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crimsontroupe · 2 years ago

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Hello I am awake now. Now I can write the thoughts in my little head. Under read more due to probably length since I have no idea. And also for heavy content. (please read the tags on this post)

There's a lot of things that I could write about yesterday's session (and. on friday. Why did we play for 13/14 hours between two days again? insane people) and while I am bad at making such things apparent during session, writing down makes it clearer to me. These are all very discombobulated stream-of-consciousness thoughts so if it doesn't make sense. Bear with me here.

I am thinking about the incredibly hard choice between betting on a spell that might not work, and something that involves ending a life to take on a much harder gamble of resurrection. And how normally - and with a Pharasmin cleric by their side - this would be a no-brainer. Something so easy to choose, something they all know.

Something so hard to do when the circumstance is a kid who had unspeakable things happen to him and was still struggling with the consequences of his actions - actions that he knew he took, but that people did not blame him for it. 'You have gone through something terrible, because people did something horrible to you. You are not guilty of this, you did not choose this fate. You are so very young, and you have so many things to see still'.

There is something to say here about one of his anathemas as one of the Eldest: harming children is the easiest way to get on his bad side. Even if you are his friend, he will firmly oppose you. And again, there were many thoughts running across his head in a few seconds: that he did not want to be removed from the room (he had to see to make sure all would be right), that he could not be left unattended (what would stop him from acting out of impulse and ruining things/his own intrusive thoughts of stopping people doing harm to children no matter the cost/knowing it'd almost be better if he was tied down if he did not want to leave) but ultimately deciding to stay and observe. To stay and hold this kid's hand and calm him down and tell him all will be right. Ignoring how - internally - it took all of his willpower to simply not do anything about it.

Adonia, who is capable of great kindness but unspeakable violence. Violence that runs contrary to everything he stands for and looks like/talks about. Violence that he only applies in very specific cases: when people cross the threshold of what he deems as 'evil' and 'unacceptable'. Meddling with people's free will, with their minds. How that easily makes him turn on you. Adonia very often prefers to hit vital points so his enemies do not suffer even in death. That it will be painless and swift, nobody deserves to suffer even in death. So you really have to wonder what it means when that elegance - that restraint - is gone. When he fully embraces the violence he himself says most of the time that he abhors.

Adonia is a man who clearly judges you based on your virtues and your actions, and the extent of how nice or merciful he is depends exactly on that. What does it mean when he decides to - instead of piercing his enemy's chest and ending it right then and there - ignore his own wellbeing, strategy that he values above all and go clear for your head. And while knowing you are dead, still waste time making sure to hit you again. Once more, ignoring something he values very clearly.

Strategy to him is incredibly vital, and while he might suggest a reckless plan here or there... Adonia is a man that really applies calculated risks to almost all that he does. Something to be said when that all drops and you have a clear reminder that there is a huge part of his brain that has ceased to behave in any way that is resembling human! That there is something either wrong or amiss with him, the clear warning that while he is very composed and serene he is very willing to commit either unspeakable acts of violence or put you through a horrifying death if he thinks you deserve it!

(Not to say there were not other factors in play: he was disrespected as a fey and that already puts you in a hostile position towards him, the very clear threat to a person he loves and the necessity to protect the people he considers family are also present in his decision-making and affected a lot of his decisions. 'I can go down because Arlas will not let me die'/'I have to keep at this no matter how terrible it might seem because if we do not stop this it will only get worse'/'I am the only person that can do effective damage that would make this end sooner'/'I cannot stop and close my own wounds because that would buy time for the enemy to do something we are not prepared against'. These were all there and valid! He has seen his friends throw their highest spells and attacks and have that not do much so he knows it ultimately boils down to a kill-it-before-it-kills-you situation)

Something also to be said about his aversion to having the blood of people he considers 'evil' on him/his clothes. It doubled as 'there is a kid here and I cannot be seen drenched in blood because I voluntarily decided to decapitate another man', but truly is because he was disgusted. Not at his actions, but to be sullied with what he sees as 'irredeemable'. People who manipulate others, beings who take free will away from others. Individuals that see no worth in life - in nature - and decide to trample over such essential values. 'Harming children', 'perform mind controlling magic', 'destroy nature' would all be (and are) parts of his anathema as an Eldest/Archfey.

Adonia himself is all of these things - a person who, if he viewed his actions without his named attached to it, would think of himself evil - and a 'clear but unintentional' parallel to. well. (points) if you know you know. Adonia, who hates mental effects but would do it if he needed to (and often does it). Adonia who sees no problem in necessary sacrifice - although he might struggle about it - and gambling with things above his own power because he is not going to avoid taking risks to get what he wants. Adonia, who is a hypocrite. Adonia, the personification of 'do as I say but never as I do'. Adonia, who deep down is selfish and struggles with it. (me repeating what I said to lux on discord) What is the difference between a conqueror and a savior? Are they both not working towards a goal that would benefit them first and foremost?

#cw child death #the last rose of summer ; adonia #(me opening his brain) oh it's fucked up in there. no thanks #also something something talking about parallels again. i don't think i make them clear enough which i am working very hard #at least during game. during rp i can sit down and write it in a way that makes sense. prob will be more obvious as time goes by.#and people start seeing more and more of adonia beyond what he allows others to see.#and while i did not name any names u can prob guess what is going on if u. well. know.

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sleep-drunk-kitten · 5 months ago

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pairing: Sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: angst with a happy ending, fluff, established relationship

content warnings: emotional neglect, some swearing, hoon is kinda a workaholic ig?, I don't think there's anything that really needs warnings other than this is sad but lmk if I miss anything!

summary: your boyfriend comes home late after promising to be home on time for once, only to find that you're nowhere in sight...

notes: this is another one that I'm not sure how to feel about ;-; but I hope you guys enjoy it TwT fun fact, the whole thing was inspired by an rp that I did with an ai where the robot somehow managed to call me by another person's name while cuddling XD

I'm making a general taglist for my fics so if anyone would like to be added please either send an ask or a DM ^w^

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

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The white noise of your favorite movie buzzes through your living room, conversation and dialogue that you’d learned by heart filling the cold space with a false sense of familiarity. You sit cross-legged with your back pressed into the arm of the L-shaped couch in front of the tv, resting your chin on a plushie held close to your chest, looking not at the flickering screen to your right, but at the clock hanging in your kitchen–the only room in the house with the lights on.

9:17 pm, it reads. Roughly three hours and seventeen minutes since your boyfriend would typically get home from work.

Three hours and seventeen minutes since you’d been waiting on a barstool by the kitchen island where you both usually took your meals.

A tiramisu cake and a bouquet of flowers laid out in front of you.

Waiting.

So much waiting.

After an hour or so, you’d gently slid the cake back into its box, distracting yourself with the task of putting the flowers into a vase before they could wilt.

‘He’s late again,’ you think sleepily, eyes struggling to stay focused on the clock, ’he promised he wouldn’t be tonight.’

Your vision blurs as the long hand hits 12, eyelids too heavy to keep open, mind wandering to the conversation you’d shared with Sunghoon that morning.

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“What time will you be home from work today?” you asked sleepily, sitting up in your nest of blankets, having woken up to find that he was already in the process of pulling his socks on, careful not to wake you.

“I don’t know, Love, you know how crazy things have been with this update, I might be late again,” he said absently, looking around for his glasses. “Where the fuck did I put them?”

He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, leg bouncing in agitation. It made your heart ache slightly in your chest, disappointment, guilt, and worry mixing confusedly in your stomach.

You loved Sunghoon, more than almost anything else in your life, he was the man you’d chosen as your partner, who you’d decided to stand by through thick and thin. But ever since the game company he worked for had started work on a new update, you’d been seeing less and less of him. Always coming home late, tired and stressed, mind wandering and absent even when he was sitting right in front of you. You understood, you really did. Between the two of you he was the one with the bigger income, the burden of taking care of you, of making sure that the two of you could build a future together, was on his shoulders. And it was a responsibility that he did not take lightly.

But still.

In moments like that, where you slid off your bed to fetch his glasses off the nightstand–blanket wrapped securely round your shoulders to fend off the cold that permeated your apartment since the heating had started to malfunction–moving round the bed to stand in front of him… you couldn’t help but feel like he was breaking your heart. Just a little.

It was in the way he only met your eyes briefly when he took them from you before standing and gathering the rest of his things, sighing in what could’ve been frustration or relief, it was hard to tell.

It was the way he didn’t stop the flow of movement steadily taking him away from you and towards the office till you called his name twice, stopping in his tracks and fixing you with a look that, though probably unintentional, made you want to bury yourself under your mountain of plushies and hide.

“I’m going to be late, (y/n), what is it?”

You winced. You couldn’t help it. Unaccustomed to hearing him say your name with so little emotion. “Just… could you come back on time tonight?” your voice is barely more than a whisper, tapering off into silence the longer you force your eyes to meet his. “Unless you can’t of course! I’m not saying you have to do anything, I understand that you’re busy and you can’t really dictate when or how things get done but just that it would be nice if you could be home on time tonight since-”

“Okay.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll make it home on time tonight.”

His voice was softer than it had been a moment ago, giving you the courage you needed to meet his eyes. They were still heavy with worry, brows drawn together to dig a permanent crease into the middle of his forehead, but they weren’t quite as cold or distant. He was looking at you, really looking at you for the first time in what felt like forever.

It wasn’t much, you knew that. But it was still enough to ease the knot building in your throat. Enough to bring a small smile to your face as you nodded. “Mnm! Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Mnm, alright,” he said, a small, slightly strained smile coming to rest on his own lips.

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The apartment was almost completely dark when the lock to the front door chimed, alerting the darkness that someone had arrived. The figure that stepped through was slumped over, backpack sliding off one shoulder with his jacket, shoes abandoned haphazardly.

It took a moment for Sunghoon’s mind to catch up to his body, for it to fully sink into his bones that he was home. That he was home and it was nearly 11 pm. Home and the tv and kitchen light were both on, white letters onscreen asking the room if anyone was still watching Netflix.

Something in the kitchen caught his eye, a handmade vase his sister had given you for your birthday set out on the kitchen island, filled to the brim with pink, white, and purple flowers he did not recognise.

’Oh’

It was his birthday.

That’s why you’d asked him to come home on time.

Sunghoon groaned, face twisting with what could only be described as pain as he quickly set his bag down by the front door and made his way to your shared bedroom. You were usually asleep by this time, unable to pull all-nighters the way you used to back when you were in high school, always out like a light by no later than 10:30 every night.

’But she still stays up every night waiting for you,’ a voice in his head hisses.

’I know… fuck I know she does,’ his own voice replies, panic setting in when he finds your room empty, the bed neatly made, not even a dent to show that you’d been laying in it while working on your laptop during the day.

’She’s not here… are you surprised? How long did you expect her to wait?’ the voice whispers, a chill cascading down his spine.

The panic sets in with more vigor, wrapping round his throat and sending his tired mind into overdrive as he checks the bathroom, your home office, and finally the dark living room. Fear telling him that this was it.

He’d really gone and done it now.

He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew the moment you stood in the middle of your bedroom floor instead of closing the distance between you and wrapping your arms around his waist, choosing instead to clutch your favorite duvet like a lifeline, wincing when you heard his voice, all because you wanted to ask him to come home… he knew right then that he’d been an absolute idiot.

He’d meant to come home early, to be there to make it up to you, to apologise properly, tell you that he’d take some time off as soon as the update was done and dusted.

But he didn’t. He let work sweep him up again. Drowning in error messages and buggy code till the sky outside his office windows was filled with the flickering lights of the city at night.

And now… now you weren’t there.

He’d left you alone.

He’d left you alone too long and you were gone.

You were gone.

You were gone and-

’Oh.’

There you were.

The relief when Sunghoon sees you–curled up on the couch, partially hidden by a small pile of blankets and stuffed animals–is immediate.

He doesn’t really register the way he sighs your name, shoulders relaxing, body melting into the floor the moment he’s in front of you, hand brushing a few messy strands of hair out of your face. The need to feel the warmth of your skin, to confirm that you really are there in front of him more an instinct than a conscious decision.

You mumble something in your sleep, tilting your face away from his cold fingertips, eyes fluttering open. “Hoon… hi baby… welcome home,” you say tiredly, shifting under your blankets in an attempt to pull yourself up.

Sunghoon feels his heart crack in his chest. Why were you smiling at him? You should've been angry. You should've pushed him away, demanded to know why he was back so late, why he'd been neglecting you in the first place.

“Baby? My love… why are you crying?” you ask, reaching for him through the haze of sleep still clinging to your limbs.

Choking back a sob, he leans closer, tucking his head under your chin and doing his best to wrap an arm around you from his place on the carpeted floor. “Nothing,” he says, shaking his head, though the tears soaking into your sternum say otherwise, “just missed you…”

Your vision blurs at his words, a thread of steadily building tension and worry that had been constricting your heart for the past few weeks snapping. “Oh…” your voice shakes slightly, lungs shuddering as your breaths begin to feel lighter, “I’m right here you goose, what’re you crying for?”

“Who says I’m crying,” he says, hoarse with tears.

“Right right,” you laugh despite the dampness now soaking through your own cheeks, “because my baby never cries, huh?”

“Never,” he sniffles, nuzzling closer.

You stay like that for a while, eventually urging him to sit more comfortably on the couch, allowing you to settle yourself on his lap, his arms still wrapped firmly round your waist, hands occasionally kneading whatever part of you he was in contact with as if he needed to assure himself that you were there, solid and real.

He waits until he feels your heartbeat slow to a steady rhythm, trying his best to calm down so his own can match yours, beat for beat. The way it–in his opinion–should.

But it wouldn’t, there were words lodged in his throat, and every time he tried to get them out he felt that same panic wash over him, sending his heart into a frenzy.

You could feel like beating against your cheek, could sense that there was something he wasn’t saying from the way his grip on you would tighten almost imperceptibly, stiffening as if he was bracing himself for something. A part of you wanted to push him, prompt him and ask what was going through his head, why you’d woken up to the sight of him crying in the dim light of your living room. And you would’ve if he hadn’t beat you to it.

“I’m sorry, (y/n).”

“What do you mean? For being late? I know you can’t help it, Hoon, it’s not some-”

“No! I mean yes, I’m sorry for being late tonight but… I mean… I mean for everything… for not being… here, with you, like this… as often as I should be, I’m sorry,” he says, the hands at your sides nervously fidgeting with the fabric at your hips, nervously looking between your face and the static tv screen behind you.

Sunghoon had never been good with words. You’d learned early on in your relationship that he preferred to show how he felt through his actions. Yet here he was, fumbling through an apology because… because…

“My love… did you think I’d left?” you ask, gently cupping his face with one hand, urging him to look at you.

Puffy red eyes still wet with tears, messy unkempt hair from running his hands through it all day, tired and probably as emotionally spent as you’d ever seen him and still… still he was the most beautiful person in the world to you. He nodded, hiding his face in your chest again, hands stilling.

“Well,” you sigh, resting your chin on top of his head and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head, combing through it in a way he swears only you can, “at least you know you’ve got things you need to make up for…”

“I know… I forgot for a while… but I know…”

“That’s okay then,” you breathe, leaning back to kiss his forehead. “But Sunghoon… baby… darling… the love of my life… my little pookie bear… “ you both giggle a little at the pet names, “You know I’d never leave you over something like this right? I was sad, and hurt, and I still expect you to make it up to me by never doing this again but… I still love you, it only hurts because I love you… I’m not going anywhere.”

Sunghoon pauses for a moment, letting your words sink in. You think that when he looks up, lips slightly parted, it’s to say something in response, but you really should’ve known better.

Slowly, giving you enough time to pull away should you choose to, his breath mingling with yours before he steals it away with a soft, lingering kiss. Neither of you is in any rush to take things further.

It feels like a small eternity before he pulls away, like time stills for you both, but then he’s pressing his lips to your jaw, butterfly kisses tickling you down to your pulse point, making you giggle so you almost miss it when he says, “I love you too… so much…”

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It isn’t until the next day when you’re shuffling into your home office dressed in one of his oversized jerseys, complaining about a meeting that he remembers the flowers he’d seen on the kitchen island.

Pulling out his phone, he makes good use of his detective skills (and google lens), remembering all the times you’d spoken to him about the language of flowers, and the meanings behind certain blooms.

He wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or cry once he’d figured it out, opting to dig through the cabinets for a pack of waffle mix to fix you some breakfast instead. He had a lot of apologies to make…

Baby’s Breath: pure everlasting love

Pink Camellias: longing for you

Forget-me-nots: true love memories, do not forget me

#kiki writes things ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡#sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x you #fluff #enhypen fluff #angst #enhypen angst #cw: swearing #cw: neglect

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