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freelancearsonist · 10 months ago

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Hold Me Like a Knife

Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Rated MA for p in v sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjobs, smoking/nicotine use, excessive drinking, characters not knowing how to handle emotions properly (same), ANGST [please let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

6,003 Words

A/N: thank you to the lovely @shakespeareanwannabe for being my ever faithful beta reader ily 🥺

Smoke disperses in abstract swirls from Joel’s parted lips, the tang of nicotine making his taste buds prickle. It’s been a long time since he’s been afforded the luxury of a cigarette and this first drag makes him think he might not want to pick the habit back up, after all. But you worked hard to find these for him after he mentioned he missed having a smoke, and he’s not one to let a gift go unappreciated. Especially now that gifts are off the table.

It’s become routine at this point. Waking up in the middle of the night; reaching for you, realizing all over again that you’re not there anymore; ruminating on what’s happened, how he’s taken you for granted. At least he has his cigarette to keep him company.

There’s no chance of going back to sleep for him–it’s 4AM anyway, close enough to a full night’s sleep. He takes another drag and decides it’s not as bad anymore. He just needs to get reacclimated to it.

He only allows himself to savor half the cigarette before he stubs it out in the ashtray on the nightstand–another gift from you–to save for next time he needs it. He wants to make this pack last; he doesn’t care as much about maintaining the habit as he does about having any little piece of you he can.

Two hours later, he’s bathed to the best of his ability given the stunted resources in the quarantine zone and ready for another day in hell.

He didn’t hate it nearly as much until he started working with you again.

When you see him you wear the same soft smile you always do, nodding your head in greeting as if nothing is wrong. His face remains flat as he nods back. Nothing he can do but play along–pretend you were never his to lose in the first place. After all, if you haven’t heard his heart fracturing into a million pieces by now, you never will.

“Either quit starin’ or go over there and talk to her,” Tess tells him sternly. He immediately snaps his eyes away and tries to shoot her a glare, but he’s a bit too embarrassed for it to actually land.

“M’not starin’,” he grunts.

She actually almost cracks a smile at his denial. “The hell you’re not, you look like a lost puppy. Why don’t you talk to her?”

“She ain’t interested in talkin’.”

“Bullshit. That’s all she wants.”

Maybe Tess is right. Maybe he’s the one who’s afraid. He’s not going to admit that, though.

“If she wanted to talk to me, she’d come talk to me.”

“You probably scared her off.”

Joel slams his hand against the wagon bed, startling everyone within a ten meter radius except Tess. “That’s enough.”

“Touchy.” Tess rolls her eyes but backs off nonetheless, not interested in poking the bear any further.

Joel lets it go and turns his attention back to his assigned job for the day, mentally preparing himself for another night of washing the stench of death from himself and his clothes. Normally, you would do it for him without complaining. Now it’s just another addition to the list of efforts he didn’t appreciate enough while he had you.

Even though he dreads the consequences, he allows himself to become completely preoccupied with his work in a way he normally wouldn’t. It’s a reprieve from the constant swirling of his mind, from the overthinking that keeps him up at night or invades his dreams when he finally finds rest.

The day is over far too soon, and then he’s back in his little apartment with nothing but his own mind for company.

His mind hasn’t been a friend lately.

He looks around and everywhere his dark amber eyes catch, he sees you. You sprawled on the worn couch underneath a threadbare blanket, you swaying your hips to the rhythm of silent music in the kitchen, you casually dropping the towel wrapped around your naked body to the floor as you step out of the shower and lure him down the hall to the bedroom.

He wants to crawl into a deep, dark pit when he remembers what he said and how he chased you away. Your only sin was introducing him to someone as your man, and he played like he was upset about it because that’s not what this was ever supposed to be. There had been an agreement, in the beginning, that feelings wouldn’t be involved. It would be you, him, separate, occasionally helping each other out.

It so quickly turned into you and him, so inseparable you were practically living together. Neither of you even tried to stop it despite the agreement. And Joel was fine with it, liked it even. Until it was put into words.

Because he’s not supposed to be anyone’s. He’s Joel Miller, and he’s not deserving of belonging to anyone; including himself.

He didn’t mean to push you away. It was more out of instinct, an inborn urge to self-destruct.

The instinct has won, because he feels like mere pieces at this point. Like you’ve taken a sledgehammer to his heart repeatedly, which really isn’t fair to you. Space was his decision–you didn’t even fight it.

With a third of whiskey in his hand and an ache in his jaw from having it unconsciously clenched so long, he slumps down on his time-worn couch and begins a long night of rehashing mistakes and feeling bad for himself.

It could be so easily fixed if he just swallowed his pride. It’s a competition of will at this point–a game to see who can survive without the other for the longest. He hates that he’s losing, that it’s not affecting you; that even though it was his choice, he’s the one who’s suffering the most.

He must spill his drink–although he can’t find where it possibly could’ve been spilled, everything around him is dry–because it’s gone within a few minutes. He allows himself another glass as a reward for surviving a particularly shitty day.

When he comes to in the morning, there’s a pounding in his head so loud that it drowns out any other sound he might hear. It takes him a moment to realize that the pounding is on the door–then he processes how blinding the sun is coming through the slats of the tattered blinds precariously hanging over the window.

Joel pushes himself up from the couch with a grunt and stumbles a little, nearly falling right back into place. He curses himself for becoming such a lightweight as he stomps his way over to the door and throws it open.

“Jesus Christ, you reek,” Tess chokes, pushing past him to make her way inside. “I’ve only been knockin’ for ten minutes, what the hell were you doin’?”

“Sleeping,” he tells her with a pointed glare. It doesn’t ruffle her at all–it never does.

“Missed morning shift,” she notes. “How much you have to drink?”

“Not enough.”

“Alright, that’s it,” she tells him with a sigh. “It’s time to stop with the pity party if you’re not gonna play the hand you’re dealt. You know how stupid you’re being? She wants you. You want her. Two words’ll fix the whole thing and you’ll go right back to bein’ the disgusting little lovebirds you are. Apologize.”

“No,” he insists without thinking it over. Because he knows she’s right–he owes you an apology. And he also knows you’ll take him back the instant he delivers.

Which is exactly why he can’t. He knows he doesn’t deserve another chance to take you for granted. He didn’t appreciate you enough when he had you, and you deserve to find someone who will. Asking for another chance would be the most selfish thing he’s ever done, and Joel Miller is not a selfish man.

“Then drink yourself to death.” As much as Tess plays at being frustrated with him, he’s never seen her this legitimately upset. “I’m done cleanin’ up for you. You’re acting pathetic, Joel Miller. Get yourself together or get yourself over.”

And before he can stop her, apologize, beg, plead, do anything besides bite his tongue in pure shock, she’s gone. The slam of the door rings through his head for a good minute longer than it should.

All he can do is slump like a sack of potatoes onto the couch, his center of gravity off balance from the weight in his heart and the churning in his stomach.

It was never supposed to be like this; it was never supposed to get this far. You were supposed to fight him, demand he stay, do anything to make him feel like you really want to be with him. Instead, you acquiesced without resistance. You listened to his offer of space and accepted without hesitance. Almost like you were looking for an out.

That’s what hurts most, maybe. That you can still afford to smile at him like nothing ever happened between you when he feels like he’ll never smile again.

He knows he can’t lose Tess over this–she’s the only friend he’s got and a damned good business partner. He knows it’s time to clean up his act. What he doesn’t know is if he actually can without you by his side.

Baby steps. He decides to start by showering and changing his clothes; the freshness should make him feel astronomically better.

He lets the limited hot water run over his sore muscles and through his hair, trying to wash away memories of you along with the dirt and grime.

He thinks of long nights spent sneaking out after curfew–his pack heavy on his aching shoulders but barely feeling it when you’re so near. He thinks of nights in this apartment together, hours and hours spent reminiscing and planning new trips and even more hours spent in comfortable silence. He thinks of you on your knees in this very shower with him, of how he felt akin to a god beneath your praise and worship.

He lets the thoughts swirl for just a moment, and then he watches as they trickle down the drain.

A towel off and a change of clothes later, and he’s almost a new man. The hole in his chest has shrunk a bit, at least.

One deep breath, then another. Joel can almost feel you slipping through his fingers, and for once the sensation doesn’t terrify him. There’s a quiet solitude, a resignation to his mind now. He’ll never be happy, and that’s okay. He might at least be able to find peace if he can’t have you.

He finds Tess and apologizes–at least in the best fashion Joel Miller can manage. It’s a grunted “sorry” and not much more, but it’s enough.

And then, because he has nothing else to do with his free time, he throws himself completely into survival. Working long shifts at the fires during the day, and even longer shifts as a smuggler at night. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepen and his hair grays rapidly, but he finds a way out. He finds a way away from you, and he doesn’t hesitate to take it.

Somehow, you beat him to Jackson. He doesn’t know how–he’s sure you were still in Boston when he left–but you’re waiting there for him when he arrives.

Waiting maybe isn’t the best way of putting it; you look at him like you’re looking at a poltergeist. Not just a ghost of your past, but a volatile and unpredictable one at that.

He can’t blame you. He ditched you, after all–not just emotionally, but physically.

You observe from afar for a while, like a timid animal meeting its first human. You watch his reunion with his brother, how he seems to fit like a puzzle piece into such a tight knit community. You even see him interacting with the young girl he’s brought along with him, and you wonder if he’s changed. If maybe he’s allowed his heart to open even just the slightest fraction.

The whole of Jackson gathers to greet this newest member, and you’re on the very edge of the crowd. But it’s like there’s an invisible string connecting the two of you—like the sea of people parts to make a path for your reunion.

Joel doesn’t know what to say. It’s been so long, and yet it feels like just yesterday he still had you in his arms.

You nod at him and awkwardly shuffle your feet against the cracked pavement. ”Hey.”

”Hey.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for you.

You don’t show the same restraint.

In mere seconds you’re on him, arms around his neck and lips pressed to his like he’s air—like if you don’t breathe him in you’ll die.

He grunts in surprise at the suddenness, but more at the fact that he can’t believe this is happening. That you’re really here, really in his arms, really kissing him. He doesn’t know if it would be better to talk through everything first, but he’s missed you so badly that there doesn’t seem to be another way to communicate it other than to show you. His hands settle on your waist and pull you tightly against him, lips parting to allow your tongue access. It’s harsh and it’s frenzied, but it’s beautiful in the way a force of nature is.

And then you remember the prying eyes surrounding you and you reluctantly pull out of his grasp.

There’s a bit of muffled conversation and a particularly loud wolf-whistle from Tommy before the crowd disperses, and you’re alone together for the first time in more than a year.

”Sorry—“ “That was—”

He clears his throat, and you nod in signal for him to take his turn.

“How did you get here?”

“It was a fluke, really. I caught a radio broadcast and decided to check it out. The QZ didn’t feel like home anymore after you left.”

Joel tries as hard as he can not to read too far into that, but he can’t help the fleeting hope that it means you wanted to fix things. That maybe you weren’t as unbothered as you always seemed to be.

You clear your throat and continue. “But… what about you? Who’s the kid? Where’s Tess?”

”I’m takin’ the kid to the fireflies. Tess is gone.”

Your face falls instantly. You’ve admittedly always been a little bit jealous of Tess and her closeness to Joel, but you never wished this upon her.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Joel grunts noncommittally, and you’re left to awkwardly shuffle your feet while you think of something else to say. You’ve spent so much time apart, there should be so much more to talk about. But even in the QZ, talking was never your speciality—and it definitely wasn’t Joel’s. More than anything with him, you’re familiar with the comfortable silence that surrounds two people who’ve spent a lifetime together. Your lifetime with Joel just happened to be over the span of a couple of months; but that’s how it goes with someone who matches you so completely. There doesn’t have to be anything said when he already knows what you’re thinking—when you’re two parts of a whole.

”Sorry. About kissing you. I… I’m normally better controlled,” you mumble.

”Don’t be.” He clears his throat, shifts his feet—does everything within his power from making eye contact with you because he knows if he does he won’t be able to stop himself. “Wasn’t bad.”

”We did agree we weren’t gonna do that anymore,” you point out.

”That was back in the QZ.”

”And here?”

The hope in your voice is unmistakable. You’ve missed him, and that’s almost impossible for him to comprehend. Joel wants nothing more than to lean into your hope; to give you—and him—exactly what you want. You’ve missed out on so much time, and there’s little time available to make up for it.

Fuck it, he decides. “Here? I’m pullin’ my head out of my ass.”

And then he kisses you, and it’s not sweet. It burns—with passion, desire, regret. He presses his lips to yours like he’s finally realizing what he’s lost and might never get back. Joel Miller isn’t a man who can say sorry easily, but he says it to you now with his lips, and his tongue, and his hands.

It feels like you’re learning him all over again. You marvel at how tall he is, how broad his shoulders are as you run your palms across them. You revel in the softness of his lips and the contrasting scratch of his patchy beard. More than anything, you’re in awe of the feeling of his hands—how familiar they feel even after so long as they trail down your neck from your face on the way to your hips.

You pull away sooner than you want to, but you both seem to realize that you can’t just snog in the middle of the street. Most of the crowd has cleared out by now, but there’s a few sets of wandering eyes to worry about.

“Tommy didn’t happen to show you your house, did he?”

Joel’s brow furrows in the most adorable way as he suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings.

“I have a house? Is that where he’s taken Ellie off to?”

“C’mon, follow me.” With a wave of your hand, you’re headed down the street. Joel stands frozen in disbelief for a moment, utterly dumbfounded that you’re really here and really still want him the way you used to. He has to jog the few steps to catch up to your side, and then every ounce of effort goes into not grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours.

You clear your throat in preparation for the question you have to ask. “I… I swear I don’t want to push labels or anything, but… what exactly is going on here?”

Joel sighs, and it’s easy to mistake it as a sigh of annoyance. You open your mouth to expand on your question, but he stops you.

”I made a mistake. I know it, I knew it while I was makin’ it. But I didn’t stop myself because… because you deserve better.”

You open your mouth again, and he holds up a hand to stop you. “Don’t argue. You know it’s true. And the thing is… I’ve spent a lot of time bein’ selfish, if fightin’ to survive can be called that. You’re good, and I don’t deserve to be selfish when it comes to you.”

”I want you to be selfish,” you insist as firmly as you can. “Joel, you don’t seem to understand how much I adore you, how much I rely on you. How much it hurt to lose you.”

He tries to shrug, but it’s half-hearted. There’s a kind of sick satisfaction to the fact that you were struggling just as much as he was. ”You seemed fine.”

”I was dying, Joel.” There are tears in your eyes now, and he feels guilty for insinuating that your pain wasn’t real.

”I was, too.”

”I just wish you would’ve talked to me,” you whisper. “I could’ve made it better. Things could’ve been different.”

”But they aren’t.” His tone is firm, but not malicious. He’s not trying to be mean—all he wants is for you to understand that there’s no point dwelling on the past. It’s something he’s learned over twenty years; that no matter how hard to focuses on all the mistakes he’s made and the things he regrets, there’s no way to undo any of them. No point in focusing on them at all, really.

”I… I miss you,” you tell him. “I don’t wanna keep going to bed alone and waking up wishing you were there. I don’t want to pretend we’re just friends with benefits or whatever the fuck we were supposed to have been. I don’t want to lose you over any more stupid arguments. I loved you, Joel. I still do.”

Joel swallows thickly. He’s known for a long time how he feels, and he also knows he doesn’t deserve to feel the way he does. Telling you might be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. ”I love you too.”

”Then can we… stop being stupid?” There’s a giggle behind your tears, and it brings the smallest of smiles to his face.

”Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” He kisses you again, pausing on the steps of the house he’s supposed to occupy so he can pull you tightly into his arms. This one is sweeter, almost like a promise. Like he’s going to be a new man and this is his seal of authentication.

He scoops you up in his arms despite your squeal of protest, barely pausing enough to read the note on the door.

Took Ellie on a grand tour. We’ll meet y’all at dinner. - Tommy

You glance at your watch, then look up into his eyes. He’s thinking exactly what you are; his dark eyes are burning with tension. ”A whole hour of pure uninterrupted bliss. What’re we gonna do with ourselves?”

”I’ve got a couple ideas,” Joel grunts as he pushes the door open with his back, careful not to jostle you too much. “Startin’ with makin’ up for lost time.”

This time, he kisses you like you’re unbreakable. Like he’s diamond and testing your hardness, and you’re determined to meet his standards. You meet his lips with ferocity and take the initiative to slide your tongue over his bottom lip, reveling in the slight uptilt of his lips as he parts them for you.

You’re still in tune to his reactions, even after so long. You still know exactly where to pull his hair to make his hips buck towards you, where to kiss his neck to make him moan, where to place your hands so he’ll pull you impossibly tighter against him. He’s a puzzle you solved long ago, and even after taking the pieces apart you know where to put them back together again.

Joel’s head is all but spinning as he pulls you deeper inside, ignoring the urge to explore the unfamiliar surroundings for now in favor of finding a place that’s suitable to take you. He’s feverish and hurried, far from gentle because he knows he doesn’t need to be. You’re taking everything he’ll give and more. Later, there will be time for the gentle love-making that he admittedly prefers sometimes. For now, it’s desperate, wild, overwhelming in the best way possible. It’s getting reacquainted after so much time apart—old lovers using old tricks.

His hands have gotten rougher and even more calloused, but they remember you like it’s only been days since they were last on you. His palms trace every curve like you’re precious art. He holds you like water, like the slightest mishandle will send you spilling away from him; in complete contrast to the way he kisses you, harsh and nearly biting. It fogs your mind, sends you into autopilot. Your muscle memory takes command as you strip him bare and toss his clothes to the side, appreciating how little he’s changed besides the length of his hair and the extra gray that’s sprouted. He’s still your Joel, even after being apart for what seems like a lifetime.

”I never appreciated you enough,” he whispers into your neck as he unhooks your bra with a snap of his fingers. “Never worshiped you the way I should’ve.”

”I’m not a god,” you tell him, breath heavy even after parting from his lips.

”You are to me,” he mumbles into your skin, contrasting the honeyed praise with a stinging bite to the precise spot that makes your back arch.

He trails gentler bites down the flesh of your torso, leaving marks that contrast his statement. Gods aren’t meant to be owned, and yet he claims you in every way he can. He lays on you any little trace of his possession he can, because he knows how easily it could be taken away from him. He lost you once before, marks faded from your skin completely. He doesn’t ever want it to happen again.

The scent of you is heady, mouth-watering to a mind that was so sure it would never have you again. He knows he’s pressed for time, and he really does consider taking all of it to drink from you; to get his fill and leave himself unsatisfied if he has to.

But you’re whining and squirming, tugging at his hair in a feeble attempt to pull him up to you, and he knows he’d much rather give you what you want.

You’re wet enough to take him, but it’s still nearly painful when he pushes his full length into you for the first time in so long. He growls at the sensation, at every little pulse and flutter of your cunt around him as you struggle to accommodate him.

Your breath is airy and whiny as you glance up at him. ”Joel…”

”I know baby,” he coos, fighting for restraint so he doesn’t hurt you. “I know it’s a lot. But you can take it pretty girl, can’t you?”

You would take literally anything so long as he keeps talking to you like that.

You nod up at him, but it’s not enough.

”Words, honey. Tell me you can take me.”

He doesn’t miss the way your cunt contracts around him as you vow, “I can take you, Joel.”

”Atta girl.”

He starts off easy, slow enough not to overwhelm you but deep enough to nearly make you choke. His hips are flush with your ass at the base of every stroke, like he’s trying to push even further with each thrust of his hips. Maybe he is. Maybe all he wants is to get deeper and deeper until there’s nothing left out—until you’ve consumed him completely. He already feels halfway there as it is.

Your legs wrap around his waist in a desperate attempt to que him in on what you need—not long, languid strokes but hard, fast thrusts that’ll get the job done quickly. There is a time constraint to factor in, after all.

He grants your wish instantly, glad for the invitation because he’s finding it hard to continue his facade of self-control. He ruts hard and fiercely, one hand trailing from your waist to your knee so he can prop your leg up and allow an even deeper angle.

With the slightest shift of his hips he finds it—the spot that makes you writhe and scream for more. He revels in all the noises you make for him as you toss your head back and forth, like the pleasure is so overwhelming that you want to squirm away yet press closer simultaneously.

“That’s my girl,” he mumbles as his free hand finds its way between your entangled bodies. It’s almost like you’re magnetic, his fingers find your clit so easily. The small, firm circles he rubs against it with his calloused fingers are almost too much, but also almost not enough. Not until he picks up his pace, drilling into exactly where you need him with a fervor you didn’t even know he possessed.

It takes all the effort you can muster to warn him, ”S-so close…”

”I know sweetie,” he purrs, breath heavy against your ear as he shifts his hand to hitch your leg just the slightest bit higher over his hip. “It’s okay. Let go f’me.”

You’re nothing if not obedient, and Joel knows it. It’s only confirmed by the way you squeeze around him in a vice grip, legs shaking in his grip as your eyes practically roll back in your head. It’s bone-shattering pleasure, like he’s pulling you apart stitch by stitch and sewing you back together again with newer, more pleasurable fabric.

He’s quick to pull out, maybe a little prematurely as you’re still twitching with the aftershocks of your own orgasm, but even his pleasure-addled brain knows the risk he runs if he stays buried deep inside you any longer. He gives himself two, three firm strokes, then allows himself to spill over your stomach in thick, hot ropes that make you moan all over again.

He doesn’t hold himself up much longer before collapsing on the too-soft mattress with a heavy grunt.

”Missed this,” you murmur next to his ear as he drapes an arm over your waist. He pulls you in close and hums at the way you nuzzle your face into his neck despite how sweaty he must be.

“How much time we got left?”

You take a peek at your watch, then groan. “Five minutes.”

”Shit.” He’s not ready to let you go yet, but he pushes himself up to sit on the edge of the bed anyway.

”We could just skip dinner,” you suggest with a hopeful pout to your lips as you stretch out further over the floral bedspread.

As much as he wants to… “Can’t. Gotta grab Ellie. Can’t leave her alone all day.”

”You must really care about her.” There’s no malice to your tone—it’s more surprise.

He simply grunts in response—he’ll never admit it, but he can’t deny it either. “C’mon. Clothes on.”

He gathers the pile from the floor and tosses it to you, practically burying you where you lay.

”Forgot how bossy you are,” you grumble but follow the instruction nevertheless.

It’s a little awkward, sitting across the table from your lover’s family like your legs aren’t still a little weak from being so thoroughly fucked. But Joel’s hand is a constant on your thigh, and you even catch him smirking a little as Ellie grills you with a million questions—mostly about your relationship with Joel.

For once, everything feels normal. For once, you forget about the crumbling world around you. In this bubble with Joel, everything is stable and secure. There’s a future on the horizon and a chance to write your own story.

You drag Joel back home at the soonest opportunity, patiently biding your time while he settles Ellie in for the night. You hear heated conversation bordering on an argument, but he doesn’t say anything about it when he enters the room for the night.

Instead he drags you to him in a heated kiss, his large hands practically engulfing your face as his tongue sweeps into your mouth to re-familiarize himself with known yet long-unexplored territory.

He hates having to tamp down your moans, but he loves being able to swallow them with his own mouth as his fingers trace through your slick folds. You’re still puffy, wet, and sensitive from his earlier onslaught, but it doesn’t deter you one bit. He revels in each little whimper and gasp, all the involuntary squirms and twitches as he brings you to the brink on his thick, calloused fingers. He swallows every little sound with a fevered kiss until your lips are swollen and red—and then you turn the tables on him. You take him in your palm, whispering praises about how your hand can barely close around him while stroking him with the gentle, languid movements that you know drive him crazy. He fights to keep his sounds down as you settle close in his lap, chest pressed to his and legs locked tight around his thighs until the moment he has to pull your hand away from fear of finishing too fast.

This is the exact foil of the way he fucked you earlier in a frenzied, desperate passion. Now it’s soft and languid, more like searching and exploring than trying to find the end goal. It’s hot and sweaty and sticky from where your skin is pressed so tightly against his, but his strong hands only drag you closer and closer and you really don’t even consider pulling away—not when he gently tugs your hair to tilt your head back for a deeper kiss, not when he lifts you up so effortlessly to help you sink down on his achingly hard cock, not even when his hands squeeze your hips hard enough to leave bruises at the feeling of bottoming out in your soaked cunt.

You couldn’t count the minutes you’re on top of him even if you cared to try. It’s an eternity of softly rocking hips and open-mouthed kisses, like if he breathes air from anywhere besides your lungs it’ll poison him. He doesn’t even care that it practically feels like torture—like not enough but simultaneously far too much as you do nothing more than rock on his length. It takes a lifetime before he loses his patience and anchors your hips in his capable hands so he can fuck you properly. He guides you to bounce on him, hitting deeper with each perfectly matched upward thrust of his own hips.

You’re falling apart before you even know what’s hit you, biting your lip almost to the point of drawing blood to keep your sounds under control as you fall limp in his arms.

And Joel—sweet, sweet Joel—has the foresight to check in with you before he does what he has to.

”Good, baby? Feel okay? Wanna stop?”

You shake your head, and it takes you a moment to find breath enough to tell him, “Don’t stop. Come in me.”

The demand is so unexpected that it hits him like a tidal wave—and before he knows it, his cock is twitching with forceful spasms as he paints you from the inside out until you’re dripping his spend out around his softening length.

Evidently, you’re not the only one caught up in this bubble of paradise within the walls of Jackson.

He doesn’t say anything, just rolls onto his side so he can hold you closer without his cock slipping from your warmth. That’s exactly how you fall asleep—him snuggly inside you, kissing your hair and whispering the sweetest of nothings into your ear.

When you wake up, you feel empty in more ways than one.

There’s dust particles swirling in the sunbeam streaming through the far window, and your stomach sinks when you reach over and feel Joel’s side of the bed completely cold.

You try not to jump to conclusions, but you know exactly what you’ll find even before you read the note left on the nightstand.

Easier not to say goodbye. I promised I’d take Ellie to the Fireflies, and you know I always make good on my promises.

I promise I’ll come back for you.

Joel

It’s not a promise that he can make with complete certainty, and you know it. You’re sure he knew it, too; and yet he did it anyway, promised you the impossible.

You remember far too suddenly that there’s risks involved with literally anything done in this crumbling, broken world—and just like that, the perfect little bubble you’ve lived in for the past sixteen hours has popped. There’s no fairytale endings here, no happily ever afters.

There’s you, alone and aching, hoping beyond hope the man you love will return to your side.

And there’s Joel, out in the wilderness somewhere, wondering if he’s even worthy of returning to your side.

Maybe he’s not. But maybe making good on this promise—dropping Ellie off so they can find a cure—will tip his scales. Maybe he’ll be worthy of finally settling down with you the way he wants to after this one last job. He knows he’ll have to spend hours upon hours apologizing to you for it, but it would be worth it to know that he finally made the world at least a little bit better rather than worse—to know that he’s finally done something for you to be proud of.

He knows he has to prove himself one way or another before he can return to your side. And he will.

After all, Joel Miller is a man who always makes good on his promises.

THE END

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frayaziwriter · 4 months ago

Text

I'm A Spider - Wait, What?

Chapter 2

When you died, the sun was just barely peeking over the treetops. It was too bad you couldn’t see it rise once more; your eyes were glued shut and you couldn't move. You could vaguely hear the heart monitor beep from its place beside your bed.

‘It hurts..’

You were too tired, too limp to make even a whimper.

‘Please, make the pain stop.’

[Request fulfilled. Notice; you now have {Pain Resistance}.] <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You woke slowly.

‘..What?’ You thought, struggling to get your feet under you. ‘What happened?’

[Congratulations on your evolution. You have acquired new skills.]

‘New..skills?’ That’s when you noticed the crackling shell littering your cave floor. You shrieked, bumping back into the somewhat cramped wall of the crevice. ‘The hell?! What is that?!’

[Answer; that is your molted exoskeleton. You will molt with each evolution to make way for your bigger form.]

You whimpered. ‘Oh..okay. Okay. That..was ew.’

[Notice; you have acquired new skills.]

Hesitantly shoving the exoskeleton out of your home, you nod. ‘R-Right. Right, okay. What are they?’

[Answer; in total, you have ten skills, including myself. Your new ones are the {Skill; Thought Communication}, the {Skill; Venom Resistance}, and the {Skill; Venom Fang}.]

A grumble from your stomach had you mentally groaning and you headed back for the pit of baby bugs. ‘Okay. And what do they do?’

[Answer; the {Skill; Thought Communication} allows you to communicate with others via a mental link. The {Skill; Venom Resistance} gives you complete immunity to any venom. The {Skill; Venom Fang} gives you the ability to inject venom into prey or enemies.]

‘Huh, okay. That’s pretty useful.’ You think as you finally arrive at the pit. The parents aren’t here again. How lucky can you get? ‘And what about my other skills?’

[Notice; you have the {Skill; Pain Resistance}, which is self-explanatory. You have the {Skill; Double Jump}, which doubles your normal jump distance. You have the {Skill; Sticky Thread}, which can trap enemies or prey and can prevent them from moving. You have the {Skill; Steel Thread}, which can be used to defend against attacks or when making nests. You have the {Skill; Night Vision}. This should also be self-explanatory.]

You munched on another centipede. Man, evolution takes a lot out of you, huh? ‘That steel and sticky thread can be very useful already. And what about you? You said you’re also a skill?’

[Answer; I am your {Unique Skill; Chiron}. I am meant to teach and guide you.]

‘I see.’ Then, you huffed out a trilling laugh. ‘I sure got lucky, huh? Thanks for everything, Chiron.’

[Answer; you are very welcome.] <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

‘Hey, Chiron?’

According to your Google Home equivalent, it’s been a few days since you became lost. You were now cleaning your blade-like legs of monster bug blood after eating your fill.

‘Can I have my Spidey Sense on at all times?’

[Correction; it’s called Spider’s Sense. Answer; yes.]

You paused and glared up at the ceiling. ‘That’s a very weird hill to die on, bud. I’m calling it Spidey Sense and you can’t stop me. But anyways, cool! Are there any special conditions I need to do first?’

[Would you like permanently activate the {Skill; Spider’s Sense}? Notice; will be unable to turn it off once you do.]

Huh. Guess not. You softly churred. ‘Can I think about it first?’ It was an insanely weird sensation the first couple of times, you’re not sure you’d want to feel it 24/7.

Silence from your Google Head. (If you had the right mouth, you would smile at your little joke. Unfortunately, you do not, and you’re not sure how to feel about that.)

You decided to take it as an affirmative. ‘Well, let’s get back to my little crevice home! I’ve eaten and cleaned myself to the best of my ability! Time to rest!’

And then you followed the now familiar route from the Centipede Pit (as you’ve taken to calling it) to your temporary home. You thank any god willing to listen that you managed to avoid the parents of the baby monster bugs, as you’re 100% certain you would face total annihilation if they caught you eating their children.

Your temporary home was a little crevice you found near the ceiling. It was just big enough for you to fit but small enough that no other creature in the Sealed Cave could enter. And with a little door you made from webbing a piece of rock to one side of the entrance, it was the perfect little hidey-hole! You could spend your days waiting for rescue as safely as possible here!

Finally reaching your little nook, you slipped in and closed the ‘door’ behind you with a shot of webbing.

‘Night-night, Chiron. Wake me up if anything happens!’

And then you settled in for sleep. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

‘Let’s see..’ You think to yourself, turning on your Spidey Sense as you tapped your front two forelegs together. ‘Nothing nearby.. It should be safe then..’

Opening your ‘door’, you cautiously slipped out of your home. ‘I should put up some defenses since I have the time. Maybe I should make a fake home to confuse would-be predators?’ You muse while you march forward. ‘Hmm. I should also put up a small storage area for food or nicknacks or something..’

You skittered up the wall and stuck a blob of Sticky Thread up high before leaping off and landing on a pillar. Pulling it taut, you wrapped it around the rock and climbed down. ‘Hey, Chiron? Can I slice through rock yet?’

[Answer; only Knights and Arch Knights are able to slice through rock.]

‘Aww, man!’ You think while wrapping the thread around a few other things and slicing it off. ‘I was hoping to make an escape tunnel..’

You stuck the end of the thread near your ‘door’ before turning around to repeat the process. ‘Oh, well. I should work with what I got, then.’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Over the course of two and a half days, you constructed several defensive webs to protect your home.

The ones closest to your little crevice were made almost entirely out of Sticky Thread. You used those as a last resort, and for capturing any prey small enough to fit through the gaps. The ones further away had Steel Thread, which were for warding off large predators.

Nearby, you had found a hole to stuff your things inside for safekeeping. (Not that you had any as of now..)

You stared up at your ‘nest’ with pride. It may not be the best job you could do, but it got the job done and you made your first home! One step closer to total independence! Good job, you!

‘As a celebration for finally finishing the defenses for my home, I declare a feast!’ You jokingly say to yourself, quickly heading out to the Centipede Pit. ‘I shall eat baby bugs until I’m kicked out by the parents or completely full! Let’s go!’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

It was two weeks after you were separated from spider civilization when you ran into trouble.

You didn’t have your spidey sense on, so you didn’t notice the large monster slithering up behind you until you were almost hit.

It was thanks to you turning that skill on at the last minute that you survived the initial attack. You screeched as you jumped away, narrowly dodging the massive tail slamming into the rocky ground you were once standing on.

‘What the fuck is that?!’

[Answer; a Black Snake. Notice; this monster has the {Skill; Poisonous Breath} and the {Skill; Heat Source Sense}. Its scales are tough and are thorned. Suggestion; tread lightly.]

‘Hold up, that’s the thing I ate a couple weeks ago?!’ You thought as you jumped out of the way of another tail attack. The giant snake hissed at you as you landed on a pillar. ‘It didn’t look like this before!’

[Notice; a Knight’s claws are sharp enough to cut through the scales of a Black Serpent.]

You skittered across the ceiling. ‘Ah, so that one got descaled. Hah. So, should I flee or fight?’

[Suggestion; fight.]

‘Alright!’ You jumped once more to avoid a cloud of the poisonous gas the serpent spewed at you. ‘Okay, activate Spidey Sense and Double Jump to create some distance.’

And then you jumped away. Shrieking, you skitted to a stop. ‘Holy crap, that was quick!’ Alarms blared in your head and quickly jumped away with your newfound skill once more. With each jump, you became more and more proficient in using the skill. ‘Okay, I think we have enough room. Sticky Thread!’

The white substance shot out of your spinneret as you jumped between the walls of the cavern with Double Jump. ‘Steel Thread!’

Another stream of white silk shot out of your rear and you intertwined the strong steel with its sticky counterpart just as the monster serpent pounced. You jumped through a gap of webs just as its jaws snagged on your wall. Pausing, you watched it struggle for a moment. This wasn’t what you were going for, but you weren’t complaining!

‘Chiron? How likely is it that once this thing gets free it’ll come after me?’

[Answer; highly probable. Suggestion; dispose of it now.]

‘My thoughts exactly, Chiron, bud.’

[Would you like to use the {Skill; Steel Thread}?]

‘Yes!’

Steeling your nerves, you use Double Jump once more and make your way up to the head of the snake. You took a moment to observe the giant serpent before sticking a spool of Steel Thread around a horned scale and jumping off its throat. You swung yourself underneath the serpent and around. The Steel Thread tightened against the neck as you tugged it taut, slitting the monster’s throat as you went.

The serpent shrieked in pain, the sound quickly dying to a gurgle as it lost a copious amount of blood. It thrashed violently and you cut off the Sticky Thread before landing nearby.

You turned around just in time to see it free itself of your web defense and lunge at you. ‘Eek!’ You darted for the other side of the wall of webs with Double Jump assisting you and only stopped when you reached a cavern wall.

Turning around, you watched as the snake slowly died, poisonous gas filtering out of its open maw as it went.

It was silent for a long while after it wheezed for the final time. You took that moment to breathe.

‘That was...terrifying.’

[Notice; energy low. Suggestion; eat the Black Serpent.]

‘Yeah yeah, I know.’ You grumble back as you carefully made your way back to the downed serpent. ‘Will I get any extra skills from this?’

Silence. Okay then. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

[Notice; evolution requirements met. You are now evolving into a Medium Taratect. Congratulations. Suggestion; find a safe place.]

Wait, what? You startle as you finish eating the Black Serpent a few days after killing it. ‘Huh? What do you mean, ‘evolving’?’

[Suggestion; find safe place.]

‘Alright! I heard you the first time!’ You huff as you double-time it to your little hidey-hole. ‘Didn’t I already evolve though?!’

[Answer; you will evolve into a Medium Taratect. This is due to absorbing the required amount of magicules. Notice; evolution will now commence.]

You were just a few meters away from your little crevice when your vision swam at the sudden sense of vertigo. You stumbled, almost crashing painfully to your feet when a wave of exhaustion washed over you directly after. ‘W-What’s going...on?’

[Answer; evolution is now commencing.]

‘This..didn’t happen...before! What’s..going on?!’ You think sluggishly as you reach your little nook.

[Notice; this hole will not be big enough for your evolved form.]

The world faded away at that exact moment.

[Congratulations on your evolution to Medium Taratect. Notice; you have gained new skills.] <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Pain resistance? What is this voice talking about? Are you having a fever dream again? But, you don’t think you have a fever.

God, it was getting harder to breathe. ‘I can’t breathe..’

[Request fulfilled. Selecting form with passive breathing.] <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You awoke to a molted layer of exoskeleton strewn about around your crumpled form.

Shrieking, you jumped away, your claws clicking against the rocky ground. Backing up, you ran into a large stalagmite. You then promptly shrieked again and jumped back from the spike of rock. Upon realizing that the cavern was empty, you struggled to stop the trembling in your body.

‘Okay. That was..a terrible experience. I don’t ever wanna go through that again.’

[Congratulations on your evolution to Medium Taratect.]

‘Thanks, Chiron..’ You flumped to your belly again. ‘Am I ever going to get used to waking up to molted exoskeletons?’ You thought to yourself.

[Notice; you have acquired new skills.]

You perked up. ‘Oh? What are they?’ And then your stomach grumbled. Ah, right. Evolution takes a lot of energy. Welp, you might as well go hunt more baby bugs!

[Answer; you have acquired the {Skill; Regeneration}. This skill gives you the ability to heal injuries and regenerate lost limbs. You have also acquired the {Skill; Food Buff}. This skill turns the food you eat into bursts of strength by storing the energy for later. Can also keep you alive during periods of famine, depending on the amount of energy stored up.]

‘So, like blubber in seals and whales. Got it.’ You crawl to your hole, examining your now longer legs. ‘The next time I evolve, if I have enough energy stored up, I shouldn’t need to immediately eat then. That’s good.’

Wait. Hold on.. Is your home-

[Notice; you are now too big to fit in that hole. Suggestion; find a new one.]

‘Dammit! And I spent so much time perfecting it, too!’ Slumping in disappointment, you turn and leave the cavern. ‘Oh, well. I better get moving anyways.’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You froze.

‘Uh, Chiron? What’s up with that pressure?’

[Answer; you are nearing the cave Veldora the Storm Dragon resides.]

You could feel your legs trembling. Will you even be able to stay standing soon? ‘Okay, that’s good to know.. Just have to skirt around this area and we’ll be a-okay! Say, how long has it been since I first got lost?’

[Answer; four weeks. It’s been four days since the Black Serpent attacked, one day since your last evolution, and four hours since you last ate.]

‘O-Oh, thank you,’ You think as you reach your new home. Unlike your last one, it was situated on a nook in a wall. The opening was too wide for you to find a working door, but you made it up with webs surrounding the area. Sure, other monsters might be clued in on your location, but only small baby monsters such as yourself can get through the gaps! And then it’ll be easy pickings! (You’re rather proud of your new home. Your web-making is coming along quite nicely!)

‘So, I think I decided on the Spidey Sense.’ You say, taping a claw on the edge of your cliff home. ‘I think it would be beneficial to have it on at all times as I don’t want a repeat of the Black Serpent. I really don’t wanna die this early in my second life..’

[Would you like to permanently activate the {Skill; Spider’s Sense}? Notice; you will be unable to turn it off afterward.]

‘...Yes.’

[Notice; the {Skill; Spider’s Sense} is now permanently activated. You are now unable to turn it off.]

‘Yay.’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

In another section of the cave systems, deep below the ground, the birth of a new era was beginning with one simple meeting.

‘Wait. Before we do this-’

‘What is it now, Veldora?!’

The dragon raised a claw. ‘I have one last thing I need to impart to you. It’s important.’ The Slime sitting before him tilted his ‘face’ to one side. ‘What is it?’ The dragon cleared his throat. ‘There is something out there, deeper in the caverns, that you need to be wary of. Don’t go too far down if you can help it.’

Humming in confusion, a question mark of slime appeared by the Slime. ‘What do you mean? What’s down there?’

‘It’s been many years since I last felt them, but recently, something has shifted.’ The dragon nodded. ‘Yes, shifted! The Jorogomo clans are preparing for something big! I’d suggest leaving here as soon as possible once we’re done here.’

‘The Jorogomos?’

‘Just be careful.’ The dragon leaned forward, pinning the Slime under an intense gaze. ‘They rule the lower levels of the cave, so if you stay up here, I believe you’ll be just fine.’

The Slime grumbled. ‘But.. What are they?’

His new friend frowned, leaning back to stare somewhere up above him. ‘You know.. I don’t quite remember. They had already dug deep into the earth long before I was imprisoned here. It’s been many centuries since I first met one, and even more since I heard of them. Let’s see.. They have eight legs and eyes, oh, and venom!’

‘..Are you talking about spiders?’ The Slime shuddered. ‘That sounds like spiders.. Or maybe scorpions?’

The dragon shrugged. ‘Well, anyways, that’s all I needed to tell you.’

‘Thanks for the warning!’ The Slime bounced in place. ‘Well, I’m gonna eat you now! It’s time to bust out of that Unlimited Imprisonment!’

Laughing, the dragon eagerly agreed. ‘Let’s do it! I’m sure we’ll be face-to-face again in the near future!’

‘We will! Unique Skill; Predator!’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

A few hours later, you were strolling through the Sealed Cave.

‘Hey Chiron, what are these plants?’ You tap a claw on a leaf of a plant with a white flower.

[Answer; Hipokute Herbs. They are a rare magical herb that can be used in healing potions.]

You tilted your head with a churr and poked it once more. ‘Really? That’s so cool! I guess I should have expected that magic potions would also exist in the same world magic monsters live in. Kinda wish my old home had this; would have made my life better, at least.’

Suddenly, the air pressure from Veldora’s section of the caves lifted.

You grunted, jolting when the sudden pressure change disoriented you. ‘The hell? What just happened?!’

[Notice; Veldora the Storm Dragon has vanished.]

‘...Excuse me.’

[Veldora the Storm Dragon has vanished. The sudden change in air pressure is due to his aura disappearing suddenly.]

You nervously glanced behind you, where the air pressure was thickest. ‘You didn’t say he died...so, that means only one thing.’ You stepped back. ‘Veldora’s free.’

[Correction; no. The Strom Dragon Veldora is still very much imprisoned.]

‘But you said he-?’

[Veldora is still imprisoned.]

Curiosity dug its claws in you, and you slowly took a step forward. ‘So, is it safe? To go and investigate, I mean?’

[Notice; there is a 50% chance of you dying. Suggestion; hide.]

-You watched through the window as the neighborhood kids laughed while they played a game on the street. Coughing, you turned away to grab a tissue. You..kinda wished you could join them.-

-“I’m sorry, I don’t think you can go outside today. It’s much too cold for your fragile immune system. How about we play some games inside?” The nurse smiled at you brightly, holding up a board game. You weren’t in the mood, but the nurse was much too kind for your horrible attitude. So you smiled just as brightly and agreed.-

-You couldn’t even attend your own parents’ funeral. You were too sick. Always hiding inside, away from the rest of the world. From the possibility of death if you did even the smallest thing.-

‘I think,’ You started, paused, and rolled on ahead, ‘I’m going to take that chance.’

And then you cautiously marched towards Veldora’s previous location before Chiron could persuade you otherwise. <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You yelped, dodging another attack from the Armorsaurus’ whisker whips.

‘Okay! This is so not fair!’ You think loudly as the Monstrous Centipede lunges for you. Jumping away with Double Jump, you land on a stalactite and hiss at the two giants. ‘I just wanted to get by with no trouble! Why the hell are you attacking me?!’

You were peacefully skittering through the caverns when these two appeared. The Armorsaurus had been thrown right in front of you by the big ass bug and when you screeched at the sudden surprise, the two turned to you and attacked.

‘Not fair not fair not fair!’ You hiss and jump away again. ‘Chiron! Do I have enough stored energy to get out of here?!’

[Answer; no. At most, you will only be able to run faster with the {Skill; Double Jump} and the {Skill; Food Buff} for a few minutes. They will catch up quickly.]

‘Dammit! Fine!’ Jumping off another stalactite, you land on the back of the centipede and skitter up to its head. ‘This thing has Paralysis Breath, right? That means, if I play my cards right-’ You jumped off the monster and landed on the back of the Armorsarus.

You clung to the thrashing monster and challengingly clicked your chelicerae at the Monstrous Centipede. ‘Come and get me, bitch!’

The bug reared back with a screech as one of the Armorsaurus’ whisker whips slapped it across the belly and lunged. You jumped away just as it released a puff of smog at your ride, and it fell to the ground in a slump.

You landed nearby and brandished your claws. ‘Nice! Now all I have to do is get rid of that centipede!’

[Would you like to use the {Skill; Sticky Thread}?]

‘Do it!’

Jumping off, you lunged for the bug and skittered around its body. It thrashed around, trying desperately to knock you off, but it only succeeded in entangling itself more in your thread. You wrapped it up nice and tight in the webbing before leaping away and high-tailing it out of the cavern.

‘Alright, by the time that Armorsaurus is free, I should be far enough away from them! Hopefully, they’ll be more focused on each other instead of me.’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

‘So, these gems are important up top?’

You peered at the blue-green crystals before you. They were mesmerizing; the glow they let out lit up everywhere you could see, and the tones of blues and greens shifted with the difference of angles you stared at them with.

[Answer; correct. They are used to forge magisteel, and are extremely rare.]

‘..Are they more valuable than even gold?’

[Answer; yes.]

You backed up from the magic ore. ‘Damn

notes: and we're finally meeting Rimuru! what did you guys think of their first meeting?

stay safe out there, guys! and please remember that you're all AWESOME! XP

.. That’s a lot.’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

A couple of days passed since Veldora’s disappearance.

Even you could feel the tension in the air as the monsters residing in the Sealed Cave grew restless. You’re pretty sure a power struggle would occur soon, and while you would prefer to stay as far away as possible when that occurs, this newly discovered reckless side of you was calling for adventure.

You wanted to learn the cause of the Storm Dragon’s disappearance, and nothing was going to stop you from satiating your curiosity!

Even that Black Serpent you could see in t

notes: and we're finally meeting Rimuru! what did you guys think of their first meeting?

stay safe out there, guys! and please remember that you're all AWESOME! XP

he distance!

...H-Hold up. Did a Slime just...? Did you really just watch a Slime behead a Black Serpent with a wave of water?!

You flinched back when the Slime expanded and consumed the corpse in a single move. There was nothing left. Your claws clicked against the ground as you slowly stepped back, watching nervously as the Slime started hopping in place. ‘Okay. I think it’s time to leave.’

Then the Slime turned to you, and the two of you stood frozen, watching the other.

‘AND WE’RE RUNNING!’ You turn tail and ran as fast as you could on your eight legs. ‘TINY LEGS DON’T FAIL ME NOW!’

Plop-plop-plop.

Was it coming after you?! You’re pretty sure it’s chasing you!

But, by the time it reached your previous spot, you had already turned down several different tunnels and you weren’t stopping until you were sure that Slime wasn’t right behind you. You’re not dying today!

Finally reaching your little hidey-hole up high, you flopped down with a groan. ‘Jeez, what’s up with that Slime? I don’t think that’s normal..’

[Slimes are low-ranking, unintelligent Monsters. They cannot normally think.]

‘So, do they have skills? What are their normal ones?’ You poke a nearby web strand in boredom, your eight eyes staring straight down for any movement.

[Answer; Slimes normally have the {Skill; Di

notes: and we're finally meeting Rimuru! what did you guys think of their first meeting?

stay safe out there, guys! and please remember that you're all AWESOME! XP

ssolve}, the {Skill; Absorb}, and the {Skill Regeneration}.]

‘Huh. You said, ‘normally’. That implies this Slime is abnormal.’

[Answer; yes.]

You huffed. ‘So I’m probably dead if I run into that thing again. Good to know.’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

If Rimuru had a mouth, he would be grinning victoriously.

‘Aww yes!’ He thought as he hopped up and down. ‘Predator is the bomb dot com! That’s it! I’m gonna acquire ALL the skills!’

And then he turned around to see a giant spider staring at him from down the corridor. He froze. It was at least twice as big as him and completely white. The light glinted off of its sleek exoskeleton, and its eight glowing red eyes bore into him. ‘Uhh, Great Sage? What’s that?’

[Answer; that is a Medium Taratect. It belongs to the Jorogomo Monster species, and is the first of its clan.]

Rimuru perked up. ‘Jorogomo? Isn’t that what Veldora warned me about?’

[Answer; correct.]

‘Then they really are spiders.’ He thought. And then he flinched back when the thing turned and ran away. ‘H-Hey! Wait!’ But it didn’t. Instead, it turned a corner and disappeared from view. He bounced forward, trying his best to catch up.

The Jorogomo had vanished. ‘Almost like a ghost..’ Rimuru shivered. ‘It certainly looked like one, too.’ Sighing, he glanced down the tunnel he had seen it turn down for a moment or two. ‘Hey, Great Sage? Veldora also mentioned that there was more than one clan. How many are there?’

[Answer; the Jorogomo Monster species, commonly known to the world as Giant Spiders, is currently divided into four clans; Obsidian, Bronze, Ruby, and Golden. This one is the very first with its color, signifying the birth of a new clan.]

‘O-Oh. That must be what Veldora meant when he said they were preparing for something..’

Humming, he bounced after it. ‘Maybe, it can help me find the exit! Let’s follow it!’ <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

‘Why is it so close to my home?!’

You peered down at the Slime bouncing down the tunnel from the safety of the ceiling. Horror washed over you, causing your legs to shake in fear. ‘Is this thing following me?! But I ran away from it just yesterday! How can it still be after me?!’

Just then, you heard a familiar screech and you swore you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

That was the sound of a Jorogomo Monster. Oh, no. Are you about to watch your kind get eaten by this Slime?! You duck your head just as an Obsidian Jorogomo appears and lunges for the Slime. In the next few seconds, all you could hear was the sound of flesh being sliced through and the heavy thuds of limbs falling to the ground. Peeking once it was all over, you ended up catching the exact moment when the Slime expanded to eat the corpse.

Fear crashed into you at the sight of your brethren piled up in slices. One second you were on the ceiling, and the next you were falling to the ground. You shrieked, flailing.

‘NO NO NO NO! I DON’T WANT TO GO DOWN THERE!!’

Thud!

The wind was knocked out of you and for a split second, you could have sworn you saw your soul leave your body.

Silence greeted you, and you slowly rock to the side to see the Slime staring at you. ‘Oh, shit. Oh, SHIT!’ Shrieking, you scramble to get to your feet only to discover that you were stuck on your back. Your clawed legs waved frantically in the air as you rocked back and forth.

‘NO! GET UP YOU STUPID BODY! WE’RE ABOUT TO GET EATEN!’ If you could cry, you would be sobbing a waterfall right about now.

[Would you like to use {Thought Communication}?]

‘Yes! Do it! Whatever saves my exoskeleton!’

The Slime slithered closer and your cries grew louder. ‘No! Don’t eat me, please! I don’t wanna die so early in my second life!’

It froze. ‘...You mean, you’re..reincarnated, too?’ Your legs stopped flailing as the words sunk in.

The voice had spoken in your head, and your Spidey Sense skill told you that there was no other living creature close enough for Thought Communication. So this Slime was able to think. And if this Slime’s words were true, then that means... Your legs curled up against your belly as shock settled in.

‘I’m not the only one?!’ The Slime wiggled happily in place. ‘We’re not alone! Nice!’

You stared at it for a long moment. The Slime flinched back, its body tilting to the side. ‘Uhh, something the matter? Why are you staring at me like that?’ (Unbeknownst to you, your red eyes started sparkling, almost like you were about to cry.)

‘I-I’m okay. It’s just...I’m so glad I’m not going to die!’ You let out a loud sob. ‘When I fell, I was sure that I was going to get eaten! Thanks for not eating me!’

‘U-Uh, you’re welcome?’ The Slime moved forward. ‘I’m Rimuru. What’s your name?’

‘I don’t have one right now, but I went by the name (Y/N) in my last life?’

Rimuru bounced once. ‘Well then, it’s nice to meet you (Y/N)! Do you...need some help up?’ You glanced down at your body. Yeah, you weren’t getting up without some outside help.. You turned back up at him, letting out a soft trill. ‘Please?’

notes: and we're finally meeting Rimuru! what did you guys think of their first meeting?

stay safe out there, guys! and please remember that you're all AWESOME! XP

#fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ttigraas #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #tensei shitara slime datta ken #so i'm a spider so what #kumo desu ga nani ka #rimuru tempest x reader #rimuru tempest/reader #frayawrites

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papayatori · 7 months ago

Text

Fall away (p5)

Inumaki Toge x fém!reader

Had I lived a life of weakness, or was I simply realizing just how strong everyone else around me had become? I stood in the middle of the training yard, fending off attacks from Yuta. He had decided to be my sparring partner today.

He had introduced himself to me earlier, almost shaking from his own nervousness. He was Inumaki’s best friend, I knew I would have to talk with him eventually, but today seemed off to me.

I knew that he was on a mission with the others, but I had no idea that when he’d gotten back that he would have a sudden interest in me. Though, I had learned recently from Gojo, that we had similar abilities. While Yuta failed to use a technique like the rest of us did with the exceptions of Maki, he still possessed a cursed spirit within himself known as Rika. Maki had warned me of her, as she had had a flaming jealousy of Maki from their first meeting. The only explanation of this was that Maki was another female that knew Yuta; though the flame in her eyes and the blush creeping onto her cheeks explained something entirely different. I kept that to myself in case Maki ever tormented me about Toge again.

“You’re fast, but your punches are pulled.” Yuta stated confidently with a small chuckle. I grimaced, noticing the gazes of our peers on the sidelines.

“Im not pulling punches, Yuta! You have a katana.” He shrugged, throwing it to me.

“Now you have a katana. Let’s see if we can fight evenly now.” I glared at him, readying myself for the next battle.

I completely willed my cursed energy to my core as Toge had instructed. I felt it flow through my body, pulse in my veins. I figured the only way to wield a weapon with zero cursed energy would be to use my own, I allowed it to flow into the wooden katana all at once, pushing as hard as I could to focus the energy. I saw Yuji give me a thumbs up from the sidelines.

Yuta now had Maki’s staff in his hands. She was standing awkwardly beside Panda with no explanation. I knew she must have given it to him.

He threw the first attack, nearly sweeping my legs out from under me. I had been distracted and he had used this to his advantage. I stood completely, dodging his next move with ease. Our weapons were crossed, and I pushed him further back, causing him to falter and stumble slightly.

“Fast and strong, I see.” I didn’t bother responding, only pushing further into battle.

I swiped at him with the katana. He narrowly blocked before twirling the staff. I blocked with my forearm, allowing the sting to flow through me and create more cursed energy. I focused it all into the katana, swinging at the arm that held the staff. My eyes widened.

The wooden katana had shattered as he easily blocked the blow and knocked me from my feet. He poked my forehead with the staff before offering me a hand that I reluctantly took to stand up once again.

“When focusing cursed energy into a weapon as you have just done, it can be vital to succeed; however, when done too hastily and forcefully, it will cause damage to you rather than your opponent.” He spoke clearly as if he had had experience. I nodded, taking note.

“So, by pushing cursed energy gradually, it will be more effective.” He smiled.

“Correct.”

We had met the others on the sidelines, allowing for criticism on both ends of our fight. Toge took my hand, sizing me up for any injuries that might need tending to. He smiled down at me before tugging his scarf back up to hide his markings once more.

“Salmon.” He stated, congratulating my progress as he always did. It was my turn to smile at him this time.

“I still have much to learn, Toge.” He nodded in agreement.

So much to learn and so little time to do so. Gojo had informed me early this morning after a night of celebration that the group had returned safely that I was to go on my first mission today. I had finally spent the night in my room again, too scared to sleep but too scared to call for Toge. Yuji had checked on me a few times, which I was grateful for, but it didn’t help the sleepless night that I endured. Now I was to go on a mission?

“You will be accompanied by Fushiguro, mostly to spectate you in case the time is of need, but accompanying you nonetheless.” I nodded blankly, his words barely registering.

Now, we were being sent to an abandoned school on the outskirts of Tokyo. I had never even heard the name before, surprisingly. I suppose it had been cursed for some time now.

Ijichi drove us to the spot, lowing the veil and wishing us luck. He didn’t speak much I had come to realize, but a colleague regardless. Besides, that made things easier on me.

“The spirit is possibly a low grade 3, I doubt it will give you any trouble considering your skills, y/l/n”. He had said to me beforehand. Megumi had listened in, taking in the debrief with open ears. He didn’t speak much either.

We slowly walked into the horrifying building. Graffiti covered the gates and the outside walls.

“Kids must hang around this place a lot.” Megumi noted. “Be on the lookout for innocents.” I nodded, keeping my weary eyes as peeled as possible.

Our footsteps echoed in the hallways, they seemed to stretch for miles. I had decided to sweep the second floor myself, keeping Megumi to the first floor. I figured we’d get more done that way.

“If you see anything, don’t immediately attack unless you know for utmost certainty that you can handle it by yourself.” He kept his voice low, but it was still lethal.

“I’ll be ready.” He nodded, continuing down the hallway as I ascended up the rickety stairway.

Every little noise I heard made me jump. Fear brimmed my senses, sending my pulse into fight or flight. A rat scurried across the floor with a squeak, causing me to almost lose balance.

Pull yourself together, y/n. It’s just a mouse.

I heard a growl from somewhere in front of me. It sounded hungry, needy. Almost immediately, I felt the presence of whatever cursed spirit lied beneath the folds of darkness that blanketed the hall. I heard slow footsteps followed by a small chuckle. A cold chill traced my spine.

Disobeying every intelligent cell in my body, I walked further into the darkness. The hum of cursed energy released itself upon me. I focused it, sending it throughout my body. I unsheathed my katana, remembering my training with Yuta yesterday. My muscles still ached even after.

Though I could see nothing, I could feel the direction the spirit was. Its cursed energy seemed to be the strongest inside one of the classrooms. Reluctantly, I opened the door, whirling around for any immediate dangers.

I can see nothing here.

I heard another soft chuckle followed by a bellowing groan. The sound of saliva hitting the floor woke me from my internal slumber. I felt my organs rearranging themselves as my eyes darted to the corner of the room to be met with an ugly, humanoid being like the one that had entered my room all those nights ago. My fear overtook my emotions. My heart plummeted quickly, feeling every muscle in my body tense as the thing lunged for me.

I instantly threw myself into battle, swiping my katana and trying my best to focus my energy at the same time while my fear seemed to control my movements. I couldn’t let my instincts take over, as if something was holding me back.

“Don’t be afraid, little one. I don’t bite.” It cooed before lunging itself at me once more. I swung the katana with force, starting to regain control of my muscles again. I smiled lightly at the beast.

“I don’t know this fear in which you speak of, I’d like to meet them someday.” I said with a chuckle, slicing into the arm of the beast. It screamed loudly, probably alerting any bystanders of its presence.

It slashed its claws angrily, trying its best to regain the upper hand. My smile had grown ferocious, my cursed energy pounding within my veins. I focused it gradually in the katana as Yuta had told me to. I was starting to enjoy this.

My instincts had started to kick in. I dodged every attack with minimal effort. It hissed and screamed and wailed as I continued to wear it down. A slash to the arm, a cut limb, an elbow to the face. My cursed energy poured through my body, hounding the spirit with no trouble at all.

“You don’t know fear, yet you tremble where you stand.” It mocked me. “It’s so strong I can almost taste it.” I smirked, twirling my katana from my back and readying myself once more for an unpredicted lunge. I stared into its black eyes, feeling the void within. I felt the anger, the urge to kill on instinct. It welled within the spirit, overriding every other emotion. Ichiji had awoken it from its slumber with the veil, the only thing it wished to do was reside happily inside the haunting school. I spat at its feet.

“Is that why you’re bleeding and there isn’t even a scratch on me?” I laughed at it, mocking its very existence. “I’ll allow you to go back to sleep if you’d like. Though, this privilege will be much more permanent.” It attempted to attack, but I easily countered. I had started to lose myself in the bloodthirsty rage that was cursed sorcery. I laughed as I cut through its chest, into the place where its heart should have been. I pulled my sword free, watching it fall to the ground with a thump.

It was still alive, but only at my mercy. I heard its jagged cries, I felt every welled emotion releasing itself into my mind relentlessly. I saw my own death once again flashing behind my lids every time I blinked. It’s hot blood dripped from my blade.

“How does it feel to sleep?” I asked it, beckoning it to answer to me. It growled, looking up at me with a malicious grin.

“I’ll never be able to answer you that. I’ll only be reborn once more. This time, I’ll be stronger, and your life will mean nothing-“

I had placed my hand on its head, gripping it hard enough to bruise. It winced, baring its jagged teeth. I laughed again.

I felt the energy within it decreasing as well as its malicious emotions. They seeped into my skin as the beast had started dissipating. I heard rushed footsteps from down the hall.

“Y/n!” Megumi called in terror. His eyes grew large at the sight unfolding before him.

I gripped harder, feeling its life drain into the palm of my hand in the shape of a bronze orb that was colored like the spirits skin. It whirled and buzzed within my grasp. Megumi tried to run to me, but his muscles wouldn’t move.

It felt as though I weren’t myself, as if I was spectating and watching whoever was controlling my body. Without a second thought, I shoved the orb into my mouth, swallowing it whole.

“Y/n?” Megumi had frozen in shock. He had no idea what he had witnessed, and truth be told, neither did I. Before I could answer, I dropped to my knees. I was shaking violently. The aftertaste in my mouth tasted like death itself, the taste alone making me gag and wail. I felt a tear fall from my eye.

“Are you okay?” Megumi asked, rushing towards me. “What the hell did you expect it to taste like!?” I ignored his comment, not able to speak anyway. My cursed energy had felt stronger, lighter. My senses felt almost heightened as I stared up at Megumi, who was also trying to make sense of whatever the hell was happening.

“Did I really swallow that thing?” I asked, finally regaining my ability to move without throwing up. He gasped.

“Did you not intend to?!” He shouted, frustrated. I felt sorry for him.

“Not exactly.” I stated, standing and dusting myself off. Blood that wasn’t my own coated my new uniform.

We walked out together. I noticed Megumi looked roughed up a little, I suppose he had encountered a spirit of his own. Ijichi didn’t say a word as the veil was lifted and we drove back to the school.

Inumaki was pacing his room, not wanting to train with the others today. He had blocked all possibilities of something happening to you out of his mind just to keep himself sane. He hadn’t known you for long, and he didn’t exactly know how he already worried so strongly for you; but he did know you were a lot like Yuta. He knew your past wasn’t the best, he knew some of the things you struggled with, and he also knew that you had just learned many things about your family and your history that probably didn’t sit well with you. Not to mention, you hadn’t stayed with him the night before, and he hadn’t been able to see you before you left.

He heard a knock from the outside of his room, and without thinking he immediately opened the door. Gojo was standing there.

“Fushiguro and Y/l/n have returned, I figured you’d want to know. The others are making their way down as we speak-“ without uttering a word or letting Gojo finish, he pushed past him and started sprinting towards the main entrance. He had to make sure you were okay.

Gojo chuckled, watching the lovestruck boy run after the girl he didn’t even realize he loved.

I stood at the gate, Megumi beside me as Ijichi drove the car around to park. God knows how long it’s really been since we left, and I felt the weight of my lids drooping with every movement. I glanced around at the school that was shaded in orange from the setting sun. Had it been all day? I figured it would’ve taken longer than that.

Without warning, I was tackled in a bone crushing hug. I looked over, surprised to see the platinum blonde boy squeezing me to death. He pulled away quickly, eyes growing wild at the blood staining my uniform. He grabbed my hand and instantly started running back inside. I had no choice but to follow behind him, my entire body aching with each movement. He didn’t slow his pace until we reached what I knew to be rather familiar: the infirmary.

“Tuna, tuna!” He said, his lungs struggling for air. I looked at him, feeling his every crazed emotion. Had he forgotten to put up a mental shield?

Shoko looked me up and down, inspecting my entire body. I felt like I was being judged, I didn’t like this. I flushed.

“I don’t see anything wrong with her, Inumaki. Is everything alright?” He bowed to her slightly in thanks.

“Bonito flakes.” He said simply. I gave Shoko an apologetic smile.

“I’m not really sure, either honestly.” I said, still shaken from the soul I had absorbed. She noticed me stifle a gag at the thought, though she didn’t mention it.

Gojo walked in behind us with Megumi, who seemed to be slightly injured himself.

“You forgot the injured one, Inumaki.” He stated with a small smirk. I rolled my eyes, knowing what he was thinking. He turned his attention to me. “I believe we have some things to discuss?” I nodded, expecting fully for Megumi to mention something about what he had witnessed. He sent me an apologetic look to which I smiled back.

Gojo led me out of the room, leaving Inumaki pacing the hallway as I stood in Gojo’s ‘office’ once more.

“Did you really swallow it?” He asked me, no humor sweeping his tone whatsoever. He was dead serious. I felt the tension in the room rise significantly.

“Yes.” I stated simply. “I’m not even fully aware of why I did something like that. I didn’t feel completely in control. I was sort of living off instincts purely.” He nodded.

“Fushiguro mentioned that, too. Though, you don’t even have a scratch on you, and I’m certain that was at least a semi grade one cursed spirit. You spoke to it?” I shrugged.

“We had a conversation, yes.” He hummed.

“The fact that it not only could understand your Japanese, it could also form sentences that you could understand as well, is utterly terrifying to me.” He stated before continuing. “Though, something else is also concerning me quite a bit.” He started.

I tilted my head slightly, not exactly sure what he was leading into.

“Why did Inumaki tackle you?” His grin grew wider and wider as a blush grew on his cheeks. I scowled, pointing at him.

“Now isn’t the time for that, Gojo!” I yelled, walking for the door. He continued to giggle.

“Keep living in denial, y/l/n!” And I continued out of the room without another word. Toge was waiting outside with a small blush tinting his cheeks. He must have heard Gojo’s teasing.

Despite the excitement of today, I was absolutely exhausted. Toge grabbed my hand, sensing my exhaustion, and led me to my room. I didn’t even bother changing, I just flopped onto the bed while Inumaki sat at my feet. He kept eyeing me, as if still worried something was wrong with me. I sent him a questioning glance, he pulled out his phone and started typing once again.

“Are you feeling okay?” The robotic voice of his phone said. I nodded slowly with a small smile, motioning for him to unzip his collar. He did so hesitantly, giving me a shy smile.

I sat up straight, wrapping my arms around him. He flushed slightly and his muscles tensed before easing into my embrace.

“I’m fine, Toge. I promise. I’m just exhausted. I didn’t really sleep last night.” He coughed lightly before typing again.

“Why didn’t you come get me?” His phone spoke again. I chuckled.

“I didn’t want to be a bother to you anymore than I was.” He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His touch was gentle, caring.

“Never.” He muttered. His voice never ceased to make my heart melt, no matter how much he spoke.

He kissed me softly before pulling away just as quickly. Neither of us were aware of what we were now, but we both knew we liked this. My face was a mess, I wanted more but I was exhausted.

I buried my face in his shoulder, feeling his heart beat faster. His warmth comforted me, his touch slowed my anxiety.

I fell asleep thinking about Toge once again, erasing the gruesome sight I had been forced to play in only hours before.

Sorry this one’s so short! A lot has been going on recently 🥲

Tag list: @grilledbananas @sillygoose3082

#fall away #jjk inumaki #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #jjk fanart #jjk spoilers #inumaki toge #inumaki x y/n #inumaki x you #jujutsu kaisen inumaki #inumaki x reader #inumaki smau #inumaki fluff #inumaki fanart

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asgardian--angels · 10 months ago

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Talking on the phone with my mom I finally broke down and cried thoroughly about the cancellation. I think I'd been holding it in for the last two days, or two months. And honestly I've been wondering all along why this show means so much to me. I am not queer, I am not neurodivergent, I am not POC or disabled or any of the groups that this show has been so important for in terms of representation and being treated with respect and dignity. I understand and completely empathize with all of you, and fight for this show and your rights worldwide alongside you, but it still left me wondering why I myself have latched onto Our Flag Means Death. I suppose part of it is that despite being white and cishet and the privileges that have always come with that, I have been treated like an outsider and ostracized my entire childhood and teenage years, for being ugly and having "disgusting" interests (primarily liking insects, reptiles, other creepy-crawlies - aka the thing I literally do for my career now). I was bullied relentlessly from preschool through early college and became a very lonely introverted person - I still am. Undoubtedly Our Flag Means Death gave me renewed hope that I haven't missed some key window for finding love or relationships of any kind that matter, as I sit here typing this at age 28 having never dated anyone.

But it had to be more than that. And with everything that's happened the past couple of months, and the last few days, I think it finally clicked for me.

Followers of my blog may or may not know that I am a conservation biologist, or pollinator ecologist, whichever hat fits best on a given day, they're quite close. I don't make many original posts like this anymore on here because my job is so busy. Basically, I do a variety of things - academic research, habitat management & restoration, and public outreach - to try and preserve biodiversity and ecosystems on our planet. I'm just going to say it: it's a thankless job. Nothing we do ever feels like it's enough, and burnout is common in our field because we sit with the guilt of feeling like we are the only thing between survival and utter destruction of planet Earth, and work ourselves to exhaustion. It's one of those jobs where your work is your life, and your passion is your work, and it's inseparable from who you are on a molecular level. We are often faced, on a large scale, with hostility, from people that don't believe in science and are more than happy to pull a shotgun on us, or rich old men in power who are content to watch the world burn for another penny in their bank account. There are days when sometimes it sinks in just how bad things are, and it's terrifying, and I feel like we will never be able to do enough, to change enough, before it gets catastrophic. It's paralyzing.

My ability to do my job is dependent on hope. Unwavering, unrelenting hope. Hope beyond hope. We have to believe what we're doing matters, otherwise we'd fall down and never get back up again. I'm no big-shot, I give talks to a few hundred people at a time, and make urban pollinator habitat on a local scale. Is any of that going to make a difference compared to the ramifications of a single oil mogul deciding to cut corners and cause an oil spill that kills millions of seabirds and damages ocean food chains for decades to come? If people in my field let thoughts like that linger, we'd be paralyzed to inaction. I have to hope that the people I teach choose to do something good with that knowledge, and go on to inspire others, or that the patch of habitat I make allows a declining species to maintain a foothold instead of going locally extinct. You just have to keep going.

And Our Flag Means Death got wrapped up in that for me. The Stede Bonnet effect, if you will. He set out to do pirating differently, treating his crew with respect and helping them grow. In return, they internalized that mindset, and it spread to how they interacted with others. It changed the trajectory of individual lives, and also at least began to change how the society of pirates operated as a whole. It was a beacon of hope that choosing small acts of kindness did matter, even if you yourself could not see the ripples it made. It renewed my faith that love persevered and would win. That we could all make life a little better for each other and ourselves through kindness, compassion, forgiveness, and mutual support. I think a good chunk of that is from Taika - these are running themes in his projects, and his films move me deeply for that. This show became in some, perhaps subconscious way, a source of strength for me to keep putting myself out there in my line of work to do whatever I was capable of to help the cause.

The cancellation was devastating, but the second cancellation (turbohell cancelation?) was even more so. Because now it's so clear that this is largely the work of David Zaslav and the regime he's built. It's petty, it's greedy, and more than anything, it's cruel. Indifferently, indiscriminately cruel, when one person at the top can have such power to make or break the lives of thousands, millions, beneath them, and though it would have been barely a drop in the bucket, a hand wave, to renew our show or let it pass to another streamer, he actively chose to shackle it to this sinking Titanic of a company WBD has become. I have always operated on the belief that you can do anything if you work hard enough at it, and believed deep down that there was some order, some justice in the universe, atheist though I be. We as a fandom did everything we possibly could, we loved this show harder than anything. The numbers were there, the awards nominations were there, the critic praise was there, and we were loud and loyal every single day. I felt like we could do this - how could we not win when we've done so much, and the show deserves it so much? Surely cause and effect will prevail.

This fight seemed small, though really it wasn't; we fought for the right of artists and creators to make quality, original stories and have them told to their natural end, we fought for diversity representation to be more than a token character - OFMD raised the bar so much higher on all fronts, we fought to shed light on the chaos and impending collapse of this industry silencing art and exploiting writers, actors, and all manner of production workers. It was a small fight from the outside, one that I really felt we could win. And I put my heart and soul into it, because if we could win this, if we could save this simple, kind love story about two guys on a boat, then maybe there was hope for the bigger, badder stuff too. It shouldn't seem an insurmountable task for several thousand fans to convince a streaming service that they'd turn a tidy profit to give our show one more season.

Yet we lost - through no fault of our own. I am so proud of us. But that really struck deep for me. If one peabrained CEO of a media company wouldn't budge on greenlighting a show that was in his every best interest business-wise - perhaps enough to even save Max from going under in the not-too-distant future - my god, what hope was there for changing anything bigger? The 'real' problems of the world? When no amount of ethos, logos, or pathos can penetrate these men at the top, where's that hope to fight? Lately the world seems like it's just going belly up all over. If we gave everything we could, and it still wasn't enough - if it could never be enough - what hope is there? It's like chaining yourself to a tree and the bulldozer plowing right on ahead. And I think that broke something in me. It shook me to my foundations because it broke my rules of how things are supposed to work. We believed hard enough, we worked tirelessly, and we deserved it for how important this show was to so many people. And it didn't matter. Our best wasn't enough. And that caused an avalanche of all of the horrible, scary things piled on my shoulders - we're losing the Amazon rainforest too fast to save, climate change is going to turn the corn belt into a dustbowl by mid-century, a border wall is going to devastate imperiled wildlife in Texas, deforestation and hurricanes on songbird wintering grounds could lead to entire species extinctions, saltmarshes are our lifeline and they're shrinking and we're still building stupid concrete stormwalls, invasive diseases will completely alter the composition of our forests to be unrecognizable to our children, and if you don't make every slide of this powerpoint utterly perfect and you fail to convince every single person in attendance to get rid of their lawn then you've failed and the world is doomed.

I've struggled with being a perfectionist my whole life. This didn't help.

That's where I was a couple hours ago. But I took some deep breaths. I know the world isn't fair. But I really thought if we could win this one battle, then we could win the war.

But here's what I realized. Everything we did mattered. It mattered so much. Because there's the show, and then there's everything that was birthed out of that show. The community, so many of us around the world who have been uplifted by Our Flag Means Death in a real and lasting way that we will take with us and spread to affect those around us. The Stede Bonnet effect goes global. We raised thousands and thousands of dollars for charities around the world, real people whose lives have been improved, or maybe even saved, because of us and this silly pirate show. We brought a hell of a lot of attention to WBD and their shitty practices, keeping the momentum going in a way that I think is only going to build - and I sure hope it leads to Zaslav getting deposed. We have demanded more queer stories, more BIPOC stories, more disabled and autistic and middle-aged stories, stories with exquisite costumes and award-worthy wigs, dear lord, and we are being heard. We have expressed such love and support for the cast and crew, showing them that we appreciate their hard work and that we will be behind them in their future projects. So many of them have told us how the show and its fans have changed their lives. We convinced Rhys that his career isn't winding down but winding up, and to be unapologetic about his wonderful weirdness - we've proven to everyone through this show that your weirdness is what someone out there is going to love you for, not in spite of. We rallied to help writers and actors during the strikes in a way that was taken to heart and remembered. We have been out here talking it through as a crew, and turning poison into positivity, for over two years now, and that impact is permanent. They can cancel our show, they can try and slap copyright notices on our fan merch, and spew bullshit excuses about the numbers not being there. But Our Flag Means Death sparked a movement, the biggest pirate crew the world has ever seen, using our power for good.

We may not have any more new material for our show for a while, or ever. But I maintain hope that when the dust has settled and streaming has entered its 'new era' that they'll remember us and throw us a lifeline. Because hope is a part of my genetic makeup, and even in cancellation my hope has been renewed that the fight is worth fighting, that our individual choices of kindness are having an effect, and making the world a little easier to live in bit by bit. No one can take from us what we have built out of this show. And thanks to pirating, they can't take the actual show from us either. Despite this, no matter the outcome, I am so happy we got two seasons of this wonderful series. That was more than almost anyone expected. The story belongs to all of us, and it will always live on. We did not truly lose this battle, because in the process we gained more than we could have ever imagined. And I know there's still so much more to come. That gives me the strength to keep doing what I do, every day.

To me, Our Flag Means Hope.

#our flag means death #ofmd #this is a very long post but I need to write it for me #seeing the outpouring of love on twitter today has really been so needed #also realizing after i finish this that my blog name is literally 'There is always hope'#so i mean. this really has been my brand since i started here #personal

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yukittywrites · 1 year ago

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Take My Lips (You Leave Me Tongue Tied)

warnings: dom reader, sub yuta, top reader, bottom yuta, hes pathetic, reader is kinda a dick, mild degradation, getting walked in on, gender neutral reader.

word count: 3.3k read the full story here (30k words)

a/n: gender isnt mentioned, nor genitals, but you fuck him. it's up to reader to decide whether its with a strap or a real dick! also, this is technically in the high&low universe too (reader is basically Amagai if you've seen the movie)

Yuta is exhausted, after training all the students in the school, part of the job you delegated to him, by specifically allowing them to land punches and kicks on his body (the way you specifically requested him to train) he is tired and honestly, in a lot of pain.

Even breathing hurts, and he can't help but wonder if one of the students kicked a rib.

Even being top fighter doesn't make him invincible, though for some reason, you seem to think that it does.

Or maybe you don't, maybe you just do it for fun, just to see him hurt.

He doesn't really care about the reason though. He'll do it anyway.

After his training session, he slips into your shared bedroom upstairs, the secret top floor of Senomon High, and sighs in relief when he sees that you're not around.

You're busy, thank God. The last thing he wants to do is spend time trying to explain to you how the training went and not say the wrong thing to get hurt further.

He runs a scalding bath and sinks pleasantly into it; hoping that the water will take the edge off the pain. He knows that you will be angry at him for not being useful.

It doesn't matter that he took over a hundred hits to his body, or that he did exactly what you asked, or that the Senomon boys are improving their skills.

Yuta has already learned that it's difficult to please you. Even if he completes what was asked…it's still difficult, and you complain about him more and more as of recently.

Even when he is the most loyal of all the people you hired, even when he always completes whatever is asked of him to the best of his ability and he tries not to talk back to you even when he disagrees so deeply with whatever you do. Even when Yuta is the reason you even got an opportunity to become the top school in the district or even had a chance of overpowering Oya High for that spot.

Yuta submerges his head beneath the water and hopes that all his thoughts will wash away just like the dirt on his body.

He stays in the bath until his fingers get pruney and the water gets colder, and he finally gets out.

He wraps a towel around his waist and opens the door. He is startled when he sees you sitting on the couch.

After his calming bath, he forgot that you were actually at school. He managed to make his mind blank of everything within the bath, and now you are sitting in front of him.

"Y-y/n—" he stutters, gripping the towel around his waist.

You blatantly stare at his chest as he speaks. "So that's where you've been. I was looking for you, but the guys said you left immediately after you finished. I thought maybe you stepped out. What, you've been in the bathroom for this long?"

"Yeah, I was feeling hurt after the session. The bath helped." His voice gets progressively quieter as he finishes the sentence, because he knows that you aren't pleased.

You don't need to voice it anymore; Yuta can tell now when you're disappointed.

"You couldn't do anything productive with your time?"

"I'm sorry, Y/n, I didn't mean to be lazy."

You sigh. "Fine, Nakamoto. How was the training session?"

"It was good, they learned everything well. They got a lot of good hits in." Yuta replies.

He pulls on underwear and a shirt. "Do you have anymore use for me today?"

"Right now, you can go get us dinner. I'll have plenty of use for you later." You say, your voice turning sultry at the end.

Yuta turns away before he can flush, the implication of what the use for him will be later turning him red.

You usually only want to use him for oral pleasure, but he always loves it when you gets like this.

When you're willing to touch him, even if it's only with the goal of your own pleasure.

A sick part of him deep inside clings to your sexual touches, morphing them into something more. When he wakes up in the middle of the night from a dream of you and him together—truly together, romantically—it is the moments of you fucking him, no matter how quickly and dismissively, that fuel them. He feels your hands on his body and his mind imagines you pressing deep kisses to his lips and fucking him tenderly, even though it’s nothing more than a wishful fantasy.

You give him 5,000 yen and tell him to pick up something for himself. You don't remind him to order anything for you, but he knows your usual already.

And, well, if he gets the order wrong, he'll find out quickly.

His body aches more and more the more he walks, but he gets your food regardless, and gives you back the change.

Yuta knows that nothing of significance is happening, so he tries to force himself to relax. There's an internal voice within his head telling him that he was too unproductive today, because he knows that it's what you would tell him any other day. He worked out, did a training session, took a bath and now he is eating food that you paid for.

You come back to the room at eight.

"Strip." You say, and Yuta stands up immediately to pull off his clothes.

His first time truly having sex—was with you, of course. Every first that he’s had so far has been at your hands. you've had a chance to see how he works and how he ticks, knowing what arouses him better than even what he can comprehend.

You weren't a virgin when Yuta got you off for the first time, as you'd bragged about time and time again, reminding him that you lost your virginity in the bathroom of some fancy work gathering your father dragged you to. You were quick to tell him about all the times you'd made out with people and when you had your first kiss, laughing when Yuta would only nod because he had nothing to say in response.

Not when he’d never so much as kissed someone. He still hasn’t; you won’t kiss him, certainly not make out with him. So, Yuta has given head more times than he can count on his hands, been fucked by you just as much, but he’s never had the chance to so much as kiss another person.

The version of you he sees at night is meaner than how you act during the day, and it makes Yuta shiver. In fear, or in anticipation, he's not truly sure—it might be both—but when you demand things from him in this sense, he can accept it more than the demands during the day.

You smirk as you push him onto your bed.

"God, your fucking body line is insane." you curse, reaching under the bed to get lube.

There is no patience for Yuta, there is usually no time for any kind of foreplay, and Yuta doesn't need any, because he is already hard the moment you asks him to do more than just give head, and if he isn't asked, it is just him pleasing you without it being reciprocated, and there's no need for him to be hard at all.

Of course, he is. But it's only because it's you.

You flip him over onto his stomach with force and he moans.

He hears the uncapping of a lube bottle and seconds later feels your first finger at his entrance, pushing into him without much resistance.

It doesn't take long before you're working him open enough to take your middle finger along with your pointer, and Yuta moans again at the intrusion.

Yuta's is not even the biggest fan of sex like this, but, anything you could do to him would arouse him, and despite you hating taking the time to do actual foreplay, you can find his prostate with ease, and that's enough to keep him satisfied.

Yuta buries his face in his arms with a quiet whine as you push two fingers onto it.

You laugh. "Found it, didn't I?" you ask, rhetorically, rubbing on the gland at making his body tense.

"Y-Yeah" He gasps anyway, his voice wobbly.

"God, you're so easy, just two fingers and you're already like this for me." You say and you remove them from Yuta's hole to apply more lube.

Yuta's legs twitch when you pushs in three fingers and curl them all the way to his prostate immediately. His voice pitches higher as a moan spills from his lips freely.

You lean close to him, biting on his ear and murmuring, “You’re acting like such a slut today, moaning so much and I haven’t even stuck my dick in you yet.”

Your fingers don’t slow down against his prostate, in fact they speed up. Usually you get to the main event as quick as possible, while asking him to remain as silent as he physically can, but it seems you're feeling a little different today.

"Haah, f-fuck! Y/n!" he stutters, his eyes slipping closed as he buries his head in the pillows beneath it.

"Yeah? Feels good, huh?"

Your fingers massaging his prostate leave him gasping for air. He wonders if this even counts as foreplay, when you're just rushing him to an orgasm as quickly as he possibly can with your fingers, but whatever you're doing, it's working.

"Oh my God—" Yuta moans, meaning to say words after that, but the rest of his sentence just spilling out like gibberish as his body refuses to cooperate with him.

"Already? You're already fucking cock drunk and it's barely been five minutes." You tell him, slapping his ass with your free hand.

"Hnng~"

You laugh condescendingly. "Maybe I should do this more often. If I knew you could cum on my fingers in five minutes like a desperate bitch then I would've been trying to do it all along.”

Yuta bites his lip to prevent himself from responding, even though your words send lightning shooting down his spine. He focuses on the way your fingers move in tandem to make him feel so insane.

Your fingers aren’t particularly long, Yuta's own are much longer, but they’re thick and you knows how to use them well.

It’s as if you're intertwined, and maybe you are, after all, you know exactly how he ticks. You know how to get under his skin, whether that be mentally or physically, pushing all the right buttons to leave him a scrambled mess. You know the right words to say to cut Yuta to the core and leave him hurting, and you know what to say to leave him gasping and moaning. You know the spots that make him bruise easily just as well as you knows the spots that have him falling undone.

You knew how to find his prostate instantly, even the first time that you'd fucked him open with your fingers, despite telling never actually having done it before.

You are always harsh with your efforts and one to take, take, take, until Yuta is gasping for breath and clamping down on his mouth to keep quiet.

“You’re a pretty toy, Yuta. Always so pleased with whatever I do to you-” You tell him, “or, whatever I don’t.”

Yuta moans, gasping at the praise. His eyelids flutter and he can’t help the way that he reacts to your words. Praise from you always leaves him flustered, and during sex that desire to be praised is even more intense. When he gets it, it’s like a rush of pleasure bursting beneath him.

“Fuck, 'm so close”

“I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking. I didn’t even have to touch your dick” you say sardonically,

“Fine, cum for me then.”

You asked him to, and so, he does. His body locks up and his legs spasm as ropes of white cum shoot in between his stomach and the bed. His eyes rolled back into his skull as pleasure overcomes his senses, his vision going white as he moans, “Ah— Y/n!”

His voice is pitched higher than either he or you have heard it before, raised as he gets lost in the throes of his pleasure.

His orgasm crashes over him hard but fast, just as your fingers moved inside of him.

When his body completely melts into the bed, he registers the fact that you're is still sitting in between his spread legs.

“Hhh, sorry, Y/n.”

“Don’t worry, you squealing like a pornstar on my fingers was enough to keep me entertained for a little bit.”

You pull his hips up into the air and tug his head up by his hair as a whine falls from his lips.

"You're usually so quiet, because I tell you to be, but I think I enjoy you moaning like a slut for me just as much. You can barely keep your mouth shut, and it's hot that I turned you into such a mess so quickly."

"But now it's time for me to enjoy myself." You say, lowering your voice.

You push into him in one go, and though Yuta is already thoroughly stretched from the three fingers you gave him, your cock stretches him more.

His eyes fly open and he slaps a hand over his mouth to avoid nearly yelling at the painfully pleasant feeling of your cock splitting him open, whatever amalgamation of words that were forcefully spilling from his lips thankfully muffled by his fingers.

“Ah, fuck. You’re tight even after three fingers.” you moan, and begin to fuck Yuta with no wait.

“Oh my God!” Yuta gasps again, breathless, because it feels like that’s the only word that will come out of his mouth at this point.

Your hands on his waist and hair are the only thing keeping him up in the air, as his legs feel weak and his thighs keep shaking.

“Fuck, uhng—” Yuta groans, his eyes falling closed as he slips away into euphoria.

“Y/n, Y/n, please!”

“Please what, bitch?” you grit out, hips already pistoning into him with abandon.

“Fuck me, oh fu- ah!” He gasps, his voice quickly pitching up with pleasure as you keep going.

He’s already past his first orgasm, and the second one is going to come much much faster, whereas you haven't even hit your first yet, still coherent and entirely in control as you'll likely remain, even as Yuta continues to fall apart in front of you.

His mouth spills high pitched “ah, ah, ah’s” in time with your quick thrusts, rhythmic and staccato as he can’t keep them back. He feels so aroused that he feels dizzy; all the moans and words spilling from his mouth come out involuntarily and he can’t control the way his voice sounds or what he says anymore.

“It’s so good, Y/n!”

“You’re so fucking loud, Nakamoto.” you moan. “You want everyone left in the school to know you’re my bitch?”

“Fuck, fu—” Yuta chokes, his eyes blown back with lust, his iris’ barely visible.

“You can’t even keep your mouth shut for a second, what would people say if they knew you were such a cockslut, Nakamoto?”

“Love it—oh fuck—when y-you fuck me—shit, Y/n,” Yuta whines, eyes halfway rolled back into his skull when the door opens.

Within seconds, before he can even process the door opening, the hand you had in his hair to pin him to the pillows throws him off the bed and onto the ground.

He hits the floor on his hurt left side with such force that it sends him rolling over twice. Disoriented, aroused and confused, he doesn’t even hear the students words, or your yelling at them to leave, though he knows that you are. Instead, he curls in on himself, hiding his dick from the view of the student that entered the room.

He doesn’t even know who that is, but they know him, He doesn’t need to look at the student to know that they probably are disgusted, looking at him, naked on the floor.

Because, you threw him off the bed to save your own ass. It would’ve been so easy to throw the sheets over you both, instead, but that would leave you in the bed together, and to you, being caught in bed with him probably isn't any better than being caught fucking him.

He is just disposable to you.

The student leaves and the door closes and he finally unfurls himself and rolls onto his back on the floor.

Once again, you are glaring at him.

He parts his mouth to say something, anything; to apologise to you for what happened—

But, you beat him to it. “You couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut, now you got us both caught and I didn’t even get to cum.” you sneers.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to, I couldn’t— we can continue if you'd like, I-I can get you off or we can go back to having sex if you'd prefer." Yuta tells you, his voice far past desperate and into the pleading territory as he tries to do anything to make it up to you.

He was loud, unable to hold back his noises as he purposefully would every other time you had sex, and it resulted in the two of you getting caught by another student. He's always quiet, intentional with his noises, gasping and panting and never allowing more than a hitched, muted moan to spill from his lips, because you always wanted him like that.

Today was the only, only, day he was loud and uninhibited with his moans and the one day he thought it was okay because he made himself useful to you today during that training session.

But he'd ruined everything for both you, and there was no doubt within his mind that when he went downstairs to mingle with the rest of the students tomorrow, they'd look at him with disgust for enjoying being fucked like a bitch.

They'd finally have a reason for why he hangs around you, either they'll think you're dating or that Yuta is your willing cockslut, and with it being rumours, it's not like he'll be able to disprove them.

You could shut them up while he was in the room, quickly, but it wouldn't stop them from talking once he was gone, and they would, undoubtedly.

You scoff at him. "Fucking shut it, Nakamoto," you say, and Yuta nods.

You don't want to hear him talk anymore, but that doesn't stop you from stalking across the room and shoving his head down on you.

The second you cum, you grip his hair and shove his head towards the ground, walking away to get in the shower, leaving him with a softening hard on, sweating, hurt and open.

He curls back up on the floor, his tears dripping onto the hardwood. He doesn't want you to see him cry, not when this was his fault anyways, but it hurts.

But he's grown used to that. He's accepted it, just as he's accepted his place as your loyal lapdog, eating your scraps with pleasure, because it's all he'll recieve.

You're just his old childhood friend, turned aloof boss. You're just the person who give him a place to stay. That's all you are, at least in practicality. But to him, you are his everything, his reason for life, his purpose. Without you, he would be nothing, he would have nothing.

But that doesn't change his heart. It doesn't change his feelings.

Loving you hurts, because he knows you won't ever love him back.

Again: check out the full story here

#dom!reader #sub!idol #nct smut #sub!nct #nct 127 smut #sub!kpop #kpop smut #nakamoto yuta #nct #nct yuta #nct drabbles #yuta drabble #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #high&low #sub!suzaki ryo

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1-imaginary-girl · 1 year ago

Text

A Mischievous Love Story - Part 8

Loki x Reader, Thor x Reader (platonic)

Summary: The reader and Loki were madly in love until you found out that he died. Deciding to follow Thor on his adventures, you soon find out the truth about what happened to your boyfriend. This series is a re-telling of Thor: Ragnarök with the reader inserted into the story. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Descriptive violence.

Word Count: 5.2k

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

I've finally returned to this series and yes it was because of season 2 of Loki and yes I'm still completely wrecked over it. There isn't much interaction between Loki and the reader this part, apologies for that, but after this it will be mainly just them as I stray from the plot of the movie to focus on their romance!

She’s my wife. The words echo in your mind over and over again as you stare at Loki. You heard him say those words, you know you did, and yet there’s no way that could have happened. There’s no way that he just called you his wife. Right?

Your mouth is hanging open and you want to close it or say something but you're in shock. Loki shoots a glance your way and grimaces. There’s no way.

“Your wife?” the Grandmaster asks, equally as confused as you. For some reason, you also hear disappointment in his voice. But you don’t have time to dissect that. The Grandmaster looks at you and then down at your hand. The jig is up, you think. “I never noticed that.”

Wait what? You look down at your left hand and again appear utterly shocked. There, on your ring finger, sits a wedding ring. It’s absolutely gorgeous. A gold band with emerald leaves wrapping around it. For a moment, it all feels real. The ring is perfect and you're married to the man you love. But reality settles in all too quickly.

The ring has been conjured up by Loki’s magic. You look at his hand and see a matching band. You remember that you're not married to the man you love. You're pretending to be married to a man who broke your heart. And the pieces plummet into your stomach, sinking like stone.

You want to glare at Loki but the Grandmaster is still looking your way. If you don’t play along, he’ll probably punish Loki for trying to lie to him. So you send a smile his way and nod. You can’t get yourself to speak.

“Please, let her go. She can stay here with me. I promise she’ll fit right in,” Loki says, using his most persuasive tone of voice. The Grandmaster seems to consider it.

“Alright,” he says. You toss aside your anger for now and rejoice in the fact that you don’t have to fight anyone. Although you will not be thanking Loki for getting you out. Not like this. “If your wife prevails in her fight, she will be free to accompany you in your place among the higher-ups.”

“Wait what?” Loki says and you slump a little in defeat. But you don’t let it keep you down. All you have to do is win one fight and you're free to enjoy a luxurious vacation until you can find a way to escape this planet.

“It’s a deal,” you say, looking at the Grandmaster. He smiles as if you've just sealed your fate. But you're used to people underestimating you and you've come to enjoy it. It only makes it that much more satisfying when you win.

“Wait, can’t we just—” Loki tries to say something but the Grandmaster’s mind is set. He extends a hand towards one of your restrained hands. You shake it to the best of your abilities despite your hand being tied down.

“I look forward to seeing how this plays out,” he says with a giddy smile on his face.

“As do I,” you say.

“Y/N—”

“See you on the battlefield,” the Grandmaster says before he hits a button on some remote and your chair is moving. You're caught off guard but determined not to show any fear. Instead, you'll focus on anger.

"Y/N!" Loki calls after you again but the wheels have already been set in motion. There’s no going back.

†††

Your surroundings pass by you in a blur, and you find it hard to focus on anything you pass. You allow the chair to take you where it’s programmed to go without resistance. Next thing you know, you're being hauled into a circular, white room and you land roughly on the ground, snapping you from your thoughts. You turn just in time to see the big cell door being slammed shut. You contemplate taking your anger out on the door, but you feel so drained of energy that you just let your head fall back with a sigh.

“Are you alright?” You hear a voice say, causing you to jump as you hadn’t taken note of anyone else in here. You push yourself onto your elbows and turn your head. “Over here! Big pile of rocks waving at you.”

As the voice said, you see an alien made of rocks casually sitting against the cell wall with his hand raised to wave. You've seen aliens like him, but not this species specifically. Beside him is another alien with purple skin that reminds you of an insect, with four black beady eyes and mandibles for a mouth. The creature is also in a full suit of armour with two blades where its arms should be.

“Yeah, I’m actually a thing, I’m a being,” the rock alien says. “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Korg. I’m kind of like the leader in here. I’m made of rocks, as you can see, but don’t let that intimidate you. You don’t need to be afraid unless you’re made of scissors.” The alien, Korg, giggles to himself as he and the other alien stand up. “Just a little rock-paper-scissors joke for you. This is my very good friend over here, Miek. He’s an insect and has knives for hands.”

Miek moves his arm/blades around in what looks like a karate move, but you think it’s meant to be a gesture for hello. That was a hell of an introduction, you think to yourself. As this isn’t the strangest interaction you've had today, you slowly stand up to properly greet them.

“Hi,” you say with a little wave, which feels awkward but they seem to respond well to it. “My name is Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” Korg says and Miek does another karate-like gesture. Your brain is pounding from your previous conversation but you figure you should be polite. Especially if you are going to be stuck in here for who knows how long with them.

“So,” you say, wondering what to ask. “What are you guys in for?”

“Well I tried to start a revolution but didn’t print enough pamphlets, so hardly anyone turned up,” Korg says. “Except for my mum and her boyfriend, who I hate. As punishment, I was forced to be in here and become a gladiator. Bit of a promotional disaster.” Then he leans in and starts to whisper. “Actually, I’m trying to organize another revolution right now. It’s a bit underdeveloped at the moment, but don’t let that deter you. Do you reckon you’d be interested in something like that?”

“No, actually I’m a bit busy at the moment.” You look past Korg and down the hall of this weird prison. If you can find an exit, maybe you can escape before the fight. From there, you can try to commandeer a ship and go back to Asgard. Simple. A quick breath, and you take off running down the circle. You're only running for a few seconds before Korg reappears in front of you.

You widen your eyes and look back before facing the alien again. “Did you—”

“Ah, yeah, no, this whole thing is a circle. But not a real circle, more like a freaky circle,” he says, and you just scrunch your face, trying to wrap your head around the whole thing. When’s the last time you've had a proper rest? You know, without being knocked out. Feels like a lifetime ago. “It doesn’t make much sense, but nothing around here makes sense. That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

You slump down against the wall as Korg talks. “So, I’m really stuck in here?”

“I’m afraid so. But it isn’t all bad. Miek and I have made up a few games to pass the time. For example, there’s this one called—”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t think I’m up for any games at the moment.” You sigh and let your head hit the wall. “It’s been a long day.”

Korg gives you a sympathetic look before nodding. “I get that. Feel free to have a rest, Miek and I will look over you if you’d like,” he says. Despite everything that’s happened, you smile at them.

“Thank you.” Korg gives a nod while Miek does another expression you can’t quite figure out. With that, you settle against the wall. It’s not the most comfortable, but you've slept in worse. You sigh and sleep quickly takes over.

You're not sure how long you've slept for, but you're abruptly woken up by the sounds of shouting.

“Stay away from her, you freaky ghost!” you hear Korg yell. Groggily, you pull your eyes open to see Miek in a fighting stance and Korg throwing fallen bits of himself at—

“I just need to talk to her, I’m not going to hurt her!” Loki says. He’s standing a few feet away from you. You're confused as you watch Korg’s rocks pass through him before you fully wake up and understand it’s an illusion. Part of you is hurt, another isn’t so surprised anymore. Another one of his tricks.

“Like I’m going to trust the word of a freakin’ ghost!” Korg yells back. You realize that they really did watch over you as you slept, which makes you smile. As much as you love seeing Korg try to hit Loki with rocks, the two of you need to talk.

“It’s okay guys,” you speak up, clearing your throat. They all turn to look at you and Loki looks relieved. “I know him.”

Korg looks him over and Miek doesn’t stand down until Korg gives the go ahead. “You’re safe for now ghost,” Korg says threateningly. Korg looks at you once again and when you nod your head to say that you're okay, him and Miek walk a little way down the circle to give you two privacy.

“Making new friends already?” Loki jokes, trying to lighten the mood. You don’t respond. Instead, you look down at the ring still on your finger. Loki sighs. “I understand you’re upset—” You glare at him and he sighs again. “Look I’m sorry, but it was the only thing I could think of to protect you!”

You bristle at that. “So tell him that I’m your friend or a cousin, not your freaking wife!” you say. You don’t have the energy to yell at him right now.

“You don’t understand, the Grandmaster…he’s very particular about who he allows up there. It wouldn’t have been enough,” he says calmly. You shake your head.

“Then maybe you should have just let me compete normally,” you say, your anger growing the longer he’s here. “I could have made a deal to get out of here not prolong my stay.”

“Annabel, you haven’t seen the competitions,” he insists, stepping closer. “I have. They’re brutal, and I haven’t even seen his beloved Champion.”

“I told you, I can handle myself,” you spit out.

“Maybe, but I can’t just stand by and watch you get hurt.” Those words cracked something in you. You snap your eyes up to meet his and from the fury in them, he knows he said the wrong thing.

“You didn’t want me to get hurt? You don’t think this hurts?!” You stand up and shove the ring in his face. “You don’t think having to pretend to be your wife after you broke my heart is going to hurt me?” He looks down in shame, pain on his face. Good. “I’d rather face his Champion right now then have to endure that kind of pain.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry—”

“You keep apologizing but nothing changes with you! You keep making selfish moves and tricking people—”

“Hey, that was not selfish.” He defends himself but you don’t want to hear it.

“You tricked me, Loki. Again,” you say with tears in your eyes. His sudden defensiveness is crushed. “You tricked me into pretending to be your wife. Do you know how messed up that is?”

“Love—”

“Do not call me that!” you yell, getting into his face. You try to poke him in his chest but your finger passes right through him. You laugh humorlessly as a tear slips down your cheek. “God, you’re using a trick right now!” He looks hurt. “You couldn’t even come to see me yourself, you had to hide behind an illusion.”

“This place isn’t easy to get into,” he argues quietly, but you shake your head.

“I can’t fight with you again right now.” You turn away, moving back to the wall. This move seems to hurt him more. You slide down back to where you were. “Just go back to whatever party I’m sure the Grandmaster is hosting.”

“Y/N, please, let’s talk about this—” he begs, coming closer but you don’t move a muscle.

“I don’t have anything else to say to you,” you say, defeated. His eyebrows draw close together and if you didn’t know better, you’d say his eyes are welling.

“Please,” he whispers, and if he were really here, maybe you would have sought comfort from him. Maybe you would’ve kept talking. But he’s not.

“Go,” you say, keeping your eyes trained to the floor.

After a moment of hesitation, where it seemed like he wanted to reach out, but he couldn’t, he drew back. He takes a step backward. “Just…” He seems at a loss for words. “Please be careful.” When you don’t respond, his image shimmers and disappears. You put your head between youry legs and let a few more tears fall.

†††

You soon find yourself escorted into some sort of training rooms. Species of all kinds can be seen preparing for a fight. For the first time, you really start second-guessing your decision to fight. But you won’t give up, not yet.

The training area is next to the stadium and you can hear the distance sounds of cheering which makes you cringe. How could people actually watch this and enjoy it? You're running your fingers along the weapons, trying to decide which would suit you best, when you glance over at the divide in the area. On the other side of a wall of lasers is a bar of sorts. It looks rough, not the kind of bar you would want to find yourself in. But then your eyes widen.

Drinking at the counter, is the woman who got you thrown into this hellscape. Your blood boils as you try to find Korg. When you do, you point towards her and say, “Korg, that’s the woman who put me in here! Who the hell is she?”

“Ah, that’s scrapper 142,” he says, recognizing her. Interesting that she doesn’t seem to have a real name. “She’s a toughie, put the best of the best in here. Those Asgardians, man.”

Your burning gaze at the scrapper snaps back to Korg. “Wait, she’s Asgardian?” you ask.

“Yup,” he says. This changes everything. If you can talk to her, you can tell her what’s happening at Asgard and she can help you escape. And you won’t need to be anybody’s fake wife.

You hurriedly make your way over to the laser wall. “Hey! Hey, you!” you yell at her, not the most polite way to start the conversation but she did toss me to the wolves, possibly literally. She cocks her head and notices you. She smirks.

“If it isn’t the interesting human,” she says while taking a sip from her burning beer. You flinch. “I’m excited to see what you’ve got.”

“I need to talk to you,” you say, ignoring her statement. You won’t let her rattle you up again, not when you need her help. She looks at yo, waiting. “You’re Asgardian, right?”

She doesn’t reply but rather scoffs and goes in for another swig. As she does, you see an interesting tattoo on her left arm. You squint at it, and although you don’t remember what it means, you recognize it as an Asgardian symbol. Perfect, proof. “Okay, well, I’ve just come from there,” you say, and she looks at you in confusion. “I’m best friends with the prince, Thor Odinson? God of thunder?” You don’t mention Loki for obvious reasons.

“Good for you. Tell his Majesty I say hi if you ever see him again,” she says, walking away. Your eyes widen.

“No wait! That’s not the point,” you say, following her as she walks. She sighs and waits for you to continue. “Asgard is in danger. I need your help to escape this place and return to help or else the whole realm is doomed.”

“Pass,” she says, not looking at you. Your eyes blow open.

“Wait what?”

“Y/N the human, you’re up!” you hear someone yell from across the room. You sigh. Of course that’s the name they’ve given you.

“Good luck!” she says, as two guards come to take you. You're desperate, trying to convince her and stall your fight.

“A lot of people are going to die, and you’re just okay with that? Your own people?” you say enraged. “Then you’re a traitor to the crown and a coward.”

This catches her attention and it seems you've hit a sore spot. “First of all, my people are with Sakaar now,” she seethes. “And second, I’ve given enough to the crown. It’s no longer my problem.”

Two guards grasp you by your arms as you contemplate her words. Yo struggle against them out of frustration, but you don’t forget the chip in your neck. “Good luck,” the ex-Asgardian says as you're dragged away from her.

You're taken into a room and sat in another chair with handcuffs. “You guys sure do love locking people up,” you say to no one in particular. The workers don’t even give you a second glance. You're taken through a series of experiments in which they change your look completely. Considering you've been stuck in your regular earthly clothes for quite a while now, you welcome the change.

First, they do your hair. A really old man comes in with an intricate device that you feared would ruin your hair completely. But all he did was tie it into an intricate braid and made a crown on your head.

Next, they painted your face, and you didn’t feel like much of a fighter as they applied blush and lipstick. You couldn’t help but wonder who that is for. They paint three lines of purple down the middle of your face and you try to ask what it means but no one gives you an answer.

To finish off your debut look, they fit you into proper fighter attire. A chest plate the same colour as the lines on your place is fitted with blue, metal shoulder pads. The pants are black with blue knees pads to match the shoulders. The boots are black and so is your utility belt. The finishing touch, however, is the purple cape that they pin to your left shoulder and your waist.

They hand you a helmet that you're to put on after your entrance. You roll your eyes at the dramatics, although you do admire the helmet. It’s gold and with a wing on each side flowing upwards. There are also two pieces that move down to protect the sides of your face.

You are given the weapons you have chosen: a strong but simple sword and a powerful and small shield. You're hoping you can rely on your powers, but if all else fails, you have two daggers strapped to your sides so you can go down swinging. But as you walk towards the arena, you can feel the water around you: the pipes in the building, the drinks from the crowd…you can even use human or alien liquid if you have to.

You're told to stand in front of the gate until it opens and then you're left alone. You can hear the crowds much clearer from where you are now and they sound bloodthirsty. You grit your teeth as you listen to the Grandmaster go on and on about the battles, celebrating the deaths of contestants before you which makes your stomach turn. But it also fuels your energy: you will not be one of those names. All you have to do is win one fight and you're free from this madness…and thrust into another sort of madness.

You’ve fought plenty of aliens before with Thor but never in an arena in front of a crowd. A part of you is excited by this opportunity, a chance to feel what it was like to be a gladiator back on Earth. You hold onto that as you hear the Grandmaster announce you.

“Tonight, we are pleased to have a new contestant,” he says and the crowd goes wild. You bounce on the balls of your feet and focus on your breathing. “I can guarantee you’ve never seen anything like her. You’re in for quite a treat.” You swallow as the gates slowly start to rise but you set your features to stone. You’ve got this. “We’ll see what you think. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen I give you…” You walk onto the sands of the arena. “Y/N the Human!”

As you enter the arena, a wave of boos greets you. You assume they don’t like newcomers here, especially not of the human variety. And although the sound floods your senses and threatens your confidence, you set your eyes across the plain to the other gate. The crowd doesn’t matter. You need to see who you're facing.

The Grandmaster is projected on a hologram overlooking the entire stadium. That makes sense for a man with his ego. But as you scan the crowds, your eyes catch on one box in particular. It stands out from the crowd and you can’t see in it but you do see the colour yellow painting the inside. Without a doubt, you know it’s the Grandmaster’s box. And without a doubt, you know Loki’s in there. It’s like you can feel him. You wonder what he’s thinking as you stand transformed in a giant arena. You wonder if he doubts your skills, despite his words. A new type of anger sparks at that thought and you set your gaze straight ahead. This is a chance for you to show him how you've grown without him.

“Isn’t she something?” the Grandmaster laughs as the crowd continues to boo you. You let the taunts roll past you, harbouring your energy. “Alright, now it’s time to welcome back a previous competitor.” A rumble rolls through the crowd as the boos quiet down. “She’s a warrior who has made quite the name for herself.” Red puffs of smoke burst over the audience and you place the helmet over your head and secure it. “What she lacks in looks she makes up for in brute strength.”

Across the arena, the other door begin to open. “You love her, I love her…” the Grandmaster builds the tension and you tighten the grip on your sword. “Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for…Hindaa the Ruiner!”

The doors open to reveal a tall alien woman, donned in red armour. The crowd goes wild, and you try not to let it sway you as you try to size up your opponent. It’s hard to see from where you are, but she looks to have gray skin with a dark-haired ponytail. She waves her arms for the crowd, holding a mace in one hand and a club in the other. So much for your gladiator’s battle.

You wait for her to approach you, grabbing hold of the water beneath the arena with your powers. Your eyes are laser-focused on Hindaa. The woman finishes showing off to the crowd and immediately starts racing towards you. That’s when you truly see how big and muscular she is, standing at least six and a half feet tall.

You don’t move. You drown out the noises from the stands and wait until she hits the center of the arena. When she does, you tighten your hold on the water and summon it forth, bursting through the floors of the arena at a speed that catches Hindaa in its waves and throws her into the air. You watch as she’s tossed back to the other side and lands heavily, a cloud of dust spreading around her.

The crowd is silent as you let the water wash onto the arena floor, wetting the sands. Then all at once, an eruption of applause and cheers emerge from the crowd. But your focus isn’t to entertain them. You move across the arena as Hindaa picks herself up off the ground, staggering to her feet and dripping wet. The closer you get to her, the angrier you can see she is. You smile and then see her launching towards you.

She runs and jumps to tackle you, but you take hold of the water again and quickly freeze it, entrapping Hindaa in an iceberg. She struggles and growls as her head remains unfrozen. You walk until you stand a few feet away from her.

“Hindaa was it?” you ask. She growls again. Up close, you can see that her skin is, in fact, gray. But more than that, there are red dotted stripes covering her body. Your eyes widen as you recognize what species she is. “You’re a Kylosian.” She stops her movements to glare at you. “How did you end up here?”

“That’s none of your business,” she hisses, continuing her struggle.

“Ah, so you can speak English. Good,” you say. “Because I wanted to have a quick chat.” The audience has settled down and you can hear whispers of confusion. You internally smile at how the Grandmaster must be reacting. “I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sure you’re a lovely person.” She snarls again. You keep smiling. “Anyway, I just need to win this battle and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She’s staring you down, and you foolishly think that she’s considering your offer. “You don’t want to hurt me?” she asks and you nod in agreement. Yes, this plan might work after all. “That’s a shame.” You catch the cracking sound too late. “Because I want to hurt you.”

Before you can react, Hindaa’s right hand bursts through the ice and with it, her mace. The weapon swings and catches you in the side, sending you flying several feet away. You swallow a scream before you hit the ground. You groan. Begrudgingly, you look down at your side to see three large scratches ripping through your uniform. You take a deep breath and then fire yourself up, ignoring the pain.

"Have it your way then," you say as you pick yourself off the ground. Just as you're on your feet, Hindaa is crashing down on you with her club but this time you react quicker. You bring up your shield and the club smashes down onto it. You wince at your arm, but then you swing your sword up and catch her in the hand, causing her to drop her club. You quickly summon the water from the ice and trap the club in a bubble, casting it far, far away from the arena. Hindaa looks down and glares back up at you. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“I wasn’t trying to be nice,” she growls and you look at her in confusion as your sarcasm misses her completely. Her mace quickly comes swinging at you and you defend yourself with the shield again, but the force of her swing causes you to stumble back. Caught off guard, the mace comes back around, this time aiming at your legs. It swipes across your skin and you hiss as your knees buckle and you're on the ground again.

Hindaa continues her attack, kicking her leg up and catching you in the chin, throwing your head to the ground. You groan as your head swirls in pain. You can feel your nose pulsing in pain and feel blood begin to drip down. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Your spirit is wavering, and that’s when you feel something on your hand. You look down to see Loki’s ring pulsing. It’s never done that before. You risk a glance over at the Grandmaster’s box, but you still can’t see him. But he’s still here with you. Conflicting emotions rise within you, but it gives you the strength you need to get back up.

When you're on your feet, Hindaa swings at you but the mace is too slow this time, as you tuck and roll over to her side. You catch her side with your sword and she cries out. Her mace comes back but your shield is there, and with your other hand you swipe at her legs. She cries out again. Before her mace can take another swing, you jump and slice your sword along her hand, causing her to drop the mace. You did the same trick as you did with the club.

With no weapons, she charges at you. You use your shield but she still tackles you. She crushes your body under hers and rips the shield away from you, wrenching your arm to the side causing you to cry out. With fury, you slice your sword across her back, and when she bends in pain, you slip out from under her.

You're both dripping blood and your bodies are swaying, but you're determined. You toss your sword away, your power brimming to the surface. Before she can stand again, you take a few steps back before running and jumping towards her. As you're midair, you summon the water to freeze over your fist. You fall and crash your frozen fist down onto her head. You land on your feet, just barely. You're panting, but when you look back, Hindaa is unconscious. You take a few moments to catch your breath, and as you do that, the sounds of the crowd rush back in and you hear a loud, thundering cheer.

Holding onto your side, every inch of you either sore or bleeding, you look to the stands to see the crowd cheering for you. You're not sure if the adrenaline caused it or if you were delirious, but in that moment, you smiled. You raise one of your hands in triumph and the cheers get louder somehow. You laugh, not sure what it is exactly that you're laughing at.

Suddenly, the Grandmaster’s hologram reappears. “What a show! What a show!” he says, laughing and clapping his hands together. The efforts of the battle begin to weigh on you and you just need to keep standing. “Everyone give it up for our new champion, Y/N the Human!”

You noticed your name didn’t change. “I told you she’d be something to see!”

You look back at the door you came from to see it lifting and you start to walk that way, not much caring for what the Grandmaster has to say. You notice a few workers bring a hovering stretcher for Hindaa. One of them must have noticed your limping, because they come to your side and help take some of the weight off of your leg. You're not sure if you thanked them. All you were looking forward to was a nice, long nap.

You momentarily forgot whose bed it is you'll be sleeping on.

* * * * *

Tag List: @riribaex @80strashbag @justanothermagicalsara @speedy-object-dream @blueberry-soda57 @comehomecomehometous @chaoticsomeone

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x reader series #loki x you series #loki x y/n series #loki #loki imagine #loki series #loki marvel #marvel loki #loki fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #thor x reader (platonic)

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honey-crypt · 6 months ago

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Hi hello there. I just wanna say your writing is really cool and I really enjoy them.

I wanna ask what your favorite Elliott as a supernatural being headcanon is (if you have one) and his relationship with the farmer is like with yanno him being one.

a/n: awww you’re so sweet, tysm! i actually have a supernatural elliott series in progress that you might enjoy :3 anyway, hope you like this!

★ merman!elliott x human!farmer headcanons ★

★ this author is part of the merman!elliott community (but i can also see him as a vampire, which is my second fav supernatural!elliott hc)

★ merman!elliott loves swimming by the beach of pelican town, seeing the humans mill about and conserve sparks his creativity

★ he can’t really write anything because he lives primarily underwater but he’s a very good oralist and often shares his stories with the little merfolk kids

★ accidentally pulls an ariel and falls for you, the newest addition to stardew valley, because of how curious and whimsical you appear to be

★ he’s scared to approach you, though; he’s a merman and you’re a human, you would lose your shit if you saw him

★ however, he gets a chance to meet you when you accidentally fall off the docks and end up in the water

★ there’s no one else around and your leg gets caught on a rock or something so you’re freaking out

★ merman!elliott comes to the rescue and frees your leg, allowing you to swim back to shore

★ at first, you thinks he’s a swimmer passing by but the swish of his long scaly red tail dismisses that notion

★ to elliott’s surprise, you don’t freak out (i mean, you got high with the local wizard and can see/speak to juminos so) and thus an unlikely friendship begins

★ you make a daily or at minimum a weekly trip to the beach to visit elliott, the two of you exchanging stories and chitchat

★ merman!elliott tells you about how he wants to be a writer but given his home, it’s impossible to do so

★ so you have the idea of teaching him to write by bringing a notebook and pen to your visits

★ it takes some time for merman!elliott to learn how to physically write but once he does, he’s writing like a madman with his storytelling

★ and finally, a few months later, he finally gets the courage to ask you out

★ he enlists the wizard’s help and gets a potion of water breathing for you to use, as he tells you that he wants to show you life underneath the ocean

★ you happily do so and merman!elliott shows you little sights that a regular human would never see in their lifetime, such as a shipwreck and some deep sea critters

★ elliott then hands you a small note, obviously wet and easily to tear, but you manage to read its contents

★ it’s a love letter and a confession that he wants to date you (he couldn’t tell you with words because you didn’t have the right vocal chords or ears necessary to communicate underwater)

★ you embrace him and give him a peck on the lips, a sign of reciprocation; homie is OVERJOYED that you like him back

★ however, given that you’re from two completely different worlds, you have to decide if your relationship can survive in your current bodies or if one of you wants to transform into a human/merfolk

★ because of his desire to create and to explore the human world (and to be with you), merman!elliott requests the ability to transform into a human body from the wizard and vice versa for you

★ the wizard obliges and now the both of you have the ability to shift into a human or merfolk form

★ you two help one another adjust to the opposite form, elliott giving you swimming lessons and you giving him walking lessons

★ eventually, things settle down and you two are capable to live life to the best of your abilities, altering from the human world to live the merfolk world

#honey crypt babbles #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv elliott #stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #sdv elliott x farmer #stardew valley elliott x farmer #stardew elliott x farmer #merman elliott

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youngstarfishphilosopher · 17 days ago

Text

Danse Macabre

Decided to write some Haunted Mansion 2023 stuff that isn't my RH Au. So here's some pre-movie fanfiction.

This was supposed to go out on Halloween. But I've had a really stressful last couple of weeks with school and all that junk. Anyways, happy reading! 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Summary: The first week of staying in the afterlife has come to a close for the newest ,sorrowful spirit by the name of WilliamGracey. That being so, the Hatbox Ghost decides to "check up" on his favorite toy to torment.

Pairing: William Gracey & The Hatbox Ghost

WARNINGS ⚠️ : Grief, Sadism, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Enslavement, Violence, Physical Abuse, Forced Dancing, Implied Suicide, The Hatbox Ghost is a warning in it of itself to be completly honest, Poor Gracey is not having a good time.

Word count: 4.6k

Every night when the clock struck the thirteenth hour, all ghosts of the manor would flee from the ever-dark presence of the Hatbox Ghost. At least, those who were allowed to flee did; A ghost by the name of William Gracey did not have such a luxury.

He should have heeded the warnings of Leota and stopped when he had the chance; Not having listened to the enticing, addictive, yet always deceitful words of the dark spirit. But it was too late now. It had already been too late the moment the bottle of arsenic was raised to his lips by his very own hand, sealing his fate for all eternity.

And now in the ghost world, he wandered.

He wandered up and down the mansion with a heavy heart and anxious soul as the chiming of the grandfather clock grew ever closer; All the mortals in the manor were now sound asleep and for the time being, for the most part, blissfully unaware of the demonic horrors that lurked inside the home. Meanwhile, there were other spirits just like himself- trapped, roaming the manor.

It was all his fault.

There was only one minute left now.

He knew no other spirits were hiding in the hallway where he resided; They had all gone elsewhere. Many of them had quickly understood the pattern of the home's new master, and, even more so, understood that poor William Gracey would be the main target of his torment for at the very least a long while. So they found it best to avoid the mansion’s freshest soul when the upcoming arrival of the dark spirit drew near.

The loud chiming of the grandfather clock eventually began to echo throughout the mansion’s halls, bringing great despair and helplessness to all who heard it. William could perfectly picture his fellow remaining spirits who had been brave enough to stay out for a moment more, fleeing to find a place to hide; Terrified of what would happen if the demon arriving was to give them his utmost attention.

William tried to follow in their example. But as the clock continued emitting its dreadful sounds, the sorrowful spirit found himself stuck.

His body was heavy.

It was as if there were multiple invisible chains locked around him, keeping him bound in the same spot with no ability to move his feet whatsoever. The more freedom he tried to gain, the less he acquired as the binding felt tighter and more painful with each attempt to break away from whatever grip this force had on him. But as the final chime of the grandfather clock came and went, William finally gave in to his entrapment and stopped fighting his bondage.

Fighting was no use. He had become completely immobile from the waist down, and a change in atmosphere was now evident as overwhelming darkness engulfed the hall; Black fog quickly crept in and spread itself along the floor; The sound of a cane striking the ground sounded in his ears. Then again . . . and again . . . the sound becoming closer with each strike.

William’s shoulders tightened on instinct as the sound filled his ears. It came from every direction and he did not know whether to anticipate the oncoming demon to appear in front of him or behind him. But then the noises stopped entirely, which, in all honesty, was even less of a comfort; His grip on the lantern he always carried with him also tightened as he brought it closer to himself.

A different noise then began to ring through his ears. It was the sound of a beating heart- His heart. It thumped violently in his ribcage, and at such a speed that William- if he had still been a mortal man- very well would have assumed for his heart to suddenly stop entirely and for he himself to topple over-dead; The organ wearing itself out to the point of dysfunction.

“ Ahh . . . Mr.Gracey . . .” A dark echo suddenly spoke up from behind him; the smallest amount of amusement present in its’ tone. Every hair stood on end on the ghostly form of poor William Gracey as the darkness around him was now so suffocating that he felt his lungs might burst. “There you are.”

A chill crawled down William’s spine as the words manifested right next to his face and into his ear. The upper part of his body, which was still able to move somewhat, began to tremble. In the corner of his eye, he took notice of the bright light shining from a hatbox; His body tensed even more than he thought possible as he bore witness to the slimy, toothy grin plastered on the head that found its home inside the object.

“ And here I thought you were trying to avoid my company...”

William quickly darted his eyes to the floor. He dared not to look at the cursed entity, for even the sight of him filled the poor spirit with the kind of sorrow and grief that was unavoidable to feel; Grief was something he could not risk showing so easily.

It took William a moment to swallow the lump in his throat; This spirit was not like him nor was he like any of the others. The Hatbox Ghost was completely different- cruel and wrong- bursting with unnatural evil and maliciousness. The closeness of this demon in proximity to William’s own form made it extremely difficult for the poor spirit to keep his composure as he attempted to hold some form of a brave face. For he had only been there a short while and had not yet discovered the sorrowful truth; That it is never wise to fight against the torturous enslavement of the Hatbox Ghost.

Every ghost and ghoul in the mansion would have to learn this lesson at some point; it would surely be the lesson Willliam learned tonight, and his abuser was eager to be the teacher.

“ Hatbox Ghost.” William acknowledged the entity’s presence. His voice did not come off as strong as he had wanted it to be. Rather it was quite small and pathetic sounding.

The voice continued. “ Now now, no reason to be afraid . . . after all . . .”

William let out a small yelp as his form was suddenly yanked backward by a force unseen by any eye; It took his breath away as his balance was lost. “ We’ve known each other for quite a while now, have we not?”

That was a lie.

The Hatbox Ghost had never presented himself to William as anyone but the poor spirit’s dear wife who had been too soon departed from the world; He had conformed to her mannerisms and likeness for a whole year. In truth, he was just as much a stranger as he ever had been before. But William did not dare correct the dark spirit’s statement.

Regaining his balance, William felt the presence of the Hatbox Ghost leave his side in order to travel elsewhere as the dark fog surrounding the room vanished slowly. They were in the ballroom now, but it was completely barren of people- man or ghost. There was nobody there; Nobody eating and conversing at the long table, no music being played on the organ, and no one gracefully dancing across the floor. They were completely alone together- William Gracey and the Hatbox Ghost. And that fact alone worried William to no end.

“ So. Do tell me, Mr.Gracey . . .” The Hatbox Ghost continued to speak. For a split moment, William felt the ever-so-slightest sliver of confidence as he brought his gaze up from the floor to gaze upon the demonic entity.

He was truly ghastly and unpleasant to look at -The Hatbox Ghost. An awful sight to behold. He was a monster dripping with power and vile; A monster much bigger and grander in stature than William, even as he was hunched over slightly and with his limp leg. Despite his horrid physical features, the Hatbox Ghost wore extremely rich attire; It was clear he had been an extremely wealthy man in his past life. That was, if he ever was even a human to begin with; William had always held a slight suspicion that his tormenter had been born from the very depths of hell itself and, in turn, had never once walked the earth as a mortal.

Where the dark spirit’s head should have been, was instead a tall, floating black tophat. On his shoulders, a long cape dragged along the floor; In his left hand was his cane that helped support his disabled body; The top of the cane was seemingly made out of gold, and what looked like human faces were carved into it, contorting in sorrow and agony; their features were exaggerated and stretched in order to show their horror to the fullest extent- screeching- groaning out in pain.

In the Hatbox Ghost’s right hand, was his black hatbox which held his very own head; It was a head cursed to be trapped there until the darkest hours of the night struck. William watched as the demon turned his back away from him and made his way to the grand table. “You have been here in the ghost realm for a week now if I am not mistaken, Yes?”

“ Yes.” William’s voice remained small and soft. He watched his new master in awful astonishment. “I believe I have. . . ”

“Hm.” Setting his cane to rest on the closest dining chair, the Hatbox Ghost placed his hatbox down onto the table as his head disappeared from its confinement; It then soon reappeared atop the shoulders of his cursed form. Letting out a long growl of discomfort, he slowly tilted his head from side to side in order to allow his neck to get well-adjusted with the new weight. The demonic entity could feel the horror-filled eyes of William Gracey on him, and he reviled in such delight from it; Bringing fear to others filled his black soul with great pride.

“ And the others?” The Hatbox Ghost asked, looking over his shoulder. William’s courage was immediately snuffed out by the fierce gaze of two deep, cold yellow eyes looking upon him with utmost intent; He felt as though he were nothing but prey being stared down by a ravenous predator. William’s eyes immediately darted back down to the floor. “Have you met them yet? Been conversing with some of them, perhaps?”

William took a moment to answer. “ I . . . I-ive met a few of them.”

“Good . . . Good . . .” In the blink of an eye, The Hatbox Ghost had vanished from his spot at the table and had now found himself in front of William’s trapped form. William himself only wished to just disappear at that moment; Perhaps he would somehow pass out. At least then he would have some moment of peace; It had been months since he had felt real peace in any sense of the word.“Care for a dance, Mr.Gracey?”

The question took poor William aback as he responded with only a feeble “ what?”

“ I think you heard me well enough.”

William suddenly dropped his lantern as his arm quickly reacted to the painful grip of sharp claws plunging themselves deep into his wrist. The other claw immediately followed, wrapping around his waist and digging into his back. He let out a loud yelp of pain as his body was pulled to the larger spirit’s chest.

“ Wa-wait! Wait!” William frantically stuttered out.

The Hatbox Ghost’s smile merely widened at every frightened movement and sound of the poor spirit at his mercy- or more so lack thereof. It was clear that he was relishing in William’s panic. “Now, now . . . No need to be shy. You’re rather good at dancing, are you not?”

He cocked his head to the side slightly as William tried to stammer something back out at him, making him let out a chuckle. This immediately shut the weaker spirit up.

“ Whatever’s the matter?” He taunted the figure below him with fake sympathy. “Have nothing to say, do you? That’s just fine then.”

William felt slight relief as the sharp, leathery claw holding his wrist loosened its iron grip to where it was no longer piercing his translucent flesh; Though the other claw remained painfully digging deep into his back. If he were still mortal, blood would have been spilling out of his body. But there was no blood to draw; There would only be nasty bruises that slowly faded away within a few hours surrounding empty holes where the claws pierced him.

Tears were threatening to form his eyes, but the spirit knew he had to try and hold them in; He could not give the demon the thing he wanted. At least not so easily if he could help it.

“ Why dancing . . . e-exactly?” His voice found the bravery to stutter out.

“ Why not?” The dark spirit responded to William’s sudden courage; It was truly humorous. “It’s such a lovely night after all. It would do you some good, you know- To partake in something. Not just sulk and sob in a pile of your own self-pity as you always do.”

The first thing out of the Hatbox Ghost’s mouth was another lie that William did not correct; It was not a lovely night. Outside, a great storm stirred as heavy rain beat against the mansion’s exterior. Strong winds blew as they tried to force the windows open, and strange, purple lightning flashed as thunder roared.

Looking around for a moment, William caught the dim light of his lantern which had fallen a few inches away from him. He attempted to try and reach for it with his free hand. However, the hand that he reached with was swiftly grabbed by the same claw that entrapped his other hand; both hands were now bound together in the same, single grip. His captor watched for a few moments as William struggled like a little rabbit trying to free itself from a hawk.

“ You seem . . . Tense. . . Mr. Gracey.” The Hatbox Ghost stated. His slimy grin was still present as ever on his disturbing, gray face.

You want something from me, William wished to say. He knew what the Hatbox Ghost wanted. It’s what the evil spirit always wanted; How exactly do you plan on acquiring it by doing this?

Suddenly, the organ began to play, but nobody was playing it as far as William could tell; His eyes wandered over his shoulder as he attempted to turn his head a bit in order to get a better look. Sensing the smaller spirit’s confusion, The Hatbox Ghost spoke up as he let go of William’s left hand. And against William’s own will, that same hand moved to gently grab his tormenter’s shoulder,

“ Well? Shall we then?”

It was not as if William had any sort of choice; Even now with his legs becoming freely mobile once again, he could hardly recognize it happening due to the iron grip forcibly moving his body. The pace at which they moved across the floor was slow, yet elegant all the same, even with the demon’s limp; The mounting sound coming from the ominous music of the organ and the raging storm filled the room.

“ You did this with her quite often, if I’m not mistaken . . .” The Hatbox Ghost calmly stated. William did not say anything in response, so he kept speaking, “With Elenore, I mean. . . Such a shame really - That the two of you will never be able to do this again.”

William's eyes began to water; a tear or two slowly ran down his face; The implications of the dark spirit’s words sank deep into his heart as he now had a solid understanding of what was about to happen.

He could only pray it would be over quickly.

“ Yes . . .” The Hatbox Ghost continued. His words dripped into William’s brain like poison, “Quite a shame. I assume it was something the both of you enjoyed. Please . . . enlighten me Mr.Gracey; What exactly was the part that you enjoyed the most?”

“N-no . .. “ William quietly choked out. A lump had begun to form in his throat.

“ Was it that you loved showing off to her; did she merely boost your ego?” The hatbox ghost leaned down; His chilling breath spread along the smaller spirit's neck. It made William violently shiver as the sob he had been trying so desperately to hold in, was forcibly released. “No, that could not be the reason . . . you do not seem like the prideful type . . .”

William could not control the tears which now violently fell from his eyes as he was completely overcome by fear and sorrow. All the sounds around him mixed with the closeness of this demon- the sharp pain of the claws digging into his skeletal, translucent form- it was making him extremely overstimulated.

And the Hatbox Ghost loved it.

He could taste all the grief radiating off William; It was a rather salty sensation, making the craving for it become ever greater the longer it lingered on his tongue and graced his lips; It filled him with an animalistic greed and wanting for more- everything the cowering little ghost in his grasp had, until there was nothing left to take. But he could not do that. Not yet at least.

He knew self-control was the best way to go when it came to William Gracey; the poor spirit was far too easy to degrade and pick apart. There was always a new way to make him sob- to make him submit to the misery. The former master of the mansion had so much sorrow for him to slowly exploit and feast on for what was probably decades to come- a nice long meal. And until the day came when he had finally gained his thousand willing souls - even after that time finally arrived- the fact that remained was quite simple:

William was his.

The pathetic, tortured soul before him, had indeed belonged to him before even putting the bottle of arsenic to his lips that fateful night.

“ Perhaps it was the way she looked in those pretty dresses . . . or was it her lovely eyes?”

“ S-stop it . . .” William pleaded.

“ Or perhaps it was the warmth of her skin . . . her hand in yours . . .” The Hatbox Ghost spirit continued to taunt. William only answered him with a feeble ‘no’.

“No?” Hmmm . . . Well then, I must say Mr.Gracey, You have truly stumped me. . . unless . . .” Something strange began to happen with the dark spirit's voice. It became softer- warmer- lighter and mixed with an undertone of echoing uncanniness. William’s lifeless breath hitched as the familiarity of it quickly sunk in. “Maybe it was her voice . . . Just so sweet and soothing to the ears . . .”

The voice of the demon who now held dominion of the ghost realm was no more. Instead, it was replaced with the replicated voice of William’s wife- Elenore’s voice.

Tears continued to purge poor William’s face as that realization hit him. It had been so long since he had heard his dear wife’s voice- her real voice- not just when he closed his eyes and dreamed of her. He had been so desperate to hear even a moment of it after her passing if he could; He was desperate for anything and everything about her in all honesty. That was the main reason both he and all the other spirits- all the future spirits as well- were now trapped in the mansion, was it not?

It was all William’s fault.

The Hatbox Ghost had realized William’s desperation- his grief- more than likely the very moment passing through the ever-thinning veil of the ghost realm. He would appear in the broken, sorrowful man’s dreams, along with Elenor’s voice, the same as a siren song, along with everything about her- a fanned, copied image of the deceased woman. He had used William’s desperation against him by fully conforming it and twisting it into a tool for his own horrid benefit.

“ Oh, I seem to have struck a nerve,” The Hatbox Ghost continued to speak through the voice of Elenore Gracey, unable to hide his smugness “ I assume I’m correct then.”

William closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself down and slow the constant stream of tears running down his cheeks. The voice of his wife continued to talk down to him, but it was muffled now in the midst of all his tormented thoughts. Everything hurt; he just wanted it all to stop.

Make it stop . . .

How could he make it stop?; He could not run, he could not hide; The demon held all power here- it was the Hatbox Ghost’s realm now. A realm for the dark spirit to control, morph, and use to his own liking.

Deep down, William knew he deserved this. It was all his damn fault. . . He needed to separate himself somehow- an inch or maybe two would be enough. Even being just somewhat out of the rough, dominant grasp of his tormentor would help William with all this physical and emotional turmoil. He was completely overwhelmed; he was in a panic and there was nothing more to it. He needed to get away from this . . . Spirit?. . . Demon?... Whatever this thing was! It did not matter! He needed to get away!

It was then in the midst of all his panic, that William suddenly noticed himself slightly stumbling over his own feet. And then it all finally registered; he was in control of his body. Though the upper half of it was still trapped in the grasp of his new, cruel master, his feet were freely mobile and without a huge amount of restraint placed upon them. . . He knew what he wanted to do. But was he willing to risk whatever punishment awaited him if he decided to do it?

The answer to that question was apparently ‘yes’.

William could not tell if it was bravery or stupidity guiding him through his actions - probably both- but there was no turning back now. His mind was already made up.

“ Let . . . Go Of Me!!” He demanded. Even in trying to be assertive, the fear was still fully present in his voice as he spoke. William tightly shut his eyes; Using all his might, he lifted his foot up before forcing it back down as it struck the Hatbox Ghost’s limp leg, making the bigger ghost stagger in surprise for a quick moment.

Both of them immediately halted to a stop. The music from the organ went silent with the only sounds now being that of the storm still going on outside; It had become more violent than before- Rain and wind growing heavier as purple lighting shot around frantically.

William let out a scream of agony as the claw in his back penetrated him deeper- the claw that held his arm sinking itself back into his wrist- piercing him with new marks. His back arched as it happened; his head was thrown back as he was hit with the sudden sensation. Even though he had expected this reaction from the Hatbox Ghost, that did not mean it was at all less painful.

He dared to open his eyes again. And staring back at him were two yellow pupils burning through him- furious.

The Hatbox Ghost did not have an outburst at William’s action; He stood still and remained stiff as a board- only staring at the cowardly ghost in his grasp; It was possibly even more frightening than any sudden outburst in William’s opinion.

As their eyes remained locked on one another, neither of them spoke as tension in the air grew. And again William heard it- That quick thumping of his own, dead heart. He wanted nothing more than for the new master of the realm to just get it over with already. But his tormenter was nothing if not unpredictable- A python waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He could strike at any point and William would not be ready to stop it; The growing anticipation William felt was downright awful. The Hatbox Ghost stared at William with fury on his face, mixed with a combination of disgust and annoyance; He watched the cowering little spirit once again become still- As still as he could get anyhow.

William could not control his mouth- letting out small whimpers of pain and discomfort- his form witching and trembling somewhat around the claws that penetrated him.

Without warning, the claw in William’s back was thrust out with great force and quickness. It caused him to let out yet another scream before he tried to silence himself- His eyes once again closing as his face scrunched and contorted into an unpleasant expression. And it was only then that he realized- without the stability from the claw- just how truly drained his body had become.

“You know, William . . .” The Hatbox Ghost finally spoke- His true voice coming back. And though he spoke calmly, his anger was still fully present. “I’m surprised that you of all people would have the audacity to attempt what you just did. . . “

William’s knees were bent and his feet remained on the floor; He was held up only by his arm which was still entrapped by the Hatbox Ghost’s claw. His left hand then limply fell from the stronger spirit’s shoulder; With very little strength, he lifted said left hand to grasp his right arm and give himself more stability.

He was looking back down to the floor- William Gracey- It was his instinct that caused him to do so. But it was in vain; For it was only a moment before his head forcibly snapped back up to meet his tormentor's stern, piercing gaze.

“ Who thinned the veil.” The Hatbox Ghost asked. When William did not answer, he simply squeezed the spirit’s wrist. William let out another scream as his wrist was easily broken with a violent crunch. His body spasmed and shifted- His hand went limp- The Hatbox Ghost did not care.

“ I suggest you answer my question.” He said. “ Who thinned the veil to the spirit world, William?”

Tears in William’s eyes continued to flow as he tried his best to speak “Me. . .” He admitted. But the Hatbox Ghost had already known the answer to the question. Both of them understood that the dark spirit merely wished for William to admit it out loud. “ It was me . . .”

The Hatbox Ghost then - almost gently- grasped William’s neck with his free claw. William could not help but lean into his uncomforting touch for a moment. It kept his tired body somewhat more station- held him up better and helped keep his form stabilized more than his own faulty, sad attempt.

“ That is correct . . . If anything . . . This is what you deserve, yes?” The dark spirit continued. “ I’m certain all the other spirits residing with us would think so. . . You’re the one who doomed them, William . . .They were at peace, and you took them away from that. Merely to fulfill your own selfish desires . . .”

“ I-I . . .” William went to say something but immediately stopped himself. The Hatbox Ghost was right; He deserved this- All of it- For all those suffering in the mansion now and all those who would soon be suffering down the line.

The Hatbox Ghost let out a dry laugh- void of humor, “ You truly are a pathetic man . . . No wonder Elenore deserted you and left you to rot all by your lonesome. It makes a person wonder if she ever even loved you to begin with . . .”

William said nothing. He did not have the strength nor did he have the energy too. The dark spirit’s words pierced through him like a dagger.

This was all his fault . . .

#alistair crump #hatbox ghost #haunted mansion 2023 #haunted mansion #tragedy #toxic relationship #tw: violence #Alistair Crump is a menace #william gracey #disneys haunted mansion #fanfic #oneshot

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lieutenantselnia · 1 year ago

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Imagine crawling under the Horned King's robe to cuddle with him ... It doesn't necessarily have to be a sexual situation (though it could possibly lead to that if you're both up to it - I mean does he even wear anything else underneath there?👀), but could also simply be a tender moment of both physical and emotional closeness.

Author's note: This was originally supposed to be an imagine at best or simply just me yelling out my thoughts about the Horned King, but somehow it kind of accidentally turned into a short story. Things you do at 5am I guess. This man probably has to much control over my mind at this point (not that I'm complaining).

The Horned King x Reader - Cuddling under his robe

It's cold this evening, though this is not something particularly unusual. The wind is howling around the walls of the castle, and you're snuggling a little closer to the Horned King as you're resting in your shared bed together. You feel his grip around your waist tighten ever so slightly, when suddenly an idea sparks up in your mind. Maybe there is an even better way to escape the cold than just pressing yourself up against him ...

He tilts his head, but doesn't say anything yet when you wriggle yourself out of his embrace and crawl towards the foot of the bed. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually decide to lift the hem of his robe.

"What are you doing, my dear?"

You can hear mild confusion in his voice, and stop in your motion for a moment, one of your hands pulling up the fabric a little while the other is resting on his calf.

"Just trying to escape the cold ..."

With that, you lean forwards and start crawling under the king's robe. The thick fabric holds off any light, so you let your hands follow the contours of his body as you move upwards, careful not to put your weight onto him in an uncomfortable way. You can feel a smile forming on your face as you finally stick your head through the collar - which luckily is wide enough to fit both of you.

"I thought it might be warmer underneath here, and I have to say that I'm not disappointed. But I also just wanted to be close to you ..."

The Horned King's gaze turns soft - over time you've learned to read his more subtle facial expressions - , and when you lean forwards a little to press a kiss onto his lipless mouth, you can feel him eagerly reciprocate the motion, to the best of his abilities at least. He lets out a content sigh as you rub your nose against his cheek and wraps his arms around you, resting his hands on your back. You allow your body to relax completely as you lay down on top of his own, and although he's not giving off any body warmth, you relish the feeling of being pressed up against his bare skin.

"This is perfect ..."

You mumble as you're nuzzling your face into his neck. Your eyelids are starting to get heavier as he gently rubs your back, and a yawn escapes you.

"Rest now, my dear."

Your king's soothing voice still reaches you as your consciousness starts to drift off into the shadows.

"Rest well. I will not be going anywhere right now ..."

#I haven't written any proper (fan)fiction in ages I have actually no idea where the hell this came from #it was such a good feeling though! I think I usually overthink way too much about the build-up of the scenario #or whether I'm portraying the characters' personalities properly that I'm too anxious to actually start anything #but here I was like 'I'm going to write this cute scenario just because I want to' and the words started forming basically on their own #I hope inspiration like this strikes me for my other loves too at some point #also ik I've been all about the king in the past days but be assured my love for my other faves is as strong as ever <3 #I have a feeling he's probably going to end up up there with my main f/os at some point though #f/o: 💀#the horned king #the black cauldron #disney villains #the horned king x reader #x reader #villain x reader #f/o imagine #self ship #fanfiction #writing #selniaswriting #suggestive #(not really but just to make sure)

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alg1905 · 1 month ago

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2 Demons 1 Angel. Chapter 12

Chapter 12. Dick: Further Interrogation

Dick

With Duke leaving the room, the atmosphere became frigid. Had Mr. Freeze escaped Arkham again? It felt like ice was creeping across the room, picking up the pace once Duke left.

That’s what I like about Duke, he was a light to this family who was in love with the dark. It’s fitting, because of his personality and abilities.

{We classify them as Meta-Humans or Metas for short, basically people who have enhanced abilities that received their powers either through experimentation or through blood relatives. Some examples would be my best friend Wally West, and his uncle Barry Allen. Both Barry and Wally recreated experiments that caused them to be hit by lightning and become the fastest people alive. Aliens don’t count as Metas. Like Superman or his family.}

Anyway, Duke has the ability to manipulate light and shadow. Using it to disguise himself easily. He also sees into the future… by about ten minutes at most. Bruce has always disliked Metas, refusing to have anyone with enhanced abilities, including Superman, into his city. He refuses their help, so Duke being apart of our family does demonstrate progress on Bruce’s part.

The tension in the air was humid and thick, though frost covered the walls. A storm was approaching, on the edge of a gale. Nothing but enraged words, and a downpour would come to our family. Though there’s always the eye of the storm, some hope. But once the eye passes, the storm hits twice as hard. Jason collapsed back into his seat; his hand covered his face. My little brother was not in the mood to talk anymore, utterly exhausted from recounting the horrific past. The only sunlight, hope, in the room was the truth that was being spoken. No hesitation, no lies, the only wait was due to glares, which made the frost spread like cobwebs across the once joyful room.

The weight of Jason’s words hit my heart. Abigail was treated as a weapon? Possibly abused worse than Cass or Damian? Cass who wasn’t allowed to speak, but instead learned how to communicate through body language. Cass, who didn’t speak till she was 15. Cass and Damian, who were trained as assassins from the day they could walk? Damian, who was taught loving someone made you weak? Damian, who would rather insult you and fall on a blade instead of asking for a hug? Damian, who was taught that he always must be perfect?

But not having a name… how? How could anyone live like that? How could Daniel live like that? How could Abigail?

I looked around the room, everyone seemed to be having similar thoughts to mine. Except for Daniel and B. Daniel was glaring at the hardwood, just letting the places of information fall into place, connecting the final dots to complete this story. Bruce? Bruce was glaring at Daniel and Jason. Right now, Bruce wasn’t the man who offered me a home after my parent’s murder. Or the man who took in an eleven-year-old Jason in from the streets, the man who gave Tim a home after his seeing his neglectful parents’ bodies in his former home, the man who gave Stephiane a chance to redeem her family name, the man who gave Cass a chance to learn to speak, the man who provided Duke a home after his parents were forceable over-dosed by Joker’s toxin, or the man who accepted his son assassin Damian. That he still had time to teach his son the good in the world. No Bruce was not acting like any of those men in the past.

Today, Bruce is acting entirely as Batman, and not being a diplomatic Batman either. Did Bruce’s diplomacy only come from Alfred? Typically, when Bruce questions people, aka interrogates, he keeps a mask of indifference on. The only change in that mask is glaring harder at certain pieces of information. Currently, Bruce decided to take the bad cop persona, instead of the indifferent cop.

I guess that makes me the good cop. Maybe I should break the ice, before we get to more sensitive topics. “Well, this sure explains a lot from the past.” I grinned slightly at my Robin, then towards Tim.

Daniel frowned. “What do you mean? Explains what?”

Daniel was still tense. He clearly has trust issues, considering what Damian and himself recounted, I can’t exactly blame him. Our whole family has trust issues. Well, Duke doesn’t, neither did Alfred. Daniel relaxed when he had some information about us. It wasn’t just him revealing the past, it allowed for the spotlight to go onto someone else for a while. Hopefully I can give him enough time to collect his thoughts again.

Tim frowned, “Are you talking about that DNA test I found not long after the gremlin came here?”

“TT, then Slade’s ex wife sent it to father trying to make me believe Slade was truly my father. The ruse only was effective for a maximum of 48 hours.” Damian explained.

Daniel sent a confused look to his ‘brother’. “Story? And can only one person please explain?”

Tim coughed into his fist. “Considering I found the information out; I’ll give the part of the story I contributed to.” Tim sat up fully, finally putting his empty mug on the table. Looking Daniel right in the eye. “Damian officially became a part of our family at ten. But he came here for a short visit when he was eight. I was still Robin at that time. Bat brought him to the cave; I was honestly excited to have a little brother. Then –“

“My reflexes kicked in. Mother ingrained the fact in my head that I must inherit the Robin mantel. My task was supposed to be to only eliminate Grayson. Todd, the Red Hood, was supposed to eliminate Drake, obviously you can see for yourself that didn’t work.” Damian explained. His explanation still made me cringe. I’m just thankful that Little D gave me a chance to show him the good in the world before he followed his mother’s orders like a mindless soldier.

Daniel raised an eyebrow in question, turning his attention to Tim. “You sure you didn’t get thrown in a pit? From the rumors about Red Hood’s early days alone I would have thought the only people to stand in Hood’s way would be Batman or Superman. Possibly the Justice League if Batman ever let outsiders into his city.”

I frowned, looking over to my little brother. Well, little in age. Considering the fact that Jason was several inches taller and had ruffly 30 or more pounds of muscle than me. Jason was glaring at the table, no doubt still lost in his traumatic past. Usually, these instances he would be thinking about Joker, the man who murdered him at 13. Joker hitting Jason with a crowbar, then letting him die in a warehouse explosion. I knew how to get him out of those thoughts, by acting silly and getting him to yell at me. At least it was better than him being stuck in the past. Now though? I couldn’t tell when he was in the past, getting the distinct impression some idiotic actions would not be able to bring my brother out of his dark past at the moment. For now, Jason has to fight his past torments on his own, despite how much I wanted to protect him.

Tim snickered. “No, I didn’t get thrown in the pit. I am actually one of the people in this family who hasn’t been in the pit. Or technically died. However, there was a short period of time when I was forced to work for your grandfather. My spleen was removed and there was about three minutes I truly thought I had been in the pit.”

I shudder at Tim’s words. Seeing Jason on pit rage was bad enough. Tim on Lazarus induced pit rage? That would be a nightmare. The Lazarus pit brings out the worst in a person and enhances time five. Jason was bent on revenge, taking up the name Red Hood, controlling the criminal element of the city by doing what Batman refuses to do, and to get some sense of justice for his death. If Tim was ever to go to the pit, … well it wouldn’t be good, especially with his intelligence. He would turn cynical, wouldn’t trust a single person, and would likely become the most feared vigilante in history. Yes, even more than Batman or Red Hood.

“Back on track. Mother sent me to learn from father at eight. I saw Drake as a threat, so I attempted to decapitate Drake.” Damian summarized.

“Yeah, well I’m glad that didn’t go according to plan.” Tim rubbed his neck self-consciously. “Not long after that Talia took Damian back. I began doing research, I wanted to prove that Damian wasn’t related to this family at all. I found an alternate DNA profile saying that Slade Wilson was Damian’s father instead.”

That incident was a nightmare. Damian had disappeared for less than a week. Leaving a note saying something like ‘I am going to go live with my real father.’ I’m glad that Bruce and Slade were able to work that mess out. I still despise Slade Wilson, aka Deathstroke. The most lethal contract assassin in the world. Although he is not above being paid off to not kill an assignment. One blue eye, the other is shot out (by his ex-wife), white hair, an expert with any weapon, prefers firearms and swords. When he was a teenager, he joined the military, Slade was drafted to be a part of scientific experimentation. Creating a super soldier.

“Which was disproven.” Damian assured.

“That alternate document was probably you. We just didn’t know it.” Tim looked at Daniel meaningfully.

“TT, at the time I thought mother had just planted it for a failsafe incase a contract was ever put on my head.” Damian explained. I could tell he was still slightly guilty for not following the lead in the first place.

“Apparently, you didn’t consider that your own mother would put a bounty on your head.” Jason said flatly. Still lost in his own thoughts.

Daniel frowned, obviously a thought occurred to him. I caught Barbara’s eye. I had a pretty good idea what was going to come out of his mouth, and Barbara was having similar thoughts. Daniel was probably going to accuse us of abandoning him. Somewhere along the lines, ‘You had evidence I was alive for almost seven years? And you didn’t look into it?’ To be quite honest we’d deserve it.

The question that came out of Daniel’s mouth was, “Were there other files?”

Tim frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When you discovered my DNA profile, did you find other files similar to mine?” Daniel asked again, mumbling to himself, refusing to look anyone in the eye.

“No, why?” Tim questioned.

Daniel grabbed a taco in front of him, obviously trying to avoid this part of the conversation. Tim looks over to me for help. See, Tim knows I know Damian the best. Heck, Tim preaches it. Tim was asking what he should do, because Tim doesn’t completely want to start off on the wrong foot like he and Damian did.

I looked at Daniel again, studying him closely. He is still guarded but, I could tell he wasn’t completely done with answering questions yet. Perhaps we can go back to the point of the files later.

I tapped a message in Morse code on my knee. Change Topic. He Will Still Answer Questions But Change Topic.

Tim nodded and picked the conversation back up again, looking over to Daniel. “Damian said that Abigail is blind yet can hear through echolocation. What did Ras do to her?”

Daniel sighed, placing his head in his hand. “Before I explain that, I need to explain what led to that.” Daniel combed his arctic-white hair through his fingers. Shutting his emerald, green eyes tight, and his left foot began bouncing out of nerves. “Abby wasn’t born blind. Jason tried to save Abby, obviously that failed.”

Daniel stopped himself, attempting to formulate what he should say next. Pinching his lips, eyebrows furrowed just a couple of centimeters from touching each other.

Jason grunted, though I am sure he was just awoken from his own thoughts. He looked at Daniel, protectiveness and sympathy radiating from him.

The white-haired boy put his hand on the back of his neck. “There were two other clones of Damian. And at least one of Abby herself. Ras allowed the four to… train together? I’m not completely sure why he let that happen. Dean, David, and Ruby. From what Ab’s has told me, well more like described in her own way, they managed to run away at some point.”

Stephanie looked at Daniel with sympathy. Seeing how hard it was to describe the part of Abigail’s past that he hadn’t been a part of. Her blonde hair pulled over her right shoulder, as if she was trying to provide a curtain between herself and the family portrait above the mantal. Feeling the ‘Look’ from Alfred’s painted face. “That’s why she saved you. Because you remind her of her other brothers.”

Daniel nodded. Hand dropping to his lap, strands of his near shoulder length hair falling in front of his face like feathers. “Yeah. The first time they ran away, they came across a photo booth. Ab’s still has the old picture. In the pic Abby looks about five, Ruby was probably six. Dean and David looked about eight.”

Tim started, “What does this-“

Daniel ignored him, lost in recounted memory, all the while relaying his words to his feet. “Abby said that Dean was taller than David. His hair looked like fire, stronger. Apparently, he was more impulsive, loud, and very protective of Abby and Ruby. David had hair like the earth or tree bark, listened, fast learner. He planned things. Yes, he was protective, but he wasn’t impulsive. Ruby was in-between. Ruby did think things through, but a bit impulsive. For Ruby, it was difficult for her to voice her emotions. Instead, she did little things to show she cared. Hair like the sun. Also defensive with her words.”

A silence hung in the air, Tim asked again, “What does this have to do with Abigail’s sight?”

Daniel stared Tim in the eyes. Living emerald forest green vs detective cold crystal blue. Two young men both determined, one in facts the other in defending his sister. “Everything. I’m sure you noticed how I described them.”

I nodded. “Yeah, fire red. Earth brown. Sun blonde.”

“That’s how Abby described them to me. She really doesn’t know colors. The only color she knows by name is green.” Daniel said, glancing over at me.

Barbara spoke. “You said Abigail was five while Ruby was six. Yet Ruby is a clone of Abigail.”

Daniel turned to her. “I also said that Abby has been to the pit’s innumerable times. Which caused her to look younger. My best guess is that she is at least two years younger.”

Bruce growled. “You still didn’t answer the question why do these other adolescent’s matter? Or the reason you dare, to address them before the sight of Talia’s daughter?” Bruce’s voice was mellow. However, the underlining hint of steely anger couldn’t be missed. A set of determination demanding every bone in your body.

Talia’s daughter, not Abigail, and surely not Daniel’s sister. Nothing, absolutely nothing but contempt for the girl who wasn’t even present. Daniel was calmer than before, but those words sparked his hatred. Daniel’s teeth clenched and he balled his fists uselessly.

Babs intervened before harsh words could be thrown around. “B, Daniel did answer Tim’s question. He said everything.”

“THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER!!” Bruce nearly screamed.

Daniel was on his feet, eyes ignited with fury and contempt, fists clenched. Jason followed Daniel’s actions, standing next to the boy in case things turned physical. Telling Bruce which side he was taking.

“The reason I brought them up?! Because they shaped Abby who is she is today! Jason gave Abby her name. They gave her a family. A family which was caught by Ras! Ras didn’t know Jason had given Abby a name!” Daniel laughed. The fire was still in his eyes, but he took a step back. Enjoying the moment of irony. His voice was dripping in sarcasm when he spoke again.

“The Demon’s Head. Ras Al Ghul. The man who knew everything. The man who had ears and eyes in every city of the world! The man who could have you killed if you so much said a bad thing about him. Didn’t know his most lethal weapon, his secret weapon. Had been given a name. He didn’t know that his other “Grandchildren” could possibly learn what a real family means. That they would teach his little secret weapon about family.”

Again, Daniel laughed. This time it sounded hollow and distant. The type of laugh that comes out when you are so emotionally bombarded you can’t do anything else. “To Ras these were flaws. Her name, family, everything wholesome she had been taught. For punishment, he threw Abby down in a cave. Chained, no light, no food, the only water coming from the cave itself. Just for having a real name.” Daniel breathed heavily.

Stephanie was on the edge of her seat. Looking horror struck at the punishment Ras had implemented on his own blood. Her mouth slightly open, distress filling her eyes, her hand was playing with her hair just to ground herself to reality.

I had a similar expression to Stephanie’s. My hands clenching the armrest beside me, gritting my teeth. Continuously sending glances to Barbara and Damian. A dam broke in my head, cursing out Ras Al Ghul in Romanian.

Tim had his back against the arm of the couch, feet towards Daniel. He was attempting to adopt a similar look to Bruce, trying shut down all emotions. However, Tim couldn’t quite disassociate himself from Daniel’s testimony. Worry crept into his eyes, glancing at our baby brother and Daniel, and recalling the trembling girl who had left the room, with Cass and Duke in tow.

Barbara was tense, shoulders set, her hand making her way to her pocket. Probably to warn Cass, but she wasn’t taking her eyes off Bruce. Glasses glinting, trying to gage the best course of action and how much more information should be revealed in this time frame.

Jason kept eyeing Bruce waiting for the elder to jump to his feet, waiting for any action that was more than minuscule from Bruce. His jaw was strained, holding back the river of curses he wanted to unleash upon Bruce, green becoming prominent in his teal eyes. Ready to protect Daniel if the need arises.

Damian was tense. He kept petting his Great Dane, Titus, for a distraction. His emerald eyes, matching Daniel’s in color, were lost in the past. As if Damian was recalling his own version of these events.

Bruce was glaring at Daniel. Not letting his thoughts show to anyone, as if he was a robot. I couldn’t see his tells for guilt. No absolutely no guilt for what he had heard Daniel say, no guilt for pushing him to say it. Bruce, just because this involves Ras does not mean you can act like you don’t have a heart. I ached for the old butler. Alfred would have put Bruce in his place already. If Alfred was here, Bruce wouldn’t be this closed off.

The amount of detail Daniel gave, and the reasoning as to why such actions were performed was unnerving. Everything seemed to be linked together.

Daniel took another step back. Ensuring the distance between himself and Bruce. His lids fell over his livid vivid green eyes. Fists clenching as if he should have had weapons in his hands, or he was preparing to throw a punch at Bruce’s face. “He left her down there till she was absolutely blind, probably longer than was necessary. At some point Ras injected Abby with something, I DON’T KNOW WHAT. Neither does Abby, so don’t ask. He didn’t exactly give us the luxury of knowing what torment he was going to do to us.” Daniel caught his breath, attempting to steel himself for the next part.

“What did it do to her?” I asked gently. His green eyes caught mine. Man, he looks so much like Damian. Even the expressions on his face. They were exactly the same on Damian when he was telling me his secrets when he was my Robin, and I was his Batman.

His eyes remained locked on mine, apparently finding some comfort in my eyes. Perhaps not comfort, but maybe for some reason I was able to keep him grounded to reality. “It caused her sight to change. She can’t see color. She sees through sound, using echolocation. And it did something to her voice, she has a scream that will leave your ears ringing. She can shatter glass with her voice and leave people temporarily deaf. The first time she did it to me, it was an accident, but I couldn’t hear for hours.”

Tim is right, she is literally a human bat.

Barbara spoke up, asking gently, “Daniel, what happen to Abby’s other brothers and sister?”

Daniel’s eyes shut tight, trying to block something out of his mind. He mumbled something, I frowned. I saw the words ‘escape, mountains, captured’ on his lips. I bit my lip before speaking. “The four of them, I am assuming after Abigail’s sight was changed, managed to escape to the mountains, but they were captured again?” I let my assumption hang in the air.

Daniel turned his head away from me. Jason put is hand on Daniel’s shoulder. He stiffened, but didn’t attack, a plus in my book.

Jason spoke for Daniel. “Daniel explained this part earlier. What you said was right, except for one part Dick.”

I frowned. “What did I miss?”

As I spoke Jason gestured for Daniel to sit down, which he did after a moment of hesitation, still glaring at his feet. Jason continued. “Abigail was captured. The others were killed.” Jason closed his eyes, letting some of his tension melt off of him as he breathed, then he sat down himself.

Bruce was about to speak again, no doubt something to make the situation worse, but Damian glared at him from his spot across the room.

Steph coughed into her hand. “So, Daniel, how did you and Abigail get to Gotham? And what exactly happened for you to meet Damian? Damian said you were stabbed? By whom?” Thank goodness for Steph’s short attention span, and her ability to still pick up on details.

Daniel looked up, his eyes losing some of their fire that previously occupied them. He drummed his left hand on his leg, the pattern made it appear as if he was counting to himself. “Abby and I stowed away on a cargo ship in Spain about a month ago. The ship itself arrived yesterday, but there were a lot more guards than I was expecting. So, we had to wait till night to even attempt getting off. We just managed to get off the dock, when we were caught.”

“What was the name of the cargo ship?” Bruce asked icily. Obviously wanting to verify if said ship docked yesterday, and to go over the security footage later.

“The MCS Tessa.” Daniel supplied, refusing to even look in B’s direction.

I frowned. I knew that the MCS Tessa was coming, I was working on the case with Jason. But it wasn’t supposed to be in for another week. Something about storms delaying her voyage. There was a dispute about who owned the ship though. Black Mask or Two Face. The two were about to go to war over the matter.

“Do you know who caught you?” Babs asked. Trying to keep her expression neutral. The mask may have fooled Daniel, however everyone else in the room knew she was hiding her curiosity. Wanting a new case, and where she could provide aid.

“A fat, weird bird looking man in a black suit and a piece of glass in one eye, the other an eyepatch. Carrying an umbrella and wearing a top hat.” Daniel described.

“Penguin?” Jason growled.

Penguin? The description is dead on to Penguin, since Jason as the Red Hood was the one to shoot his eye out. (Due to the fact it was Penguin’s fault that Jay’s dad was chucked in prison in the first place.) It wasn’t Penguin’s ship though why would he get involved with Two Face and Black Mask. Unless… he wanted a war. Penguin is a crooked businessman, and an opportunist and is currently desperate to get his empire back. A wicked combination in Gotham. He would take whatever was in the shipment, and both sides would accuse the other. No one would think Penguin would be capable of doing this because Red Hood toppled his empire, took it over for himself, and left Penguin with only one working eye. This is how Penguin wanted to get back in the game. Pit two sworn enemies against each other and reap the spoils of war.

Daniel frowned. “I’ve never seen a penguin before. Isn’t that a bird who can’t fly?”

“TT, yes. Oswald Cobblepot adopted the name penguin in his youth, due to his looks appearing similar to the bird. An insult to all the penguins of the world. From your description it sounds like Cobblepot.” Damian explained. A light in his eyes, wanting to teach his ‘twin’ about the birds themselves, but he managed to restrain himself.

Daniel shrugged. “If you say so. I wanted to fight but he had at least 20 hired hands, all with guns. I had no desire to die by a firing squad again. Somehow the weird bird guy, caught Abby using her as a hostage.”

His breath caught; his next sentence came out shakily, slight terror was embroidered in his voice. “I have heard what happens to girls in Gotham, I wasn’t letting that happen to my sister. I traded most of our weapons so he would let her go. But the man still stabbed me, then Abby got free. I think she broke the guy’s nose, and she grabbed our bags and helped me. His thugs must have been following us. I collapsed before we reached the alley, Abby dragged me the rest of the way. That’s when Damian intervened.”

Bruce growled out, “That ship isn’t due for another week! Penguin does not own the ship, so you couldn’t have met him last night! So how exactly did you get to Gotham?!”

“B, if you take the time to put your own feelings aside, like an actual detective, you could see the game Penguin is trying to play.” I spoke up.

Bruce stood, glaring at Daniel. Nothing but ill feelings towards the boy. How are you not seeing your own son within Daniel, B? Daniel’s telling the truth!

Jason got to his feet for a third time. Keeping Daniel behind him. His unspoken statement loud and clear, ‘this boy along with his sister are under my protection’.

Bruce began yelling. “This child has told nothing but lies! Obviously, Slade’s associates found him and the girl and has sent them to gain information!”

Bruce continued shouting, Daniel looked ready to protest, but I caught his eye. I shook my head, mouthing ‘Not now. Let us handle it.’

He didn’t look happy at my words, but he gritted his teeth and clenched his hands around the couch. Forcing himself to stay where he was.

‘Ping’. My phone, as did many other phones in the room, went off. I glanced at Bruce, making sure he was occupied in his rant, then I looked down at my phone.

(Golden Boy – Dick, Jay B – Jason, Mad Scientist – Tim, Blades – Damian, PPP – Stephanie, Hacker – Barbara, Light – Duke, B Bat – Cass.)

B Bat: Abigail is in the library, 3rd floor. She is letting Duke come up. ONLY. The only other person allowed to come is Daniel.

At least it seems Cass is making some progress with Abigail. I quickly silenced my phone then shot a message in the group chat.

Golden Boy: how is she with you?

B Bat: ok. Animals help. Kitty loves her.

Bruce turned his back on Daniel, facing me. I honestly lost track of his rant for the last five minutes. Had it been five minutes?

Bruce started at me, “You are so naïve to trust them! Just giving them the benefit of the doubt because he looks like Damian! You can’t wash the blood off an assassin’s hands!”

Oh, you’re playing that card? I spoke, “B, you are acting unreasonably. How on earth did you even get on this topic?!”

Bruce continued to rant paying no attention to my words. I saw Jason discreetly pass his phone to Daniel who was trying to look at the messages himself. Daniel did send a message himself, absorbed in the digital conversation.

I looked back at my own phone to see what I had missed.

Blades: understood. Do you think the dogs would be too much?

Light: I already have Ace. Would Titus be too much?

B Bat: for now, yes.

Jay B: has she eaten anything?

B Bat: not yet.

Jay B: Daniel here. Can you see if you can get her to eat?

B Bat: will try, won’t push.

I smiled, at least someone was making progress with these kids. Alfred the cat likes Abigail, Damian can work with her that way at least.

Hacker: don’t let her come here. B is on a rampage.

Rampage is an understatement.

Mad Scientist: agreed. We will let you know when he is better or away.

That means it’s going to be a couple of hours till then, it’s the middle of February, it’s already 5:30. Bruce will probably be heading out at 7.

PPP: if B goes on for another hour, I might just have to join you if I’m allowed to.

You and me both Steph. You and me both.

Light: reaching the 3rd floor now.

I turn off my phone, listening to Bruce’s rant. At least he is talking.

#batfam #respawn #dc comics #damian wayne #dc robin #jason todd #ocs #ras al ghul #original character #red hood #tim drake #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #batfamily #dick grayson #duke thomas #cassandra cain

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keptin--kirk · 5 months ago

Text

Vegapunk’s Speech

With (I think) Vegapunk’s transmission finally ending in chapter 1121, I decided to go back and transcribe the whole thing, because all the breaks were making it hard for me to actually parse.

I figured I’d share it here in case someone else was having the same problem.

I copied everything from chapters 1113-1121, barring the introductory messages. Hopefully I got it all right and didn’t miss anything

Full speech under the cut because it’s super long (also spoilers)

I have committed two sins.

Therefore, whether I am arrested or executed I shall program this message to be broadcast when my heart stops beating.

However! I want to make one thing very clear first. Whoever may have rendered their judgment unto me, I am not trying to convince you that their intent is evil.

I will not apply the labels of good and evil at all, in fact. Because I understand too little about him to begin with.

What I am about to tell you is preposterous. You might even burst into laughter. However, you all have the right to know.

To make a long story short, the world as we know it will sink into the sea!

Now, speaking of the near future for me, assuming that the sensors I built are functioning correctly, in the days after I record this message there should be a most remarkable earthquake that strikes the entire planet!

As a result of that, the sea should rise about one meter around the world, rendering some islands uninhabitable. Beaches around the world will be lost for good.

If I am wrong in this prediction, feel free to discredit the rest of this message. If this has happened, however, you should heed my words very carefully!

This particular earthquake is not exactly what I could call a natural phenomenon.

In my own way, I only ever hoped for peace. But this was the root of my first sin. I dreamt of a source of endless, eternal energy, and in my desire to push the world forward into the future, I flew too close to the sun!

Allow me to explain just what it is that is happening to our world.

From about 900 years ago to 800 years ago — a period of a century — there is a span of history that is completely and entirely blank.

We call this the Void Century, because all records from this time were eliminated. The only means to know this lost piece of history is to find a message from the past in the form of ponegliffs scattered through the world and decipher its contents!

However, the World Government has made it a crime of the highest order to decipher the message of the ponegliffs. And despite being a member of the government myself, I broke this law. That was my second sin.

Through the sheer tenacity of a group of excellent archeologists, I inherited some texts and a number of ponegliffs, which I have deciphered and continued studying to the best of my ability. I regret none of this!!

History, you see, tells a story. In other words, what I know is an incomplete story of that 100 year void!

It would be dishonest to fill the blanks with my own speculation, so I will leave you only with the verified truth!

The main character of this story was born into a kingdom with an impossibly advanced civilization, 900 years ago.

Like the Sun God Nika spoken of in Elbaph legend, he fought with a body that stretched and contracted. His name was Joyboy. And he was the very first man on this sea to be called a pirate!

But as for why he was called a pirate, I have only read from a handful of ponegliffs, but what I found there was the record of a breathtakingly vast war.

Joyboy’s enemy… was the World Government of the present day! More accurately, it was the precursor to the World Government, a provisional army put together by 20 kingdoms known as The Alliance!

You might say they had no other choice, so robust was Joyboy’s faction! Without knowing the spark that caused the war, I won’t say who was right or wrong, I’ll simply state that two competing ideologies came head-to-head.

As I mentioned earlier, for its time 900 years ago, the country of Joyboy’s birth was a startlingly advanced civilization. And the weapons that were used over the course of this 100 year conflict appear to be impossible to re-create with the latest of modern science.

Even I, a genius, cannot replicate them! And therein lies the problem!

The Void Century came to a close with the defeat of Joyboy. But not before leaving vast permanent scars across the face of the world!

The world is made up of a series of islands. Sailing between them is difficult, and many people never experience anything other than their own culture at home!

But this shared understanding of the world does not necessarily apply to the world of a thousand years ago!

Because a cataclysm occurred during the Void Century, causing the world to sink once before! We are currently living on the pieces of a continent that existed long ago!

The world of a millennium ago now slumbers unseen at the bottom of the sea! In fact, one can assume that in the past, there were a number of continents we know nothing about.

If the world were still the same as it was in the past, then the act of erasing 100 years of history would be simply unthinkable and impossible. However, it makes much more sense when you understand that the rise in sea level over that century was 200 meters!

As for why the sea level rose so much during that century, it would be natural to assume the work of a sudden natural disaster, but I can state for a fact that this was a man-made disaster!

If such a cataclysm were caused by natural forces, then the initial disaster would have spanned several centuries and inflicted slow but continual damage upon the world!

But by any measurement — climatology, geology, environmental and atmosphere science — this dramatic shift could not have happened within a single century!

So the cause is something else. And when I detected the rise in worldwide sea levels the other day, I had my answer.

I knew the cause, and confirmed its existence! The Ancient Weapons that sank the world into the sea 800 years ago still exist today, and await the moment that they stir once again!

In other words, the vast war that arose during the Void Century never came to an end!

Sadly, I owe you all my deepest apologies. But I need you to understand why! I wanted to create the energy that would power the industry of the world to come. And though it is still incomplete, I have at least reached a practical stage of my life’s work. The Mother Flame, a fire that never goes out!

It is an energy source that will one day in the future enrich the lives of people all over the world! Unfortunately, one little piece of the Flame has been stolen! The fault of this lies entirely with me!

Around two weeks after the theft of the Flame, the sky over Lulusia shone with a powerful light, and the kingdom vanished without a trace, according to reports. After that was when I observed the first signs of worldwide earthquakes!

As a scientist, and with utmost pride in its development, I can tell you this: nothing but the Mother Flame could have created so much energy!

The flame that I created was used to activate an Ancient Weapon! I know nothing about who might have carried this out, but the results speak for themselves! My actions have led, directly or indirectly, to the loss of many human lives! A fact that weighs most deeply upon my soul! I am so sorry!!!

I have inadvertently proven that the man-made disaster that once sank the world is possible again!

In the past, there were three ancient weapons, and Joyboy attempted to preserve them for the future!

Why would he do that for such dangerous things?! Have we not sunk far enough?! Who is the true evil here, and who fights the good fight?!!

The day will come when all of the answers are laid bare! And I warn you — that moment will happen when we reach the very precipice of the world’s drowning!!!

The Void Century is still ripe with mystery! However, there are some who have learned the truth!

The King of the Pirates’ crew!!! When they learned all of the true history, why did they drift apart without telling anyone? Why didn’t they act on it?!

I know this information is in bits and pieces, but if I were to say more, it would be speculation.

Lastly, I have one final message to impart. To those scattered throughout the world who bear the name of D. Within you there is…

{transmission cuts out}

…but actually

…nothing of the sort.

…which you might consider a will

…inherited through the years

…can only pray that those at the mercy of this reason will be able to hear this message.

Someone once said that the voices of the past will be heard. History is told by the winners, and the voices of the losers at the bottom of the sea are so very faint. But the truth that was gleaned at the cost of so much sacrifice has at mash been told to the world, just now.

I can only pray that this message has made it safely out to the world at large. It would be foolish to hear about a war 900 years in the past from only one side.

History requires a multifaceted approach to understand entirely. If only I had more time on my side! Alas! There are forces outside of my ability to stop.

Twenty-five years ago, the pirate Gol D. Roger completed an unprecedented tour of the entire world. And what he and his crew heard, were likely the purest voices of the past.

In conclusion, as I’m sure you’ve all surmised by now, my view of our future is thus! One day, the memories of the Void Century will be recalled, and mark my words, that day is coming!!!

The sinking of the world’s continents was a man-made disaster brought about by weapons! Weapons which, by someone’s design, still exist today!!!

The machinations of history and fate seem to insist upon the obliteration of those last descendants of rare races!

If the worst should come to pass, I want you all to take care of yourselves! No matter what should happen, I believe in the intelligence of mankind! I believe in science!!!

{Bzzt}

[Ro]ger died 25 years ago!

{Bzzt}

Whitebeard died two years ago! But the fall of these legends was merely the prologue of a new era!

{Bzzt}

And now! These people who refuse to buckle under any and all suppression, they are the ones who are the closest to the truth, ironically enough!!!

{Bzzt}

Then again, perhaps it was Roger who sent them there. The person who winds up with it may not be the one Joyboy desired!!!

There is no stopping the tide. The fate of the world now rests in the hands of the one who find it! The person who lays claim to… The One Piece!!!

#one piece #op #op 1121 #vegapunk #egghead #one piece manga

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