can’t seem to stop, not when Marc keeps holding him so tight.

Once he’s calmed down, almost ten minutes later, he is a mess.

“Marco, I don't even know where to begin from. Valentino was something else entirely, he was my idol growing up, I grew up watching him win and triumph, we started whatever that was when I was 20 and I was a much different person you’re right. I was warm and innocent and under this spell Valentino had on me. It wasn’t love, it was adoration. That’s why I was like that, I wanted to be noticed, wanted to be seen, wanted to be considered.

The warmth it- I changed a lot. I had crashes, accidents, I had my heart broken, I got thrown to the media like a sheep to a pack of wolves when I was your age and it changed me. I don’t feel like I can be anything but cold and distant because I fear so much it’ll end up like with him.

And rationally I know you aren’t like him, but my head, it just- it works like that, I don’t feel like I can allow myself to be vulnerable because last time I did I was left so wounded I didn’t think I would’ve ever been able to be back on my feet.

The hugs Marco, it’s complicated. I love your hugs, really, but you need to understand something. During the last period of me and Valentino being what we where he got - not violent, never that - cruel. His touch was bruising, I felt it on me after hours, I couldn’t wash off that sensation of being dirty. It felt like every little touch he gave me, every hug was never just that, it was always leading to something he wanted from me.

And when you hug me so suddenly my brain runs back to when he grabbed me after races or podiums to go and have a quickie in some godforsaken corner of the track and it’s not that I didn’t like them but sometimes I just wanted tenderness and there wasn’t any. I know you’re different, I know, but he damaged me, and I don’t want you to be the one to repair me, because it’s a lot of fucking work and I want to do it myself, you don’t deserve the mess I am.

I should be the one to understand if you want to break up, because I’m a lot, and because I don’t treat you right. I love you Marco, never doubt that, I love you, and I’m sure the sport will love you back, because I know you’re giving it your all, it’ll come, it will love you back”

Bez now doesn’t cry anymore, he just feels a great impulse to hug Marc tight to let him know he’s there for him, but after what he just said he can’t.

“It’s not that I don’t want your hugs, but if you ask me before, or just let me know about it I won’t flinch like that”

“Can I hug you then? You look like you need it”

“Yeah, you can”

He wraps his arms around Marc, not like Marc did with him before, this is much softer, he lets Marc have his space while being also surrounded by Marco’s warmth.

“I’m sorry for what you went through with Vale. It’s not right. I’m also sorry for everything I said about you back then, about Valencia last year I’m sorry”

“Marco you have nothing to apologize for, you grew up with an idol, you followed what he said, it’s pretty normal to do, and you have managed to be different so there’s nothing to be sorry for ok?”

“Ok”

“And I’m not going anywhere, I’m not leaving you now that I found stability in my life. And I’m never going to let you think you’re not enough ever again, I am the one who’s sorry for acting like that. I promise for you I’ll be different”

“I love you”

Marc smiles, this time is genuine, Bez can see it in the way his eyes glint with that something he tried to reach for.

“I love you too”

They kiss, a slow and gentle kiss, just to say to the other “I’m here, and you can trust me”

“And that Paella was really good, not just ‘ok’, didn’t mean to be an asshole”

“Next time would you prepare it with me?”

“Of course corazòn, of course”

ANGSTY/ HURT COMFORT PROMPTS

#alice journal of asks #anon🩷#ASK GAME #alice writes #marcmarc

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norbezjones · 11 days ago

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Bez Reviews Independent Books 1: Memory Leak

Hey everyone! I wanna do little reviews/writeups for the independently-published books I find on itch.io, and so, here I am. I want to review one book every month or two (or quicker, if I’m lucky); it’ll get me reading more, and get authors who often go without feedback some thoughts on their work! I think it’ll be cool for everyone!

If you want your book reviewed, the only requirement I have is that it’s hosted on itch.io. Even if itch is just one of many places you can get the book, I want to review books that have a home there at least. Feel free to get in touch with me with your books—I’m @NaomiNorbez on Twitter (I refuse to call it X), Pillowfort, Threads, and Instagram; I’m @norbezjones on Tumblr; I’m norbez2.0 on Discord.

Looking forward to seeing your books! <3

__________

The first book I’m reviewing Is Memory Leak by @maxkirin ! M. Kirin is a streamer who I happened to follow not long before their book release. That’s how I heard about it. Some light spoilers below, but nothing too big is revealed. Most of the major stuff discussed you can read about right on the book’s itch page.

The plot is basically this: a trouple made a controversial game that won many awards, and also got lots of hate. Now, they’re trying to make a new project to follow up such a release, but spooky things are happening. Will they find out why strange events are occurring, or succumb to the haunting?

Everyone’s trans, and I love it. Adrian’s trans. Eva’s trans. Casey’s . . . idk, very queer at least. She’s also missing for a while, which has turned the game making trio into a duo as they’re trying to finish their new game based on Twelfth Night by Shakespeare.

Most of the book is about blackouts & memory loss, which occur as development goes on. Reading about those things hurt. Especially the part where Adrian says, “It didn’t matter if he didn’t remember. He was making something. Something that mattered.” (pg 17-18). That hit hard, as someone who’s experienced intense periods of memory loss in the past—that was during my pseudo-dementia era (more on that here if you wanna hear the full story). I had a similar thought to Adrian when I was making A Single Ouroboros Scale while I had pseudo-dementia. I was desperate to make an impact because I was convinced I would soon forget everything I knew, including how to make games, and everyone would forget me in turn. It came out as well as you can expect from a very sick, depressed person (which is to say, not good), as I talked about in the postmortem. I imagine that for our game development trio, the same result occurs.

The hauntings in Memory Leak are rooted in real-life problems in the game development industry, mainly crunch and overworking yourself in order to meet a deadline. Though in the case of Adrian, Eva, & Casey . . . was a deadline ever specified? It’s strongly implied, but not overtly stated, as I recall. Regardless, as a creator in the internet/social media age, you do have to act quickly to release new works, or the public will forget you. Perhaps that’s why they feel like they need to work as quickly as possible. There’s some irony in that—the characters’ rush to be remembered, all while they forget more & more. It’s sad sometimes, the things we sacrifice to be known.

Also, it turns out the famous game the trio made, King Leer, possibly indirectly caused the death of multiple people, and that isn’t mentioned until about halfway through the book? It’s surprising how that information flies out of nowhere, like a sucker punch. If one of my games indirectly caused a person to die, I would be haunted by that for the rest of my life. But the trio seem to have gotten over it, somehow.

My main little nitpick about the writing is that Adrian is referred to as “the young man” quite a bit, and I didn’t like that. It felt too impersonal, distant. That’s also something I do in my own writing, referring to the character as anything but their name to avoid saying their name too many times in a row (I blame my OCD [which I literally do have, that is not a figure of speech]). So maybe it irks me because I see myself in that repeated action.

As much as I like the writing style, I do have to acknowledge that it keeps us as a distance from the characters. They’re young men, young women, lost souls. It’s like we’re also haunting them, a ghost from beyond getting a peek into their lives from the top-down. The chapter openers reinforce this: in those, you, the reader, are brought into the story, from a second person perspective, and given information about Starling games from YouTube videos, forum posts, messages, etc. We see them win Game Of The Year, watch as fans deride & praise them, stuff like that. It’s definitely an interesting way to give us information.

A big issue is that we’re told a lot that these characters love each other, but that bond isn’t quite shown to me. One can argue that it is between Adrian & Eva at least, but Casey? In the beginning, it seems like she dislikes Adrian & Eva, but then there’s still a scene where she cries while apologizing to Adrian for yelling at him, saying how much she loves him. I got the sense that she clings to Adrian & Eva because she used to love them, for a long time, and she doesn’t want to let that go. Because to let that go would be venturing into unknown & very awkward territory. How do you break up your polycule if you rely on them to earn a living and make games? Short answer: you don’t, so you pretend instead. And when you pretend enough, it can become real again.

This is a problem because the love these characters have for each other is a core tenant of the book, especially in the climax. I wish we could’ve spent more time seeing how they fell in love with each other, back when Starling Games was new. At least Casey’s love for the others becomes clearer as the book goes on; that’s a good thing.

As for the big twist, I saw the first part of it coming from a mile away. That’s not a bad thing—a good twist should fit the plot & themes, not be 100% unpredictable, and this twist did. The second part of the twist is mentioned on the book’s page, but the execution is so interesting you can almost forget that fact.

Last note: I was hoping the book would tell us why the works the trio make are so fucked up, if they’re a reflection of the soul, or just dark spurts of creativity. The reason is revealed, and it’s fascinating—after all, if we’ve learned anything from The Beginner’s Guide, it’s that art doesn’t always reflect the author.

Overall, I really enjoyed this book. It was a very interesting story about the struggle of game development, and how our search for a legacy can haunt us. The characters are interesting, and the story is very well told. I would recommend it.

If you want to read Memory Leak, you can do so FOR FREE right here! Give it a look! Please! I’m begging you!

Thanks for reading! The next review will be of To Wield The Darkest Night by Beau Van Dalen. But I don’t know what I’m doing after that, so please send me your lovely books!

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scrollonso · 4 months ago

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Do you also write beznaia? Maybe 55 mutual pining (+ oblivious)? Thanks in advance 🧡

i actually loved writing this oml,, theyre such cuties 😿

Marco and Pecco had been best friends for as long as they could remember. They met through Vale at the ranch, their bond forged in the heat of competition and the long hours spent together on and off the track. They shared everything — secrets, fears, victories, and defeats. Yet, for all the closeness they shared, there was one thing neither had the courage to admit, not even to themselves: they were both hopelessly in love with each other.

Years passed with this unspoken tension lingering between them, each too scared to ruin what they had by admitting their feelings. Marco would find himself glancing at Pecco a little too long, his heart aching with something he couldn’t quite name. Pecco, for his part, would catch himself thinking about Marco late at night, wondering what it would be like to hold him as more than just his best friend, to kiss him on his lips instead of on his cheek, to be more than just his best friend.

Neither ever dared to speak those thoughts aloud, both convinced that the other saw them as nothing more than a friend. It became a silent, mutual pining, each one oblivious to the fact that the other was feeling exactly the same way.

Then came the night that would change everything.

It was after a particularly intense race. Marco and Pecco had both finished on the podium, and the celebration that followed was filled with laughter, adrenaline, and a little too much alcohol. As the night wore on, the crowd around them thinned out, leaving just the two of them alone in the corner of a bar. Marco, more than a little tipsy, leaned heavily against Pecco, his head resting on his friend’s shoulder as he mumbled about how proud he was of him.

Pecco laughed, ruffling Marco’s curls affectionately. “You’re drunk, Bez. Maybe we should call it a night.”

But Marco shook his head, his hazy eyes locking onto Pecco’s with an intensity that took him by surprise. “Pecco,” he started, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you, Pecco”

Pecco’s heart skipped a beat, suddenly alert despite the alcohol in his system. “What?”

“I’m in love with you,” Marco blurted out, his words slurred but unmistakable. “I’ve been in love with you for years, but I was too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to lose you. Do you love me, Pecco?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and real, as Pecco stared at Marco in stunned silence. He felt his heart swell, his mind reeling with the realization that the feelings he had been suppressing for so long were reciprocated. He wasn’t alone in this. He felt stupid for being distraught over a crush that could've been more for so long

“Bez,” Pecco finally said, his voice cracking slightly. “I love you too. But you're drunk, let's go back.”

Marco blinked, the fog of alcohol not quite enough to dull the shock of hearing those words. “You… you love me?”

Pecco smiled softly, reaching out to cup Marco’s cheek. “I do. I always have.”

"Do you love-love me?" The long haired boy asked. It was childish, really childish, but neither of them cared

"I love-love you" Pecco laughed, unable to take himself seriously as he admitted it.

Marco hummed as he leaned into Pecco’s touch, feeling the weight of his unspoken feelings lift off his chest.

“I thought I was imagining things,” Marco admitted, his voice a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d ever feel the same way.”

“I didn’t either,” Pecco replied, his thumb brushing gently across Marco’s skin as he pulled the boy up, quickly paying the tab for the both of them before leading him out. “But I’m glad we finally figured it out.”

They stood there in the quiet of the night, the world outside fading into the background as they finally allowed themselves to feel what they had been holding back for so long. Marco, emboldened by the alcohol and the newfound knowledge that Pecco felt the same, leaned in and pressed his lips to Pecco’s as soon as the bar door closed behind them.

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, but it quickly deepened as years of suppressed emotion poured out. It was everything they had imagined and more — familiar and yet entirely new, a perfect blend of their friendship and the love they had been too afraid to admit.

Pecco’s heart pounded in his chest as Marco’s lips moved against his, the kiss becoming more urgent with every passing second. It was as if all the years of longing and suppressed desire had finally broken free, and neither of them wanted to let go. Pecco's hands found their way into Marco’s long hair, tangling in the soft curls as he pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

Marco melted into Pecco’s embrace, his hands gripping the front of Pecco’s ducati jacket as if afraid he might slip away. The world around them ceased to exist; it was just the two of them, lost in a moment they had both yearned for but never dared to hope would come true.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath. Marco’s eyes fluttered open, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Pecco’s flushed face, his eyes still half-closed, savoring the moment.

“So… what now?” Marco asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a hint of uncertainty in his tone, as if he was still trying to process the reality of what had just happened.

Pecco’s smile widened as he took Marco’s hand, their fingers intertwining naturally. “We’ve been best friends for so long, Bez,” he said, his voice filled with affection. “I think we’ll figure this out just fine.”

Marco nodded, squeezing Pecco’s hand as they began to walk down the quiet, moonlit street. The night air was cool, but the warmth between them was all they needed. They didn’t need to talk much as they walked; the silence between them was comfortable, filled with a sense of mutual understanding that only years of friendship could bring.

As they made their way back to the hotel where the academy riders were staying, Marco felt a mixture of emotions swirling inside him — excitement, nervousness, but most of all, happiness. He glanced over at Pecco, who was still holding his hand, and couldn’t help but feel grateful that this moment had finally come. The years of pining, of uncertainty, were worth it. Pecco loved him, and Marco loved him back, and that was all that mattered now.

When they reached the hotel, they paused outside the entrance, neither one wanting the night to end just yet. Marco hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Do you want to come up to my room? We don’t have to… you know, do anything. I just… I don’t want to say goodnight yet.”

Pecco chuckled softly, his eyes shining with affection. “I’d like that,” he replied, his voice gentle. “I’d like that a lot.”

They made their way upstairs, the anticipation hanging between them like a tangible presence. When they reached Marco’s room, they both hesitated for a moment at the door, unsure of what to expect. But as soon as they stepped inside, the nervousness seemed to dissipate. Marco kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the bed with a contented sigh, pulling Pecco down with him.

They lay there for a while, just holding each other, enjoying the simple pleasure of being close. It was everything they had wanted, and yet it felt so natural, as if this was where they were meant to be all along.

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Pecco gently brushed a strand of hair away from Marco’s face, his eyes soft and filled with adoration. “You know,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, I almost forgot what it was like not to be.”

Marco’s heart skipped a beat at the confession, and he leaned into Pecco’s touch, his eyes closing as he savored the moment. “Me too,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips. “I never thought I’d get to say it out loud.”

“Well, now you can,” Pecco replied, his voice filled with quiet determination. “As many times as you want.”

Marco opened his eyes and looked up at Pecco, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I love you,” he said, his voice playful and light.

Pecco chuckled, his heart swelling with affection. “I love you too, Bez.”

They exchanged a few more “I love you’s,” each one feeling like a new discovery, a reaffirmation of the bond they had always shared but had finally put into words. As the night wore on, they eventually drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that when they woke up, things would be different — but in the best way possible.

And for the first time in a long time, they both felt at peace, knowing that they were exactly where they were meant to be: together.

#these are so fun #marco bezzecchi #mb72 #pecco bagnaia #pb63 #francesco bagnaia #fb63 #pb1 #beznaia #fic #fanfic #fluff #oneshot #i hope u like this 😿😿#kats motogp blurbs!#kats chattin shit

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amemenadiel · 11 months ago

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"Czasami postrzegając się nie tylko w lustrze, ale i w duszy myślę czy jestem tym, co jestem. Słysze inne od innych ludzi rzeczy i boję się tej prawdziwej bestii w moim przebraniu. Zasłaniając się ilustracją niby czuje się bezpiecznie, a jednak nie, bo i tak to nie jestem ja, tylko obraz, jakim chce być, jak taka talia kart złożona, co karty krzyczą co wzięte "Ja! Ja! Ja jestem tym do czego się upodabniasz" lub "Ja! Ja daje ci komfort, więc uwielbiaj mnie!". Ale szczerze pod koniec dni, bez tego światła mediów, światła innych ludzi i światła dnia siedząc w łóżku myślę jak bezkształtną masą jestem-kim jestem? Na pewno nie tym, co dla każdego powinno być dobrą rzeczą i co sprawiłoby, że każdy pod rząd był ze mnie dumny. Raczej niczym, tak po prostu, bo nie określa się mimo wszystko to, czym jestem. Po prostu ilustracje, które jak puzzle tworzą obraz mnie

-Chyba tak mogę się określać- "

Eng

"Sometimes, when I see myself not only in the mirror, but also in my soul, I wonder if I am what I am. I hear things different from other people and I am afraid of this real beast in my disguise. Covering myself with an illustration, I supposedly feel safe, but I don't, because anyway this is not me, but the image I want to be, like a stacked deck of cards that screams "Me! I! I am what you want to become like" or "Me! I give you comfort, so adore me! Certainly not what should be a good thing for everyone and what would make everyone proud of me. Or rather nothing, simply because it is not defined by what I am. Just illustrations that, like a puzzle, create a picture of me

-I guess I can call myself that- "

-Amenadiel Edeński

I'm coming back again with what is important for me to present - that is, characters that are somehow related to me, or more precisely, I want them to represent me, not so much as a persona, just something that shows me - an artist (although this is too much to say to be called that). These are the three main characters, although there are a few that I should mention, but these are the only ones I'm talking about for now. each of them has some part related to me, but I wouldn't say that these characters are me, of course not. What definitely connects us are our names.

Eden is certainly a grotesque figure. They appears in the "Noname Story" universe as a person that everyone knows, but no one really knows. They lives near the city on the outskirts in a blue board house, and what is a meme is the fact that they has a course in everything possible. Think of the most absurd thing and Eden definitely has a course in it. They often rambles in the background, and when they does say something, there is a good chance it will lead to a mindfuck. Eden loves different colors and their strange combinations, which they uses in the style of clothes they wears - quite kitschy and old-fashioned. What Eden is known for is wearing long skirts, because as they says, "to air out his balls", joking of course, because Eden cannot be described as any gender. That's just Eden.

Amenadiel is the character I've been working on the most lately. And to start with, there are two versions of it, as I have already mentioned.

Amenadiel was created as an MC for the game Obey me! and there, as an exchange student, as it is said in the game, he studied, where the character he was interested in was the prince of Devildom himself - Diavolo. Amenadiel is unique in that, that he had the blood of the past demon king in veins from his father's side. This meant that Amenadiel, as the firstborn, had a curse - he had to cover his eyes so as not to enchant anyone with the servant's magic-whoever he looked at became a mindless servant, just like "like the king wanted".

However, at some point, everything related to Obey me was torn apart from the mass that was Amenadiel, in order to insert his character into the world of "Noname Story". In this version, he is the child of two wizards (this will be explained in more detail someday), aspiring to be one himself, and in a happy relationship with a person named Jade, to put it briefly. Honestly, I have a lot to say, but I know that writing it all in one post will be too extensive, I even feel that in what appears here it is somewhat done, but if you are interested in these characters, you can wait for further posts in the future, or you can ask about them and I will answer!

(This art contain the newest form of Peridot)

Peridot is from my Steven Universe AU. She was created during Era 2, and what she did initially was to prepare mass for use in Injectors. she was fascinated by my version of the White Diamond, so inspired by the process of creating gems, the fusion she witnessed and the determination to become a famous Peridot with limb enhancers, she began to create modifications of gems and artificial fusions, having the features of many gems in one, leaving their natural appearance, which led to the shattering of the White Diamond and her escape with the experiments to earth, and disappearing, leaving behind a mystery. There's a lot I've come up with with this, so I'll be sure to share more about it! I hope someone from this fandom still exists.

That's it for today, thank you for being here and sharing my works with you

#oc #introduction #my persona #steven universe #gemsona #artwork #beginner artist #art #new post #new on tumblr #hello! <3 #sketch #drawing #poem

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allisonreader · 5 months ago

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Story Idea; title Canadian Zed

A group of Saskatchewan kids make a band, calling it Canadian Zed.

They focus on Canadian-isms, particularly the west.

They write their own songs about particularly Canadian things, Saskatchewan things, events that they grew up with.

Most if not all are from Saskatoon and surrounding areas.

Will only cover songs that could be considered Canadian.

At least one went to school at both (redacted) and (redacted).

Perhaps one at Tommy Douglas, Walter Murray, Marion Graham, Henry Kelsey, Pleasant Hill, Caswell, Queen Victoria, ED Feean (mix of elementary and high schools)

Mix of boys and girls.

They don’t really stick to on genre country/folk/pop/rap/alternative/punk

None of them expect to make it big, who wants to hear a bunch of people sing about western Canada? Most likely not most people.

One of them First Nations or Métis

List of songs

Blizzard of ‘07 (The day the city shut down.)

Half way to Davidson

Just past Chamberlain

Bloody cold weather

Poutine, toques, and toboggans

Dry heat when it comes

Sweet home Saskatoon (Parody of sweet home Alabama.)

Making a name Canadian style

Saskatoon, the biggest city (in Saskatchewan)

Saskatchewan Phrases (from bunnyhugs to vi-co)

We got lakes

Manitou, Saskatchewan’s place to float (our one personal Dead Sea)

An ode to Gordie Howe

The confusing world of Canada

Identity crisis

Canada's boring history

When we fight

What the east wants (it gets)

Feeling forgotten

First Nations were here first

Paris of the prairies

Americans laugh at Saskatchewan's capital

Ditch the province (Alberta's the place to be, or at least it was)

Saskatoon berries

Gophers everywhere

Big names, Saskatchewan connection

New York is big... but this is Biggar

Moose Jaw has a connection to Al Capone

Saskatchewan Riders, Rush, and now Rattlers (bring your green)

Z(ed)

Not Justin Beiber's Sorry

The Bonanza burned down

No more eat in Pizza Huts

Midtown Plaza, The Centre, Confed, and Marketmall

Circle drive/ring road

Last ditch nice weather as fall changes

Pow wow days

Ribbon dresses and star blankets

Teepees are real, symbolisms behind them

Not Indians

Small towns

Metric rules, but we still use imperial too

Insulin is our jam

WWI hero

Canadian heritage moments

I wanna house hippo

Canadian seasons

Construction season

Cold season

Saskatchewan Riders, Rush, and now Rattlers (bring your green)

Before River Landing

Down at the Bez

oOo

Bring your green,

And let’s go to a game,

Bring your green,

And we'll make a sea,

Bring your green,

No, this isn’t about Canadian grammar, words, or pronunciation. It isn’t about how Canada is different from the USA or anything like that. This is a story about a band, group of us who decided that we wanted some more Saskatchewan influence in the world, and decided to name ourselves Canadian Zed, because a radio DJ referred to ZZ Top as Zed Zed Top, being the proper Canadian that he is, fully knowing that’s not the proper way to pronounce it. Though this isn’t a story about our formation either. This is our story of hoping to gain some audience in Saskatchewan and maybe the rest of Canada. We didn’t expect to make it big at all, and we’re not on a global scale, but we’ve found our place and rock it.

And cheer on your favourite team

oOo

#I found this in my email drafts and I had honestly forgotten all about it #it's just some extremely loose thoughts and vague brainstorming about this idea #I don't think I'd ever actually write it #especially not at this point if I even ever would have #I've never been particularly prone to writing stories that take place in the real world #I have always felt like I can get away with more in a fictional setting

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hospitalterrorizer · 6 months ago

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diary255

5/29-30/24

wednesday - thursday

busybusybusy

with having a good time. i was out until 5 am today!! now i am home and super tired but i had a good time at my friend's show, i think they were very good as usual, issues come down to the bassist really... frustrating but i think they're figuring it out. there were like these other shoegaze bands and one had a really good rip of kevin shield's tone/technique, they had a good song with slide guitar in it, they were called sparkler, and mostly, they were just purely kind of pretty and uninteresting. i liked the vocalist+guitarist (she did both), not that i heard her but she had a good energy. there was another shoegaze band and they just kind of did... uh, idk, butt-gaze is maybe a good way to put it. the singer was kind of, like idk, she was giving vampire in her movements which was fun but also weird. there was this awful man there who said they were "shoegaze hardcore" to me, which is one of the worst descriptions i've heard of anything. live, at least, maybe it's produced funny on record? idk. that band was pure hex. they're also maybe just mostly okay but too much shoegaze without the right drumming and crazy guitar sounds, it's just, idk. it turns into a weird sort of pop-non-pop thing in a way that doesn't compel. there was another band, headwind(s?) the drummer and bassist ruled, the other guys, i think they need to kick them to the side or something, start their own thing. they've got fucked up energies inside their minds, those two, in the good way, the bassist and drummer. the keyboard / tambourine / bez of the band + guitarist/singer who only writes songs about women being evil. not in like, the classic, oh femme fatale she-devil, or like, you broke my heart, at a certain point, it comes off as less culturally informed misogyny which produces a baseline set of assumptions, this dude came off as almost obsessed. like it wasn't like nick cave writing murder ballads, you know, there was no real thought there, and it's not like, a fucked up garage rock guy writing songs where he's like, oh i want to fuck you demon lady, or whatever, it's like, without any libido, thought, or fun, it's this man just going "i want to kill youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu" and some other shit. it didn't make me angry or anything i was just baffled by it. the tambourine guy was wearing beetlejuice pants and his presence was just so strange.

that band did get points with me, though, for ending their set with this insane noise jam thing. that was cool, they could have just done that instead of playing songs that they wrote. i like the drummer lots because he plays this very loose and strange feeling but not sounding garage rock-y 60s-y-ish thing, very simple cave man drumming almost but more considered, the kind of thing that could sprout/bed a song like nothing ever changes by brainiac.

last band of the night was spring breeding, who like my friend's band machine death, seem to be always great. love hearing them, and getting to dance to it. it's nice to hear music that asks that people dance to it, especially in such odd and violent ways. i also love the presence of the synths a ton. they get them rather loud

i also took some selfies today buuuut i need to look through them and stuff.

i also wrote yesterday a touch, something in the longer thing, something that i think does really fit now, made out of a part that didn't really fit but felt like it had to be recorded somewhere.

n e wayzz, i need to sleep, like now, so tired and it's so late/early.

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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kwiecista-archive · 5 years ago

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Magda’s cities and województwa/provinces are her (adoptive) children and she would do anything for them because loves them to death change my mind.

#Bez wody kwiatki więdną (ooc)#(dash commentary)#I'm now reminded that I have a mama magda tag and oh my gosh I need to find more stuff for it #She would love to be a real mother ngl ;;;;#She would be super doting and loving and do anything for her kids but like....in a healthy way #Not one of those horror stories that you hear about online #She knows when to say no #Aus when?

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stormkobra-5 · 3 years ago

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The Heir of Djarin

Episode 7: Unexpected Allies

Summary: Laylah is recovering from a blastershot wound to the stomach, and Poe intends to keep her safe and recover the medical supplies so that this whole escapade hasn’t been for nothing. But there are a few unsavory characters waiting for them in Edda’s chamber, although allies seem to be closer than they think...

A/N: So, once again, without Moon Knight, I completely forgot about Wednesday. It’s a little late, but... Here it is!

Warnings: This story is rated 14+ for canon-typical violence, action, and language. The main character is recovering from a traumatic backstory for the sake of the plot, so there is mention of distrust, social anxiety, self-doubt, and emotional damage. Later chapters may involve mature themes for drug usage (spice), excessive alcohol consumption, and clubs that imply adult entertainment (the main characters do not take part). Nothing explicit in any chapters.

______________________________________________________________

It’s a damp rag on my forehead that wakes me up. My hands come up to nudge it off, and for a second, I’m scared to open my eyes. I’m laying on what feels like a cot, maybe a hospital bed, and I don’t hear anything. Am I back on Earth? I don’t think I can deal with that. Not after becoming a Mandalorian and finding my father. Not after Poe. “...Poe?” My voice cracks so badly it hardly sounds like his name. I hear somebody cross over to me in a couple of strides, slipping an arm under my shoulders to help lift me up. “Hey Bez,” Poe breathes, relieved. BB-8 whistles somewhere nearby, and Grogu grabs my leg to hoist himself up onto my lap. Oh thank Maker. Going back to Earth, after all this? I’d go crazy. “What happened?” “You were shot,” Poe explains softly. “...Phasma, that bitch...” I hear him laugh softly. “Yeah, she’s a bitch. How you feeling?” It hurts to breathe, but I’m alive. I can move and all my senses are working fine. I crack my eyes open, and I can see okay. “...Like I was stepped on by a bantha.” He smiles warmly, though he’s also kind of crying. I don’t see his face for long though, because he crushes me in a tight hug, burying his face in my hair. It hurts a little, but I don’t have the heart to tell him. We sit this way for a few seconds-- I reach over to hold Grogu’s hand and give BB-8 a reassuring pat as he comes closer, nudging against my arm. “Thought I lost you there for a bit,” Poe manages. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a blastershot to the stomach to get rid of me,” I cough out, then immediately contradict myself, “Speaking of, how come it didn’t?” Poe presses a kiss to my temple, smoothing my hair down. “I took a couple of detours. I may or may not have stolen bacta injections for you, but it was from a First Order-aligned planet, so I’m perfectly fine with it. I was going to take you back to D’Qar and then go back for the medical supplies by myself. I might still.” “Well, thank you-- and no, I’m fine. We’re both going to Tiersa.” He leans back and stares at me for a second, then kisses me again. I have to smile, because Grogu gags and hides his face with his hands. BB-8 whistles and beeps curiously, like the droid equivalent of what the hell did I miss. “We can never say it,” Poe tells me, and I can’t feign surprise, because I know exactly what he’s talking about. “The L-word. We can never say it. No matter what happens. Because if we say it, then... then it’s more real, and if I lose you after saying that...” “Poe,” I interrupt softly, bringing a hand up to his face; he leans into me, trying to stifle tears before they come. “I know. I get it.” Before, on his X-wing, we’d talked about the L-word. About how we would never, ever say it to anyone, but for different reasons. He’s terrified that if he falls that hard for someone and says it, then he’ll lose them. He’ll jinx it. He swore to wait until the war was over. I’m terrified that if I fall that hard for someone and I say it, I’ll jinx the whole damn thing, and they’ll either die some horrendous death or abandon me, like everyone else. The fact that we’re having to say that we can’t say it speaks volumes, but... We’re both too scared of that damn word. “When the war is over, I’ll say it to you every day,” Poe promises in a whisper against my forehead, “But I won’t say it before then.” “Neither will I,” I say, realizing that I’m holding back tears, then I add with a smile, “Dad likes you, by the way. He just pretends not to.” Poe keeps me from laughing by kissing me again, but we’re both smiling anyway. “Good. So I have your dad’s approval.” He raises an eyebrow, trying to look suave. “Just to make sure, you don’t have any anti-relationship laws like Jedi, do you? ’Cause I’ll convince you to break them.” “No,” I laugh, though it hurts my wound to do so, “Mandalorians encourage relationships. I mean there’s a whole section about making sure your kids are Mandalorians.” He makes a face. “Yeah. About that, they’re gonna be pilots.” “With Boba Fett’s armor?” I counter, smirking. He thinks for a second. “...Okay, fine... But I don’t think the helmet’s gonna fit on BB-8.” We both laugh as Beebs makes an offended noise and pokes Poe with his arm. Grogu giggles and comes over for a hug, careful of my stomach. “So, where to now?” “Back to Tiersa,” Poe says, wincing when he shifts so that I can lean on him. “Then home. To get our asses kicked. Though from the way you were mumbling in your feverish state, sounds like you expect Commander Djarin to be following us.” I snort under my breath with amusement. “Oh. That’s ’cause I had a dream about Dad coming to see what all the First Order fuss was on Coruscant. Thinks it’s us. And with the Force...” Poe laughs, putting his face in his free hand. “The fact that we caused so much chaos that your Dad knows it’s us...” “Does it surprise you?” He pretends to think for a second. “...No.” “How long did you say I was out?” “In all? About twelve hours. We don’t have much time left for the deal with Edda to still be good; we’re almost there, though.” BB-8 rolls over with bread and water-- the thought of eating right now isn’t exactly settling with my stomach. “He’s right. You should eat.” With a sigh, I take the bread and water and consume both slowly. BB-8 and Grogu both sit closely by me, while Poe keeps an arm around my shoulders; although he keeps shifting and grimacing. “You gonna tell me what happened to your shoulder?” Poe feigns indifference. “I was just grazed by blasterfire. It’ll leave a nasty scar, but it’s fine otherwise.” “I’ll be checking that when I’m done eating.” He shifts uncomfortably, clearly in pain. “Good, ’cause this really hurts.”

- - -

After checking Poe’s wounds-- and my own-- he helps me put my armor on. I can walk without limping, so I won’t seem weak, but Poe’s leg makes it difficult for him to walk normally. Once we land, we’re met by an escort entirely different from the one before, save for the presence of Ael-Ti. We’re checked (I find it funny when they’re reluctant to check me), and this time they let us keep our weapons, wary of taking them. Ael-Ti regards Poe with a snarl. “We were beginning to think you wouldn’t show, Dameron.” “We had a few setbacks,” Poe nods, confident and cocky. “But we got the saber.” He holds up the bag, which radiates such intense evil that I scoot a couple steps away from him. Ael-Ti approaches and peers inside, hissing when he sees it. He seems disappointed. “Very well, Dameron. This way.” Wordlessly, we’re led into the awful city, back through familiar alleyways and partying until we reach Edda’s little personal chamber. It’s empty this time, save for his guards, himself, and his slave. Honestly, it doesn’t even look like he’s moved since we were last here. “Edda,” Poe greets curtly, “Good to see you.” “Dameron,” Edda grumbles, glaring at us. Looks like everybody expected us to die. Tough luck, nerf-herder. “Bal uba doo lo?” “Yeah, I’ve got it.” A greedy light flickers in Edda’s eyes, and Poe seems to offer him the bag-- then he yanks it away, which is easy, because Edda has teensy tiny arms that make him look like a slug version of a T-Rex. “Ah-ah-ah! Not yet, slimeball. The medicine I was promised. I want it taken to my ship.” Edda grinds his teeth, making me cringe. Ael-Ti snarls. What is it with this place and teeth? Eugh... Edda waves a tiny arm. I’m surprised Ael-Ti even sees the gesture.“Ballo!” Edda shouts, and Ael-Ti gives a command into a comlink. Poe picks up his own comlink. “Alright, Beebs, they’re comin’. Tell me when they’ve got it next to the ship.” To Edda, he says, “I’ve got a friend in the cockpit of my ship. He can see over the edge, so, I want you to open each of the crates. Let him see the contents.” “Oop beke uba bal,” Edda counters, though I’m not sure what he said. Poe starts to open the bag. I feel a wavering in the Force that’s not the lightsaber. Like pure darkness is slammed full-force into light. Unpredictable, mostly evil. So evil, I sway, gripping the back of Poe’s bloodstained jacket tightly when my legs nearly give out. “Bez--” “Something’s wrong,” I manage, looking around wildly. I don’t see anything unusual. Until the pieces of lightsaber fly right out of Poe’s hand, straight into a dark corner of the room. From a concealed door behind Edda, an old enemy emerges. “So you did manage to find the saber after all.” “Phasma,” Poe and I draw our blasters, but I’m focused on the dark corner that the pieces flung to. I’m scared to use any of my helmet’s systems to see who it is. “How the hell did you-- you’re tracking us. You kriffing pegged us on Coruscant!” “Indeed,” Phasma replies smugly, “You were so good at weaseling your way out of my grasp that I’m surprised you were stupid enough not to realize how we were following you.” From every entrance of the room, at least six stormtroopers burst out with blasters ready. We’re surrounded, and Edda chuckles darkly. Ael-Ti haughtily leaves the room, barking something at us in another tongue. Poe and I go back-to-back, and I swing Grogu between us so that he has some shelter. The dark corner of the room shifts, and melting out of the shadows is a hooded figure in dark robes. He wears an intimidating mask with a lined silver forehead and a black muzzle. I can’t see his eyes. For every step he takes forward, I take one back. He seems to take up the entire room until there’s nothing left but this presence against Poe and I, tiny in comparison. Grogu has gone utterly silent. I keep stepping back, ignoring the stormtroopers, until I’m just past Poe, who even with my helmet sees my terror. He turns and falters, somewhere between anger and fear. It’s a Sith. It’s Kylo Ren. He’s found me. He’s found Grogu through me-- I’ve doomed him too. He’s gonna kill Poe. “Ren!” Poe growls-- I’ve never heard him so angry. “Dameron,” Kylo Ren replies calmly. His voice is deep, somehow disembodied and distinctly altered by the mask. “Has the Resistance truly sunk to the depths of making deals with crime leaders?” Poe keeps his blaster trained on Kylo Ren, but I don’t think it’ll do any good. “Have you decided to do your own dirty work for once?” Kylo Ren scoffs. “Usually I wouldn’t. But these events have me intrigued. All this, for medical supplies?” He opens his palm, revealing the shards of Palpatine’s lightsaber briefly before crushing them in his fist. He lets the dust of the evil saber fall to the ground. “Pathetic, isn’t it?” Even with the mask, I can tell that Kylo Ren is looking at me. “You call yourself a Mandalorian.” Poe steps between us. “Leave her alone, Ren.” Unfortunately, Ren is taller than even Phasma, so he easily towers over us, peering practically through Poe to me. “I saw you arrive here, Girl Misplaced. I wondered when I would meet you. I didn’t expect for someone of your power to join the Resistance.” When Poe doesn’t move, Ren makes him. With a swipe of his hand, he sends Poe flying into the far wall. I start to go after him, but Ren raises a hand and six ’troopers have their guns trained on Poe as he tries to shake himself out of his daze. I freeze, stuck staring up at Kylo Ren in terror. “When Phasma told me about what you did in the Sith temple, I knew that I’d found you, Girl Misplaced.” I want to say that that wasn’t me. That I don’t have the power to do that, not yet, maybe not ever. But nothing comes out of my mouth. “I sense great fear in you,” Ren says softly. Behind him I see Poe dragged to his feet, positioned behind Ren and bound with stuncuffs. “I sense your hate. But also great power, if only you’re trained how to use it properly. I can show you that power. You would become my apprentice. You wish for the power to protect your friends? I can grant you what you seek.” He offers me his hand. I glance from it back to his face, terrified. He doesn’t break helmet-eye contact. “Join me, Girl Misplaced. Follow your destiny.” My destiny? I remember how well the crimson lightsaber fit in my hand. How natural it felt. How perfect. I remember how I cracked the stone wall when I got angry back on the Resistance base, how powerful I felt because I was angry. Am I... meant to be a Sith, after all? My hand starts to lift. I don’t dare look at Poe. It hovers briefly over Kylo Ren’s extended offer. I remember Ahsoka. I remember how Din has cared for me like his own daughter. I remember the feel of the Darksaber, my inheritance and rightful weapon, the feeling of piloting the Slave. I recall the awful feeling of killing stormtroopers and TIE pilots, of TN-9824’s sacrifice. How I want to free Edda’s slave. How I want to honor my inheritance and legacy, the people of Mandalore. I think the best memory of all is Poe’s kiss. I lower my hand toward Ren’s, but my hand is in a fist. Without thinking twice, I trigger my flamethrower. I am not a Sith. The blast of fire whooshes out, but I’m surprised when all he does is stand there as it wisps off his clothes like smoke, harmless to him. I am not impervious to fire, so my beskar starts to get too hot as the fire blows back onto me. He just stares at me. Unimpressed. Unfazed. When I realize it’s not working, I let the fire stop, arm dropping to my side. Kylo Ren remains statue-still. “Is this your decision, Girl Misplaced?” “I am Laylah Vhaene-Besu of Clan Djarin,” I announce, my voice unwavering and confident. “And I am a Mandalorian by Creed and spirit. I am not a Sith, and never will I be.” “Hm,” He says, “One day, perhaps. If you survive what’s next.” Ominous. A couple of ’troopers grab me, and I don’t struggle when they put me back-to-back against Poe. They switch our stuncuffs so that we’re trapped together. Neither of us say anything, though we both flinch when Kylo Ren ignites his unique, crackling lightsaber and approaches Edda. The slave screams, trying to get away, but Ren literally slices through her to cut Edda right open. I gag and avert my eyes from the gory mess of entrails and slime. Poe’s pissed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw as he turns away from the mess. The slave did nothing. She didn’t deserve that fate. “What of the prisoners, Lord Ren?” Phasma questions. “Drop them in the pit,” Ren answers without turning around. He continues through the door, leading most of his stormtroopers away but Phasma, who pauses by what I realize is a lever next to Edda’s reeking corpse. “Pit?” Poe echoes, then comes to a realization as Phasma smugly pulls the lever. “No no-- wait wait wait--!” We’re both screaming as the floor drops away beneath us. We fall about fifteen feet before we slam into mud and muck, both of us yelping from the strain on our arms that nearly dislocate from the impact. Grogu squeaks, surprised but fine. Overhead we hear faint explosions, muffled screams-- chaos has been unleashed in the city. What the kriff are they doing? We manage to struggle into a sitting position, but Grogu has crawled out of the bag and is standing on the ground, inspecting our stuncuffs. A rusty gate starts to open, and I hear the snuffing of something way too big and angry. “C’mon, buddy, you can do it--” Poe urges. “Well, Bez, you were right even way back on Coruscant-- this mission is a bust.” I can’t help but laugh. “Funny, we’ve been calling it a mission this whole time when we were never even allowed to go.” Eyes move in the darkness beyond the gate. The eyes of something big. Poe sees them too, and grabs my hands with his. “At least we’re dying together. Can’t wish for more than that.” My delirious, adrenaline-filled mind immediately jumps to Frodo and Sam thinking they’re dying after destroying the Ring. “Sounds like something from--” He throws his head back. “If you say Lord of the Rings I’m gonna be the first non-Jedi in history to bust through these stuncuffs, and Bez? I’m gonna strangle you.” “Sorry.” Grogu screams as the wary beast reveals itself. A massive elder rancor, wounded, emaciated, practically on death’s door-- and very, very hungry. “Think the war’s over for us, Bez. If we were ever gonna say the L-word, now’s the time to do it.” Grogu struggles to focus on breaking the stuncuffs, even tries calming the rancor, but he’s so tired and scared he can hardly do either. An explosion rattles the building, nearly knocking the rancor off its feet. “It’s okay, Gizmo! Just calm down!” “Bez--!” “Grogu, run!” The rancor lunges, and we can’t move except to duck-- --a series of explosions target key areas on the rancor and cripple it significantly. It wails pitifully, staggering backward as blood pours from its wounds. “Whistling birds,” I breathe, awed, and my eyes fly to the opening grated ceiling we’d fallen through. “Dad?!” It’s not him. But it is a Mandalorian. Dressed in armor I recognize. He lowers himself into the pit via his jetpack, firing with precision aim using an EE3-carbine rifle. When he lands, the rancor is dead. He’s killed it, just like that. Without a word, he turns to face us, armor glinting with familiar worn green paint. Poe recognizes him too, and we’re both in awe. Grogu cheers, raising his arms. “B-Boba Fett...” I breathe, wondering if somebody broke into the hidden lean-to back on Yëa. “Th-that’s impossible-- you’re dead!” He chuckles-- his voice is deep and gravelly, and despite how old he must be, he walks forward without trouble. “Do I look dead?” And he just took out a rancor. “Is that what Djarin told you? A not-so-mysterious end for a notorious bounty hunter. No, I am not dead.” He kneels beside us, takes a laser-cutter out of his pocket, and starts cutting our stuncuffs away. “I retired.” “Again?” He laughs softly. “For good, this time. Or so I thought. I had dedicated my last years of life to protecting someone very important, until Djarin gave me a call. Imagine my surprise when I hear that he has a daughter now? His heir!” Once we’re free, Grogu hurries forward to give Boba a hug on his leg. Boba chuckles, leaning down to pat him on the head. “Hello again, my little green friend.” Kriff. Boba Fett. The Boba Fett. I’m flying his ship. I have his ship. I don’t know what to do, what to say. Poe and I are standing in front of Boba Fett. “I-It’s an honor to meet you, Boba Fett.” He bows his head. “Just as it is an honor to meet you, Laylah Djarin.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You carry the fates of all Mandalorians on your shoulders, little one. If you do not revive Mandalore when this war is over, no one will, and our people will fade into legend.” I swallow hard, nervous. “I will ensure that that doesn’t happen.” Boba shakes Poe’s hand. “You must be Commander Dameron. Djarin told me you were with her.” Poe nods, actually meek. “I-I’ve heard a lot about you, sir. It’s an honor.” Boba seems to find something amusing. He pulls a tracker out of his pocket and tosses it to Poe; it’s deactivated. “Found this on the Slave as soon as I landed. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.” Poe flushes with embarrassment, but asks, “How did you find us?” “It wasn’t easy,” Boba replies, “We knew the First Order was after you because of Djarin, so we interrupted some of their transmissions-- when we found ties to the map of Palpatine’s lightsaber, we knew Edda was involved. We try to keep an eye on his movements without showing ourselves, but none of that matters now. The Sith Lord has caused utter chaos. He disrupted the power couplings of the sphere, and soon everything on this planet will be crushed and exposed to space. All of the crime factions are fighting each other, trying to get to ships-- meanwhile suicide stormtroopers are here to keep anyone from leaving.” Boba gestures for us to follow him as we turn. “This way. We must hurry! It’s a long way to our ships.” I scoop up Grogu, placing him in the sack at my hip, and we follow Boba as he leads us past the rancor and through a back entrance that takes us up to the room where Edda’s body still lays. We stop short at what we see. Poe puts his hand on my back, but whether to steady me or himself, I doubt either of us would be able to tell. “Bez... Look at this...” A dozen Mandalorians. Blue, gray, silver, gold, all wearing beskar of various forms and with different styles of helmet. They’re on guard, and all but stand at attention when we enter the room. “This is her?” One of them, a female in silver, asks. “This is Laylah Vhaene-Besu of Clan Djarin,” Boba says by way of introduction, “The Heir of Djarin.” “Is it true?” A blue-clad man asks me, almost desperate in his hope, “Are you the one who will inherit the Darksaber? Restore Mandalore?” What the kriff were you telling everybody, Dad, I swallow hard, forcing myself to keep from stuttering. I lift my chin. “Yes.” “She wears the armor of Bo-Katan,” Another whispers, in awe. This attention is making me nervous. Poe keeps a hand on my back, and now he is steadying me. Boba turns to me. “Princess, these are but a few of the Mandalorians relying on you to rebuild our home. We call ourselves the Last Blood.” PRINCESS--WHAT-- Poe grins underneath his mask, eyes sparkling. “Hear that, Bez? You’re a princess.” “You-- pilot,” Says one of the men, and tosses Poe a helmet of beskar. He catches it, eyes wide and excited. “You’re gonna need that. Protects a lot better than that flimsy plastic, yeah?” “Thank you Mando,” Poe tears off his plastic mask and immediately puts the black helmet on. Maybe I will get him some beskar, ’cause he looks badass. “Rally to the princess!” Boba cries, and the Mandalorians cheer as he adds to me, “We’ll follow your lead, Djarin! To your ship!” I draw my blasters; Poe draws his. Oof, if I make myself out stupid here the Mandalorians will just scatter to throughout the galaxy because they’re gonna be scared of having an idiot in charge. “Mandalorians...” I say, trying my hardest to sound confident. “It is an honor to fight by your side.” They really do follow my lead, with Poe on my left and Boba flanking my right. We take the most direct path, and the streets are alive with blasterfire. Criminals run amok chaotically, screaming-- they shoot each other just as the stormtroopers shoot them down, but they all falter when they see the dozen Mandalorians. We don’t fire on anyone but those who try to stop us. Stormtroopers, mostly, although a few criminals do try to get a shot in. Poe more than happily gets a headshot on Ael-Ti, and I hear him mutter, “Asshole.” Above us, the sky is on fire. The sphere explodes and huge pieces are crashing to the ground. In the distance, enormous waves of debris surge away from crashing panels. Still, we’re calm. When we exit the city, I see a couple of people trying to pry open the Slave and the cockpits of a few other ships. We fire near them, scaring them off. The Mandalorians jump into their ships, ranging from old T-65 X-wings to repurposed freighter vessels to kom’rk class fighters. As Poe opens the ramp to greet a very bewildered and confused BB-8, I turn to Boba. “Would you like to fly the Slave again, Boba Fett?” He pauses, then he nods. “Yes, yes I would like that.” Boba follows us into the ship, making his way right to the cockpit. BB-8 wows at the sight of him, making Poe laugh. “I know, buddy.” Poe and I follow Boba to the cockpit, deciding to hang on for dear life on either side of him rather than strap ourselves into the seats behind. We give him a second, though, because despite the fact that there are people trying to get into our ship and the rest of the Mandalorians are taking flight, he takes a minute to savor the feeling of being in his ship. I feel kind of awful, leaving these people, but at the same time, I don’t. The innocent are already dead, crowding the streets as corpses-- the violent criminals banging away at the ship are only screaming to save themselves and will go off to do nefarious deeds elsewhere. Boba powers up the Slave. “Hello, old girl.” Almost immediately, much faster than either Poe or I have been able to lift off, we’re flying. With expert finesse, Boba navigates the falling debris, dispatches a couple of TIEs, and brings us out right underneath of a Star Destroyer with such clean, sharp moves, Poe is left in shock-- though I can’t see his face under his black helmet. The other Mandalorians jump to lightspeed with the Slave right behind them. We form a cluster of mix-matched ships in the blue-white lightspeed tunnel, exiting only a few short minutes later over a rocky, purple-skied planet. “Damn TIEs...” Boba grumbles as if he’s talking about mosquitoes. The Mandalorians break for offensive manuevers-- they’re just as powerful warriors in the air as they are on the ground. Hell, Boba locks the aelerons and swings us upside-down to take down three TIEs. I can’t tell if he’s showing off or enjoying his ship to its fullest. Probably both. In only a matter of minutes, the Mandalorians have dispatched the TIEs, and we’re back in lightspeed. Boba flips on the comlink, and I see him input the Resistance channel. Uh oh. “Din Djarin. This is Boba Fett leaving Tiersa--” “Maker, are they with you?! Did you find them?!” Din’s voice comes through the comlink once he realizes who it is, making Grogu poke his head out of the bag. Pointedly, Boba looks over his shoulder at me. I swallow hard and glance to Poe, but he only shrugs. I’m relieved to hear him; he’s concerned. He’s not angry that I stunned him. It was a foolish thing to be scared of. “Hi Dad.” “LAYLAH VHAENE-BESU AND GROGU DJARIN--” Both of us flinch at the use of our full names. “HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ON AN UNAUTHORIZED MISSION TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE WITHOUT BACKUP, WITHOUT ANY ASSISTANCE OR INFORMATION! DO YOU REALIZE HOW LUCKY YOU ARE TO BE ALIVE?! “AND YOU, POE DAMERON--” “Uh oh,” Poe breathes. “A COMMANDER YOU MAY BE, BUT WHAT KIND OF LEADER GOES OFF ON HIS OWN WITHOUT PRIOR AUTHORIZATION-- don’t answer that-- WITH AN INEXPERIENCED MEDIC! I SWEAR IF I WAS THERE RIGHT NOW I WOULD BACKHAND BOTH OF YOU. I WANT YOU TO KNOW I’VE SUGGESTED TO LEIA THAT SHE PUT YOU BOTH ON SANITARY DUTY AND DISHWASHING FOR A WEEK! MAKER, WHAT GOOD IS A RESISTANCE IF YOU HAVE TO GROUND THEIR MEMBERS FOR ACTING LIKE CHILDREN?!” I can’t help but beam, and I’m glad for my helmet because tears are streaming down my cheeks. Dad doesn’t hate me. Boba is chuckling, shaking his head. Poe is taking it all in and shifting nervously. “AND GROGU. GROGU, WHY THE HELL DID YOU FOLLOW YOUR SISTER?!” “Badu.” “If you had ANY idea how worried I was, scouring the galaxy for you, pulling up old contacts and listening in on First Order comlinks... Are you at least safe?” “We’re a little banged-up, besides Grogu,” I answer, unable to keep the smile out of my voice. “Grogu’s just fine.” I pause, heart sinking. “But... you’re right, Dad. I should’ve listened to you. We didn’t even get the supplies.” “Well, you’re lucky,” Din huffs, relieved, “I guess this wasn’t all for no reason. I never would’ve thought of calling up on Boba if I wasn’t looking for you.” Poe looks down at Boba in surprise, pulling his helmet off. “You’ve got medical supplies?” “The Last Blood has been accumulating supplies for rebuilding Mandalore,” Boba replies, “I suppose there’s no use for it if the galaxy isn’t free, so we’ll give you what we have.” Poe beams at me, leaning over to grab my shoulder. “We did it, Bez!” “You did not do it, Dameron,” Din snaps, and I bite back a smile as Poe freezes in feigned terror. “You endangered my daughter.” “I endangered your daughter,” I specify, as Poe says simultaneously, “I’m so sorry sir, it’ll never happen again.” But now that the danger’s over-- now that we’re safe, and on our way home-- I can’t help but gush to Din, who I know still cares even after all I did. “Dad, you won’t believe how this’s been! There’ve been Jedi and Sith and there was a Sith Temple and Palpatine’s lightsaber and there was this podracing race on Coruscant; you should’ve seen Poe he was so cool-- oh! And there was this kyber crystal I can’t wait to show you--” “Okay, okay,” Din laughs, “You can tell me all about it when we meet up on Bespin.” “Bespin?” I ask; I’ve never been to Bespin, or seen pictures of it. I’ve only heard stories of it: a kingdom of cloud-cities hanging in rosy skies... “That’s where we’ve been hiding out,” Boba answers, “There’s someone very special there we’d like you to meet.” “In the meantime, you kids should get some rest. Especially you, Grogu.” “Du.” “I’ll let Leia know your little adventure’s come to an end. I’ll see you on Bespin.” With that, the comlink goes dead. “Well, princess,” Boba Fett says, getting comfortable in the seat. “You heard your father. Go down and get some sleep.” Poe turns to the seats behind the cockpit, perching in one as he quietly assures BB-8 that he’s okay. I pause, though, asking Boba, “Why do you call me that, sir? Princess?” “It’s the Darksaber,” Boba explains, “Once it was passed down, then won in battle. Now, it relies on heart, but nothing changes the fact that whomever wields it is Mandalorian royalty. First it was in the possession of Clan Kryze, but then it was stolen by Moff Gideon, an officer of the faction that would become the First Order. Then it was obtained by your father, who found you. A girl of strong heart whom is worthy of wielding the saber... of rebuilding all our people once stood for. That, Laylah Djarin, is why I and any other Mandalorian you ever meet will call you princess.” I shift my weight back-and-forth nervously. “I’m not sure if I’m deserving of your respect yet, sir. I still have a lot to learn. I’m only nineteen, after all.” Poe almost falls out of his chair in surprise. He’s always known how old I am. What the kriff? Is it just now hitting him that we have a bit of an age gap between us? It’s not even that extreme of a gap though-- there’s twelve years between thirty-one and nineteen. I glance over to him as I listen to Boba Fett reply with, “A lot of rulers start out young. May I remind you that Leia herself was only your age when she became a senator?” This catches me by surprise. “She was?” Boba nods. “Now you must go and rest, princess. It’s a nine hour journey to Bespin.” I secure Grogu in a seat, where BB-8 rolls up to guard him closely, settling down and hooking himself to the platform. Poe leans down and inserts a portable power chip into one of his plugs, then scratches his belly and puts the beskar helmet he was given on a nearby seat before plopping down himself. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. I watch him fondly for a second. “What’s up with you, Poe?” Poe tiredly smiles up at me-- exhuasted, dirty, messy, and flushing. He’s probably more handsome now than I’ve ever seen him. “...Nothin’. Just...” He gestures between us, voice low. “We’ve kinda got a thing going here like what Han Solo and Leia had. Same age bracket and everything. You’re even a princess.” I take off my helmet and beam at him. I have already come to that realization, but I never said anything because when I thought of it, we were still just friends. “I know.” I set my helmet beside his, taking the opportunity to sit on his lap-- a first for both of us. We’re both surprised, but he puts his arms around my waist anyway, eyes locked with mine. He sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t break eye contact, keeping his voice quiet because, I dunno, Boba Fett is like only ten feet away? “Damn, I wish I could say the L-word to you.” “One day,” I echo his words from a couple days ago. “I promise.” He jerks his chin at me. “Can I kiss you, princess?” I blush, biting my lip to stifle my very un-Mandalorian-like giggle. “Only if you never call me princess again. You’re Poe. You call me your own special nickname.” He grins, pressing our foreheads together. “Can I kiss you, Bez?” My voice is just a whisper. “Why are you asking, dummy?” He does-- until we hear Boba Fett go “Eugh,” and then we pull apart with smiles. He puts his chin on top of my head, and we fall asleep cuddled together on the seat next to Grogu and BB-8. My last coherent thought is that maybe we should go on unsanctioned adventures more often.

- - -

“Come on, you two,” Boba’s amused voice calls from the cockpit. BB-8 pokes Poe and I’s leg with his arm until Poe flicks him away. “’m up, ’m up...” “Strap yourselves in, kids,” Boba says, “We’re coming in for a landing.” “You’ve been to Bespin, right Poe?” I ask, starting to get to my own seat; Poe pulls me back to him, having strapped himself in already, and he wraps his arms around me tightly. “A few times,” He replies, kissing my cheek. “You’re gonna love it, Bez.” No sooner do we unstrap ourselves after landing does the ramp open. I’ve only jut put my helmet on and stood, lucky for Poe, because Din immediately runs up into the Slave, full speed. Seriously, I’ve never seen him move so fast. Grogu is sticking his arms and head out of the bag at my waist, cooing happily-- Din crushes me in one arm while his other goes to scoop up Grogu and hold him to his chest. “Thank Maker-- you’re alright!” “You didn’t believe me?” I joke, making him only squeeze us tighter. I hug him back just as tightly, burying my helmeted face in his shoulder. He doesn’t hate me. I hear Poe shuffle behind us, and Din points at him without letting go of either of us. “Don’t you move, mister. I’ve got a whole lecture planned for you.” “It was my idea, Dad,” I laugh through my fading tears, “I convinced Poe to come, not the other way around... Actually, it was more of, I was gonna go anyway, so Poe decided to come with me to keep me safe. With BB-8. Grogu was an unexpected but very acceptable addition to our little team.” “Hm,” Din scrutinizes Poe over my shoulder, who stands stiff and nervous. “...This true?” “Yes sir.” “You’re not just agreeing so you don’t get a lecture?” “No sir.” “Good. Because you’re getting one anyway.” “Of course, sir.” Boba’s distinct jangling armor comes up behind us, and Din nods respectfully to him, holding Grogu in one arm and me in the other, after briefly reaching over to shake his hand. “Boba. Good to finally see you in person again. I see you found where I left the armor.” Boba inclines his head. “Indeed. You hid it well, old friend.” I look up at Din accusingly. “Why’d you tell me he was dead, Dad?” Din shrugs. “Boba told me to make his whereabouts as mysterious as possible. Nothing more mysterious than being a ghost.” Boba scoffs. “No, there isn’t.” “Speaking of, sir,” I say, addressing Fett; it��s strange to be talking to a living legend, much like how I feel around Leia. “Would you like the Slave back? I’ve upgraded and repaired all her systems and--” Boba waves me off. “No, no. My bounty hunting days are done. The Slave deserves better than to gather rust while sitting idle. You’ve given her a new purpose. She’s yours now.” I swallow past a lump of nerves and emotion gathered in my throat. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to care for her as you did.” “You already are,” Boba assures me. “Now come, princess. There’s someone here who you need to meet before you depart.” Din takes over carrying Grogu, who is babbling on and on about this merry little adventure. BB-8 rolls alongside Poe, who thanks the Mandalorian who gave him the helmet and returns it. Once we’re off the ramp, I falter, shuffling on my feet for a second. “Holy kriff...” We’re on a city in the sky. It’s a huge, domed, rose-gold city-palace floating in soft pink clouds with golden sunlight. It’s the single most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life. I stand there and keep turning around in circles in awe, stunned. “Alright, it’s official: I’m never gonna leave here.” Din, Boba, and Poe all stay near me, and following closely are the rest of Last Blood. This is the first time I’ve been near Mandalorians besides Dad. These are my people. Not soon after entering the sleek, white-walled buildings with huge windows and vast inner spaces do we come across an older man with well-trimmed facial hair and a distinct yellow cape, accenting his blue-purple outfit. Poe beams and rushes forward. “Lando! Hey, man!” “Dameron!” Lando Calrissian laughs, returning Poe’s embrace. “It’s been awhile! How are you?” “I’m good, I’m good!” Poe’s beaming as he steps back to face us. Lando and we Mandalorians stop, facing each other. I don’t think the man’s stopped smiling, and it’s infectious. “Well well! I don’t think I’ve seen all of Last Blood here at once in a very long time. You must be very important, young lady. Poe, you care to introduce us?” “Lando, this is Commander Din Djarin of the Resistance, and his son Grogu.” “The Din Djarin?” Lando echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Know many?” Din jokes. “No, I do not.” “And this...” Poe continues, indicating me with his outstretched arm, “Is his daughter, Laylah Vhaene-Besu Djarin.” Lando half-bows, taking my hand to kiss the back of it. “It’s an honor to finally meet you, my lady. You’ve caused quite the fuss around the Resistance lately.” “I’m sorry about that,” I manage, bowing my head, “I’ve heard a lot of stories about you, Lando Calrissian. It’s an honor.” Lando chuckles, nudging Poe with his elbow as he straightens up. “Rebellious and polite? Royalty? You’ve got yourself one badass Mandalorian girlfriend, buddy.” Poe meets my eyes through the helmet with a fond smile I return even if he can’t see it. “Yeah; I’m lucky.” Then Poe panics and all but ducks behind Lando as Din registers what just happened. “Wait, what?” Chuckling, Lando raises his hands as he talks. “I don’t want to start the father-son-in-law fight. I’m just a middle-man. See, I’m not actually who you’re supposed to meet.” “You’re not, sir?” I ask, wondering who else I could possibly meet now. Haven’t I met all the legends except for Luke Skywalker and Han Solo? “Not at all. She’s right through this door, Lady Djarin.” Lando gestures to the open door behind him. I take a deep breath, but don’t hesitate. I want to show my fellow Mandalorians that their leader doesn’t fear a simple meeting. With whoever. I enter the room, surprised when the door doesn’t close behind me. No one follows me in. I’m supposed to do this alone. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a surge of my social anxiety. The urge to turn and run. I’m held to walking only by the Creed. I refuse to dishonor it. Ahead of me, there’s a woman sitting in a white chair, overlooking a garden below a pristine balcony. She hears me coming and struggles to her feet. She’s old and worn, but she’s noble. When I try to rush to help her, she waves me off impatiently. Short silver hair frames her strong-jawed face. Time has mapped her face with a wrinkle for every memory, her body a living memorial of the days she’s witnessed. Of her struggles and her triumphs. She wears an outfit of light blue, breezy pants and a matching shirt. Thin arms hold a cane with strength I’ve never seen an old woman possess. She smiles when she looks up at me. “How strange it is,” Her voice is smooth, ancient, exuding just as much authority as Leia herself. “To find myself looking in what, with your helmet, seems like a mirror to me of days gone by.” Then I realize who she is. Without another thought, another second of hesitation, I drop to one knee, right arm across my chest. “My lady Kryze!” I cry, hopefully sounding as respectful as I am surprised. Bo-Katan Kryze takes slow, careful steps forward, tapping me with her cane. “Stand, young one.” I obey immediately. “Let me see your face, child.” I take my helmet off, feeling a little subconscious about my helmet-hair. She smiles, nods, seeming to find something she approves of. Her rough hand comes up to my cheek like a mother would to her daughter. “You are as beautiful as any duchess of Mandalore, but it is the fire in your eyes that shows me you have the soul of our people.” She turns toward the balcony; I offer her my elbow as we walk, and she takes it. “Let us walk for a bit.”

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nosakaya · 3 years ago

Text

❃.✮:▹ ◃:✮.❃

There was an idea so I decided to write this.

This shot is so sad a little sad

❃.✮:▹ ◃:✮.❃

Laito Sakamaki x yui komori [ sad ]

Eng - English

Yui, I ran through the mansion as hard as I could. She could hear laito laughing, mocking her, yet she tried so many times but could not escape even once. It was like a game of hide and seek. In which she was a loser from the very beginning.

She reached the door, it was locked. As it always was. Why had she deluded herself that this time it would be different?

Was she hoping to escape for once? That was impossible. And yet she tried, yet

"hope is a foolish thing" she knew from laito kuna, but she didn't want to think about it.

She, she believed she had a sannyasis to escape

- Where's my sweet baby doll? - I heard right next to her ear.

Which made her scared, and her heart thudded loudly.

" Boom, boom, boom, boom "

- you've already given up he said looking at the exhausted yui

- After that, he put his arms around her waist, pulling her close.

- Your fear is so sweet - he whispered in her ear with a sadistic smile after a while he bent into her thigh yui, she wanted to push him away but couldn't. He was too strong, no matter how many times she tried.

- laito kun stop - I said with mixed hope that this will end soon.

Laito, just giggled at those words biting even more.

" More... Pain... "

- I will grant your wish, and Dan will give you more pain. - He said while approaching yui placing a bloody kiss on her lips.

After all, for laito such things are worthless the word love is like saying "good morning".

That's what he understood when he was young.

He believed that love is nothing but the touch of bodies, nothing else.

He didn't see how he hurt the people he treated that way. Maybe because he didn't understand it at all?

The pleading expression on his face about the pain only got him started.

- Ah, bitch - chan are you trying to tempt me? - he giggled enjoying this

- What? Not her. I beg you let me go laito - she begged.

But, she was trapped she fell into his spons and had no way out she was without a way out. Like in a cage.

- You're tempting me even more today, maybe it's the full moon?

Yui's gaze widened in fear of the pervert.

"Help... "

She wanted someone to help her, she didn't like laito when he got to her.

"Today was a full "

The vampire pawed at her neck, drinking her blood greedily.

"She was, a human! And not a toy for vampires! " why didn't either of them understand that?

"People are not toys."

These vampires, however, thought otherwise, for them they were like toys that they could throw away when they got bored. But they didn't understand that.

- You know, bitch chan I love you," said yui, but she knew that it was not at all true of laito always, he said. Those words from his words were "bitter, tasteless. " without emotion.

Yui, she wanted to hear from laito, the real, the word "I love you" she didn't want his fake, feeling like everything around her now was fake. It was a fashada.

"These are just empty words from laito " these thoughts were in her mind.

"He'll never love anyone anyway..."

- It's just empty," said the blonde haired

"People are not toys."

These vampires, however, thought otherwise, for them they were like toys that they could throw away when they got bored. But they didn't understand that.

- You know, bitch chan I love you," said yui, but she knew that it was not at all true of laito always, he said. Those words from his words were "bitter, tasteless. " without emotion.

Yui, she wanted to hear from laito, the real, the word "I love you" she didn't want his fake, feeling like everything around her now was fake. It was a fashada.

"These are just empty words from laito " these thoughts were in her mind.

"He'll never love anyone anyway..."

- It's just empty," said the blonde haired

- you break my heart he giggled - he said to her

"In the end, I know they're just words and not true... "

was love empty? Like words? Which he gave to the laito girls to make them happy, after all, people unmanly, he wanted love. But, after all, there was nothing wrong with it.

laito, he only liked the connection, the bodies. That's all he wanted, nothing else, after all, "nothing else matters. "

- Say, bitch - chan you still want to escape from here? - asked laito .

- yes, my father will come back for me someday. - She replied with hope, making laito want to mock her.

People, they are such pathetic creatures persisting in believing that they can make it and there they really can't make it.

Laito laughed at that answer.

- If he had, he would have done it long ago," he replied.

Her eyes showed surprise. That could not be true.

Laito was manipulating her like a toy that you could set up whenever you wanted.

She had no escape from his manipulation. He was good at it, at manipulating people. After all, people were so naive to him.

Yui longed to escape laito from her own feelings for laito. But she couldn't, there was no escape. In the end, she never had one.

❃.✮:▹　◃:✮.❃

Był pomysł więc postanowiłam to napisać.

Ten shot jest takie sad trochę smutny

❃.✮:▹　◃:✮.❃

Pl - polish

Laito Sakamaki z yui komori [ sad ]

Yui, uciekałam przez rezydencji ile sił w nogach. Słyszała śmiech, laito który drwił z niej, mimo wszystko próbowała tyle razy ale ani razu nie mogła uciec. To było jak gra w hide and seek. W której, od samego początku była przegraną.

Dobiegła do drzwi, były zamknięte. Jak zawsze. Czemu się łudziła że tą razą będzie innaczej?

Miała nadzieję, że uda jej się choć raz uciec? To równało się niemożliwe. A jednak próbowała, jednak

" nadzieja to coś głupie " wiedziała to od laito kuna lecz nie chciała o tym myśleć.

Ona, wierzyła że ma sansze na ucieczkę

- Gdzie jest moja słodka laleczka? - usłyszałam tuż obok ucha.

Przez co się przestraszyła, i jej serce zadudniło głośno.

" Bum, bum, bum, bum "

- podałaś się już powiedział patrząc, na wyczerpaną yui

- po tym, obejmując ją w tali, przyszuwając do siebie.

- Twój strach jest taki słodki - wyszeptał jej do ucha z sadystycznym uśmiechem po chwili wygryzł się w jej udo yui, chciała do odepchnąć ale nie mogła. Był zbyt silny, nie ważne ile razy próbowała.

- laito kun przestań - powiedziałam z mieszaną nadzieją że to się wkrótce się skończy.

Laito, tylko zachichotał na te słowa gryząc jeszcze bardziej.

" więcej.. Bólu... "

- spełnię twoje życzenie, i Dan ci więcej bólu. - Powiedział zbliżając się do yui składając na jej ustach krwawy pocałunek.

Wkońcu dla laito takie rzeczy są nic nie warte słowa kocham jest jak powiedzenie "dzień dobry "

To zrozumiał będąc jeszcze mały.

Wierzył że miłość to nic innego jak dotyk ciał, nic innego.

Nie widział jak ranił osoby które tak traktował. Może dlatego że dokończa tego nie rozumiał?

Błagajacy wyraz twarzy o bólu tylko go zaczęł.

- Ah, bitch - chan próbujesz mnie kusić? - zachichotał cieszą się tym

- Co ją nie. Błagam puść mnie laito - błagała.

Ale, była w pułapce wpadła w jego spony i nie miała już wyjścia była bez wyjścia. Niczym w klatce.

- jakoś kusisz, mnie jeszcze bardziej dziś mozemoże to wina pełni?~~ - oznajmił

Wzrok yui rozszerzył się że strachu przed zboczeńcem.

"Pomocy.. "

Chciała żeby ktoś jej pomógł, nie lubiła laito kiedy się do niej dobierał.

"Dziś była pełnią "

Wampir wbił się w jej szyję łapczywa, pijąc jej krew zachlanie.

"Była, człowiekiem! A nie zabawką dla wampirów! " czemu żaden z nich tego nie rozumiał?

"Ludzie to nie zabawki ".

Jednak te wampiry, uważali innaczej dla nich byli jak zabawki, które mogli wyrzucić kiedy im się znudzą. Ale oni tego nie rozumieli.

- Wiesz, bitch chan kocham cie - powiedział yui jednak wiedziała ze to nie było w ogóle prawdziwe laito zawsze, to mówił. Te słowa z jego słów były "gorzkie, bez smaku. " bez emocji.

Yui, pragnęła usłyszeć od laito, prawdziwe, słowo "kocham cie " nie chciała tego jego fałszu, uczuć zupełnie jakby wszystko co ją teraz otaczo było fałszywe. Było faszadą.

"To tylko puste słowa od laito " te myślisz były w jej umyśle.

"On i tak nigdy nikogo nie pokocha "...

- To tylko puste - rzekła blond włosa

- łamiesz moje serce zachichotał - powiedział do niej

" wkońcu wiem, że to tylko słowa i nie są prawdziwie.. "

czy miłość była pusta? Niczym słowa? Które dawał laito dziewczynom by były zadowolone, wkońcu ludzie bezpansko, pragnął miłości. Ale, przecież nie było w tym nic złego.

"Laito, lubił tylko połonczenie, ciał. Tylko tego pragnął, nic więcej wkońcu nic się nie liczy " nic więcej. "

- Powiedz, bitch - chan nadal stąd chcesz uciec? - zapytał laito .

- tak, mój ojciec kiedyś po mnie wróci. - odparła z nadzieją, przez co laito chciał zadrwic z niej.

Ludzie, to takie żałosne istoty uporczywie wierząc że dadzą radę a tam naprawdę nie dadzą rady.

Laito zaśmiał się na tą odpowiedz.

- Gdyby, miał już dawno by to zrobił - odpowiedział.

Jej oczy pokazywały zdziwienie. To nie mogła być prawda.Nie mogła.

Laito, nią manipulował niczym zabawką którą można ustawić kiedy się chcę.

Nie miała od tego ucieczki od jego manipulacji. Był dobry w tym, w manipulacji ludźmi. Wkońcu ludzie byli tak naiwni dla niego.

Yui pragnęła uciec od laito od własnych uczuć do laito. Ale nie umiała, nie było ucieczki. Wkońcu nigdy jej nie miała.

#diabolik lovers #yui komori #laito sakamaki #one shot #sad short story

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oreoambitions · 5 years ago

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In Which Boobs Get Kara Into Trouble

There will come a time later, when Kara is standing on the roof of Spherical Industries with a gun to her head, when she will wonder how she ever got herself into such a mess. The rain will pour and the city will roar, oblivious, far below while Kara tries to piece it all together. And it will end as it began: with a pair of brilliant green eyes and a sad smile.

Kara spies her at the hotel bar and, if she's being honest, the first thing she notices are the boobs. I mean, can you blame her? The cut of that dress is scandalous at best and the woman wearing it is a vision, truly. Kara, lingering in the doorway in her slacks and buttondown, tired and a little unkempt from a long day on her first field assignment as a junior reporter, almost forgets for a moment that she's shy and awkward and Definitely Straight Thank You Very Much. She flashes her brightest smile almost before she realizes it and, to her surprise, the woman with the boobs looks up and smiles back.

The second thing Kara notices is the older gentleman leaning in across the bar, his hand lingering on that dress somewhere just north of inappropriate as he reasserts his position at the center of the boob woman's attention. The journalist in Kara says: I wonder what their relationship to one another is. The Definitely Straight Thank You Very Much side of Kara says: I should go rescue her.

There will come a time when Kara curses the fact that she's somehow inherited that trademark Danvers penchant for heroism and trouble, but this is not that time. This is the time when Kara strolls up, one hand in her pocket, heart pounding in her ears, to flash that million dollar smile one more time and adjust her glasses. She glances dismissively at Just North of Inappropriate as she inserts herself into the situation with all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

"Sorry I'm late," she says brightly. "Just a little bit of traffic on the bridge. Shall we get a table?"

The plan, if you can really call it that, has just about formed in Kara's mind by the time she finishes speaking. There are, she assumes, roughly two possible outcomes. Either the boob woman doesn't need rescuing after all and Kara is about to suffer an incredibly humiliating encounter, or she does need rescuing and they can head to the hotel restaurant together where Kara can see her delivered safely to wherever it is she'd like to be. What actually happens is neither of those things.

"Darling," the boob woman says, a sad smile on her lips. "I was just about to call. This is Jack, the gentleman I was telling you about. Jack, this is my wife..."

It is to Kara's credit that she only hesitates for a moment. She did take an improv class for half a semester in undergrad; she's about as well prepared for a curveball like this as anyone could reasonably expect. She extends her hand and says, "Kara. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Jack replies, his eyebrows high. "Forgive me; Lena didn't mention you were coming."

Lena slides an arm around Kara's waist so casually that for one insane instant Kara wonders whether this woman has confused her for someone else. "You know how it is," Lena is saying. "Work doesn't always allow for travel; I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up."

Travel. So Kara, Wife of the Woman with the Boobs, is not supposed to be from here.

Jack fixes Kara with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. "I hope the flight wasn't too difficult."

"Somehow it always feels shorter than I expect," Kara says, mind scrambling. Where is she supposed to have flown in from? Is this a test? Is there something she should know to say?

Jack chuckes. "Well, Metropolis to National City is a short trip compared to what you're used to, I'm sure. If you'll excuse me, I'll just let them know we'll be needing an extra place at the table."

Lena is hissing as soon as he's out of earshot. "It took you long enough, goddamnit. I called for backup an hour ago! I think he has the asset here, at the hotel. If we're lucky we can- shit. Hope!"

And just like that Lena is all smiles and warmth but for her white knuckled grip on Kara's hip. She waves to a woman lingering in the doorway and Kara finds herself tangled in pleasantries and small talk, playing the part as best she can.

Now the plan is: get out of this as soon as possible.

It becomes clear that 'as soon as possible' might be a while coming when Jack returns and the four of them are escorted not, as Kara had assumed, to the hotel restaurant, but into the elevator. Oh. They are dining at the private club on the top floor, and all at once Kara is conscious of the fact that her entire outfit is likely worth less than the average glass of wine here, that her hair is coming a little undone in the back, that she didn't put makeup on this morning because she was hoping that seeming a little more like 'one of the guys' might earn her a more favorable quote at the conference she was working this afternoon. This is trouble, and if Kara's gut is right, it's dangerous trouble at that.

The menu doesn't list prices but Kara navigates the social waters by ordering just about whatever Lena does - although she kips the salad appetizer in favor of egg rolls - and fumbles through conversation by saying as little as possible until the conversation drifts to the Kaznian refugee crisis and Kara begins to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"Well, you know as they say in Kaznia," Jack is saying, "Without work, there is no desert."

He says the phrase in Kaznian so smoothly that it would have passed by perhaps anyone but an actual Kaznian refugee without comment. But Kara has never been the best when it comes to holding her tongue and so she corrects him almost without thinking about it. "Bez prace nejsou kolace. Without work there is no cake."

Jack raises his eyebrows, but it's Hope who comments, "Are you from Kaznia too? Is that how you two met?"

Kara is frozen, processing the implication that Lena may also be a Kaznian refugee, but Lena is already answering. "Our fathers knew one another, yes, but we actually met at a bar. It's a terribly mundane story. There I was, enduring the cumbersome attentions of some ape, and she simply swooped in for the rescue. The rest is history."

Kara almost laughs. "Really, it was love at first sight," she says. "Coming to the rescue was the least I could do. Even if I did turn out to get rather more than I'd bargained for."

Lena's smile is sugar sweet as she leans over to press a warm kiss to Kara's cheek. "I'm worth it," she promises and, mercifully, she changes the subject.

They make it most of the way through dessert before the conversation finally turns to business.

"How long are you in town?" Jack asks. "Not just for the conference, I hope."

Lena hums, noncommittal. "Maybe a few days longer. There are a few business meetings I'd like to take care of while we're here."

"Well I hope you'll save one of those meetings for me. Spherical Industries has made a breakthrough, I'm sure you've heard, and while I've obligations to the board to hear a few proposals the real prize would be a partnership with L-Corp. We could do great things together, you and I."

A number of thoughts cross Kara's mind in quick succession.

The first: Jack's tone is so overtly predatory, so intensely suggestive, that Kara is absolutely shocked that he would speak to Lena in such a way in front of her (supposed) wife or in front of his own spouse.

The second: If Lena works for L-Corp, Kara has gotten herself into the middle of something very complicated indeed.

The third: Jack is, as Kara has suspected for the better part of an hour now, not just some rando putting his hands on a woman in a bar. He is, in fact, none other than Jack Speer, as in Spherical Industries, as in the man responsible for the conference where Kara has been working. The conference where she was hoping to hear something that might confirm a rumored breakthrough to which Jack just openly admitted. And, if Kara's sources are to be believed, Spherical Industries has gone to great length to keep the details of that breakthrough out of the hands of the authorities. Kara would give just about anything to find out why.

"You know I always have time for a few drinks with an old friend; I'm sure something can be arranged," Lena says. "It really is lovely to catch up with you both. And isn't your anniversary coming up soon?"

"One year on Sunday," Hope replies.

“Well then an early congratulations to you both.”

When dessert has been consumed, coffee sipped, and the check paid (by Spherical Industries, at Jack's insistence), it's time for the long walk to the elevator and down the hall to what is presumably Lena's room. Jack and Hope walk them all the way, and the small talk lasts another excruciating handful of minutes while Lena fiddles with her key until, at last, Hope suggests that everyone must be tired.

Kara's mind is reeling. Jack and Hope aren't walking away and so, in order to keep up appearances, she follows Lena into the hotel room.

It's almost - almost - not a surprise when, as soon as the door shuts, Lena pulls a gun on Kara. There is still something a little inherently startling about finding herself on the wrong end of a firearm but, well, that's been looking like the almost inevitable end result of this evening for a little while here and Kara figures the best thing she can do is handle it as calmly as possible.

"Who the fuck are you," Lena demands, "and who the fuck do you work for?"

"I can ex-"

"You are definitely not the backup I called for. Are you with Edge? How did you find me?"

Kara raises her hands in the universal symbol for surrender. "I don't work for anyone," she explains. "Well, I work for CatCo, actually, but the point is, I think we might be on the same side."

Slowly, her eyes never leaving Kara's face, Lena lowers the gun and engages the safety. Kara's gaze drops to the boobs. If there has ever been a time not to be distracted by boobs it’s this moment but, well. Kara may be Definitely Straight Thank You Very Much but even she can appreciate the absolute goddess standing in front of her in a sinful dress with a loaded weapon in hand. She swallows and forces her attention back to Lena's face and to the knowing smirk that says her distraction has not gone unnoticed.

"I'm listening," Lena says.

#1 of 3 #ficlet #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl #supergirl fic #supercorp fic #idk #fake marriage

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sularis · 4 years ago

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“Bez PiSu Polska upadnie”

- my deeply bigoted homophobic, xenophobic and quite possibly racist uncle, right before he lectured me that sushi isn’t good for me.

I, on multipule occations, tried to argue with his harmful belifs and almost always ended up getting interupted and told I am wrong and young and stupid. He doesn’t want to listen because he is more comfortable sitting in his bigotry than actually accepting that other people are not the same as him.

“kocham prezydenta Dude i Morawieckiego”

- one of my classmates, he was later mocked by people cuz of it. In real life he tries to hide his homophobia and concerning amount of H*tler praising memes. Yet he never hides his sexsism, racism and other types of bigotry.

Just trying to arguee with him over these topics makes you lose your shit. He’s too deep into it to even try to understand. As my mum once said “don’t argue with stupid cuz you won’t win and will have a headache afterwards”. I fully agree with her.

People like that walk on streets every day. They fully trust our goverment and believe that it will bring them to greatness. You see the patern between my fourty something uncle and fifteen year old classmate? They both stay by harmful ideologies and when someone tries to correct them they automaticaly flip off. And they both like PiS. I-

I may not fully understand our politics and mainly avoid talking about them with my relatives cuz of reasons but i understand enough to know that Pis in NOT the way for Poland to become greater. It literaly makes more people ashamed of our country. I know many people my age that want to leave this damn country as soon as they can cuz they know they won’t be accepted or just have enough of all of it.

I’m just tired of hearing about PiS being great and all when it isn’t. And I don’t know if people don’t know it’s bad or just don’t want to get to themselves that that party, maybe isn’t the best option for wellness for our country.

It’s just- so dissapointing. I really wanna get out of here. I really do.

Idk what else to say so imma end it here. Keep safe and keep hoping for the better future of our country. Y’all are valid and I love y’all.

#***** ***#wypierdalać kurwy pisowskie #im tired of it all #i wanna leave this country #poland #polska #ten kraj w końcu upadnie i my bedziemy w pierwszym rzędzie żeby to zobaczyć

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szopenhauer · 4 years ago

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When was the last time you wore your favourite article of clothing? I like most of my clothes

Do your parents smoke? no

Do you live close to a park? forest

Is your favourite animal endangered? raccoons aren’t but elephants are :(

How many pens can you see from where you’re sitting? 6

What language do you think you’d fail at? french and asian ones

Do you still have a landline phone at your house? but we don’t use it

Do you carry pain relievers with you at all times? nope

Where is your mother right now? in the living room with my dad

What was the last thing to make you smile? not sure what was last

What would you do if you got home and you saw your house had been destroyed? omg don’t feed my paranoia :o

Would you slap the last person you talked to for twenty dollars? nah

Do you know anyone who gives way too many hugs? they give as much as they need

What are some positive things, realizations or habits that came out of quarantine for you? long story, it’s complicated

How do you feel about people who are “workaholics”? Would you consider yourself one? I don’t like them, most of them only care about money and not at all about health or loved ones, I’m not ambitious or a workaholic

What could you spend less money on? trinkets

How would you describe yourself as a friend? What value would you say you bring to your friends? it’s up for them to say/judge

In psychology they say that our romantic relationships are an extension of our relationships with our parents, and that we tend to choose our partners based on whatever was lacking in our childhood, or that we are attracted to traumas and sufferings that are familiar to us rather than the unknown. Can you relate to this? umm...

Can you tell when you are not well-liked? What do you do when you feel someone is not particularly fond of you? I’m not surprised, I’m used to the fact ppl don’t like me that I assume they don’t until they tell me, repeteadly, that they actually do (which rarely happens and doesn’t last long), I avoid/ignore those who hate me most

How would you say your preference in movies or TV shows changed from when you were a teenager vs. now? used to watch only movies for kids at first

Apart from price and location, what are some deciding factors when choosing a house for you? smell, bath and balcony mostly

What emotion is the hardest for you to express? how grateful I am if that counts - when it comes to gifts and/or compliments etc.

How do you feel about job interviews? Are you good at negotiation? I do well but I still don’t get a job because of lack of experience; I only failed one interview in my life but I didn’t even want to work there, UP sent me to call center and boss asked me questions about the job I was going to get but they didn’t tell me what it’s about so I didn’t know much and I was in my snow boots (as it was winter) to my elegant clothes so I looked dumb and I forgot that I can’t leave the building on my own as they had special card keys and I tried to open door like crazy until someone saved me - that was awkward...

How many cars have you ever owned? 0

Can you do math in your head well? I need my fingers

What’s your least favorite chore to do around the house? laundry and cooking, not that I like chores in general haha

What’s your favorite flavor of potato chip? salt, also liked becon in the past

Do you ever read the weather forecast? pfft

Do amusement park rides make you sick? I worry they would so I don’t risk it

Have you ever cheated on a test? in high school, especially math, elseway I would fail

Is your next birthday coming up soon? next year

Do you have any bumper stickers on your car? I’d buy some if I had a car but I don’t drive

Do you leave good tips when you eat out at restaurants? I don’t tip, why? we don’t tip postmen and/or nurses etc.

What’s your favorite thing to eat at bbqs? not a BBQ food person

Do you still own any VHS tapes? we still keep ‘em

How many jobs have you had? I tried some jobs but never really had one

If there was a real Jurassic Park, would you visit it? no thx

How many friends do you have that are married? from all of my ex best friends only Ula, Sandra and John are married, Dorota was already divorced when I met her

Did you have a swing set in your yard when you were a child? didn’t trash it, used it this summer

You’re making a fruit salad: what kinds of fruit do you put in it? I don’t eat fruit salads

Do you prefer to drink from glasses or mugs? mugs, glasses are dangerous, I remember them breaking from heat like they were exploding or smth - scary

Is it weird to hear your name in movies or TV shows? it is, when an evil or stupid character has my name it makes me mad

What kind of kid were you when you were seven? very good student, angel, clumsy, naive, wearing “ugly clothes”, the only girl with long hair at the point, petite, wanted other kids to like me so I tried to impress them (but didn’t blindly followed everything they were doing though), not as shy as my mom tought, didn’t know how to tell jokes, still happy but slowly becoming depressed due to family issues, bullying, money and health problems

Is there a subject you know so much about that you’d be able to teach it? sigh... Where did you purchase the computer you’re using right now? Media markt Do you think it’s fair to compare Family Guy to The Simpsons? The Simpsons are better, I dislike Family Guy, wasn’t there an episode where they mixed both of those shows?...

Do you have pockets in anything you are wearing currently? I do not usually

How loudly can you burp? I’m more of a quiet burp/fart person

How many different letters are in your full name? 12

Do you like making bets? occasionally

Have you ever had a ‘falling’ dream? I don’t wake up, I just fall and crash on the floor then I lay there and it hurts

Do you do anything weird in your sleep? possibly

How long are your fingers? my longest finger is 7 cm and my shortest is 4 cm

Do you like bumper cars? whatever

What color is the book nearest to you? dark colors - black, purple, red, grey...

Can you lick your elbow? I can

How old were you when you said your first word? ask my parents

Can you sit the way people sit when they meditate? yep

Do you like the autumn? if it’s not too cold and snowy

Would you rather have a hippo or rhino dropped on you? doesn’t matter but at this point in 2020 I can expect that to happen

Have you ever cried in front of a teacher? in elementary, in high school I cried but she didn’t notice as I tried to hide that - it was one of two moments through all high school that I cried - to było wtedy kiedy Pepe zabrał mój temat na maturę, na który przygotowywałam się od 5 lat i dostałam w zamian jakieś gówno, a drugi raz płakałam bo musiałam zapłacić za brak biletu w autobusie mimo, że go miałam tylko legitymacja szkolna nie była podbita bo akurat wówczas byłam w szpitalu i nikt mnie nie powiadomił, że powinnam to nadrobi�� i strasznie się zmartwiłam, że nie mam kasy i staram się jak mogę, a i tak coś zawsze się spierdoli (bo czemu ludzie sobie jeżdżą bez biletu serio cały czas, a mimo to “złapali” akurat mnie?), jeszcze musiałam pojechać przystanek dalej przez to jak mnie spisywali i prawie spóźniłam się na zajęcia :(

Have you ever cried BECAUSE of a teacher? who haven’t? srsly

Do you do a :) or a (:? :) (: is creepy

Are paper clips fun to play with? meh

Do you prefer mechanical pencils or regular pencils? regular

Is your alarm clock set right now? good idea :o

Are you itchy right now? slightly which is normal to me

Do you have anything on your wrists? not right now

Why are you so awesome? :) I’m not...

so how are you today? I thought I will feel worse before going to hospital so won’t complain

when was the last time you had a cup of tea? long time ago

who’s the most recent person on your Facebook feed? (if you have it) my annoying sister >.<

when (if ever) was the last time you saw that person? week ago

how do you feel about wolves? great animals

do you use pinterest? started new account this month

should you be doing something else right now? packing but whenever I pick up one thing to put into the bag I get a panic attack

bye :) bye...

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bezgoesboo · 5 years ago

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–– m i c t a p ! “ an’... ohp ! we’re live ! ”

r u s t l e r u s t l e . . .

“ well, if you’re listenin’, welcome to another episode of witchin’ hour, in which i’ll do a real valiant job of wastin’ your precious time.

we got the tunes, we got the loons, and the night’s fresher than a pack of fuckin’ mini mart twinkies. yep. i’m bez. whaddya say we get jinkie with it ? ”

or, alternatively: my name is linc, this is bez holmes, and i hope you brought your schnazziest seatbelts ‘cause, oh bud... you’re in for quite the trip.

( timothee chalamet, ghost, he/him & cismale ) is that ( another one bites the dust ) by ( queen ) playing? guess ( killian beelzebub holmes)’s comin’ in hot! heard folks say the ( twenty three ) year old ( local radio host ) was at the thanksgiving fair, ( throwin’ darts at the balloon wall with his buds ) when chaos ensued. during the glitch, ( he was killed by one of his best supernatural pals he was tryin’ to talk down while everyone else was bookin’ it to the woods, but ain’t the faintest clue he’s dead… yikes ).

b a c k g r o u n d . . .

the autumn of 1959 brought the youngest holmes sibling into existence and knocked out their mother in one fell swoop. killian beelzebub holmes was born to mr. holmes and his late wife at precisely 3:33am just before an uncharacteristically frosty dusk.

mrs. holmes chose the name killian long before her second-born ever killed her, so... heh ! joke’s on her ! bez’s pops didn’t have the heart to call him *cough* er, killian, so the family settled for the next best thing so they could still honor his mother’s wishes: beelzebub. except... well. that still was a lil problematic, given the timing of his birth. and callin’ beelzebub on class attendance? not exactly the best look. hence, the nickname bez was born, and he’s been goin’ by it ever since.

bez has an older sister lee and the two are as thick as thieves. growin’ up, they always kept their father on his toes –– wherever the holmes kids go, trouble follows.

mr. holmes served as county sheriff until he was killed by his second wife when bez was 13 and lee was 14. lee went back to art school after the local police department covered up the bear out as a fuckin’ armed robbery gone wrong. lee ‘n bez were sworn to secrecy, but nothin’, not even authoritative men in police badges, can erase the image of stepmonster slashin’ dad to bits and lettin’ him fall face first into a plate of spaghetti.

bez never liked stepmonster to begin with, but killin’ their dad was the kicker. lee returned to art school and bez struggled to keep the peace in the household. the bitch stepped up the loving stepma act until a year later, when she wigged out again ‘n landed him in the hospital for a couple days. after that, lee returned home, ‘n it was officially holmes vs. mama bear.

movin’ out was the dream, but unfortunately, mr. holmes overextended when he bought this nice shiny new house for his new wife ‘n kids; most of his insurance money went to getting the house out from underwater, ‘n the rest went to funeral expenses. so... the kids were kinda stuck with her. still are.

bez never let himself be stupid enough to dream ‘bout leavin’ letum falls. he likes it here. he’s got his people. throughout school, he romped ‘round with the cool kids. hung out with all the supernaturals. in fact, you’d be hard pressed to find bez holmes chillin’ ‘round anyone who’s actually human. contrary to his sister, his father’s death didn’t turn him off from supernaturals –– if anythin’, it made him desperate to prove to himself just what a wildcard stepmonster was.

after high school graduation, bez pestered his way into workin’ at the local radio station. what started as a simple soundboarding gig morphed into hostin’ his very own show, the witchin’ hour, on which he talks about letum falls’ spooky happenings and engages with live callers. he’s got a sleep with me bit –– callers name celebrities, fictional characters, or even existing locals bez has to seduce via song and cheesy pickup lines. basically, the whole show’s a hangout with bez –– more often ‘n not, he’s high as a bird. so the witchin’ hour’s got itself a steady cult of listeners. bez loves every second of it.

he’s got a reputation for bein’ sexually ambiguous. he was outcasted pretty young as bein’ a lil... off? never into sports. liked to paint his nails colors sometimes. borrow lee’s shirts. his dad never raised issue with it, but stepmonster definitely had her reservations. still does. bez holmes is a kid some fathers told their sons to steer clear of. for fear of, bez’ll laugh as he tells ya, spreadin’ it around.

labels are for chumps, he’ll tell ya, mid-cigarette drag. size y’up real good. odds are, if you’re attractive ‘n mysterious in some way, he’ll fuck ya. ( not countin’ six months of abstinence in 1980 when he was convinced everyone he fucked wound up dyin’ two weeks later... there were a string of incidental deaths. but honestly, sometimes ? he thinks ‘bout it. )

fuckin’ klutz. yeah, he skateboards. yeah, he looks cool doin’ it. yeah, he’ll even wear his shades while he’s doin’ it at night. but surprise him? make him laugh? he’ll trip over his own two feet.

addicted to cinnamon waffles, enough syrup to drown atlantis a second time. he always haunts the local diner. when he’s not there, he’s likely playin’ pinball or skeeball at the local arcade, or slurpin’ down a rootbeer float and annoyin’ the living shit outta earl at the mini mart.

if it’s illegal? sign him up.

he owns a shit ton of thrifted clothes. lots of chunky jackets, v-necks, rings, necklaces. funky pants. he’s recognized around town by his crazy curls. they’re never tame. he’s always lookin’ artfully disheveled. smirkin’. stealin’ looks.

t h e f a i r . . .

bez was hangin’ out with his supernatural buds ( wanted connections )when all hell broke loose. he was actually makin’ a fool of himself with balloon darts, but he made a ten buck bet he could win a stupid hat.

while everyone else ran, bez tried to talk down one particular friend ( wanted connection ) who was tryna keep themselves from attackin’ him. he got so far as to get ‘em calm, place a hand on their shoulder. lean in to look ‘em in the eye real close.

“ hey man, hey now. listen. y’don’t gotta do this. killin’ ain’t punk, ‘kay? y’hate blood, hear me? i believe in you, ‘n even though you serve killer looks –– you’re not a killer. ”

even in the face of death, this kid fuckin’ joked around, and... basically this friend slashes his throat and ripped his heart out right after bez managed a hopeful smile. talk ‘bout a magical fuckin’ friendship.

lee and dean hollis took bez’s body with them when they fled the scene.

bez woke up a few days later in the woods near the fairgrounds. he wandered ‘n wandered, almost in a sleep-like trance, ‘til he reached dean’s house. walked in, blinked right at the guy. they exchanged words, albeit bitter ones, before bez left and walked on over to the radio station. did his show like normal, like he’d never even died. no memory of the glitch. no nothin’.

heads on over to earl’s mini mart like usual. but earl won’t check him out. earl isn’t hearin’ him. so he fuckin’ leaves with a bag of doritos and a big bottle of mountain dew. runs into his boyfriend, xander chapell. all’s fine ‘n well. he’s overjoyed to see the other male. everythin’s normal.

the next mornin’, he slinks home. finds lee cryin’ in her room. pieces it together and thinks it must be dean hollis. must be ‘cause of that asshole.

c u r r e n t l y . . .

ain’t nobody got the heart to tell this poor kid he died. he’s dead. and since he doesn’t know he’s a ghost ? he thinks wakin’ up near hose weird ass woods, near the fairgrounds ? it’s all a dream. he thinks the worsened insomnia ? ah. that’s just the weather. ‘n when his hand sometimes goes through things ? when people sometimes don’t see him ? some witch is probably havin’ trouble controllin’ their abilities.

stepmomma has a hunch bez’s spirit might be hauntin’ the house. she keeps tryna sage it. tryna figure out what’s gonna help get her stepson to the beyond. ‘cept bez doesn’t know this, and lee’s playin’ damage control.

he’s still so hopelessly in love with xander, but neither of these two goons have actually shared that with one another. it’s all in the looks. the touches. and now... there’s an added bonus that bez is dead –– technically a goner, unless he never resolves whatever’s keepin’ him here. which, y’know. he won’t. ‘cause he’s got no clue.

can he please get a waffle ? now some of the waitstaff won’t serve him at the diner ! the fuckin’ nerve ! it’s really okay because he’s got duffy ‘n georgia there to help him out. but damn. no one’s ever been this cold ‘cause of his off-color humor before. what’d he do ? lord knows.

weird shit’s happenin’. people in town are actin’ strange. something’s up. but then again, somethin’ always is. so bez doesn’t mind it. keeps on hummin’ his stupid tunes. carries on with his show. the radio station producers are scared shitless ‘cause like... this dead kid keeps goin’ on the air. what kinda cruel joke is this, huh ?

c u r r e n t c o n n e c t i o n s . . .

older sister – lee holmes. the holmes kids are revered and feared. always up to somethin’... tragic, what happened to ‘em, but lordie. that dead sheriff raised some weird kids.

low key love of his life – xander chapelle. they started dating a few months ago and bez... never... expected... this. he ain’t the feelings type, no sir. but xander lights somethin’ in him. somethin’ new. yeesh. now you’ve got him all fluttery.

chaos crew – maya shen. partners in crime, in an endless pacman and pinball war. they’ll beat one another’s scores back ‘n forth and back ‘n forth, never ending. bez is fascinated by maya’s family line ‘n all. she’s great to have ‘round, too, when he’s got a hankering for a cig but needs a decent light.

row, row, row your boat the fuck away from me – dean hollis. dude was pretty cool, ‘til y’know... he fuckin’ dumped his feelin’s on lee and skipped town. yeah, football. yeah, nfl. cool beans, huh? what’d he have to go and fuck with his sister’s heart for? and now that he’s back and lee’s actin’ weird... bez knows he’s the cause of it for sure. and he doesn’t like it one bit.

grew up together – georgia duchannes. bez, lee, ‘n georgia all grew up peas in a pod. mr. duchannes took over the role as sheriff because he sniffed somethin’ fishy goin’ on in the department and wanted to protect bez ‘n lee. bez gets a real kick outta georgia, ‘n folks even thought he had a crush on her back in the day. which is hilarious. ‘cause everyone ‘n their mother always knew georgia’d end up with vanetten.

the case he’s gonna crack – teejay vanetten. bez always liked vanetten, thought he was a chill guy, y’know? a lil’ vanilla, but hey. not everyone can be as ace as him. the dude’s always been a lil’ defensive around bez though, ‘cause of georgia. bez thinks it’s funny. plays into it sometimes, just to get a rise outta him. after the glitch, it becomes clear teejay’s goin’ through something not human, so bez is tryna get lee on board to help this guy figure out his shit.

w a n t e d c o n n e c t i o n s .

the best supernatural friend who killed him. bonus points if things get, like. real fuckin’ angsty.

past hookups. bez has gotten around. guys, gals, non-binary pals. sex is sex.

supernatural kool krew. this squad has a runs with wolves kinda vibe. bez might be the glue that holds it together. keepin’ up with supernaturals as a human, though? fuckin’ full time job.

avid radio listeners / callers. i... would love for some routine callers? maybe some peeps he knows from around town who he has ongoin’ banter with on the air?

goofy gays. all the gay vibes, just... we need a power gay squad mmkay?

enemies. i’m sure bez is on a lot of people’s shit lists. he speaks his mind. he goes outta his way to be a nuisance. but he’d just find this whole thing abso-fuckin-lutely hilarious.

music jam peeps. music is a huge part of bez’s everyday life. he listens to bands more than he listens to people. ‘n he dabbles in some musical shit himself. piano, some songwritin’ here ‘n there. nothin’ too major, but it’d be cool to have some pals who also feel as connected to music as him. he does, after all, run a radio show.

post-glitch connections. dude roams ‘round letum falls a lot now. he did before, too, but maybe there are some people who knew of him but didn’t know him before who’re now startin’ to talk with him? ‘cause they can see he’s a ghost, ‘n they feel bad? i dunno. at this point, bez is startin’ to yammer on ‘n on to whoever’s gonna listen. maybe they just see one another in odd ass places. like earl’s mini mart. or the arcade. or maybe this person’s willin’ to speak to someone for him when they’re doin’ that stupid ass ignorin’ game again.

#othqintro #intro.#death tw #homophobia tw #let him be your boo thang !!#jk that's for xander only ; )

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