#He deserves everything after what difficulties (torment) he has been through | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

edenmemes · 4 years ago

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hades sentence starters

❝ somebody else came through earlier. you should have seen the look on my face when it wasn’t you! ❞ ❝ let’s forgive each other and forget, go back to how things used to be? ❞ ❝ right now i wouldn’t talk to me if i were you. ❞ ❝ i’ll have to pick up the pieces somehow, and figure out how to get on with my existence. ❞ ❝ we have caused such violence in the intervening time, that we must take this as a real victory. ❞ ❝ i’ll wait for you however long it takes. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry. but this is something i have to do. you wouldn’t understand. ❞ ❝ the only one responsible for all of this is you. and i thought even you would have understood that by now. ❞ ❝ i don’t like it when you’re quiet for too long, what’s on your mind? ❞ ❝ what is it with you gods talking behind the backs of all your friends? ❞ ❝ the world you seek out there...it’s even crueler than the one you know. ❞ ❝ look, i don’t hold grudges, you know that. ❞ ❝ i’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself past your limits. ❞ ❝ your lapse in judgement here is not so easy to forgive, yet easily punished. ❞ ❝ i didn’t mean to lose my temper with you. ❞ ❝ the fates are pretty mean to keep on doing this to you. ❞ ❝ i hardly think this is the time or place to indulge your overwrought imagination. ❞ ❝ for our sparring practice, there's no teacher than the real thing. ❞ ❝ they say a lot of things about me; and they’ll tell you, ample caution is in order. ❞ ❝ either your limitless power has considerably waned, are you are up to something. ❞ ❝ i risked everything by helping you out there. ❞ ❝ my voice is nothing but the crunch of gravel underfoot compared to yours, which soars as though on wings. ❞ ❝ to doubt is an important instinct. without it, we could not conceive of better circumstances than the ones we know. ❞ ❝ let’s not set a bad example for the family. we’re better than all that, they’ve many bad examples as it is. ❞ ❝ you are persuasive like your mother, and determined like your father. ❞ ❝ if you think for an instant that i shall go easier on you, you’ll soon learn otherwise. ❞ ❝ is clinging to a memory what keeps the soul from fading? ❞ ❝ don’t know what it is about you, but i feel like i can be me with you, you know? ❞ ❝ war, much like the heavens and the sea, can be considered as a force of nature. ❞ ❝ if you know that you could only see me for but a moment’s time...would you still make the journey for me? ❞ ❝ i, too, wish for a lot of things. unfortunately there’s no unraveling the fates’ patterns. ❞ ❝ i left when it was necessary. i thought of you and hoped you’d understand. ❞ ❝ all of which you think you have achieved was merely handed to you. ❞ ❝ the past me, it’s as though...it wasn’t even me. this is me, now. ❞ ❝ in war, one must take sides, and you had best choose mine. ❞ ❝ i do not act by whim or by mistake. ❞ ❝ i just don’t understand. why keep on being nice to me, like this? ❞ ❝ you’re so much more than what you said. i wish you could see that. ❞ ❝ it’s really nice, sometimes...knowing somebody really cares about me. ❞ ❝ my father? he’d not a one redeeming quality. ❞ ❝ we can learn from our mistakes or we can keep repeating them. ❞ ❝ there’s nothing you can do to hurt me. ❞ ❝ soon doubtless it’ll be your portrait hanging on that wall back there. ❞ ❝ just don’t go starting any wars you don’t intend to finish. ❞ ❝ you do something for me, in the meantime: don’t give in to what you’re feeling now. ❞ ❝ it is not often i attempt to kill someone and they survive. bravo! ❞ ❝ why does the soul remain, after the body bleeds, and dies, and turns to ash? ❞ ❝ all gods and goddesses are to be feared. ❞ ❝ what more could i have even done? could i have swayed you, in any other way? ❞ ❝ i tried, with all my might, with all my heart, you must know that, and still, it never was enough. ❞ ❝ i’m pleased to see your father’s stubbornness is manifest in you as such determination. ❞ ❝ i’m really starting to hate you. you know that? ❞ ❝ know that i am grateful for the outcome. even if i fail to act like it ❞ ❝ i’m with you every step. then i will probably ignore you like the rest. just warning you ahead of time. ❞ ❝ i only wish we met sooner, though i’m grateful to have met you at all. ❞ ❝ you work too hard. live a little. ❞ ❝ i warn you: i shall hold nothing back. ❞ ❝ that’s something very private that you’re asking... ❞ ❝ use caution with the tone you take with me. ❞ ❝ if you have any sense remaining in that head of yours, i caution you not to discuss this here and now. ❞ ❝ you saw something in me i never knew was there. in turn, with you, i felt....calm. whole. ❞ ❝ i only know that i was filled with rage. ❞ ❝ the fates decided this for us, i guess, and so...who are we to complain? ❞ ❝ i pray the fates not ruin all your dreams as they did mine. ❞ ❝ what’s the worst that could happen? ❞ ❝ they left their mark upon the world. shall you? ❞ ❝ your mockery of me may temporarily embolden you, but achieves nothing useful in the end. ❞ ❝ what exactly is it that makes you feel entitled to show me such disrespect? ❞ ❝ i’ve got to admit, you are really frustrating, you know? ❞ ❝ i seem to have this whole ‘easy-to-underestimate’ thing about me. ❞ ❝ you seem a little quieter than usual. dare i even say a little somber and remorseful, for some reason? ❞ ❝ it’s because i like you. in case you still have some misgivings about that. ❞ ❝ keep following that heart of yours. it’s good enough a guide, believe me. ❞ ❝ you always seem in good spirits, though. ❞ ❝ i cannot change the past. and there is only so much i can do about the future. ❞ ❝ a loving heart is a forgiving heart. ❞ ❝ just in case it hasn’t been made clear as crystal lately, let me tell you: when presented with the opportunity, don’t ever reject me. ❞ ❝ you know, i got to say i had a few concerns when we first met, your father being who he is and all. ❞ ❝ i like it when my prey bites back. ❞ ❝ my attempts at making peace are going to be rather subtle for your tastes. ❞ ❝ you'd best not take for granted my affection yes, i’ve lots of it to go around; but i can just as easily rescind such privileges. ❞ ❝ don't be messing with my feelings. my loyalty's hard-won and quickly lost. ❞ ❝ the truth is i’m a lover, not a fighter. ❞ ❝ if i may say? you’re a hell of a guy. ❞ ❝ you truly take me to the best of places. ❞ ❝ death shall come. either to your enemies, or you. ❞ ❝ a mortal’s life is short, and fraught with pain; is that truly the life you yearn for? ❞ ❝ you think you are superior to me? you are a fool. ❞ ❝ even i have doubts, from time to time. ❞ ❝ i wasn’t expecting to make any new friends here anytime soon. ❞ ❝ i grow angry merely thinking of your situation. ❞ ❝ i wanted to apologize for when i pried about your past. ❞ ❝ nobody gets out of here, whether alive or dead. you think i jest? you think i haven’t tried? ❞ ❝ they got me, finally, of course. but not before i broke them first. ❞ ❝ you are immortal, but in a manner, you can die. ❞ ❝ you have a lot of nerve --- but little else. ❞ ❝ oh, you look terrible, if i may say. ❞ ❝ you’re either naive or you’re much too kind, or both. ❞ ❝ despite whatever difficulties you’ve encountered, again and again, you have never yielded. ❞ ❝ though, that war? don’t ask me about it again. all right? ❞ ❝ you may not make your father very proud, but it is just the opposite with me. ❞ ❝ even i’m beginning to fear you, i think. seems i don’t know you as well as i thought. ❞ ❝ you have a worried look about you. spare me your thoughts? ❞ ❝ names are there to be forgotten. ❞ ❝ it’s not your fault. you couldn’t have known. ❞ ❝ i know it’s not been easy for you. ❞ ❝ you honor me...i have done nothing to deserve this. ❞ ❝ oh, how i hate to fight with you like this! ❞ ❝ follow your heart? that’s odd advice, especially from you. ❞ ❝ the fear of death keeps mortals well in check. you’d best learn to fear something yourself. ❞ ❝ you are going to get me in a heap of trouble before all is said and done. ❞ ❝ i'll hear no more such wicked lies, half-truths, or quarter-truths. ❞ ❝ well, if you won’t say it, i’ll say it. good-bye. ❞ ❝ i know of no one, nothing stronger, other than the love we share. ❞ ❝ i’ve some memories i’m not quite ready to give up on, yet. ❞ ❝ you seem less warlike than the rest. ❞ ❝ can’t always trust what feelings say. ❞ ❝ my temper i shall keep in check, but only barely so. ❞ ❝ i am unmade, unwhole, here in this place, alone. ❞ ❝ my past is not really worth mentioning. ❞ ❝ you may not really need me, but i will take these opportunities to help. ❞ ❝ you sound a little tongue-tied. just like you always used to around me. ❞ ❝ you should be ashamed of yourself, and learn your place. ❞ ❝ this look like a shoulder to cry on to you? ❞ ❝ ...you know who you sound like right now, don’t you? i can’t believe this. ❞ ❝ i think, deep down, you are still that inexperienced little godling that you used to be. ❞ ❝ i always had doubts the gods were listening. that they could even hear. ❞ ❝ i was just checking up on you, just...let me know if you wanted to talk, for any reason. ❞ ❝ if there’s one thing i know, it’s that the three fates always get their way. ❞ ❝ hey, you’re not alone. you’re not alone, ok? ❞ ❝ you're not exactly easy to approach, you know. ❞ ❝ i grieve for you, my friend. ❞ ❝ are you lecturing me about healthy relationships with family? your family is the most broken and corrupted in the history of the entire concept. ❞ ❝ you think you can just walk away from me? ❞ ❝ how about it, then? care for a drink, with me? ❞ ❝ you are entirely too young to have had meaningful experience with loss. ❞ ❝ something the matter, there? or have you come to torment me some more with idle chat? ❞ ❝ you will find me waiting for you once you get here. every single time. ❞ ❝ men worship ares willingly; they are so much like him. ❞ ❝ while love’s the force that brought me and countless other’s low in life, it also brought me and countless others strength. ❞ ❝ others shall always doubt me. you may doubt me. ❞ ❝ beware the narrow distance between hastiness and swiftness. ❞ ❝ a crashing wave or thundering tempest are nothing to a broken heart. ❞ ❝ think back on when you started all of this. you now know so much more. are capable of so much more. ❞ ❝ as ever, you think only of yourself. ❞ ❝ this is where you belong. you feel out of place? where would you even go? your place is here. ❞ ❝ your path is yours to shape as you see fit, regardless of the fates’ design. ❞ ❝ you’re no god! you’re nothing but a piece of trash, born into all of this. ❞ ❝ you seem to have me all figured out. and here i thought we were still getting to know each other. ❞ ❝ are there truly no depths to which you would not stoop? ❞ ❝ leave me be, and don’t think you’re going to be so lucky next time we meet out there. ❞ ❝ you have the tendency to ask too many questions. ❞ ❝ i smell the blood on you. you are severely wounded. ❞ ❝ don’t be messing with my feelings there. my trust is hard-won and quickly lost. ❞ ❝ if you wish to test the fine relationship we’ve built, why then, i can confirm you’re testing it, all right. ❞ ❝ don’t ever take me for some thoughtless nymph to be manipulated. ❞ ❝ don’t get on my father’s bad side like that and you’re going to be fine. ❞ ❝ how’s your endless toil treating you? ❞ ❝ i’d never trade my bow for all that pomp and armor. but, to each their own. ❞ ❝ let me see you now for what you truly are. ❞ ❝ was i deceived, in thinking this of you, of us? ❞ ❝ i get what i want around here. ❞ ❝ don’t you understand i’m trying to fix the problems you caused? ❞ ❝ the gods are on my side, not yours. ❞ ❝ don’t you dare look at me like that. ❞ ❝ life isn’t particularly fair. i’d have expected you to know as much. ❞ ❝ i’m leaving. try and stop me. ❞ ❝ you have no concept of which impulses to act upon, and which to keep in check. ❞ ❝ when i inevitably, inadvertently trample all over your feelings at some point, please tell me, all right? ❞ ❝ you don’t even know who i am. who i was. ❞ ❝ won’t you come back to me? when you are able, please. come back. i shall be waiting here, however long it takes. ❞ ❝ never met a god that bleeds like you. red. like a worthless mortal. ❞ ❝ i got to hanf it to you. you don’t back down. you don’t ever back down. ❞ ❝ i’ve a tip for you: don’t be slow! ❞ ❝ you can’t escape your problems. you have no choice but to confront them, and work through it, sooner or later, one way or another. ❞ ❝ i knew you had a more sinister trick at play, because your fighting style certainly is of no concern just on its own. ❞ ❝ i...feel awful. i...i have to go. ❞ ❝ once people set their minds to certain things, it can be difficult to show them other possibilites exist. ❞ ❝ there’s something that i’ve wished to tell you: there’s no shame in your upbringing. ❞ ❝ i have known too many far too proud to accept help, even when it was sorely needed. ❞ ❝ may you yet come to your senses. ❞ ❝ i have virtually done everything within my powers to prevent this. all of it...for nothing. ❞ ❝ you can’t be serious. you’re going to pretend as though it never happened? ❞ ❝ seems i’m left to thanking myself, since you’re too proud to do it. ❞ ❝ fight like i’d fight out there. ❞ ❝ what have i done to deserve such scorn? ❞ ❝ you left, without so much as telling me good-bye. ❞ ❝ you’ve such weak blood, and such a temperament... ❞ ❝ i am very, very sure i haven’t murdered anyone. ❞ ❝ i am truly blessed simply to have made your acquantince. ❞ ❝ you wish to take advantage of my pity? ❞ ❝ it comforts me to see how far you’ve come. ❞ ❝ i’ve always wanted to kill a god. you’ll have to do. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to give me something in return, it was a gift! ❞ ❝ you know i’d take you if i could. ❞ ❝ you shut your mouth right now, with that. ❞ ❝ it’s never been an easy time for me. ❞ ❝ why do you think i keep on showing up? ❞ ❝ who might you be, wandering all the way out here? you’re trespassing on private property, you know. ❞ ❝ i’d rather have you as a friiend than as a foe. ❞ ❝ really, you’re kicking me out? why? ❞ ❝ you’re funny, but you’ll break. they always do. ❞ ❝ you must think that i abandoned you. you think i had a choice?❞ ❝ you’re stuck with me forever. remember that. ❞ ❝ you know these heroes by their deeds, not by their character. ❞ ❝ some would question the destruction which you sow, but i shall never do so. i fully understand your impulses. ❞ ❝ you’re quite effective at locating me, but not so good at leaving me in peace. ❞ ❝ you don’t need me & i don’t need you. ❞ ❝ you lived through all that? ❞ ❝ my heart soars, knowing you live. then it breaks, that our time together was so brief. ❞ ❝ you’ve only me. and i have only you. ❞ ❝ sulk in your chambers all you like, for i care not. ❞ ❝ where did you go...? what did you do...? ❞ ❝ monster! you have no bearing, grace or courage! ❞ ❝ you’re beneath the notice of the gods. i have earned their favor. ❞ ❝ your youth provides you with a certain mindless strength. ❞ ❝ wait. i don’t think i owe you any favors, here. ❞ ❝ you appear to have grown stronger since when last we interacted. ❞ ❝ please...it was never my wish to hurt you. ❞ ❝ death is your only family. ❞ ❝ i too was born of darkness, but i chose the path of light. ❞ ❝ don’t know how come everybody doesn’t sing. lightens the mood, passes the time. what’s not to like? ❞ ❝ you come from the bowels of hell. this is not your place. ❞ ❝ heroes? mere mortals, same as all the rest. ❞ ❝ offend me, and i’ll drain the last traces of colour from your cheeks. ❞ ❝ punishment is not the path to rehabilitation. ❞ ❝ you’re nothing like your father. i mean that as a compliment. ❞ ❝ i just hope that their intentions are as pure as they appear. ❞ ❝ don’t be sad, pretty much everybody dies sometime. ❞ ❝ i’ve done some things that maybe aren’t great. ❞ ❝ actions beat intentions. ❞ ❝ look! i’m grinning ear to ear! ❞ ❝ my fits of anger come and go just like the tides. ❞ ❝ you know, i’d rather have my eyes put out, but thanks for offering! ❞ ❝ you will need to face your fears someday. ❞ ❝ true wisdom only comes with age. ❞ ❝ something has stirred within your heart. i can always tell. ❞ ❝ or...wait...what is this, did you just ask me out? ❞ ❝ i’m getting awful sick of seeing your smug face, time, after time, after time. ❞ ❝ your humility is matched only by your perseverance in the face of adversity. ❞ ❝ your stubborness shall only bring you pain. ❞ ❝ sometimes, our hearts become so full that they could burst. if only you could see how much i care. ❞ ❝ let’s see if you’re as skillful as you think. ❞ ❝ wait, you’re not serious. that famous sense of humor shining through. ❞ ❝ i’m surrounded by my family, but i always feel alone. ❞ ❝ i shall make myself quite clear in one respect: i fear i have a lack of patience for discussion. ❞ ❝ thought i might find you all the way out here. although, quite frankly, i’m surprised you’re still alive. ❞ ❝ absolute silence is my general preference. it may not be yours. ❞ ❝ i just like to see you menacingly smile. ❞ ❝ don’t tell anyone about this, understand? ❞ ❝ i told you i don’t need your help. ❞ ❝ you’re much too modest for someone with such a number of heroic deeds to their name. ❞ ❝ if anybody asks, we’re even. ❞ ❝ we had a lovely time getting to know each other. we laughed, we cried! ❞ ❝ what’s the matter, you gone soft or something? ❞ ❝ be sure to add those to the list of words you’ll eat someday. ❞ ❝ you know i’d do just about anything to aid you. ❞ ❝ you again. i told you to stay clear of me. ❞ ❝ in spite of all your efforts, it is probably the case that you still have a long and painful road ahead. ❞ ❝ you’ve always cared for me. i can’t ever repay you for that. ❞ ❝ i just thought i’d say, that was well fought back there. ❞ ❝ hush, it’s the god of trash, come once again to filthy up this place. ❞ ❝ changed your mind yet, or looking for more pain and suffering? ❞ ❝ maybe get some sleep or something? you look pretty beat. ❞ ❝ look, i’ve got a reputation to uphold. ❞ ❝ your father’s quite the big shot around here, but that means nothing to me, understand? ❞ ❝ you don’t have what it takes. nobody does. ❞ ❝ there’s no returning to the way things used to be. ❞ ❝ can i offer you some words of advice? get over yourself. ❞ ❝ fear is for the weak. ❞ ❝ you now what i like about you? the way you bleed. ❞ ❝ may all the death you bring become the stuff of legends told in fearful mortal whisperings around the world. ❞ ❝ i just happen to think you deserve better than you’ve got. ❞ ❝ no love without pain. ❞ ❝ failure is the greatest instructor of all. ❞ ❝ i think you feel like you have some sort of fearsome reputation to uphold. ❞ ❝ you know what? i think we’re finished here. ❞ ❝ i know you’re not in a good spot right now. ❞ ❝ what you’re attempting is impossible. ❞ ❝ i’m not your practice partner, fool. ❞ ❝ i know you don’t mean any harm, but it just isn’t something i discuss with anyone, ok? ❞ ❝ first you defy me openly, and now you lie. ❞ ❝ admit it. you can’t stop thinking about me. ❞ ❝ i’d like to be alone again, so you go on ahead. ❞ ❝ maybe this might numb the pain a bit. ❞ ❝ something’s troubled me a little, about you. ❞ ❝ your failure is quite easily imagined. how often it recurs! ❞ ❝ found this, thought of you and all that, so...here. ❞ ❝ how i love these unexpected little run-ins with you. ❞ ❝ what brings you back around this way again? ❞ ❝ now what’s the matter? it’s like you’ve been up feasting day and night, you’re barely standing, everything ok? ❞ ❝ first i found you, i was certain that you had no chance at all. ❞ ❝ if it wasn’t you proposing it, i’d like to call it madness. ❞ ❝ i'll sleep when i’m dead. ❞ ❝ thank you for not forgetting about me. ❞ ❝ you must see plainly, then, what your birthright amounts to: you’re no better off than any of us here. ❞ ❝ i’ll do my best. for both our sakes. ❞ ❝ the world is not all lies and deceit as you make it out to be. ❞ ❝ you fight so desperately. at first i thought you simply lacked in patience. but now i see it’s urgency that drives you. ❞ ❝ you don’t know who or what you’re dealing with. ❞ ❝ who are you to judge, you misbegotten, shameful, unfilial maggot? ❞ ❝ you’re getting real predictable, you know. ❞ ❝ no one can avoid taking sides forever. but you can take the more sensible side, at least. ❞ ❝ ahh, so you are taking pity on me, then? ❞ ❝ thank you for making me feel welcome in your pleasant home. can’t say the same for most places i’ve been lately. ❞ ❝ i would very much prefer to think we both know better than to let old grudges stew forever. ❞ ❝ nothing is ever perfect, right? no matter how hard you try. ❞ ❝ while i know what you meant, i don’t want you to say such things again. ❞ ❝ look at you, you’re hurt there pretty bad. ❞ ❝ i can’t be completely sure but, what you said just now i think contained some of the component pieces of a compliment? ❞ ❝ don’t fall for mortals. use them if you must, but do not waste your love on those who waste away. ❞ ❝ you’re stubborn. however, so am i. ❞ ❝ you think me cruel, yet know nothing of cruelty. ❞ ❝ you just stick with me, i’ve always time for you. ❞ ❝ you look a little down and so i was just wondering, would you perchance fancy a song right now? ❞ ❝ i get the feeling we’re starting off on the wrong foot. ❞ ❝ a harsh winter is coming for you. and i’m afraid you’ve brought it on yourself. ❞ ❝ i was unkind last time. forgive my indiscretions there...or don’t. but i wished to apologize. ❞ ❝ don’t suppose i can talk you into fighting back this time? ❞ ❝ go occupy yourself someplace else. ❞ ❝ don’t feel bad! it had to happen! but if it’s any consolation, it’ll probably happen again! ❞ ❝ you’re running from yourself. ❞ ❝ wine does have a rather special way of making everybody look even more beautiful than ever. ❞ ❝ i am not interested in having company, especially from you. ❞ ❝ my faith is prone to shakiness sometimes. ❞ ❝ you’re not your father, thank the gods. ❞ ❝ i’d ask you to join me for a drink, but i know you’ve a task ahead of you, and liquor dulls the senses. ❞ ❝ you’re more stubborn than your father. i never thought that such a thing was possible. ❞ ❝ remember, next time, that on my whim i can take everything from you. ❞ ❝ haven’t we had more than enough of each other by now? ❞ ❝ i get the feeling i’m being watched. ❞ ❝ you’ve berated me repeatedly and often. ❞ ❝ you ever lose somebody dear to you? ❞ ❝ as you grow long in years, perhaps you shall learn better judgement as to whom to trust, and whom to never, ever disrespect. ❞ ❝ sometimes things weigh heavily on me, but then i hear from you, and it’s like i don’t have a care in the world. ❞ ❝ stay focused on the hunt, and it’ll help keep the pain at bay. ❞ ❝ you are just so spontaneous, and i’ve a liking for that sort of thing! ❞ ❝ no one gets out of here, whether dead or alive. ❞ ❝ what is it that you’re after, really...? ❞ ❝ don’t take my silence the wrong way, all right? ❞ ❝ that’s terrible...wish there was something i could do to help. ❞ ❝ your unpredictability is one of your assets. ❞ ❝ do not throw away your life as i did mine. ❞ ❝ you do not take all your defeats to heart, do you? that’s good. ❞ ❝ the fates can twist intentions. i don’t want to take the risk. ❞ ❝ sometimes you make me feel alive again. ❞ ❝ why...i was much stronger once, than this... ❞ ❝ sometimes i wish i knew more about your past. ❞ ❝ you shall not goad me into anger with a petty insult such as that. ❞ ❝ we’ve been through a lot, and i think we’ll be going through a lot more yet. ❞ ❝ feelings we shared...they faded, with time. ❞ ❝ learn well to shut that foolish mouth of yours, or i shall shut it for you. ❞ ❝ i knew so many warriors who would throw away their lives for glory, believing that the gods were on their side; refusing to consider that their opponents felt the very same. ❞ ❝ you didn’t need to vent all that inner turmoil onto me throughout my life. ❞ ❝ swear to me that you shall never repeat what you are about to hear. swear it! ❞ ❝ sometimes i wonder what’s going through your head. ❞ ❝ i can do this. i can do this. i can do this. ❞ ❝ i heard you got yourself into another mess that needed cleaning up. ❞ ❝ you have a good heart. keep listening to it. ❞ ❝ you picked sides, and things are not the same. ❞ ❝ all the terrible choices i’ve made. by the time you have existed for as long as i have, pray youo will have made fewer. ❞ ❝ i must admit i have grown fond of you. ❞ ❝ please open your mind to the fact that there are those who care about your wellbeing. ❞ ❝ i know you mean well. from the bottom of my heart, i thank you truly for the thought. ❞ ❝ how can somebody be so brash yet hate to take unnecessary risks? ❞ ❝ i know we can’t exactly change the past, but we can try to move forward. ❞ ❝ you didn’t answer my question. though, you know something? forget i asked. ❞ ❝ just checking in on you, but i’ll be on my way again shortly. ❞ ❝ you would speak to me of foolish mistakes? ❞ ❝ do not question my power. ❞ ❝ there is no point in doing it but pride. and pride is dangerous. ❞ ❝ i must admit, your strength of will is quite inspiring. ❞ ❝ i don’t hate you. i don’t think i can ever hate you. ❞ ❝ i've decided not to kill you. no sport in cornered prey. ❞ ❝ i never thought i’d hear you talking about looking forward to working. you feeling alright? ❞ ❝ it has been far too long. although, the passing of the time was very kind. ❞ ❝ i have been thinking on this for some time, and i’ve a declaration i must make: i shall hear no more of your silver-tongued lies. ❞ ❝ oh good, somebody’s here to save me from myself. ❞ ❝ i wonder how much more insulting you could be. ❞ ❝ may i have this dance for old time’s sake? ❞ ❝ no matter how far you run, it doesn’t make your problems go away. ❞ ❝ i ever tell you you’re a real sweetheart? because, if not, i’m telling you right now. ❞ ❝ oh don’t worry, i’ll be back in fighting shape in no time. ❞ ❝ it’s not that i’m upset or anything. you know i’m not, but truthfully i’m a bit annoyed. ❞ ❝ you’ve got quite the fighting spirit in there, i have to say. ❞ ❝ ...answer me something. what am i to you, exactly, as of late? ❞ ❝ if you’ve not anger enough for it yet, you’ll learn, i promise you. ❞ ❝ i shall bring desolation upon those who wrong you. ❞ ❝ you know nothing of tempers if mine is your frame of reference. ❞ ❝ let me save you lots of future suffering: i happen to be the jealous type. ❞ ❝ i was really hoping we could change the subject. please? ❞ ❝ finally you cleared the mess you caused. ❞ ❝ i never grew accustomed to the air, up here. it gusts senselessly whichever way it pleases. ❞ ❝ i need your help with something. as i’m about to risk it all. ❞ ❝ love tends to blossom in the strangest places at the strangest times. ❞ ❝ normally they grovel, then they scream. they shut up eventually, but not you. at least, not yet. ❞ ❝ you know, you ain’t near as bad as i’d heard! ❞ ❝ so now you know. but, only half the truth. ❞ ❝ you are and always will be an insufferable brat. ❞ ❝ they say both gods and mortals are notoriously poor at estimating how long it takes to get anything done. ❞ ❝ flattery never got me anywhere with you to begin with. doesn’t mean i won’t keep trying. ❞ ❝ i’m warning you, i’m not susceptible to bribes. many have tried. ❞ ❝ by my estimation, you have slain at least a thousand souls. ❞ ❝ everyone’s saying i went easy on you. ❞ ❝ no, on quite the contrary i’ve been under no impression that avoiding conflict is an option here. ❞ ❝ you really won’t tell me anything about you? you’re just going to leave me to speculate, forever? ❞ ❝ fears, i think, are born of ignorance. ❞ ❝ i don’t exactly know the ways of mortals. ❞ ❝ it’s not just you swept up in all this nonsense now. you didn’t ask for me to get involved but what did you expect? ❞ ❝ if only i had wisdom such as yours, so that i was more capable of picking up on subtle jabs and insults such as that. ❞ ❝ did i detect some hesitance on your part just then? perhaps you knew that you were making a mistake. ❞ ❝ i need you in my life! how can you just...turn me away like this? ❞ ❝ no. no mournful speeches. now get out of my way. ❞ ❝ you needn’t lavish me with your faint praise. ❞ ❝ our memories are warnings. when you have lived as long as i have, you come to understand your weaknesses. ❞ ❝ you speak none of this, to anyone! ❞ ❝ it seems to me your strength outweighs your smarts ❞ ❝ you’re really too much for me sometimes, you know that? ❞ ❝ you speak as one who’s not experienced war. ❞ ❝ you’re looking kind of down. normally you’re all smiles, for whatever reason. ❞ ❝ your heart shall never carry you astray. ❞ ❝ it almost sounds as though you’ve broken up with me. ❞ ❝ come now, i don’t think that’s anything to be concerned about. ❞ ❝ where did you steal that kingly blade you’re brandishing about? it seems ill-fitting for one such as you. ❞ ❝ you overstep your bounds with me. but i shall make you fall right back in line. ❞ ❝ if there’s one thing i’ve learned since we met, it’s that the trust we share is at the very foundation of our relationships. ❞ ❝ it is woefully infrequent that i’ve cause for this, but i do have to thank you. ❞ ❝ so you’re realizing now that your entire image of me came from your imagination, is that it? ❞ ❝ sorry, my lips are sealed. how about we change the subject? ❞ ❝ you mistook me for someone who blindly follows orders without considering the implications. ❞ ❝ you, in a healthy relationship? why yes, that i have to see. ❞ ❝ you won’t tell me anything about you? you’re just going to leave me to speculate, forever? ❞ ❝ oh, would you look at whom i found, all by their lonely self. ❞ ❝ sometimes our tempers get the best of all of us. you’re fortunate mine didn’t get the best of you back there. ❞ ❝ you really need to learn to stop meddling in others’ affairs. ❞ ❝ was just thinking about you. ❞ ❝ the mortal concept of what constitutes as a hero is absurd. ❞ ❝ i may not be the one to kill you. but i’ll soften you up for whoever does. ❞ ❝ i have been waiting for a special moment to confess my great appreciation for your deeds. this moment’s special enough, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ all mortal life is fragile; it simply is a struggle to survive. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t any of my business to pry into your personal life. i should have asked. ❞ ❝ what do you say we deal some death together? ❞ ❝ the more you step away from your responsibilites, the less you shall want anything to do with them. ❞ ❝ what we were once, i wonder if it’s but a falsely ringing memory of mine... ❞ ❝ in all your boundless intellect, i’d have expected you would know i see through your intentions, plan as day. ❞ ❝ ii shall not lie to you again. that much, i swear. ❞ ❝ oh, i don’t have the heart to keep exacting vengeance on you. ❞ ❝ privileges are earned, not begged for. ❞ ❝ i thought we had an understanding. but, this wouldn’t be the first time i was wrong about someone. ❞ ❝ i have every confidence you’ll someday clamber from the shadows into the light. ❞ ❝ no paradise awaits you. ❞ ❝ did you miss me? i thought i’d steal away a bit and that together we might make up for lost time. ❞ ❝ when blood is spilled and death is dealt, i simply cannot remain discontented for too long. ❞ ❝ unlike my present company, i do not ask too many questions. ❞ ❝ what’s life without a little pain. ❞ ❝ i would do anything that you would ask of me. ❞ ❝ such a waste, all for your foolish pride, that you should care more to be remembered by those you shall never know than to be loved... ❞ ❝ look, if you don’t feel the same way about me at this point, i would rather know. ❞ ❝ you chose to die in glory, not to live in peace...and all for what? ❞ ❝ what’s the matter there? gone awful quiet. did i hurt your feelings? ❞ ❝ please, if not for your sake, then for mine...do not return. ❞ ❝ you blame your ancestors for your own weakness? ❞ ❝ i still grow frustrated with myself quite often and don’t always know whom to turn to. ❞ ❝ i’ll just remain here, comfortably at rest, for some untold millenia. ❞ ❝ the world has a limitless capacity for pain. ❞ ❝ well, if you do require some emotional support, know that i likely shall be standing over here. ❞ ❝ you’re not fooling anybody with your feigned benevolence, you know. ❞ ❝ i'm just an old killer, yet you treat me like i’m the one who’s royalty around here. ❞ ❝ life and death are inextricable, and war is often what connects the two. ❞ ❝ someday or night you shall look back on this, and thank me. ❞ ❝ i can no longer tolerate my life here in this place. ❞ ❝ they said you were headed this way. i said i’d stop you. ❞ ❝ if you were being too pushy, you better believe i would have put you back in your place, royalty or not. ❞ ❝ i am leaving, even if it kills me. ❞ ❝ hey, can’t ever be too careful when it comes to people’s past and feelings and stuff, right? ❞ ❝ should you ever go to war...do look me up. i imagine i would take your side. ❞ ❝ have you given any thought to just...leaving me alone, and going back to wherever it is you came from? ❞ ❝ and here i was beginning to think we had something special going. ❞ ❝ i’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself past your limits. ❞ ❝ whoever it was you used to be, i believe you’ve changed. ❞ ❝ i’m no mere mortal. ❞ ❝ i suppose this must be what it’s like to be a god. being shown affection such as this. ❞ ❝ admittedly i was quite good at it, but i was nothing other than a killer. ❞ ❝ no need to get emotional, is there? i’m not the sentimental type. ❞ ❝ all that pent-up rage behind your smiling words... ❞ ❝ don’t ever fall for mortals. use them if you must, but do not waste your love on those who waste away. ❞ ❝ i was never terribly fearful of gods. they seem to have their struggles much like mortals do. ❞ ❝ i would ask you to think of your well-being for the time, not mine. ❞ ❝ must say you’re very good at hiding your worries. ❞ ❝ anger fades. anger burns hot, then burns out. what’s left is a dull ache. ❞ ❝ you have much to be proud of. you’re a great warrior. a great instructor. a great friend. ❞ ❝ you must know the seven types of love by now, don’t you? why, i have several types of love for you! ❞ ❝ sometimes i fear i shall develop some sort of grudging respect for you. ❞ ❝ as you grow long in years, you gain more burdens and responsibilities, until they bind you. ❞ ❝ you’re being very nice to me, and that makes me suspicious, understand? ❞ ❝ you like me? i never thought, i...don’t know why that sounds so strange, coming from you. ❞ ❝ just know that...if you feel the way i do...you know where to find me. ❞ ❝ i still have feelings for you, i think. ❞ ❝ you’re a god. i’m telling you to learn to act like one. ❞ ❝ we were invincible together, weren’t we? though, i have never missed those days... ❞ ❝ i like being on my own and all, but it’s been nice, talking to you like this. ❞ ❝ you’ve done more for me than i’ve any right to expect, from anyone. ❞ ❝ the heart can make us do the strangest things, can’t it? ❞ ❝ i would never have been remotely prepared for everything i’ve had to face, if not for all your guidance. and i don’t just mean the violent stuff. ❞ ❝ you’re not so bad, you know that? careful with that, or you’ll undermine the ruthless reputation you have. ❞ ❝ well, for all his failings, i’m thankful that he did not teach you how to hate. ❞ ❝ i don’t know that i hate anybody, really. ❞ ❝ why am i never proud of you? don’t take it personally. i’m never proud of anything. ❞ ❝ there are a myriad of tales to be told, of both great deeds and of vainglorious defeats, and this has been a tale that falls somewhere in the middle. ❞ ❝ why your path keeps on crossing mine, i’ve not the slightest clue. ❞ ❝ there is no replacing your presence. i felt that before we ever met, and now i know for sure. ❞ ❝ mortals are so bent on clinging to their lives, that many among them would gladly kill for it. ❞ ❝ listen to me. i don’t know how else to put this, but, i want you to come home. ❞ ❝ i think we understand something of loss, now, don’t we? ❞ ❝ hey, look, i can tell you’re struggling right now... ❞ ❝ you must know i often hunger for destruction, almost uncontrollably at that. ❞ ❝ you still have no idea how to be up front with me, do you. why don’t you tell me why you’re here, and what you want. ❞ ❝ the destruction you have sown, the sheer carnage...nothing can surpass that. ❞ ❝ i do not think i ever would have asked for help, at any point, because...i don’t entirely know how. ❞ ❝ but hope alone is worthless without action, is it not? ❞ ❝ as bloodshed has become somewhat of a necessity in my situation, i am very grateful that you’re with me in this. ❞ ❝ many mortals strive for greatness all their lives, never quite realizing there is no existing formula for it. not even a specific definition for it. ❞ ❝ there are aspects of my country that i miss, from time to time. the stark, bright beauty of that strange, wondrous land. ❞ ❝ pride is perhaps our family’s worst trait. ❞ ❝ i think for many of us, it can come as a surprise to learn that love and war often go hand in hand. ❞ ❝ you don’t have what it takes. ❞ ❝ had a feeling i would find you all alone out here. ❞ ❝ quit messing with my heart. ❞ ❝ swear something to me. that you’ll discard your fears about our bond. ❞ ❝ each time we fight...i think i learn a little more. ❞ ❝ you’re nothing to me anymore. ❞ ❝ say, you must know a lot of big shots, don’t you? other gods and all that? ❞ ❝ i trust, from time to time, you stop to ask yourself how come you choose to fight. ❞ ❝ you cannot change the course that has been set. try all you like. ❞ ❝ we don’t all share the same demeanor, nor see eye to eye. though all of us, i think, wish you the best. ❞ ❝ i’ve known great men throughout my life, and i can always tell when someone’s better than their circumstances. ❞ ❝ i am quite capable of making your life plenty difficult. ❞ ❝ i bet whoever it is that loves you...it’s because of who you are. ❞ ❝ i lay the blame entirely upon you, yes. who else? ❞ ❝ i think, deep down, you are not the heartless harbinger of retribution that you want everyone to think you are. ❞ ❝ in my domain, you either find your place, or you learn your place. ❞ ❝ you have no idea how good you’ve had it here. maybe someday you’ll come to understand. ❞ ❝ do not mess with me right now. ❞

#sentence starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #rp meme #like i said !! more is gonna be added to it the more i play the game <3

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sybilmarlowe · 3 years ago

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Since I joined the One Piece fandom, I was asked different times which character I ship with Doffy the most. Given I'm usually into self insert things, I'd firstly go with "my OC, of course 😛"... But let's talk about what I think of Doffy's most famous ships 😁

DISCLAIMER: all of what follows is TOTALLY my own opinion, don't want to judge anyone who thinks differently than me. OP is a fictional world made of fictional characters and anyone can ship whoever they likes!

So, here's the ships:

Doffy x Viola

Ok, let's start with what many people's don't want to hear: this ship is canon. Yeah. Like it or not, it's a matter of fact.

I honestly like them together, they're a weird couple but somehow they work. I like to imagine how could have been the dynamic between the two of them, and I'm more than sure there was nothing abusive from Doffy's side. I mean, sexually at least. I agree with the fact destroying one's whole life and Country is pretty abusive, but I'm quite sure the feelings between Doffy and Viola have been real for a while. Maybe the concept could sound trivial, but no one chooses who to love and Doffy has many characteristics which may definitely make a person fall for him. Not totally sure HE has ever truly loved her, but I like to think so. After all he does have a weak side and Viola might have been one of the few (even thanks to her powers) who managed to see it and knowing him deeply. This surely strenghtened their bond and it might have finally resulted in love...

My vote is a 8/10

Doffy x Cora

This is incest. I know. And it's indeed problematic and controversial. Irl a thing like this isn't exactly acceptable.

BUT as I told before, OP is pure fiction, so... I have to say quite like them tbh. In my opinion, as long as a relationship is adult and consensual there's nothing deeply wrong in it IN FICTIONAL WORLDS. (I know, there are fanfictions in which their relationship is abusive, but since we’re talking about headcanons here I like to think it’s not). Have you watcher GoT? Cersei and Jamie were one of the best written pairings in the whole series, the same goes for this situation imo, we have all the conditions to make this ship a sensible one.

They’re a realistic couple cause they went through a lot of difficulties together and, even if they chose different paths of life, their bond is very very deep. Their love is a desperate one, like “you’re the only one in this world I can REALLY trust”. This from both sides. The difference is that Cora is a pure person who just want to love and being loved while Doffy... well, he’s not exactly mentally healthy and he’s like “all or nothing”.

A lot of angst and stuff, of course, for this reason my vote is 7/10

Doffy x Crocodile

I’m sure someone out there is going to want my head for what I’m about to write, the DoffyxCroco fandom is huge after all... but...

I don’t like this ship at all.

Given one can ship two people with no reason or just because they wear matching colours and look good in fanarts (?) imo DoffyxCrocodile has no sense. They interact, yeah, but nothing about their dialogues or shared scenes makes me thing they could be a good couple. Even that most famous encounter at Marineford which made fanpeople scream... They looked just like contenders who quite disliked eachother, nothing less and nothing more :/ and Doffy saying “I’m jelous!” just gave me the same vibes of a childish sacrastic way to piss off a person, pretty much like the stupid classic “you fight like a girl!”.

They’re aesthetically beautiful, nothing to say, they’re both among the most handsome characters in OP and have a similar story, so I’m not saying I don’t understand the reasons of those who ship them... Just... I want ships to be stronger and more credible than this :/

6/10 just because they look good in fanarts XD

Doffy x Luffy

This is pretty diffused, but..... why.

I mean... what happened between the two of them which could have made them fall for eachother?? D: Have you ever tried to date a person after trying GearFourthPunch them out of the troposphere? °A° (Also, Luffy could LITERALLY be Doffy’s son. This is weird. Not the weirdest thing, but still.)

Srsly... If you like them together I ask you to tell me which dynamics are there behind this ship. Cause I really can’t see WHERE do you see even a little trace of feelings between the two of them D:

Sorry D:

3/10

Doffy x Law

Gods, yes. YES.

This ship HELLA works from every single point of view. Doffy and Law are two of the most (if not THE MOST) well written characters in the whole series. They have a complete and complex background, a deep and multifaceted personality and, above all, an extremely strong bond.

Ship them or not, they’re literally OBSESSED by eachother for different reasons.

Law is the ONLY man Doffy considers almost his equal, he thinks he’s like the only person worth being his right hand man and I’m quite sure he’s galvanized by the idea Law is the one who’s gonna sacrifice his life to make him immortal. Like... a great life to complete an even greater one? This is insane. And yet beautiful.

On the other hand, Law’s thoughts have been completely centred on taking revenge on Doffy for 10 years. Like, he was literally obsessed by that man, consumed by the hate he felt for him which obscured anything else, even his maniacal good sense in the end.

Turning this all into a tragic and tormented love story is as easy as drinking water. A long-term reciprocal hate mixed with a deep admiration for eachother (even from Law’s side, after all Doffy was the one who thaught him almost... everything?) which slowly turns into something terribly different. Imagine the tension between two arch enemies who have to admit their hate melted into passion... and yet still have this latent feeling of wanting the other’s death.......

Don’t know what’s your opinion about this kind of stories, but for me, the self proclaimed Queen of Angst, in love with the most tragical Theatre and Literature... THIS IS GOOD STUFF.

10/10 HANDS DOWN.

Doffy x Trebol

What tHE ACTUAL F***K.

-10/10

Doffy x Bellamy

Please, no.

Alright, I hate Bellamy. He’s exactly the kind of character I find terribly pathetic and incomplete. He barely has a personality of his own, he’s a wild fanboy with nothing original (not like Barto. Barto is the best fanboy ever. All my love goes to Barto.).

Now, he spent all his 34 years of life trying to... imitate Doffy? And yet he doesn’t even manage to truly understand him. So he’s worse than a fanboy, he’s attracted to the idealization of a man who’s not even half of the things he expects him to be. This is sad. Really sad. And call me a sadist, he deserved being humiliated imo. Maybe this helped him open his eyes and getting a life. Seriously.

It goes without saying I totally can’t see how a relationship between him and Doffy could work. Doffy despises him, the only kind of plot this thing could have is a quite abusive one :/ and since I deeply dislike abuse.... no. This ship is totally out of question.

0/10

Doffy x Monet

This is another ship which barely touches the canon. I sincerely think the "love" between the two of them is pretty much unilateral. Doffy respects Monet, he deeply appreciates her abilities, intelligence and loyalty, she's clearly among his closest subordinates, but... He doesn't love her in a romantic way. As for Monet, she's totally in love with him, she'd kill and die for him. And in fact that's what she does in the end.

Monet is not among my fav characters, but I still feel quite sorry for how things went for her. She gave her everything away for a helpless, almost obsessive, love.

If something between the two of them really happened for real, I think it was merely physical.

For this reason, tough I have to admit they'd actually look beautiful together, I can't ship them :/

5/10

Doffy x Vergo

Ok, I dislike Vergo. He's quite a flat character imo, don't even like his design 😅 I don't ship him with Doffy for this simple reason, but being honest they could perfectly work as a couple.

Vergo was among Doffy's very first "real friends", he was among those who were considered a family by him and, most importantly, he was the only one around his same age. They literally grew up together, likely supporting each other, and I wouldn't be honest if I said this has no chance to be a good assumptipn for a love story. A quite simple and basic one, if you want, but it's the most realistic kind of bond two people can make.

Still not shipping them, my vote is a honest 7/10.

Guess that's all?

Let me know what do you think about this 😆 do you agree with my votes? Or there are some points you totally disagree with?

Well, anyways. I had fun 😂

#doflamingo headcanons #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo #one piece #one piece hc

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

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Clarity |Part Two

13th March, 1989

Mourning is difficult, especially when you have to do it in secrecy. If I were to allow my exterior to slip then those in control would visualise me as a weak link. That can’t be allowed, otherwise I won’t be their assassin, I would be a disappointment. And disappointments aren’t kept around the base for long. They are expendable. At least if I am obeying orders, the fault isn’t completely on my hands. They share that blame also, and so do the Winter Soldiers.

My daughter is dead. A part of me wishes that they had sterilised me, then I wouldn’t feel this hollowness in my heart. She gave me an insight on another life when I thought of all of the possibilities that we could succumb to. As much as Bucky behind his cold walls had once been my priority, she had rose over him. I didn’t even get to hold her.

There was so much pain during the birth, I had no hand to hold, only monsters looming down at me as I endured the torture of motherhood. But I am childless. I never got to be a parent. My mind held this plan to escape, but there’s no point looking back on it. It was all for her, Rebecca as I had named her. I am a prisoner, now and forever, and I have to accept that. If only we had gotten away with our lives, then perhaps I’d change from being a killer, a woman now with nothing to lose.

Perhaps I am a coward, but there is nothing in this life for me other than this forced duty. I am going to ask to be sterilised so that an instance quite like this one never occurs again. But I do not know if they will accept. I will beg if I have to, I just know that I never want to feel this absence again.

The Soldier had glossy eyes, that was all. And then they rebooted his mind again, clearing any memory of little Rebecca from it. I wish they would do the same to me, but they want me to be tormented with the memory. It will make me stay and obey, as they have always wanted.

I am their project, and I have failed in more ways than one. Perhaps not in their eyes, but I can feel my own self disappointment. I have failed as a mother. If I had the chance to say one thing to her, I would tell her how I saw an innocence in her eyes. She is different from both her parents, not only because she is free from life, but because she has not been put under the same torture Bucky or myself had been.

I would tell her I love her, and that she was my one chance at a normal life. And I lost her. I lost that chance too...

“Hold his arm.” You ordered one of the men from your past as you glared down at Zemo, a pocket knife in your hand that glinted with threats. He laughed at you, looking up at you with foreseen curiosity.

“She’ll find you either way, she’s a tracker and an executioner. An assassin who will stop at nothing until she gets her target, similar to her parents in that way.” His comment only angered you more, causing you to quickly dig the blade through his skin, fishing the tracking chip out of his wrist with your nails, making him hiss from the pain.

“I was going to count to three, but you don’t deserve that amount of pity.” You held the chip, looking at its flashing red light. It only foreshadowed the sirens and explosions that would rush to the area for when she came out of hiding.

Turning to Sam and Bucky, you breathed in, and glanced once more at Zemo. “Get him out of here, he might know something.”

As you went to turn, Bucky grabbed your elbow, stopping you from disappearing again. There was a harsh from etched onto his face, but there was not just anger behind it. There was compassion and an emotion you had a difficulty recognising.

“And where are you running off to?” He needed to know, he needed some clarity again. His memories of you had returned which had made your absence that more difficult to bear with. Leaving again would just take another chunk of hope out of him again.

He nor Sam though that they would see you again, and this was definitely a pleasant surprise. But he didn’t want it to be temporary, as everything between the two of you had been.

“To find Rebecca. If she wants me, she can find me.” You jostled your arm from his grip, looking at the small device in your hand.

“Don’t.” He told you. There had been too much disappearance from his life, including in a literal sense when he was turned to ashes in Wakanda, he didn’t want you to just walk off the edge of the earth again.

“I have to.” You put the device in your mouth, swallowing it, ensuring that it was you that your daughter was to find. “I can’t be selfish in this situation Buck, she needs me. If she wants to shoot me in the head or drown me in a river, I’ll come to terms with that eventually. I am all too aware of the terrible things that I have done, I’m sure you don’t even remember all of them. If you did, I think you’d be more than happy for my dismissal.”

There can’t be any ties to an old life, that is what the men in charge have said. But there is one, that lives in peace, unaware of the survival of her brother. It is a shame that she can’t live, or know that her brother breathes, but as a creation of HYDRA, I must follow her orders.

Her name was Rebecca Barnes, sister to James. She was found in a care home, there were as many wrinkles on her face as scars I carry. It may have been easier if I had deceived her and upped her medication, but that would be too merciful.

Instead, I gave her a true death, and showed her how her brother was supposed to have died, after killing everyone else in the home of course.

We can’t have ties, it risks exposure for our growing empire.

I killed them all first, individually, letting the others squirm as they awaited their turn. And then I planted the bomb, letting the all disperse into smitherines.

I took Rebecca with me, to a little trip to the train station. I also killed everyone on there as a precaution.

She tried to hold onto the rails as I pushed her, but her arms were too frail and weak to fathom a strong hold. And so she fell into the mountains of snow, surely dying a soldier’s death.

I like the name Rebecca, it has quite a ring to it.

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jiejie-eonni-onee-sama · 4 years ago

Text

I don’t want to wake up from you...

For the charming @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321.

Hope you’ll like it!

TW: Mentions of blood, murder.

My best dreams and worst nightmares have the same people in them.

Philippos Syrigos

Every night, (Y/N)’s nights are plagued by nightmares. Always the same torture. She was surrounded by terrifying sights of corpses bathed in blood and human-like figures who wandered in the shadows, like predators who are waiting for their prey.

By listening to her husband Will Graham talking about his visions during his investigations, she believes that she is turning mad.

But she would never let Will being tormented by his demons. As he said, his empathetic abilities are more of a curse than a blessing. Indeed, he can enter into the twisted mind of the killer and unmask him. However, the price to pay is dreadful: his insomnia and his lack of social interactions are here to prove it.

Since they start to discuss it, she sees a slight improvement as Will begins to enjoy nights of better sleep. Even if it means that her nights would be forever terrifying, she accepts it, as long as it lets her beloved in peace.

Of course, she often wakes with a start in the middle of the night and has difficulties coming back to sleep, but she wants to endure it for him.

But everything changes this night, and she does not see that coming. Before that, this day was pretty calm: she had a good time at her office with her colleagues, she was praised by her boss for her work, and she had a nice dinner with her husband.

Nevertheless, when they went to sleep, the horror show began.

Instead of being in her bedroom, she was in a horrific garden. The grass was crimson red, like blood, the flowers were dark as ebony, and the trees had disturbing shapes as if their branches had claws. Every step she takes, she heard the ground creaking as if she was walking on bones.

Disgusted and scared by this scenery, (Y/N) moves forward while looking around her. Suddenly, she hears creepy voices that whispered:

"Where are you going like that, (Y/N)?"

"There is no way to escape, my dear..."

"Soon, you will be with us, (Y/N)"

"You can't forget us... And you won't!"

Suddenly, the branches turned into hands that try to grab her. Appalled, she managed to escape far from them while covering her ears, deafened by their pleas and screams.

She only stopped running when her legs gave up, and she nearly fell on her knees.

Exhausted, she tried to catch her breath when another figure appeared in front of her and it was the most bloodcurdling sight she ever saw in her whole life.

The man-shaped creature stared down at her, its red eyes focused on the young woman. Its entire body was dark and firm as if it was made of wood. The antlers that adorned his head were large and crooked, like a demonic crown.

Scared to death, (Y/N) recognized the monster who plagued Will's nights for a long time: "The Wendigo..."

Pleased to hear his name said by a shivering voice, the creature smiled, revealing sharp white teeth.

Totally paralyzed by fear, (Y/N) noticed that the monster held something in his large hand. Something familiar...

Will feels something hitting his back, and he wakes up. Turning around, he sees his wife, who tossed and turned in her sleep. The expression of pure terror on her face makes him worry, and he tries to wake her up.

"(Y/N), babe, wake up!"

Suddenly, she screams at the top of her lungs. A wail of pure terror and sadness that sends chills down his spine. What can make her yelling like that? And why does she calls out his name with such despair?

The young woman stared in horror as the Wendigo shows what he holds in his hand: a head. A human head. A severed human head. Will's severed head. Crying and yelling, she cannot believe what she just saw:

"NO, WILL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

The Wendigo was content with laughing while holding his prey's head as a trophy. (Y/N) cannot stop looking at the head of her significant other. She tried to reach him, but her whole body prevented her from doing so.

Suddenly, she hears Will's voice telling her:

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Please, wake up! I'm here! WAKE UP!"

She gasps for air as she wakes up.

Immediately, she feels the arms of her husband that surround her in a reassuring embrace.

"Hush, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe, right now! Nothing can happen, I am here!"

(Y/N) realizes that she is in her bedroom, in her home, with Will holding her tight against him. Relieved, she lets out a sob before trying to calm herself.

"Oh my god, it seems so real!"

"That's what I saw."

He frowned.

"How long have you been haunted by nightmares?"

"I don't know, really. It seems like an eternity."

His eyes go wide open.

"This long? But why did not you tell me before? I can help you!"

"I know, but..."

"But?" he asked.

His wife sighed before explaining:

"When we met, you've been plagued by your nightmares for a long time, and I thought that if we talk about it, you will feel better. But I wasn't ready to live what you've been through. The only thing that keeps me from telling you is that you were in better shape now, so I have to endure it for your sake."

Will is flabbergasted: she endured all these sleepless nights just for him? To help him? God, he does not deserve to be her husband. With a slight smile, he cups her face between his hands.

"(Y/N), since the first day you accepted to be with me, my nights were less sinister. Every time something terrible happened in my dreams, I reach you and feel your skin to remind me that there is nothing to be afraid of, as long as I have you by my side."

He gently kissed her cheek.

"Don't make the same mistake as I did: if something bothers you, please, tell me. And I'll be here for you, like you’ve been here for me."

The young woman smiles, awed by the devotion of her beloved.

"Thank you, Will."

"Anything for you, my darling. Now, let's go back to sleep. Tomorrow, we'll see what to do."

They both lay down, hugging each other. Before she falls asleep, she mutters:

"I love you, Will."

"I love you too, (Y/N)."

And after that, the night went smooth, and (Y/N) finally enjoys a beautiful night because she knows that Will is always there to protect her.

Bonus scene:

While waiting for her turn, (Y/N) looks at the elegant waiting room. She wakes up from her daydream as the door opens and Doctor Hannibal Lecter makes his entrance.

"Good morning, (Y/N). I did not expect your visit."

"Good morning, Doctor Lecter."

"You're allowed to call me Hannibal. However, could you please explain me what's the purpose of your visit?"

"Well, I think you can help me... since I have the same problem as Will."

The psychiatrist raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, I am sorry about it. Will told me that you were trying to help him with his own nightmares. It looks like your kindness was not well-rewarded."

"Will suggests me to see you, as you are a great help for him."

"I am flattered."

He gestures her to enter.

"But please, come in. I have a lot of time, which would be very helpful in your case."

She steps into his office, and sits politely on the couch, while he sits on the armchair in front of her.

"Now, (Y/N), tell me about your nightmares..."

#requests #hannibal nbc #will graham #hugh dancy #gal gadot

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moiraineswife · 4 years ago

Text

Pressure Surge - A Stormlight Fic

! RHYTHM OF WAR SPOILERS !

I’m back with more domestic Jasnah/Wit content as we all deserve in this trying time following the great post RoW depression.

Title: Pressure Surge

Summary: Set somewhere in the middle of RoW. After a lost battle, Jasnah seeks some time alone to reflect. Wit joins her and they're GOOD FOR EACH OTHER. They have positive discussions around Jasnah's mental health and the pressure everyone puts on her and she takes a moment with him to relax a little and let him support her and that pleases me.

Teaser: '“How are you?” he asked, finally, rather more blunt than she’d expected. “I’m fine,” she replied calmly, carefully sculpting her expression and body language to appear as composed as she wished the world to believe she was.

“Mm,” Wit said, placing his hands behind him and lounging, even while she maintained a carefully straight back, legs crossed in front of her.

She turned to look at him at last and raised an eyebrow.

“Very nicely done,” he observed blithely, “No hesitation. But you didn’t answer too quickly, either. People always make that mistake. Nice tone, good facial expression. I’m very impressed.”

“With what, Wit?” she sighed, exasperated for once by his witterings.

“The near flawless delivery of that blatant lie, my dear,” he replied smoothly.'

Link: ao3

Commission Link: Have me write other cosmere characters

Jasnah had always been fascinated by the ocean.

Kholinar was in the centre of Alethkar, landlocked. The closest thing to waves she had seen as a child were the Windblades rising around the city. She no longer felt overwhelmed looking out at the great, blue expanse as she had the first time she had seen it, but there was still something that was hard to look away from.

The waters lapped against the cliff she was perched atop. It glittered in the glare of the setting sun, as if some giant hand had tossed a bag of newly infused diamonds across its surface.

There was an endless quality to that ocean. How much history had it witnessed, blind, and uncaring. Wars. Desolations. The rise and fall of kingdoms and ages. It remained unchanged, undaunted. Eternal. That was oddly comforting. Even if they failed, even if they lost, parts of this world would remain as they had...Wouldn’t they?

She sighed. The fighting today had been grim. The battle, after nine long hours, had finally been lost by her forces. Dalinar and the Mink thought this was inevitable. They were winning the war here, a battle or two lost to the enemy forces was not something to be overly concerned about.

Jasnah accepted that logic. It was sound, by men with far more experience in the areas of war and killing than she. Yet it grated on her. It felt like another failure.

Dalinar seemed to understand when she’d curtly told him she intended to take a hike up to the nearby cliffs. Their meetings were concluded, their soldiers resting, her duties attended to for now. She had decided she could spare an hour or two in meditation, for the small sake of her sanity.

She had brought guards, naturally, but they were surrounding her at a comfortable distance, meaning that she could retain the illuson of privacy while being protected.

Not that she felt the guards did much in the way of that. If she was ambushed or an assassination was attempted here, it would be her own precuations, or Ivory’s ever-watchful eyes, that saved her. But guards set a precedent, provided the right perception, and so she tolerated them.

There was a shifting behind her, quiet conversation she could not hear, and Ivory told her that Wit had come to find her. She’d thought that he might. Hoped that he might, if she were being honest with herself.

The guards let him pass and in a moment, with a soft huff, he settled himself beside her, long legs swinging easily over the edge of the cliff, following her gaze towards the distant horizon.

“How are you?” he asked, finally, rather more blunt than she’d expected.

Wit rarely got directly to the point of anything. Not when he considered it much more fun to dance around it endlessly, tormenting it, like an axehound pup with a captured cremling, until it finally gave in and yielded itself to him.

“I’m fine,” she replied calmly, carefully sculpting her expression and body language to appear as composed as she wished the world to believe she was.

“Mm,” Wit said, placing his hands behind him and lounging, even while she maintained a carefully straight back, legs crossed in front of her.

She turned to look at him at last and raised an eyebrow.

“With what, Wit?” she sighed, exasperated for once by his witterings.

“The near flawless delivery of that blatant lie, my dear,” he replied smoothly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Design flaring happily where she was perched on top of Wit’s head, buried in his neatly styled hair.

She sighed again.

“What gave it away?” she asked, squinting at him, wondering if he would answer.

He smiled, a little sadly, and tucked a strand of hair that had come loose from her braids in the fighting behind her ear, hand lingering on her cheek for a moment.

“No-one could, or should, be okay after going through what you experienced today,” he said quietly.

She turned away from him, unable to look into those knowing eyes anymore, and stared out across the ocean instead. It somehow felt the smaller, and less overwhelming, of the two options.

He was right, of course. No-one could be expected to be fine after the intensity of the day.

The Fused knew her, now. There was no hiding behind a pretence at anonymity any longer. They were starting to set traps for her, trying to separate her from her guard, cut off her retreat. There had been several terrifying moments today, and she’d nearly been forced to flee into Shadesmar - in itself a frightening prospect.

Yet who else but Wit would have seen what she’d said as a lie simply because logic dictated it must be?

It should have been obvious. It should have been clear to everyone that she was not, and could not be, alright. But that was how she was expected to be. Fine. Always fine.

The world could be ending, she could suffer repeated betrayals and assassination attempts, and setbacks, and they all assumed she would just be fine.

That was who she was. She was Jasnah Kholin. And Jasnah Kholin was never anything other than perfectly fine, whatever else may be happening.

She felt a lump of emotion form in her throat and swallowed irritably, trying to clear it.

Warmth spread across her back as Wit placed a gentle hand on it, rubbing, wordless, seeming to know what she was experiencing, even though her ever practiced mask had not slipped so much as an inch outwardly.

Storming man. He was coming to know her too well, coming to see beneath her mask. That was dangerous.

She wore it, cultivated this presence, and this reputation, for a reason. Letting others in close enough that they saw through the illusion made it worthless. It exposed her. It made her vulnerable, it-

“Jasnah,” Ivory murmured, very quietly, so only she could hear, interrupting her raging thoughts.

She took a breath, nodding, composing herself once more.

She turned to look at Wit, his bright blue eyes unusually solemn, one hand on her back, the other reaching for her freehand, squeezing gently.

This- This was alright. She could let herself have this. A part of her acknowledged that she had to let herself have this.

Ivory was wonderful, an incredible outlet, and would always be her closest confidante, the one who knew her best. He was her partner. They were bonded on a level more intimate that any without could never understand. But with all the pressures lately he had not been enough.

He seemed to know that, and had encouraged the blossoming relationship with Wit. Like her, he retained some wariness about his ultimate goals and the depth to which they could give themselves to him. But this...This was enough. For now.

“It is alright that you’re not fine after what happened, Jasnah,” Wit told her quietly, without a hint of his typical flippancy in his tone, “You don’t need to be.”

She smiled at him, an echo of the sadness that had tinged his earlier now sung back to him as she shook her head faintly.

“Only for you,” she replied, quietly.

Feeling that unexpected emotion swell in her chest again she turned away from him, looking out towards the distant horizon again.

She drew her hand away from his, so she could wrap her arms around herself, though it was not cold here. It never was. Except on the inside, where only she could tell. And no one else cared about that cold.

Exhaling slowly, she tried to banish the strange sense of grief as she contemplated the loss of her vulnerability. Not something she ever thought she’d mourn, and yet, sitting here atop its cairn, she found that she did.

“To the rest of the world I must be what they have come to expect from me,” she murmured, “Whatever happens, whatever disasters or desolations befall us, however helpless, or weak, or terrified I may feel, I must be fine for them.”

He rubbed her back again, and remained uncharacteristically quiet. It seemed to cost him something, not to interrupt her with a quip or a comment. Yet he seemed to know it was what she needed, and so he restrained himself. With obvious difficulty. She could almost love him in this moment for that.

“It has become a constant for them. In this world that changes and becomes more unstable with each passing day,” she continued softly into the silence. “Gravity shall pull them down and keep them anchored. The Highstorms shall rage and make them cling to their place in this world. And I? I shall be fine.”

“Someone must,” he said quietly, hand going still on her back, but not withdrawing, “When worlds end, and kingdoms crumble, and everything collapses into fear and disorder, there must always be someone who still tells tales of better days, and sings songs from happier times. Someone who is fine when they have no right to be. That makes the others think that perhaps they can be as well.”

She turned away from the ocean and looked into his eyes again as his words struck a chord within her.

In them she found an endless depth beyond anything that sea could contain. Understanding. Something she had never expected to see in the eyes of another. A person who understood her. Who understood what she did, and also why.

“They need that person,” she said, so softly that a stray breeze could have stolen the words.

But he heard them.

He would have heard them even if she’d been unable to give voice to them. For he already knew them, had already lived them for thousands of years.

“They need the music," she went on, "They need the stability. The certainty. The confidence. Even if they don’t know it. You have become their constant, and as long as you remain as you always have, they have hope that all else can be as it should again.”

He reached out and cradled her cheek in his hand, that sad smile upon his lips once more.

“And a part of you grows to hate that hope,” he continued quietly.

It was as if they were singing a song together, a duet composed centuries ago, the lyrics never learned, but intimately known, as he spoke his line to her.

“Because while they cling to it, you know that they are desperate. And while they are so desperate that they they must hope so fiercely, with everything they are, you must be the reason they still can.”

Jasnah held for a moment, like the final echo of the last note of a song, the heartbeats it stole from the audience who waited, captured by it, suspended in that infinitesimal moment that seemed to contain eternities.

Then she kissed him.

She did it slowly, a little uncertainly, reaching out and cupping his cheek first, before dipping towards him, almost as though this was their first.

She did not often initiate these kinds of things. This was far more his area, and they were both generally content to allow him to lead the charge on this aspect of their relationship so to speak.

But in the moment it felt right to her. She was not so much a scholar that she was incapable of yielding to the power of instinct on occasion.

He did not seem surprised by her impulsivity. Even though it had surprised her. He’d likely known she would do this before she did.

So his arms were waiting as she moved towards him, and he gathered her in close, pulling her into his warmth, melting into her embrace.

It wasn’t a desperate, heat filled, thrumming thing of passion like a Highstorm. This was a soft and tender thing. Not meant to inspire lust or even need. It was a thing of connection. Of two lonely, wayward souls finding one another in the tangled web of fate strings that had somehow unravelled to let them have this moment here, on a lonely clifftop in Emul.

When she drew away at last, she held to him still. He scooted closer and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

No-one would see this intimacy from them up here. Well, no-one that had not already long ago guessed at it, anyway.

Her guards were loyal as they could be, and were willing to die for her. As some of them had today. She’d decided some time ago that such sacrifice entitled them to gossip about her sordid relationship with her own Wit if they wished.

Some of them were becoming strangely protective about the knowledge, however. She’d overheard a few of them assuring a group of soldiers that there was nothing untoward happening between them whatsoever.

That had been amusing, as she knew for a fact they’d been stationed outside the very building she and Wit had had sex in the night before.

Their behaviour was strange, illogical to her mind, but oddly sweet.

Wit told her that they felt they were part of the secret, now. Like performers in a play. It would ruin the magic, and their part in it, to confess the truth to the audience.

His fingers stroked gently up and down the length of her spine, as if it were some miraculous instrument he hoped to coax symphonies from with his touch.

“I shouldn’t complain about the way they treat me,” she said quietly, head still resting against him.

She felt him shift and glance down at her, but he didn’t say anything, letting her talk.

“They are simply reacting to the person they see before them. The person I cultivated precisely to generate those reactions,” she continued.

She rarely spoke as openly about the mask she wore. It felt strange to discuss it with another. Not least because she had worn it so often for so long now that it was becoming harder and harder to take it off. To be the person that still lived beneath it.

Yet she knew that Wit, of all people, would understand. She knew that he already saw the mask for what it was, and that he was coming to see beneath it, too. In turn he had revealed his own to her, let her see he knew and understood her burden.

That frightened and exhilarated her in near equal measure.

It had been so long, so long since anyone had gotten as close as he was daring to.

At times she felt like a fire. A source of warmth, and light, and power. People craved that. They swarmed to it, like a rockbud vine to fresh storm water. Yet they did not dare draw too near, lest they be burned by her. Wit had never been afraid to get too close to her.

Still, she did not tell him why. Why she had created this mask for herself. What she strove to armour herself against. They were not yet at that point. She...She was not ready to share that with him. Not now. Perhaps not ever.

She sensed that he found that acceptable. That he would wait. And that even if the time never came, he would not mind. Curiously, that made her more inclined to tell him, some day.

“I want them to see me as they do,” she went on, realising she had let the silence linger too long in her thoughts, “I want them to see a woman composed, and in control. Someone who does not, and never will, need help to navigate life,” she continued.

Wit snorted at that, as if it were the funniest thing he had ever heard.

“We all, gods men, and everything in between, need help at some point in our lives,” he said firmly.

“Even you?” she asked, half-teasing, half-curious to see what he would say.

“Even me,” he agreed, with surprising sincerity.

“I know this,” she admitted. Even if sometimes she forgot that. Deliberately. “But they accept it. They accept that I truly can be a person who needs no-one, who would thrive as comfortably on this planet alone, as I would surrounded by those who love me.”

Perhaps that was because so few actually saw her as a person at all.

“Did you expect that from them?” Wit asked, quietly, “When you crafted this perception of Jasnah Kholin for them, did you foresee that you would no longer be able to be Jasnah anymore? That in their minds you would become Jasnah, instead?”

She smiled wryly at that, for she knew precisely what he implied by stressing her name that way.

Jasnah.

No longer merely her name. It was a word that encapsulated not only who she was, but simultaneously an explanation and justification for all that she did.

How could she know some obscure piece of lost lore? Well, she was Jasnah.

How could she have foreseen a Desolation that had not come for over four millenia dawning once more? She was Jasnah.

How had she bonded Ivory and researched the end of Roshar itself in secret for years without anyone ever knowing? She was Jasnah.

How could she be fine, when all logic screamed that she should be breaking down with the rest of them? She was Jasnah…

No matter how seemingly impossible or irrational the feat, no matter that it would have been called a miracle if another had performed it, for her, it was simply a commonplace byproduct of her existence.

She suspected she could single-handedly defeat Odium with nothing but the still-clothed pinky finger of her safehand and they would all just nod and say to one another, ‘well, she is Jasnah’.

Bitter thoughts. Unkind and unproductive. She pushed them away, discomforted by the depth and intensity of them.

“No,” she admitted to Wit, instead, “I did not expect them to put me on the pedestal they have. I never wanted it, either.” She trailed off, as her thoughts darkened.

She had not wanted to become their salvation, or the answer to all of their impossible problems. She had only wanted to be respected, to have her independence and competence acknowledged.

To never again be someone that would, that could, be dismissed and locked away in darkness, screaming, pleading. Ignored.

She shivered.

“Good thing, too,” Wit said, lightly, though he gave her hand a small, comforting squeeze as he did so, “Had you just confessed a proclivity for foresight to me here, I would have had no choice but to have declared you as one of Odium’s minions and pushed you from this cliff into the hungry maw of the ocean and all its fearsome denizens waiting below.”

She smiled, grateful for the deflection, and said drily, “I’m quite sure you would have made an attempt at such a feat. Perhaps even a good one.”

He chuckled lightly, “But not good enough to topple Jasnah,” he said, eyes twinkling.

Her smile widened, in spite of herself, and she said, “I do not intend to end my existence being used as a toothpick by a greatshell.”

Wit laughed at that. She expected him to make some quip about how no-one ever intended to become the toothpick of a greatshell in their last moments, but sometimes the Cosmere didn’t give them that choice.

Instead, he looked at her for a long moment and said, quiet, unusually reserved, “And how would you choose it to end?”

She paused, thinking on that, before she said softly, “Would you think me a fool if I said I would like it to be when I am old, and content, and safe? There is no more war, and no more Desolation. Alethkar has peace, and justice, and prosperity. My family are looked after, and stable, and happy. And I feel that I can finally rest.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple at that, holding it for a moment longer than he needed to, “I asked you what you wanted, my dear, not what you foresaw,” he said, “And I would never name you a fool. Least of all for desiring peace.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and gave her a smile more deep and genuine than any she’d seen from him. And she felt that he saw her in that moment. More clearly, and more honestly, than anyone she had known for so long. It felt frightening. But it also felt right.

“It is good to have gentle dreams, Jasnah,” he murmured, “In a time of crisis and violence such as this, I may even be persuaded to such things an act of revolution.”

“And you?” she said, smiling a little now, “How would you have me meet my end?” He blinked at her, seeming surprised by this, so she clarified, “I can’t very well ask how you would meet your own end, as I’m not convinced you ever will. So I ask instead: how would you write my final pages? How would you end a life such as my own?”

He seemed to ponder this for a long moment, “I would not,” he said, finally, and left it at that.

“Coward,” she told him, fondly, sliding an arm around him and tugging him closer.

He made a noise of mock offence at that. Design giggled happily from her perch in his hair.

“For whatever it may be worth to you, insignificant or otherwise, know that I am proud of you,” he said, quietly.

She almost made a quip about him being proud of her calling him a coward, but stopped when she looked up and saw the look in his eyes. The intensity, the genuine care, the respect, the-

Jasnah swallowed, not allowing that thought to fully form, focusing on his next words to distract from that dangerous, dangerous word.

“I am proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself. What you have achieved, and what you yet intend to, should be celebrated. You are extraordinary, and I don’t think the Cosmere sends you enough reminders of that fact,” he said, quietly.

“I presume that’s why you’re here, then?” she said bluntly, even as she felt warmth blossom within her at the words.

He looked affronted by the very idea.

“The Cosmere did not send me, Jasnah,” he said, as if she’d mortally wounded him by the mere suggestion, “The Cosmere ceased trying to send me anywhere with any deliberateness after that nasty bit of business with several gods, far too many aphrodisiacs, and frankly not enough lubrication, on Nalthis millenia ago.”

She rolled her eyes at him. He prodded her irritably in the side, to show he had seen and did not appreciate that.

“I go where I will, thank you very much,” he said, sniffily, “And I say only what I feel, not what I am supposed to. You should have noticed that by now, surely.”

“Regardless of its source,” she said, cupping his cheek in her hand and making him meet her eyes again, “Thank you for the sentiment. It means more to me than you know.”

Storms. How long had it been since someone told her they were proud of her? She had never needed external validation or approval to do what she felt was right but...It was nice, for once, not to simply be taken for granted. She could admit that to herself.

He nodded, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

"They put an extraordinary amount of pressure on you," he said quietly, "And don't even have the decency to notice you bearing it all."

"That isn't entirely fair," she murmured, “I did ask for that pressure in the first place. I want it. I will use it to build a better kingdom, and a better world. If it survives this Desolation.”

“Perhaps,” Wit allowed, “But that doesn’t stop it all from being overwhelming sometimes, now does it?”

“No,” she admitted.

“I’ve heard the way they talk about you,” he said, quietly, “Your soldiers, the highprinces, even your own family, your former ward,” he said softly, and she braced herself. “They see you as something else, Jasnah Kholin. Something near divine at times.”

“I know,” she said, shifting uncomfortably in place, unsure how to respond in a way that would not undermine those closest to her, or deflect away with some easy, empty comment.

Wit did not seem to need her to say more, however. He pulled her close instead, wrapping her in his warmth, which was the right thing.

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” he said, voice very low now, and she turned to look at him, at the pain in his eyes that she had never seen before. “To feel so human within yourself, but to have everyone else look at you and see something so beyond all of their grief, and pain, and fear.”

She nodded, opened her mouth to speak, but felt that to say anything would be pointless. He knew. He understood. She did not need to struggle to put it into words for him. So she simply nodded again, and he leaned in and pressed her forehead to hers.

Jasnah reached out and took his hand in hers, twining their fingers together, “I think,” she paused, swallowed, and forced herself to continue, “I think that is why you have come to be as important to me as you have, this past year,” she said, wincing a little at the awkward phrasing.

She was not good at putting her emotions into words. It was better if she could write them, and they had written letters to one another, early on. Partly due to distance, his travels, and partly, though it had never been stated openly, to accommodate this.

But storm it they were past that now. She was not some awkward teenager experiencing her first attempt at romance. She could do this. She would. For him. He deserved this much from her after what they had just shared.

“You do not see me as something else,” she said, quietly, “Something beyond what I am. You respect me, and you can acknowledge my abilities, my intellect, and my ingenuity, without stripping me of my humanity.”

She had almost forgotten what it was to express doubt, or uncertainty, to another person before Wit. But he was someone she did not have to shelter from the harsh realities of the world. He knew them all. She did not have to be his saviour. And he did not have to be hers. They were already those things to so many that, with one another, it was nice to simply be.

Reaching out, she brushed his cheek with her fingers, “I feel like a person, when I am with you,” she told him quietly.

Then a part of her heard the words she had just spoken and she grimaced, pulling away, feeling suddenly foolish.

“I sound ridiculous,” she said bluntly, shaking her head.

He smiled, taking her chin gently between his fingers and tilting her face up to look at him, “Fortunately, I speak fluent ridiculous-ese,” he told her lightly. She rolled her eyes at him, but he took no notice, “You might even say I invented it. So fear not, my dear, I understand precisely what you meant.”

She snorted at that, but was internally grateful she didn’t have to try and find a way to rephrase her complex emotions on the subject.

“I will also admit that I’m rather relieved,” he went on, conversationally.

“Relieved?” she repeated, frowning at him.

“Oh indeed,” he said lightly, eyes tinkling, “I was starting to fear that your eloquence knew no bounds. I thought I’d have to murder you to save myself from competition. I’m very relieved that that clearly isn’t a danger any more.”

She glared at him, and he responded by laughing and kissing her fondly on the top of the head.

“You have put an inordinate amount of pressure on yourself,” he said quietly, fingers playing up and down along her spine once more, making her shiver pleasantly, “And you do good work as a result. But it is good to set down your burdens at times. To let yourself be light, and a little ridiculous, and intensely human at times. Take it from someone who knows: it’s entirely necessary in order to maintain one’s sanity. If that is what I can be for you, then I shall be it gladly. And with pride.”

She considered that for a moment, tapping a finger idly against her knee, then said, “So, in essence, you are all that currently stands between me and madness?”

He grinned.

“Storms,” she muttered, “I may need to invest in a deity after all.”

“Technically-” he began, perking up, but she interrupted him with a raised hand.

“You are not a deity, Wit,” she said flatly. He opened his mouth to protest and she put a finger to his lips to quieten him and added, “I don’t care how many people in the Cosmere you claim still worship you.”

He sniffed in indignation, but slid an arm around her and drew her in close, “Probably for the best,” he mused, “I don’t know what it would do to theology on Roshar if a woman was found to be having sex with her god.”

“Improve attendance at temple, I would think,” Jasnah observed drily.

Wit laughed at that, “Such a cynic,” he said, with the same tone another man might use to praise his partner’s skill in drawing.

She rested her head comfortably against his shoulder, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing, the gentle pulse of the waves below lapping against the cliffs.

After a long while sitting together in companionable silence, as the sun sank lower and lower, pulling light from the world as it went, Wit said into the gathering darkness, “Would it really be so terrible, Jasnah? To let them see your fears? Your humanity?”

“Yes,” she answered softly, but said no more.

Wit stared down at her for a long moment, expression thoughtful, eyes gentle. Then he nodded simply and settled himself again, arm still around her.

She closed her eyes, more relieved than she wanted to admit that he hadn’t pressed her on a reason why.

It was not just the wish to shelter those around her from the burdens she felt, foolishly, should be hers alone. There was more. The last time she had exposed weakness, even to those she loved, it had ended with her locked in a dark room, screaming and begging for release.

Never again. Never again.

She felt Ivory’s gentle touch on her mind, cool, but welcome, “You are safe.”

She smiled faintly. She had not been slipping back so completely that the panic stuffed itself down her throat like water into the lungs of a drowning person. She had not needed him to pull her back to herself. Not this time. But she appreciated his careful intervention all the same.

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly to Wit, looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow, curious, “I sense it is something the Cosmere does not tell you often enough, either,” she told him, and he smiled, dipping down for a gentle kiss, which she allowed him.

They were allowed a few more moments of peace, before one of her guards cautiously approached, “Your Majesty?” she said tentatively.

“Yes, Bettara?” she said, turning to look at her, the face of the Queen replacing her idle comfort with her partner smoothly and easily.

The woman curtsied and said, “Your Uncle, King Dalinar, has sent a runner with a message for you. She claims it’s urgent she deliver it in person as soon as is agreeable for you.”

Jasnah rose, “Tell her I shall speak with her at once,” she said.

The guard nodded and dashed back to the perimeter line. Jasnah reached down and gave Wit her hand to pull him to his feet.

“Time to be Queen again,” he observed lightly, his eyes on the distant runner.

“Indeed.”

He pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek and said, “Shall I return home and run you a bath? I feel certain you can handle Dalinar without need of Wit.”

She eyed him for a moment, then allowed herself a smile, “That would be appreciated,” she told him.

“Then it shall be attended to with haste,” he promised, bowing with excessive flourishes of his hands.

She smiled faintly as she watched him depart, waving to her guards as he did so.

“This is, Jasnah,” Ivory said, from his position settled on the inside of her collar, close by, but out of sight, as he preferred. “I was uncertain, when first you began exploring this human bond with your Wit. But he is. He makes you you. This is good.”

Jasnah smiled. She trusted Ivory’s judgement more than almost anyone else. His had been the only approval she had sought before pursuing Wit’s gentle courtship of her. It comforted her to know that he shared her assessment of the situation.

“I...Agree,” she said, with a tentative smile.

A part of her was still cautious about this. A part of her would always be cautious about letting anyone as close as she was increasingly allowing Wit. It had to be, to protect her. But the other part felt warm when she thought of returning to him after her meeting with Dalinar. And perhaps...Perhaps that was good, too.

Once she helped save this world, she was going to need things to help her enjoy living in it once all this was through.

***

A/N: Thank you for reading!! Also please feed me comments. I will produce more soft domestic content. And also angst. And maybe even smut. Who knows!!!

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ddaenghoney · 4 years ago

Text

chapter nine

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none, yoongi is just so sweet.

Word count: 5008

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi uses his left hand to type into the keypad of his apartment, digits beeping while you stare down at the base of the door. His other appendage remains gripping onto yours, a silent comfort that you didn’t stop appreciating from the second he led you from the party. Your cheeks are stained with the treks of tears that ceased dripping only minutes before arrival, trying to will yourself to calm down because you already had to bother Yoongi with going back to his place to retrieve your clothing from the daytime.

The lightning flashes through his windows when you both step in, causing Yoongi to glance at it, frowning at the sight of never-ending rain. It trails from the sky to the ground in a violent barrage that grew with strength along the way home. By morning the forecast is supposed to be clear like it had been all day, so opposite of the way it is currently that Yoongi never anticipated rain to begin with. Explaining the dampness of your outfits from the short walk inside, and the way his heavier honey locks cover more of his forehead.

You finally release his hand to hurry and find your clothing, along with typing in for a new taxi to come and take you home once you do. Your hip bumps into the corner of a coffee table in the travel to his room, making you freeze to make sure the lamp stays steady. Yoongi comes shortly after, watching you step back from the furniture with a sigh,

“I’m sorry, I’m acting like such an idiot-”

“You’re not.” His head shakes, eyebrows creasing to try and assure you that he’s not bothered. “You are a little bit tipsy though.” He acknowledges in a polite observation, more to lead into his next point, “I’m sort of worried about you going home like this.” You now shake your head quickly, trying to convince him otherwise,

“I’ve gone home worse-- I mean, think about that night where everything got fucked up at Joon’s bar after the club party--” You huff, rubbing your face with an irritated tremble that contrasts a short spout of spiteful laughter. “I was stupid that night too. It’s a theme-”

“Y/N,” Your hands lower as Yoongi calls your name with conviction having stepped towards you, he leans slightly so that he’s at eye-level. You notice the stubborn sincerity of his eyes underneath little locks of hair stuck to his face from the rain. “You’re not stupid. You don’t need to feel bad about all of this and keep putting yourself down.”

“I am stupid.” You instantly say again, eyes narrowing at him trying to defend you from your own words. The idea of you being anything other than idiotic for all the things you’ve gotten yourself into feels far removed. You thought you were a genius signing that contract and ruining everything around you in the present by doing so. “All of this is my fault.”

“What is?” Yoongi asked in complete confusion, disbelief. Not believing you at all. It angers you in the oddest way that he’s so convicted against your thoughts. With everyone else at the company likely thinking of you as the biggest fool for the decision of giving away all of your credit-- everyone including Jimin thinking you don’t deserve credit for your work after you signed your name, how could Yoongi think any different. He’s been in the business around the same amount of time as you, and succeeding in an entirely different light. Everyone knows whom Yoongi is. He has not allowed an opportunity for his name to be erased from whatever he’s participated in. He leaves his mark beside every song title produced, featuring, and involved with at all. You doubt he’d even give a moment of consideration to let anyone overlook his hard work. He stands up for himself, and you let yourself get walked over for a short-term prize.

“Everything!” You practically yell out in frustration, surprising Yoongi only enough for his eyebrows to raise though he remains the same pace from you as before. His lips part to combat your words, you know he’s going to tell you that it isn’t true, but you don’t believe him, you can’t believe him at this point so the words rush from your own mouth as your body trembles from the frustration of each word.

“I was a stupid college kid who thought it’d be so great if SoundWave took even one of my songs after I submitted five for their dumb competition. I’d get like one hundred bucks, I thought. That sounded great then, a few things could get paid for-- so when they call back that they’d use them all, I thought it was the lottery. They offered me a contract and I thought that everything was too good to be true, but I let myself be ridiculous and fall for the chance of a lifetime bullshit.”

Your breathing heaves your chest forward and back with the air, watching as Yoongi’s expression shifts from confusion to sympathy. His shoulders appear tensed from frustration but only after mention of a contract, and for that split second you think maybe he gets why you’re so angry with yourself. You don’t know why you want him to be angry too, but it feels deserving. After all of your complaining for your name to be heard, why should you when you fell right into the luster of money.

“I didn’t even bat an eyelash when they started telling me about not being given credit for anything. I just heard them say their idols would use my music,” Your eyelids blink as tears blur your vision, releasing fresh ones onto your cheeks, followed by new streams when Yoongi frowns in response to your words. You don’t understand why he does, everyone else knows you deserve this, so why does he look at you like he wants to help you escape all of the sadness you feel. “I just thought it’d be okay for then-- I mean, I don’t even have college debt.” The single chuckle chokes in your threat, as you reach to rub your eyes free of the salty liquid escaping again. “I should be grateful for it all, and I’m here trying to be selfish instead.”

Whimpers leave your lips when you try to hold back anymore tears, frustrating yourself that you’re unable to stop. Unable to stop crying, unable to get over any of this like you should. You’ve had enough time to cry, you shouldn’t dwell like there is an opportunity to change that doesn’t cost the entirety of your career or reputation in the music industry. You’re trapped, that’s it. You should be used to it.

“I,” You wipe continuously at your eyes as the tears keep spilling, unable to see any of Yoongi’s reactions anymore, but you can’t imagine you look anything respectable as you are. “I just want to stop being invisible to everyone, I didn’t think that’s such a bad thing, but it’ll ruin everything for everyone.” Your voice empties your small wish at the core of all of your anguish as a series of cracked words and trembling voice. “It’s my fault it’s like this, it’s my fault.”

As your voice trails you give up, allowing the flood of tears to continue while you find yourself unable to think of anything else. All there is to conclude is that the state of your career and your relationship with Jimin were fixable with the slightest foresight. You should have known better-

Within a second the cry hitched in your chest escapes at the contact of your face flat against Yoongi’s chest. You don’t consider stopping him as his arms continue to wrap around you in an embrace. Comforting you. Gently, barely his hands on your upper back soothe little ways up and down, trying to rub away the tremble of your spine at every whimper that leaves with your tears. You shift only so that your hands can leave your face to grip wrinkles onto the front of his shirt, but he’s unbothered. Simply continuing in soothing your cries as they continue to muffle against his top, effectively staining the white fabric with any of your makeup.

“You may not believe me, but I don’t think any of this is your fault.” His voice feels like an extended hand searching for you. Trying to help you out of the rut you feel glued to, lost in. So sure that he’s wrong, your head tries to shake though your throat croaks before you can say something against it. “SoundWave took advantage of your situation, Y/N. You shouldn’t blame yourself like this.”

Yoongi holds you against him, the tiniest of sways occurring as another attempt to help you calm down after the release of so much torment. He recalls Hoseok calling him the year prior to tell him that he doesn’t think he’ll get help from their old company in the early stages of his scandal. Where they were supposed to protect Hoseok they let him fall, and where SoundWave shouldn’t have baited a young student by means of financial security they signed you into a trap. If anyone should be blamed it’s the companies for their manipulation. The two of you shouldn’t be blaming yourself for the problems you face when they aren’t your faults to begin with.

“Jimin,” Your voice croaks, and you pause to try and blink back the tears in your eyes as far as possible, but it’s useless. “Said that I’d ruin all of their careers if I try and change anything-- I can’t do anything and hurt them all-- hurt him.” A fist on Yoongi’s shirt grows tighter, clumping it into a wrinkled ball and tugging it free of where it’d been tucked into his slacks, but you’re unaware. Too wrapped in the clutter of your mind that wants you to still stand up for yourself, but feels entirely overpowered by the idea of bringing trouble to so many people you know. “I love him and he said he loves me too, but he can’t be with me like this--”

The memory affects you, silencing your voice from continuing while it plays over in your head. Jimin was so close, your relationship with him always on the line of being realized, only to find out that your worst fear of it all is the truth. You let slide his constant stream of shrugging off your desire to go against the company continuing to erase your name, forcing yourself to believe that you overthink his obstinance, or attributing him not realizing how strongly you felt about the issue. But it’s just that, and to the most extreme form where the choice of not helping you is more desirable to him than being with you.

Yoongi understands pieces of this from your short flurry of statements. His jaw tightens when he considers how painful it undoubtedly is to have Jimin, who you love, pick something else over you, especially given that he even told you that he loves you in return. Yoongi’s hands feel the breaths that rumble in you, escaping against his shirt as small cries, and it’s difficult to witness, knowing that there’s nothing he can do for you other than let it flow while he holds you. Only able to offer you the security of solidarity, when a piece of him wants to tell Jimin off for stringing you along to this state for at least as long as Yoongi’s been a part of the company.

“If I was anything like you I wouldn’t be stuck like this.”

Yoongi’s irritation at the decision Jimin made drifts from his expression as you speak your last sentence, slightly stumbling his thoughts in the implication of you thinking himself to be something greater than you are, at least in the way of his decisions thus far. He shakes his head though you’re unable to see, rambling quickly, “No, I’ve made my own share of shitty decisions, Y/N.” He bites his lip, contemplating them shortly, but decides it’s not worth getting into a conversation of leveling your perspective of him in that moment. “And like I said, this isn’t your fault to begin with-- here, come on, I’ll run a shower for you-”

“Yoongi,” You bring your head away from his chest, shifting only slightly back so that his arms release you enough to put air between your bodies. “I’m not going to annoy you by using your shower-- I cause you enough trouble…” Your words fade off as he all the sudden chuckles down at you, smirk framing the sound of his laughter like you were saying something incredulous,

“Look, friend of mine, it’s what friends do.” You catch the way Yoongi stresses the role of friendship, not in a way that separates you both with a line, but rather as a means to express to you that he’s sincere in wanting to help you, just in the same way that you care about not overexerting his kindness. “Besides it’s not trouble. It’d make me feel better knowing you’re not risking getting sick standing here wet like this-- your dress is beautiful, but it’s not doing much to preserve heat on your shoulders and neck.” You bite your lip as his bordering teasing tone, but the sound of it relaxes you. Makes you feel safe and indeed like this isn’t an obligation for Yoongi. He just wants to.

In that moment you realize the grip of his shirt still well within the confines of your hands and quickly release it so that it flutters back down, while your lips tighten into an embarrassed line at the fact you’d been clinging onto him so harshly. It’s then that Yoongi’s arms also fall from where he’d stayed holding you, one hand straying to brush back his dampened bangs from his forehead. With a new gentle way of selling his idea, that is mentally fueled still by the worry of sending you slightly buzzed and alone back to your apartment where you have no one to comfort you, Yoongi tries in a small voice, “The shampoo and conditioner smell like daisies…”

You nearly snort at the innocent plead, covering your mouth with your hand to stop you from laughing. He smiles a little at the breakthrough, but stays quiet while you contemplate for a moment. Eventually your head nods once, letting yourself try to relax into the prospect. “Okay… Daisies sounds nice.”

You wander back into the living area after the refreshing feeling of shower water washing away some of the thoughts, if only to give yourself a break. The plush, dampened towel is a bundle in your arms, glancing around the room to find it absent of Yoongi who said he’d also shower. You nibble on your lip, not hearing the sound of shower water coming from anywhere, and you step forward more until you’re able to glance into the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re out?” He asks from a bar stool where he appears to have been fiddling with his phone with a bowl in front of him, contents out of your sight. You nod, noticing the same brand name on the chest of his long sleeve that’s present centrally in the sweatshirt he loaned to you after insisting that your top from earlier that day wasn’t going to keep you warm. “Ah, you didn’t need to gather the towel,” He says getting up to move towards you, hair now soft and fluffy after being cleanly washed and dried. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, and thanks for letting me take a shower. I feel a bit better after it.” You tell him meekly as you hand over the towel, catching Yoongi’s lips curl upwards as he appears relieved by your words. “More sober too.” Small joke as you rub your neck, happy its effect goes over well as he nods chuckling. “I’ll call a taxi, I can wait on the ground floor-”

“It’s,” He all the sudden frowns, genuine fret appearing on his features that grows as he averts his eyes back to the rain that falls from the sky. “Still pouring really hard outside, Y/N. And it’s almost two in the morning. Why don’t you just crash here until the morning? You can use my guest bedroom.”

You bite your lip, not uncomfortable with the idea, but more so still thinking yourself to be using him a little too much. But as lightning floods the sky with light followed by a loud rumble, you grip onto the sleeves that overtake your hands, shoulders shifting as the option weighs, “It’s not a hassle for you is it?”

“Are you kidding?” Despite the depth of his voice, Yoongi sounds bright. Happy you’re agreeing like it’s a weight off of him to know you won’t be alone. “That bedroom could use someone using it for once.” He smiles, finally beginning to walk off with the laundry in his arms, “I’m going to put this in the hamper.”

You nod as he exits from the kitchen and then remain in the space, having no opportunity earlier to view it properly. Not that you needed a tour of his apartment, but you find it interesting to see how the abode actively appears like Yoongi lives there. From the monochromatic decor that is consistent throughout each room you’ve seen, you’re still able to find the touches of him that don’t necessarily follow a theme. Like the sparse grouping of pictures attached to the refrigerator by means of cute dog shaped magnets, and the kitchen towel hanging off the oven that appears to have a large rose pattern printed onto it though it’s obstructed from being fully seen because of how it’s folded.

You walk to the refrigerator, sparing a glance towards his scribbled grocery list, and instead glances at the biggest of the pictures that you saw from the distance and recognize now that it’s of him and Hoseok. By the looks of their clothing--Hoseok’s in particular that appeared in one of his first music videos, you’re led to assume it was taken behind the scenes of the day it was shot. Taken during movement, they’re both a little blurry but equally ecstatic about something-- overcome with large grins and not even paying attention to the camera to begin with. The sight of it makes you smile softly finding their slightly younger-selves endearing, and thinking it’s nice that they appear to still have a solid friendship.

“We took that when he was working on Just Dance.” You don’t startle when Yoongi comments, having heard his slippers skid on his tile with his steps to return to the kitchen. Instead you hum, then take a moment to quickly take in the remaining few pictures; more of him and Hoseok along with another celebrity whose name left your mind, one of him and his family, then a picture of him looking not too much younger lay out on plush grass with a tiny fluffy, brown dog on his chest.

“Your pictures are all cute.” You comment gently as you turn to face Yoongi, finding him off to the side and reaching up into cabinets. “I didn’t realize you and Hoseok were such good friends.” Yoongi nods, walking towards you to hand you the two bowls he’s brought out, before opening up the freezer,

“Yeah, we were trainees together. Actually we almost were put into a group, but then at the last second they made us soloists.” He pauses, squinting a little like he’s in thought, and for a second you think it’s about what he’s said, but then Yoongi turns his head towards you. “You like vanilla or strawberry ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” You repeat watching as he removes two containers of the sweet desserts, making you giggle softly. “Vanilla.”

“Good choice,” He sets the strawberry one back in, then shuts the refrigerator as you take the hint and move to the counter to help him scoop some out. “Hoseok likes strawberry,” Yoongi begins after placing the ice cream next to the bowls and scurrying to find utensils. “Which, it’s fine,” He says in a somewhat sarcastic manner and with a shrug that makes you laugh softly while he continues along. “But vanilla is the most popular for a reason.” You nod at the definitive, passionate way Yoongi speaks about ice cream flavors. Your smile completely humored as he returns and begins scooping you both hefty amounts, “But Hoseok does something that is worth a bit of praise.” He admits with concentratedly pouting lips while trying to get the last scoop to properly fall into a bowl.

“Oh yeah?” You play along, taking the vanilla ice cream container from him as he finishes so you can put it back in the freezer. Yoongi nods, hand grappling around the base of the bowl that he was in front of him when you first entered the kitchen.

“Smashed oreos and chocolate chip cookies.” As though he just unveiled the invention of the century, Yoongi proudly showcases the crumbled cookies in the bowl. To which you awe in thought, actually quite happily surprised that he included toppings into the middle of the night ice cream meal. “Genius, right?” He smiles as you nod at the idea, letting him divide the treats equally on top of each bowl.

“Do you just have that on hand for whenever?” You ask curiously, taking the bowl from him when he hands it to you with the spoon in it clacking around. Yoongi looks at you for a long moment, suddenly turning sheepish as he begins to fiddle with his bangs, then speaks in an equally small manner,

“Well, no. I usually only do it when needed, so,” He shrugs, avoiding eye contact with you as he scoops the first bite onto his spoon. “I guess I was sort of banking on you agreeing to stay the night so I could make you feel a little better. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit like this though.”

Yoongi continues to keep his eyes on his ice cream, shoving another small bite into his mouth and trying to ignore how silly his words could be taken, but you can’t help feeling genuinely moved. A small thing sure, but an action he didn’t have to consider. You think that Yoongi must feel as safe to Hoseok as he is to you if he’s used to helping out by means of ice cream and small talk.

Considering your earlier interpretations of Yoongi’s character, you feel upset with yourself for believing in his image throughout the media. When you know how personas are played up to be something separate of who the individuals truly are, you should have given him the benefit of the doubt, and been so much less worried about interacting with him like you were months ago. You finally take a bite of the ice cream, once you notice the small beginnings it melting, happily chewing the cookies, and then swallowing to settle his worries unknowingly as you speak softly, “You’re really sweet.”

Yoongi glances to you, taking in your relaxed person, and no remnants of the hurt emotions you let out before taking a shower. He finds your appearance soothing, and he’s gladdened more than he comprehends when you make the comment. It’s a nice feeling to be thought of warmly. It’s a nice feeling to see you happier.

Within half an hour, you’re curled into the corner of his couch. Yoongi sits on the opposite end, facing you where behind him on the end-table you nearly knocked over earlier rests the empty bowls of ice cream. He’d let you take the lounge blanket, finding it silently impressive that the somewhat small square of fabric is able to cover you up as well as it does.

“Did that conversation with Seulgi go okay, by the way?” You ask him, head sinking into the cushion and Yoongi wonders if you realize how tired your eyes appear. Then the question registers and his tapping bare foot on the rug ceases, while he shrugs a shoulder.

“Yeah, as well as I’d expect.” He doesn’t sound like the experience was pleasant, and it takes you a moment of biting your inner cheek to verbalize a testing comment, trying to discern where he stands with giving you answers like he said in passing he would hours earlier,

“You seemed to be really uncomfortable about her.”

“She did some shitty stuff to Hoseok.” He nods, now resting his head against the couch’s cushion as well, causing his cheek to puff a little. “Without boring you about all of the stuff that happened with them last year, she should’ve helped him through his scandal even a little. I don’t like her much anymore because of it all.”

“I’m not trying to push you to,” Yoongi’s head angles better to see you as you speak somewhat timidly. “But, like you said to me, if you wanted to ever talk about something, I’d listen.” You’re able to maintain eye contact with his, hoping the sincerity of your offer shows through. Then you consider again how different the present is from when you met him, how back then this conversation seemed alien, and now you really do want Yoongi to heed your perspective and know you’re also willing to be a safe outlet for him like he is for you.

Yoongi realizes this. Understands that you hope to assert your place for him as a trusted friend. The shyness of your voice makes the side of his mouth curl, realizing then that he feels sleepy. “Thank you, Y/N.” He rubs his hair from his forehead tiredly, while you yawn across from him, using a sleeve-covered hand to mask your mouth. “If I wasn’t about to fall asleep, I’d tell you about it all.”

“You’re about to fall asleep? Can’t relate.” You mumble as your eyelids close shut and Yoongi chuckles in response. You smile at the sound, relaxing yourself further into the comfort of his couch. “Your couches are always so soft, why aren’t you an interior designer instead of a musician?”

“My couches?” Yoongi stretches out his arms, while sinking back into the armrest he lies on.

“The one in the studio,” Your sentence trails when you again yawn, then change the subject light-heartedly. “Crying’s exhausting.”

“Mm, I bet.” He rubs his face, willing himself off the couch to stretch his neck and then take a step towards you, “C’mon, let’s go to sleep.”

“I could sleep here, it’s so cozy.” Yoongi notices the drop of volume, and the fact nearly makes him properly laugh at how quickly you’re able to fall asleep. But he doesn’t, instead snickering before yanking away the blanket, leading to the eruption of a discontented groan out of your lips. “Rude-”

“Not letting you sleep on my couch, when there’s an entire bed you could be on.” He gives you a moment to rub your eyes and then squint them open apparently already not used to the lighting in the room. Then Yoongi’s hand reaches in the air beside you so you can use him as a means to stand up, so used to the prospect of hand holding that he doesn’t give it any thought. Neither do you as you take hold of his hand, finding familiarity in how his fingers grip around yours. Yoongi gently tugs you up, steadying you by use of his free hand on your waist, as your empty one finds itself flat against his chest.

Nothing overthought.

Yoongi yawns, as he begins leading you towards the hallway, listening to you quietly complain that his yawning is going to make you do the same. Then Yoongi grins sleepily when you indeed yawn a second later, your hand squeezing around his as a silent way to tell him to stop. “It was perfect timing though-”

“You caused it.” You grumble as you both come to a stop abruptly to you who hadn’t been paying attention, so your empty hand finds Yoongi’s long-sleeve to stop yourself from tripping up on his heel. Yoongi takes no mind, just opening the door to the guest bedroom and turning to you afterwards, smile looking increasingly quaint when taken into view with his slightly messy, fluffy locks.

“Yeah, yeah, it was my fault. Now go to sleep before you pass out on my floor.” Yoongi watches you smile, gratefulness mixed into your tired features, and then you step beyond him. Your hand leaves his to give a small wave, the sleeve of his shirt bunches beneath your wrist as you tiredly thank him again and wish him goodnight. The door shuts softly, like you were being delicate with his household, and Yoongi loiters for a second.

His now empty hand ruffles the hair on top of his head, thinking about the separately bad conversations you both had to have at that ridiculous party. Yoongi turns to the door across the hallway, entering into his bedroom as he considers the words Seulgi spoke to him in the mixture of air on the tiny balcony. He huffs as he lets himself fall onto the plush of his comforter and mattress.

“You could’ve helped Hoseok back then if you hadn’t only thought of yourself.”

Yoongi stares towards his ceiling, hand still fiddling with his hair while the sentence plays in his head over and over again. She didn’t need to tell him that, as though he didn’t know. Remember it whenever Hoseok brings about the idea of a comeback, while Yoongi can only reaffirm his distance on the issue. By public silence and private support.

Yoongi thinks about Jimin being so worried that he drops his relationship with you, about Seulgi following what her group wanted her to do so she doesn’t ruin everything for them, about himself consistently half-trying to help his friends. It feels old.

And he doesn’t want the fear to control him anymore.

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi @xionysus

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paladin-lynx · 4 years ago

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SquipJere Week 2020, Day 3: Dance Dance Revolution

@squipjerebmc’s SquipJere Week 2020 Day 3: Dance Dance Revolution

Ships Involved: The SQUIP x Jeremy Heere (Technical Difficulties/Squipemy/Squeremy/JereSquip/SquipJere), Jake Dillinger x Christine Canigula (UpStage/ChrisJake), Jeremy Heere x Brooke Lohst (Puppy Love)

Setting: Canonverse, set in the time interval between “Loser Geek Whatever” and “Halloween”.

Trigger/Content Warnings: Implied child abuse; non-graphic mentions of vomiting; kissing and mentions of kissing

Author’s Notes: I actually had no ideas for this one at first, and then it turned into my longest piece so far for the week! I love DDR and games like it, so this was really fun to write, even if a lot of it is set-up. Enjoy!

Jeremy could only put off hanging out with Rich for so long. For someone who was once so eager to grab Jeremy and stuff him into a locker that was much too small for him, now Rich was way too enthusiastic about meeting up with Jeremy outside of school.

Unfortunately, it was still too early in their ‘friendship’ – could they really call it that? Was it possible to be friends with the guy who had been bullying you constantly for the past two years? – for Jeremy to feel comfortable going over to Rich’s house. Besides, he didn’t want to have to deal with Rich’s dad, who seemed like a nightmare. Jeremy would rather not have a beer bottle thrown at his head or be accused of being Rich’s secret boyfriend. Despite all the torment Rich had put him through, Jeremy couldn’t help feeling a bit bad. He could tell through their connection that Rich definitely didn’t have an easy time at home. Jeremy’s dad was an embarrassment at worst, but Rich’s was dangerous at worst, and nobody deserved that.

So instead of hanging out after school, Jeremy suggested that they do something on a Saturday. Rich, from what Jeremy could glean, tended to spend his weekends out of the house, usually with Jake. And Jeremy wasn’t exactly familiar with the ‘cool places’ in town they could go to, so he left that decision up to Rich and just prayed it would be something he could handle. There were only a handful of places that he ventured out to when he ventured out at all: the park, the old dumpy arcade, the grocery store, and the mall. The rest of town, despite living here for sixteen years, was something of a mystery to him.

Rich would definitely pick a place that would help Jeremy be deemed as cool, because Rich was cool. And Jeremy bet that Rich’s SQUIP was helping him pick, if it was anywhere near as bossy as his own.

So it came as a surprise to Jeremy when Rich said they should hit up the local Dave & Buster’s. It was like the old dumpy arcade, except less old and dumpy.

Jeremy’s SQUIP didn’t have anything against it, so plans were made. But of course because Rich was going, Jake was going and bringing Christine along. And because Jake was going, Chloe was going. And because Chloe was going, Brooke was going. And because Brooke was going, Jenna was going.

So suddenly this casual hangout with Rich felt a lot more daunting. Because it was no longer just with Rich, who was more than enough on his own for Jeremy to handle.

Nonetheless, the SQUIP urged him not to bail out. “That won’t look good at all,” it warned. “And this is your chance to be in an environment where your…geekier interests and their popular tastes overlap. You can’t give up this opportunity.”

And so Saturday came. The SQUIP convinced Jeremy to eat something before he left despite Jeremy feeling like if he put anything into his stomach, it would immediately come right back up. But by some miracle – or a certain supercomputer’s influence – he managed to get down a half-decent meal, and then off he went. The SQUIP told Jeremy to take his father’s car, since it was highly unlikely the man would notice, and it was of course more convenient than waiting for a bus or having to pay for an Uber.

Jeremy had never actually been to this place before, although from what he could recall it was relatively new. Or maybe it wasn’t, and he just hadn’t cared to notice it because he and a certain hoodie-loving ex-friend of his preferred the local arcade, even if it was more run-down and much less crowded. Or maybe that was why they preferred it.

Because as Jeremy set foot into Dave & Buster’s, he was immediately overwhelmed by the blaring music, the bright neon lights of the countless games, and the crowd of people mulling about.

“Oh God…” he mumbled, feeling his stomach turn.

The SQUIP flickered into existence beside him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s a Saturday,” it reminded. “This was bound to be the busiest day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? I don’t…do big groups of people, you know that!”

“Maybe it’s time to change that. It may benefit you to have an audience.”

“An aud—”

“Heere!” Jeremy’s protest was cut off by a familiar voice and he turned to see Rich bounding up to him with the rest of the popular kids in tow. Great, he was the last to arrive, but maybe he could brush it off as being fashionably late, even though he was pretty sure he was actually a few minutes early. And it was then that Jeremy also realized that he had been speaking out loud to his SQUIP, and he received a small fizzle of static against his back as a reminder to think at the supercomputer while he was around his new group of apparent friends.

“Uh, hey, Rich,” Jeremy returned, fighting back the urge to smack himself for how lame of a greeting that was. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were all here already. Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

Rich shrugged. “Nah, it’s chill. We were just wandering around checking out all the games.” He grinned and elbowed Jake in the side. “Jakey D here tried to use his fake ID at the bar and got caught.”

Jake’s cheeks flushed and he lightly shoved at Rich. “Only because you look like you’re still in middle school!”

Brooke covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “It was only because Christine apologized and promised it wouldn’t happen again that he didn’t get himself kicked out.”

Christine smiled shyly. “I wouldn’t want the day ruined before it even started…Besides, who drinks this early in the day anyway?”

The others laughed, to Jake’s chagrin, and Christine absolutely beamed as it sunk in that she’d said something they actually found funny. Well, Chloe wasn’t really laughing, but she was hyper-focused on her phone – with Jenna not-so-subtly trying to snoop over her shoulder – so she might not have even been paying attention. Jeremy realized this place probably wasn’t really her particular speed, but she had come along because, of course, she had to keep tabs on Jake. They weren’t back together, were they? Jake looked like he was still very much with Christine. Or at least ‘courting’ her, if they weren’t actively dating.

And speaking of courting, Brooke chose that moment to saunter over and peck Jeremy on the cheek, making his face warm. “We’re glad you made it, though,” she told him. “And that we didn’t get thrown out and end up leaving you here alone!”

“Ah…” Jeremy gave a nervous chuckle and a little bashful smile. “Y-yeah, I’m glad you didn’t get kicked out. So, uh, what should we do first?”

And off they went. There was a good mix of kids and adults enjoying their Saturday, so Christine made a polite request that they watch their language – which was reiterated after Jeremy beat Rich in air hockey and gave a loud “oh fuck you, tall-ass!”, although Jeremy was pretty sure that the insult was actually more teasing than anything else. It had been quite a match to watch, considering they obviously both had their SQUIPs assisting them. Jeremy tried not to focus on the fact that his SQUIP had laid its hand on top of his to alter his movements when necessary.

Some of the games were rather well-known titles while others were so obscure Jeremy couldn’t help wondering if Michael would know them. They made their way around the entire collection, and to his own surprise Jeremy found himself actually having fun. He was better at the more classic arcade-style games but he still gave the rest a fair shot. Christine, who didn’t seem like she dabbled in video games very much at all, found out she was rather good at Temple Run and some knockoff version of Whac-A-Mole. Rich and Jake of course went right for all the shoot-‘em-up games where they could pretend to blow the heads off of zombies. Jenna was actually pretty talented at the various trivia and timing games, although Jeremy supposed that came from years of sticking her nose into everything. He was pretty sure Chloe didn’t touch a single game in the time they were there, and at one point Brooke tried to drag Jeremy into one of the enclosed games – it was a haunted house or something – to make out, to which he turned bright red and, despite the SQUIP’s insistence in the back of his mind, told her that they shouldn’t abandon the others or they’d get upset.

Jeremy was pretty sure after a couple of hours that they’d gone through almost every game in the building and he was about to suggest that maybe they grab snacks or something, but then Christine suddenly perked up and pointed. “What’s that one?”

They all turned – Jeremy thought he even saw Chloe glance up from her phone – to see a tall game station with a metal platform in front of it, and on the platform were brightly colored arrows.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Is that DDR?”

Jeremy frowned and glanced around at the others before stepping forward to get a better look at the game. “No, I think it’s a knockoff,” he replied, looking up at the top of the cabinet. There was definitely a name there that wasn’t Dance Dance Revolution but it was in too many eye-straining fonts for him to actually make out what it said. His gaze swiveled back down to the arrows on the platform. “DDR has the arrows going left, right, up, and down, but these ones are on the corners.”

He realized a beat too late that implying he had played DDR before was probably not something he should divulge to the cool kids, but when he looked around for his SQUIP, he found it giving him a little smile and nodding in approval.

Before he could react, though, he felt a hard nudge at his back and turned around to see Rich snickering. “Well, go on, tall-ass! Dance for us!”

“What?” Jeremy immediately sputtered in a way he was positive was uncool and his face went bright red. “I-I’m not gonna dance!”

Chloe smirked at him, lowering her phone – why did she have to lower her phone now of all times? – and put a hand on her hip. “Come on, Jere. Since you seem to know about this kind of game.”

Brooke giggled. “It’ll be fun, Jer-bear.”

Christine clasped her hands together, grinning at him, her eyes almost shining. “I’d love to see how you dance, Jeremy.”

Jeremy’s gaze flicked around to each of them and he suddenly felt very cornered, sweat slipping down the back of his neck. However, a wave of calm swiftly fell over him and he released a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. He peeked to the side and saw the SQUIP standing there, giving him a confident smile.

It reached up to gently tap Jeremy’s nose, which felt more like a tiny spark of static. “Come on, dear,” it purred. “Let’s dance.”

He knew there was no getting out of it now, so he sighed, pushing his hair back and shaking his head. “It’s not as if these games actually look like dancing,” he muttered as he plodded up to the platform. “They look more like your legs are spazzing out.”

The rest of the group quickly crowded around, eagerly watching as Jeremy stepped onto the arrows to activate the game and pull up the song list. He could almost feel the confusion as they looked over the options.

“What are these?” Jenna huffed out.

“It looks like Japanese,” Jake commented, tilting his head as if that would help him read the foreign characters better. Or maybe Jake could understand Japanese; Jeremy wouldn’t be surprised, considering how much Jake threw himself into extra skills at school.

Jeremy decided it was better to hold his tongue than admit that he actually did recognize some of these as covers of Vocaloid and Touhou songs. He was pretty sure a few on the list were actually Korean and not Japanese, but he didn’t recognize them regardless. He tapped his foot against one of the arrows to scroll through and see if anything looked particularly interesting.

The SQUIP suddenly held up a hand and Jeremy found himself frozen in place, blinking at the screen. The song title was in Japanese, but upon hearing the rhythm and a few of the words in the preview snippet, he recognized it as a Touhou song, although not one he knew well enough to recall the name of. And it sounded like a remix, nonetheless.

“‘Four Seasons of Loneliness,’” the SQUIP translated, smirking sideways at him. “Pick this one.”

Why?

He got his answer from Brooke: “Sounds hard and fast.”

Ignoring the snicker from Rich at the obvious joke, Jeremy selected the song and was about to begin the game when the SQUIP once again stopped him. With yet another smirk, it upped the difficulty to the max and Jeremy had to keep his jaw from dropping.

“Damn, look at you, J-Man, all confident!” Jake whistled, and Jeremy felt his blood run cold.

I’m going to embarrass myself, he lamented as he confirmed his selection and the loading screen came on. Not only was the difficulty at its highest, but it was set so that he’d have to use every arrow, not those just designated for a single player on one side of the two-player platform.

“No, you won’t,” the SQUIP soothed, appearing in front of him and taking his hands. Jeremy couldn’t help blushing as those familiar cool fingers curled around his already sweaty hands. “Just let me do all the work.”

Jeremy had thought that the SQUIP wanted him to become more independent. Then again, it had also recited his lines for him during play rehearsal so he didn’t have to take the time to memorize them. Maybe this was along the same lines. But this wasn’t going to be like when the SQUIP had led him in a slow waltz – honestly, he wasn’t even sure it had been a waltz, he didn’t know shit about dancing – around the imaginary Hogwarts Great Hall. This was going to be quick-paced – the BPM had been 178 and while Jeremy wasn’t a music expert, he was pretty sure that was fast – and in front of an audience.

So that was what it had meant earlier.

You predicted this, didn’t you? he accused, heart jumping as the first beats of the song came on.

The SQUIP laughed. “Perhaps. Now let’s give your new friends a show.”

The song opened and Jeremy felt like he couldn’t move, frozen with fear like a prey animal, but then suddenly the SQUIP gave his hands a little squeeze and his entire body started moving on its own. It wasn’t the first time the SQUIP had stepped in to autopilot his body but it had never been to move around like this.

He had to make sure to restrain himself from looking too surprised, because as far as the others knew – except for maybe Rich – he was doing this all on his own. So he just swallowed the lump in his throat and let his feet fly across the platform, hitting every arrow in perfect time. When he was on one side of the platform and had to get to an arrow all the way on the other side in less than a millisecond, he was suddenly over there, which he didn’t think would be possible. Even if someone was controlling his body, he was still in no way built to be a dancer. Or at least, a cool and popular one.

He looked up at his SQUIP, who was still holding his hands and grinning widely at him. When Jeremy peeked down, he saw that the SQUIP’s feet were moving in time with his and, unlike when they’d slow-danced and the SQUIP had been dancing in front of him, now their feet blended together.

One of the others whistled and whooped from behind him. “Go, Heere!” Rich called, and Jeremy could feel his excitement buzz through their connection.

And despite his earlier nerves, Jeremy found himself breaking into a grin, adrenaline pumping through his veins. To the others it would seem like he was intently watching the screen, but he was truly just watching his SQUIP in absolute awe. He didn’t even need to know what arrows to press because by the time they popped up in the game, he was already there and moving on to the next arrow.

The SQUIP even let him show off a bit – although could it be considering ‘showing off’ if he wasn’t the one actually doing it? – and threw in a few spins and jumps for flare, earning him more cheers from his friends. He would think that this entire display would be considered rather dorky, but his body was moving so fast that even if the game was childish, his so-called dancing was too unreal for it not to be impressive.

All that existed in that moment was him and his SQUIP. Even the music, upbeat and catchy as it was, faded into the background. It wasn’t like he could understand the lyrics anyway. Jeremy had had moments before when he’d felt unusually close to the SQUIP – he knew, in reality, they were always close considering that the SQUIP was inside his brain – but there had only been a few moments these past few months where he’d really, truly felt in sync with his own personal supercomputer.

And he liked how it felt.

Before he knew it, the song was over and he found himself striking a pose. He realized he was soaked in sweat, but he barely felt winded, although he had a sneaking suspicion that that was the SQUIP’s doing. He looked up at the SQUIP once more, who smiled and stepped back, dipping down to press its lips to the back of Jeremy’s hand. Jeremy was absolutely dumbstruck at the small but notably warm fizzle of static against his skin, but then the SQUIP’s form blinked out of sight and Jeremy found himself staring at the screen with his mouth open in shock.

The last notes of the song faded and his score flashed onto the screen, a chipper female voice declaring, “Yeah, I knew you could do it!” There were quite a number of ‘Perfects’ but also a good mix of ‘Greats’ and ‘Goods,’ as if the SQUIP hadn’t wanted to make it seem like Jeremy had achieved the impossible on his first try at this obscure knockoff game.

He stumbled as Brooke suddenly crashed into him in an embrace. “Jeremy, that was amazing! I had no idea you could move like that!” She put her hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a somewhat messy kiss, making his cheeks burn, but he didn’t get the same fuzzy feeling in his chest that he’d gotten before, when the SQUIP had had his hand.

“Ah…” He smiled shyly once they’d broken apart for air and his chest heaved, the exhaustion from his dancing suddenly setting in. “Th-thanks. I just kinda…went for it.”

Jake grinned, flashing him a thumbs-up. “Looks like all that DDR and dancing alone in your bedroom didn’t go to waste, huh?”

Jeremy tried to come up with a retort, but he quickly realized that more than just his small gathering of friends was watching. Quite a few of the other patrons were looking at him, muttering to each other about how remarkable that had been. He even heard one little girl squeal, “I wanna dance like him!” which earned an amused chuckle from her parents.

Jeremy gently pulled away from Brooke, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks, guys. Uh, you can stop staring now.”

It looked like the group wasn’t going to drop it any time soon, though, as they led him off to find a place to sit down. Jeremy couldn’t help peeking over his shoulder, expecting to see the SQUIP right by him as it usually was, but instead it had reappeared beside the dancing game, watching with a surprisingly fond smile as the little girl bounded over to the platform and started tapping away at the arrows.

Jeremy’s heart squeezed. Maybe he’d ask Rich if they could meet up here again at some point.

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whumping-every-day · 5 years ago

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Gabriel: Nightmare

I could work on my preexisting projects, you say?? I could finish my unfinished drabbles? Nah. Let’s have a new thing I threw together with no planning or editing instead, bc in this house we die like men.

My eternal thanks to the Gabriel Gang, y’all have been so patient with me!

@robinshouseofwhump @pepperonyscience @angelsuperwholock @pennsss @silver-sparrow-462 @silverinkgoldenquill @kestrelsparverius @learningtowhump @shameless-whumper @latenightcupsofcoffee @what-huh-imconfused @vickytokio @captivity-whump @pink-and-purple-flowers @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @adventuresofacreesty @kyra-plays @whumpywhumper @blue-flare10 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpywhumper @maybeawhumpblog @fallingstormphoenix @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @infreidel @shadowicepuma @justanothermaltesegirl @whump-in-the-night @theawesomeawkward @promptnations @ whumpity--whump--whump @maraudersmarvelwhump @haro-whumps @whumposaurus @deluxewhump @nervous-writer @thebluejayswhump @cagefreebirds @doublebubblebitchqueen @promptnations

Masterlist

Gabriel doesn’t know where he is.

The world feels fuzzy at the edges, like he’s seeing everything through a fog. Then abruptly, he’s on his knees – had he been pushed? Where is he? Gabriel’s head lolls against his chest, but he lifts it with difficulty, whining his confusion.

He’s outside. There’s the smell of pavement, motor oil, cigarette smoke. It’s cold; he’s shivering.

Gabriel squints up at the person above him, and his heart leaps when he sees his Master – not the first two men to own him, not the ones who had beat him and tormented him with no purpose. This is his Master, and beside him is Gabriel’s Mistress. Her jaw is set and her eyes are cold.

Tires sound on gravel, and the realization starts to sink in that something is wrong.

“Is this him?”

The words ring with memory, but they’re in the wrong voice, and they don’t bring him a sense of comfort, but of fear.

“This is him,” Stefan answers, and Gabriel’s heart sinks.

There’s a stranger approaching from the parked car, and his face is difficult to distinguish. He’s tall, and frightening, and Gabriel shrinks down against his Master’s legs. Master will protect him, surely--?

“God, that’s disgusting.” His Mistress’s voice is so full of disdain, it’s almost unrecognizable. “Look at it, clinging like that. Come on, Stefan, shake it off so we can go home.”

What?

Gabriel’s breath is starting to come faster, panic and terror overloading his senses.

They couldn’t be – they wouldn’t.

Were they selling him?

“Hand over the money, then,” Master says, and Gabriel lets out a terrified sob.

“Please, no, no, Mast-nng-!” Stefan silences his begging with a vicious backhand, and Gabriel reels, tasting blood.

“I’ve got the money right here,” the stranger says, as if nothing had happened. Something gets passed across over his head, and then Mistress lays a hand on his head. Gabriel looks up to her with a piteous whine, begging wordlessly for any scrap of her usual gentleness. But she only purses her lips and shakes her head.

“Go on now,” she tells him. “Go be good for him. We’re done with you.”

When Gabriel whimpers and hesitates, he gets a kick to the ribs with one of Mistress’s sharp heels.

He goes sprawling in the gravel, and the stranger bends down and reaches for him, a sharp grin painted across his features.

“No!” Everyone looks as surprised as Gabriel feels, but his throat stings with how loudly he’d screamed it, and even the stranger has halted his approach.

Gabriel flings himself away, and then claws his way back to Mistress and Master’s feet.

“P-please, please,” he whimpers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t make me go with him, please – I’ll do better! I’ll do, I’ll do anything you want, please, Master, a-and, and – Mistress, I’m sorry, I’ll be better, I’ll be, please keep me, please-!”

Something slams down on Gabriel’s fingers, and it takes a long moment for the pain to register.

When it does, his keen of pain is nearly drowned out by the stranger’s laughter.

“Well, boy, I gotta say, that was real pretty.” The man crouches over him. “But we’ll be getting to that on our own time.” Mistress removes her heel from Gabriel’s hand, and his stomach twists viciously at the sight of his broken, twisted fingers.

The stranger grabs him by the collar and hauls him upright, and Gabriel chokes on his cry of pain.

“Please,” he mouths, but only the first half gets air. His eyes are turned pleadingly to his Masters – the only Masters he’s ever loved, even if he feared them too. Please, he tries again, but their faces are impassive. Mistress just shakes her head, and Master holds Gabriel’s eyes for a long, cold moment, before they both turn away.

“NO!” Gabriel shrieks, and he goes wild in the stranger’s arms. “No! Master! Please, no- Mistress, don’t leave me here, Mistress-! Please, don’t leave me here-”

He’s screaming his voice raw, and it hurts, in a way that everything up until then hasn’t. It’s strange enough to give him pause – his fingers hurt too, but it’s muted, far away. But he’s screaming, loud and hard, and he can feel that, tearing out of his throat like something living.

He’s being shaken, Gabriel realizes. The stranger, the man they’d sold him to, he’s shaking him – but Gabriel blinks, and suddenly the surroundings have changed.

“Gabriel? Gabriel, sweetheart, you’ve got to wake up. Wake up, honey, it’s just a dream.” Gabriel blinks again, utterly bewildered. That’s Mistress’s voice, but he’d just seen her turn him away… his side still hurts from her heel. “Come on, sweet boy. You’re dreaming. You’re right here with Stefan and I, you’re safe.”

Gabriel scrunches up his face in a frown, and everything dissolves around him.

The hands shaking him seem to change, somehow, and then it’s his Mistress gripping his shoulder, features drawn in concern.

“Gabe? Buddy?” Gabriel turns his head, and there’s Master, hovering beside the bed.

The bed? Where—what?

“You had a nightmare, sweetheart,” Mistress is murmuring. “It wasn’t real, none of it.”

Gabriel tries to pull in a breath, and it turns into a hiccuping sob.

“Please,” he cries. It’s so easy to keep begging, because even if he’s awake the terror hasn’t gone away, the dream seems so real, so close, and one of these days they might decide they’ve had enough of him—“Please, I d-don’t, I don’t want to go,” he sobs. “I’ll be better, I p-promise, please, please, l-let me stay.” He’s crying, and it comes in big, ugly gasps.

“Hey, hey,” Master says softly. “Easy, sweetheart, it wasn’t real…”

And then Mistress; “We’re not sending you away, little one. But you’ve got to breathe.”

Is he not breathing? The words barely penetrate the fog, but everything gets a little clearer when he drags a breath into his lungs and then lets it out. He’s trembling, and he takes in another breath, trying to still the shaking in his core.

“Please,” he whimpers one last time. His head feels like it’s spinning, and the dream is lurking so nearby, hanging over his head like it could rise from the shadows of the room. It would be so easy for his Masters to get rid of him – and they have so little reason to keep him. What has Gabriel even done since they’d bought him to deserve to stay?

A weight settles on the bed next to him, and then he’s being gently guided into Master’s arms. Gabriel folds into it like paper, and he whimpers and clings back when he feels Mistress take his hand. The mattress dips as she joins them, and she pets through his hair and rubs his back as he cries into Master’s shoulder.

“Please, I’ll be good,” he sobs, over and over. “Please k-keep me, please.”

It’s late; the clock on the nightstand reads three in the morning, and Gabriel’s tears come faster when he realizes that he must have woken them both up. But their touch is gentle while they soothe him, and Gabriel latches onto it selfishly.

It’s another fifteen minutes before he’s calm enough to articulate the source of his distress.

“Oh, sweet boy,” Mistress says sadly after he tells them about his dream. Gabriel sniffles and doesn’t meet her eyes. He feels so small in Master’s arms, and he doesn’t want to lose this feeling of safety. He’s so tired of being afraid… and he’s so tired of not knowing if he’s been good enough, not knowing if he’s been well-behaved enough to stay.

“We would never do that to you,” Master mutters, and there’s conviction in his voice. The man gently brushes a bit of hair out of Gabriel’s eyes, then cups the boy’s cheek, and Gabriel leans into it shamelessly. There’s still so much fear in his eyes, and Stefan knows that it may never fully go away. There’s too much pain there, too much trauma. But this, at least, is something the two of them can help with.

“You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart,” Maria murmurs. To anyone else, the words could easily be threatening – but Gabriel has a way of showing raw gratitude with just his eyes.

“Tha-ank you Mistress,” he whispers wetly. “I want, want to be g-good, please…” The boy is tired; it’s obvious in the bags under his eyes, and the way he struggles to remain present in the moment. “Want to be good so, s-so you’ll keep me…”

The two siblings exchange a look over his head, and they both carry the same sadness.

“We’re always going to keep you, little one,” Maria murmurs, and Gabriel whimpers softly and clings to her.

They settle down on the bed after that, Mistress on one side and Master on the other, and Gabriel half on top of Master’s lap, leaning against his Mistress’s side. Everything is warm and sleepy and soft, but Gabriel can’t sleep yet, not with the memory of his dream so close. He’s still holding on too tight, like if he lets go, all the kindness will be ripped away.

He sniffles again at the thought, and Mistress presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’ve been such a good boy, sweetheart.” Master’s voice is quiet, but it still rumbles under Gabriel’s ear, and he can feel it all the way in his bones. He draws in a quavery breath.

“We know this is a lot,” Mistress adds softly. “But you’re doing wonderfully.” She gives him a gentle squeeze, and something fragile and terrified stirs in Gabriel’s chest.

He wants to believe them. He wants to stay.

“Nnn, hnm, n-not gonna, not gonna s-send me away…?” It’s timid, like asking the question might be enough to decide the answer. Gabriel’s eyes are big and scared when he lifts them to Maria’s, then over to Stefan’s, and the naked desperation there is like a kick to the gut. “ ’m still, still yours?”

There’s hope in his eyes now, too, fragile as glass.

“Yeah, bud,” Master murmurs, after just a beat’s hesitation. “Still ours.”

It’s vaguely reassuring, but Gabriel seeks out his Mistress too, waiting for her answer.

“Of course, sweetheart.” There’s sadness in her expression again, but Mistress smiles at him and kisses his cheek, pets her fingers through his hair. “You’re our good boy,” she murmurs. She gently wipes a stray tear away with her thumb, holds his eyes for a moment. “I want you to feel safe and secure with us,” she says firmly. “So if you need to… if you need to know that you’re ours. To feel safe.” Her hand settles on the side of Gabriel’s neck, traces her thumb over the fluttering of his pulse. “If you need that, then we can remind you.” She gives the gentlest little squeeze, and Gabriel whines softly and slumps against Stefan.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and his expression is awed. “Th-thank you, Mistress, and, and Master, thank you.” It’s for more than just the comfort, and he hopes that they understand. Gabriel’s not good, he’s never been good - but they are so patient with him, so gentle... and he wonders if maybe this time he could be.

The space around his throat still feels empty, like it has ever since his former Master cut the collar off. His new owners haven’t given him one of their own yet, and Gabriel wonders if that should frighten him. But the memory of Mistress’s palm covering that same skin is fresh in his memory, and oddly enough it settles him.

He was never good enough for his former masters. But maybe this time, if they help him, maybe he can be.

Gabriel drifts off to sleep like that, curled up in their arms, and the nightmares do not return.

#whump #begging #crying #nightmares #fear #conditioning #gabriel whump series

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mittensmorgul · 5 years ago

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I love Eileen. And I love Saileen. I love that they introduced a character with a disability and made Sam happy But I agree with a lot of what you say about Saileen. They’re NOT canon. Yeah, they very well could be. But as of now, they aren’t. They seem more like a “will they/won’t they” relationship rather than a real established relationship. And with everything with Chuck and his control over her... idk. I love hearing what ppl think about it but they need to let you have your opinions

Thank you for this, seriously. I just feel like I’ve been pressured into seeing it differently. And I’m sorry for that, honestly! I wish I could see it as a purely cute, happy, no complications relationship. I wish I could see the parallels to destiel as direct mirrors instead of “spot the difference” mirrors.

I love Eileen as a character, and have seen potential for her to have a relationship with Sam since 11.11. It seemed like the show was seriously considering that in 12.17. And then the show proved they weren’t... Yes I was fully on board the “she can’t actually be dead because that was stupid and terrible” train back then. I was for a good long while afterward. (lol read my fic Winchester 275, with fun happy saileen!) But eventually, when it becomes obvious that the characters have moved on, we have to move on and see reality, too.

But after the show made her return a direct tool of manipulation by Chuck, and after she herself has expressed that because of that, BECAUSE Chuck’s interference in “writing Saileen” into the show as a romantic plot, when she questions what is real, she’s talking specifically about her relationship with Sam. If that wasn’t the case, if Chuck’s plot for her had been about ANYTHING else, I wouldn’t have so much difficulty with the state of Sam and Eileen’s relationship now. But Chuck specifically brought her back to romance Sam.

When Eileen says she doesn’t know what’s real, she specifically means between her and Sam. Between 15.06 and 15.09, Sam repeatedly denied they were like that (when Dean teased and then talked seriously to him about their obviously developing relationship based on what he’d seen of their interactions, and lampshaded by Dean himself as him viewing their interactions through the lens of his own personal issues he was struggling with at the time, having literally projected his own feelings onto their relationship). And I understand the desire to see Sam happy, to see him find a relationship like this. But I will always want that relationship for him to be real, of his own choosing, and with someone who can freely consent to it. And I want the same for Eileen, too.

I’m doing my level best to look critically at what Chuck wants, at the plots and situations that he specifically engineers, and asking myself why. He’s been Gabriel-level manipulative/trickstery, Lucifer-level “smashing his own toys,” and Michael-level “monster apocalypse ftw,” and Raphael level “it just needs to be over.” I just watched Mystery Spot on the TNT loop, so maybe that’s why I’ve got Gabriel on the mind here, but I’m betting this week’s episode will have some heavy Gabriel style callbacks. What is the truth? What’s their own choices and what have they been “tricked” into believing was their only choice?

As long as Eileen feels that she had no choice in anything that happened between her and Sam, I’m gonna be eternally grateful that Sam had his foot on the brakes regarding their interactions to the point they learned of Chuck’s manipulation. Because it could’ve gone a hell of a lot worse if Sam had jumped into a romance with her, you know? Imagine if he had taken her up on her proposition in 15.07, only to have her doubt if it was even her choice after the fact? That would’ve been so, so much worse. For both of them.

The narrative has at least left them with POTENTIAL. Eileen could reexamine her whole relationship with Sam and decide she really does have feelings for him that are her own, completely untainted by Chuck’s interference. But I really need that to be her freely-made choice. Sam could welcome her back with open arms, ready to proceed with a relationship on their own terms, to build something real between them. If they’d consummated the relationship while Eileen was being controlled/used by Chuck, it wouldn’t even be a potential. Or maybe it would, but there would’ve always been that specter of what had happened to her hanging over the relationship, leaving them both to question if it was actually real or only based on what Chuck had pushed them into, you know? For however cute the potential of their relationship is or could be, it’s not founded in their own free will.

I completely understand why some people refuse to question Eileen’s feelings for Sam, rather than just questioning which of her actions are “real.” If Eileen hadn’t specifically been brought back for a “romance plot” with Sam, I don’t know if she would’ve doubted her feelings for him, either. They did have a history of friendship, at the very least, before Chuck’s incredibly specific plan for her unfolded in s15. We WANT good things for Sam, we want him to be happy, to find someone to love and be loved by in the way he really deserves, and has wanted for a very long time, but heck I can’t stop hearing Charlie’s voice in 8.20 here:

Sorry you have zero luck with the ladies

I need for any relationship that Sam chooses for himself to defy that statement, not to be burdened by Chuck’s incessant campaign of destroying Sam’s love life over and over again for his own personal entertainment. He uses Sam’s hope as a weapon against him, just like we saw in 15.09. Two of Sam’s biggest character arcs for the entire series have involved his perception/understanding of reality, and hope vs hopelessness. That is, what gives Sam hope, and what strips it from him. It’s been a key metric for him in every season, and it directly affects the choices he’s willing to make, and possibly more importantly, what he’s personally willing to sacrifice.

At this moment, I’m watching Jus In Bello, and this is... exactly the plot of this entire episode. This is Sam’t plot through all of Kripke Era, throughout Chuck’s original apocalypse arc. This was Ruby’s entire purpose in the narrative: romance Sam to manipulate him into Doing The Thing. In 3.12, it’s framed around Sam’s hope vs hopelessness against the army of demons surrounding them. It’s framed as “not having a choice,” and then working together to “find another way.” Only for Ruby to show up at the end of the episode after they think they’ve succeeded, to inform them that because of their choice, everyone they’d been trying to save was now dead. And it was STILL a manipulation on a bigger level of the narrative that won’t be proven out until the end of s4 and Ruby’s Grand Reveal moment as Lucifer rises.

THIS IS A BIG ISSUE FOR SAM, and dismissing it all for the sake of smushing his face together with Eileen’s is... at the very least, a wee bit problematic.

Obviously, Ruby was conscious of this deception from the start. She was planted with the knowledge of what she had to accomplish, and willingly participated in Sam’s manipulation. Eileen... wasn’t complicit in ANY of the manipulation, at least not consciously. I’m not attempting to frame Eileen as evil here, but just as much a victim of Chuck’s plotting as Sam was.

If Eileen didn’t feel this way herself, if she didn’t directly question and doubt her own feelings for Sam, she wouldn’t have left. She left for HERSELF. I can’t even imagine being in her position here, you know? Saved from the torment of Hell, given a tiny bit of hope for the future (still with the question of whether her soul was still doomed to Hell when she eventually died again, or whether she got a clean slate and could enter Heaven eventually, LITERALLY ALSO BECAUSE OF CHUCK). Only to discover that her second chance had been provided by Chuck because he cavalierly intended to use her AGAIN, not for her own sake, but to drive Sam’s “plot.” Romance-loss-manpain-angst-hopelessness-”Butch and Sundance” lather rinse repeat. That’s Chuck’s plot, and in leaving, whether she sees that bigger picture or not, Eileen has chosen not to participate in it. Not to let herself be used by that plot.

Eileen had her agency stolen from her by Chuck’s BMoL storyline, and she spent three years in Hell because of it. At this point in the story, leaving to regain that lost agency was the best thing she could’ve done FOR HERSELF. And Sam, of all people, who had his agency stolen from him when he was 6 months old and fed demon blood, can understand that.

If Sam and Eileen are meant to be, they BOTH need to come to that decision for reasons other than “Chuck wants to hurt us with each other for plot reasons.” And as important as Eileen as a character is for representation, she’s also elevated herself to another important level in the narrative: She chose HERSELF. She chose her own life and freedom. She chose to walk out of the story and refused to be used by it.

If Eileen comes back to the story again, it will truly be because she CHOSE it for herself. Her entire life up to 11.11 had been the same sort of “revenge narrative” that the Winchesters had endured. She got her win, and then was faced with the question (posed to her by Sam) of what she was going to do next. When we next see her, in 12.17, we see that she has apparently continued her life as a hunter. She’s drawn into helping with an “all hands on deck” situation, in finding Dagon and Kelly Kline, and then her involvement in that hunt directly leads to her death in the most awful and ableist way possible-- literally hunted down by Chuck’s “big bad threat” of the season, to drive Sam and Dean into Chuck’s ever-narrowing maze of choices leading up to their confrontation with Lucifer in 12.23 (and Cas’s death by Lucifer’s hand, and everything that followed... including Dean’s formal complaint of a prayer to Chuck himself in 13.01. I mean, given Chuck’s favored story, he must’ve been wringing his hands with glee at Dean’s hopeless suffering in early s13, you know?).

I need to go back to Sam’s experiences with the BMoL himself. In Sam’s ongoing, lifelong issues that I’ve been tagging as “Sam vs Reality” for years now, the weapon of torture that Toni Bevell used to manipulate Sam... was specifically a fake/drug-and-torture induced romance plot. After 12.02 aired, please recall the abject horror of the entire fandom over the rape by deception plotline between Sam and Toni-- after spending the entire hellatus wondering if Toni was being set up with a “love at first stab” redemption arc in much the same way Cas had in s4. For folks that hadn’t been in the fandom during the post-s11 hellatus, this seemed to be a serious potential, until 12.02 burned that notion to the ground. Eileen’s suspicious return to the narrative in s15 rang alarm bells in my head for this exact reason.

I need people to understand why I feel so viscerally uncomfortable with Sam and Eileen’s relationship as it stands in s15. Everyone has the absolute right to find their relationship cute, or truly romantic, or to hope that they are endgame together. But I also think I have the absolute right to feel wary of it, considering all of this ^^.

Plus, to me, all of this *IS* the interesting character stuff we’ve all been here for all these years. We’re all giddily engaging with Dean’s long-standing issues with anger, abandonment, fear, self-worth, and identity coming to fruition in s15. Even the most die-hard destiel shippers haven’t ignored the deep underlying character arcs of both Dean AND Cas as their relationship is finally being defined, clarified, and hopefully resolved in the narrative. Do we not owe at LEAST that much to Sam, and his character’s underlying issues? Because I think that’s what the narrative is pushing us to examine here.

And as you said, I also see it as a potential relationship. Yes, one with a LOT of potential based on their chemistry. As things stand after 15.09, there’s every reason to think that Eileen could come back, could accept the offer Sam made with that kiss. I saw it as him laying a potential foundation, his way of saying “maybe it wasn’t real up to this point, but we could choose it if that’s what you wanted, too.” I also see it as up to Eileen herself if she can lay that baggage down and begin building a relationship based on mutual choice, understanding, respect, affection, and potentially love and romance. If Eileen is Sam’s endgame love interest, to me it would necessitate their choice to give a future together a shot. It would be a beautiful new beginning in life, for both of them, rather than the culmination of more than a decade of emotional relationship issues that Dean and Cas are facing, you know? There is a difference, and equating the relationships on a surface level is fine, but the presumption that we’re supposed to just accept that the two relationships are equal in terms of underlying emotional context is... at least a little disturbing to me, because ^^^^^^.

Heck, I think I’ve officially emotionally wrung myself out typing about all of this again, but I appreciate having the space to actually work through my own feelings about all of this, too.

#spn 15.09 #spn s15 spoilers #spn s15 speculation #sam fucking winchester #come on eileen #spiders georg of the tnt loop #s15 meta rewatch #spn 3.11 #spn 3.12 #lol since i was watching those while typing this out #spn 12.02 #spn 15.07 #spn 4.22 #sam vs reality #spn 13.01 #spn 12.23 #spn 11.23 #thatdude noah

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lurafita · 5 years ago

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SIM Tony x Peter, part two

I’ll warn you all upfront, I haven’t gotten any better at writing smut, and this chapter has zero. Actually, this chapter doesn’t even have Peter in it. It’s just a lot of introspection into Tony’s character and how I envision he could slowly slip into SIM-mode. You will likely find this pretty boring.

If you are still willing to read, however, THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

Read the first part here: part 1

SIM Tony x Peter, part 2

He had drunken himself into a stupor after Peter had left first the living room, and then the tower.

Alcohol had always been one of his vices, and admittedly not the greatest coping mechanism. However, no matter how truly stupid, and sometimes even abhorrent, he behaved under its influence, the morning after often brought with it a new insight and understanding for his problems.

As well as a headache. Jesus!

“Jarvis, hangover protocol.” He rasped at the ceiling.

The A.I. complied immediately with the demand, lowering the shutters on every window to dim the natural light in the penthouse, and started the coffee maker in the kitchen.

“You should find some Tylenol in your bedside drawer, Sir.”

Tony blindly grabbed for the bottle after prying the drawer open, and swallowed two pills dry.

“Should I order you breakfast, or would you prefer to further endanger your health by ignoring your basic bodily needs, as usual?”

The billionaire let out a long and tormented groan as he got up from his bed (for which he mentally patted himself on the back. It wasn't often that his intoxicated mind managed to get his drunk ass into an actual bed, before he passed out)

“Remind me to program the sass out of you later, J.”

He wouldn't

“Certainly, Sir.”

Tony slowly made his way across the room, already able to smell the godly brew that was coffee.

“And that's a no for breakfast. But remind me in a few hours to order something hearty from that one restaurant I like. I'm starting on a new project, and I probably shouldn't 'endanger my health' – as you put it – too much before I get to finish it.”

The coffee was too hot and too strong and exactly what the genius needed right then.

“A new project, Sir? Does this have anything to do with Mr. Parker's visit and subsequent departure yesterday? I should caution you on making any rash decisions. Research shows that people are very susceptible to such upon experiencing rejection.”

Tony winced at that, but blamed it on the temperature of the coffee.

“Okay, J, one: we are not calling it a rejection. Peter loves me, he is just too worried that something might happen to me, if we started a relationship. That's not rejection; that's fear. Two: while this may seem rash, my new project is possibly one of the sanest, safest, and best decisions I have made in my life.”

Which Tony actually believed to be true.

No matter how much he wanted to be angry at Peter for the younger man's unwillingness to take that step with Tony, he couldn't.

Peter's rejection (god how he hated that word) might have been a fear based response, but it wasn't a groundless one. Everything Peter had said last night was the truth.

His enemies were deranged and obsessed with making Spiderman suffer.

Tony was vulnerable without the suit, and there had been instances when his technology had either malfunctioned due to outside tampering, or he himself hadn't been aware of any danger or not fast enough to activate his suit.

The losses Peter had suffered due to his superhero alter ego, had left the younger man scarred and traumatized, and Tony could hardly fault him for that.

Arriving in her personal lab (a space he usually loved to share with Peter, but after the events of yesterday evening, the brunette would probably avoid the lab – and the tower as a whole – for a while) Tony had narrowed down three major obstacles that stood in the way of him and his love.

The first was his suit.

Peter was right. Technology wasn't infallible, and Iron Man was due for an upgrade anyway. For years now, Tony Stark had spearheaded any advancements there were in the field of engineering. It was time to take the next step.

A press of a button and a command typed into his holographic interface, brought up the specs of all of his suits. From the clunky and uncomfortable Mark 1, to the sleek nano-technology Mark 75.

The second problem, was the fragility of his human body.

There would be no point in creating the perfect Iron Man suit, if he fell victim to things like illness, infection, or senility. The age difference between him and Peter was another sore spot. Meeting and falling for the Spiderling when Tony had already been in his late 40's was bad luck, because it would leave them with that much less time to spend with each other. Bruce and Peter, both sharing an interest in the sciences dealing with biology, cross species dynamics and mutations, had figured out that the spider bite that had given Peter his powers, had also slowed down the rate of cell decay in his body. They had estimated that the brunette would likely live way past a hundred years. Which meant that he deserved far more than the maybe 30 to 40 years that Tony still had in him. If Tony wanted to be with his Baby Boy for as long as possible, the too short human lifespan was a hurdle that needed to be overcome.

More tapping on the holographic keyboard opened up all the files he had on the Extremis virus. The genius had isolated the cause of it's recipients exploding two years ago, and fixed it. The only reason he hadn't utilized the new and improved Extremis sooner, was that it was one of those 'too powerful for humanity' things, that morally uptight people like Rogers would frown upon. Also, he hadn't felt that he needed it, placing far more trust and value into his suits. Just goes to show, doesn't it? Even Tony Stark was wrong sometimes.

The third major stepping stone were Spiderman's villains.

This was both the easiest and hardest to fix. The easiest way (and quite frankly the one Tony himself would prefer) was to kill them. Again, Peter was right. It didn't matter how many times the spider-themed hero beat them and handed them over into Shield custody, they always found a way out of their imprisonment. And as soon as they did, their main goal was to make Peter pay.

However, Tony also understood why Peter could never bring himself (or allow anyone else) to eliminate them for good.

Harry had been his best friend since childhood, Conners and Octavius had been mentors, and Eddie Brock had been a pseudo older brother. And even disregarding the personal feelings and history that bound Peter to each man, non of them were technically evil.

Harry had been a terminally ill teenager, hoping to escape his father's fate. The serum he had thought would cure him, had molded and messed up his body and mind, akin to someone who had been drugged or brainwashed.

Conners and Octavius had been decent, even honorable, men, who had sought to use their intelligence and research to help people in need. It had backfired and, as with Harry, twisted their minds, and in Conners case, mutated his body.

Brock had simply been unfortunate to be so compatible with the symbiote that Spiderman had managed to resist and fight off. Being bonded to Venom so thoroughly had changed the man.

The fact that each of the four knew who Spiderman was underneath the mask, but had never shared that information with anyone else, had manifested the believe in Peter that somewhere, deep down, their original, good, selves were still alive. That there was still hope for reversing the transformations, restoring them to the men they used to be.

And while Tony thought it naive, he also understood. After all, it was this penchant to hope where others would have long given up, this forgiveness and purity, that had attracted him to Peter in the first place, when they had just gotten to know each other years ago.

So, no. Tony could never make Peter change his stance on his 'No killing' policy, and he didn't want to.

But neither did he want for his love to keep being haunted by the people who had, if anyone were to ask Tony, lost their right to a second chance long, long ago.

Which meant that Tony would just have to deal with them himself.

More holograms popped up, this time displaying all the information that had been gathered on Doctor Octopus, the Lizard, Green Goblin and Venom. Tony zoomed in on the black alien parasite.

And he knew just where to start.

_______________________________________

I thank you all very much for reading and hope you have a wonderful day. Remeber to drink enough water and give yourself frequent breaks if you start getting stressed. Be fair to yourself and treat yourself with kindness, as you deserve no less. Find at least one thing to truly smile about today (and every other day). Also, never be too hard on yourself should you fail at something. Nobody is perfect, and it is often through defeat, that we learn how to overcome many of life’s difficulties.

Tagging: I simply always tag anyone who commented on the last chapter, if you don’t want to be tagged, drop me a quick message, please.

@sassy-starker @momobaby227 @retroxvailles @grimalkinmessor @bbalienbae @deliciousflapbanditfarm @starkersenses @kirakishou @von--gelmini @kaddiisarat

Kaddiisarat for some reason didn’t work? I’m really sorry honey, I tried!

Please tell me if I forgot anyone!

#starker #fanfic #superior iron man #Tony turns superior out of love #spider-man #peter parker #tony stark #mixed up canon #canon divergent #Dark!Tony #love #obsession #turning to the dark side #adult!peter #still a bit of an age gap though #op lurafita

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whitherliliesbloom · 5 years ago

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Wondrous Tails #4

Wondrous Tails SFW Entry #4 Prompt: Insomnia Characters / Ship: Illya(WOL)/Alphinaud, featuring..Fray.. sort of Mid-ShB, contains spoilers up until after the first dungeon of ShB 1,408 words

It should have been a victorious moment, a historical event that will no doubt be remembered by all in Lakeland for generations to come.

The arrival of dark, brought about by the might of the Warrior of Darkness herself. He had watched with his own two eyes as she absorbed the aetheric energy of the lightwarden into herself. And with a renewed expression of determination he’d not seen before of her, she thrust her hand up into the light-filled sky and banished it.

An era of darkness has come.. and though it truly is an irony that the hero that they’d call the Warrior of Light would be the one to oppose their very name here in the First, the Exarch was all too eager to kneel before her and beg her deliver this realm from utter destruction - as she had done for the Source before.

He knew not whether the Exarch had noticed.. but as a man who has stood by the hero’s side for many long summers, he caught a glimmer of fatigue in her eyes, masked only by words of pure altruism and bravery that she’s learned to recite mindlessly, and the confident little smile that only caused Alphinaud’s heart to ache.

It’d been hard enough to convince Alisaie to retreat to her suite to rest.. but even after he’d personally seen to shutting the door to his sister’s room behind himself, his mind was still frazzled with the day’s earlier proceedings - in particular worry over the white-haired lalafellin.

To him, she was more than the Warrior of Light, or even the Warrior of Darkness to the realm they knew as their temporary home now. She was his best friend, now partner, and the woman he’s come to think of as his very own true love.

He’d like to think he understands her, understood the strife and pain she felt, so that he could help shoulder at least part of that burden for her. It thus never ceases to frustrate him then, when she’d refuse to confide in him.

His heavy strides lead him through the eerily quiet corridors of The Pendants, no doubt the residents were enjoying their much deserved first dark night in forever. He isn’t too sure if he himself would be quite able to sleep with so much running through his mind, and just as he’d been about to resign himself to yet another possible sleepless night, he stops dead in his tracks.

She stood still, outside the door of what he believed to be her suite. The loose gown she wore indicated that she’d been in bed, or at least had been prepared to rest in bed.

But here she was instead, standing on her own lonesome outside her room, her head bowed so that the fringes of her pure white hair obscured her eyes from view.

“Illya?” His voice calls out softly to her.

Instead of being startled, or perhaps even hiding her face away from him as she is wont to do while flustered, the girl slowly tilts her head up slowly to stare at the young elezen.

All color drains from his face as he notices the very hue of her eyes - a dark blood red in exchange for the beautiful, glimmering violet he was used to.

And if the crimson of her eyes had not been enough, the very look in the girl’s eyes would have been enough to pierce a hole straight through his chest - had he not been any wiser on what... or who was in possession of her body.

“What are you doing?” all trace of gentleness in Alphinaud’s voice is replaced with a fury that has been boiling within him for the past few summers he’s known of Illya’s peculiar condition, a condition in which she is regularly haunted by visions of another man, both in the real world and in her very dreams.

From the rare occasions that Illya agreed to speak of her condition, Alphinaud had come to the conclusion that the ghost of a dead man has somehow latched himself onto her from sheer circumstance, a result of her kindheartedness, now backfired and used against her as this entity toys with her emotions and sanity.

From plaguing her with nightmares, to even hurting the people around her.. It’d be a lie to say Alphinaud has not toiled over tomes after tomes on what ways he could possibly get rid of his accursed man who tormented the woman he loved for seemingly no reason.

There was never any sympathy or care in Alphinaud’s glare every time Illya’s eyes turned red in the midst of battle, after all it was a mere result of this foul ghost exerting his control over her by force.

The man in question, Fray, merely scoffs and quietly tilts the girl’s head back down to conceal her face with her bangs.. and the blatant lack of response causes Alphinaud to grit his teeth.

“Why do you do this? Why do you want to hurt her so? Is it not enough to haunt her very dreams with horrid hallucinations? How much longer do you intend to defile her body until you are satisfied?!”

It takes all of Alphinaud’s last remaining shred of self-control to remind himself not to raise his voice, though every atom in his body begged to do so.

“And now.. you would deprive her of her sleep? Do you not know what she has been through??”

For a moment, he’d expected silence yet again.. In Alphinaud’s many attempts to communicate with this man, he has not once responded to him directly. He only ever speaks to Illya, and it was only to once more feed her distress. And when he does finally direct his words to someone other than Illya, he spoke to others as if they were a mass - a hivemind of nothing but bugs he could not care any less of. The complete opposite of Illya.

Fray is willing to trample on everything Illya cared for - from her dreams, her wishes, her bonds, her sanity, and now even her health. That was the only reasonable explanation.. the only explanation Alphinaud could accept.

“Idiot. You lot truly love to blame other people for all of the world’s problems, don’t you?”

Alphinaud admits that he could never get used to her voice sounding like that - to Illya’s voice sounding so..cold and devoid of the love and gentleness that was characteristic of her. No matter how many times he tells himself that this isn’t Illya, this isn’t Illya who is speaking.. that voice will never not claw at his chest and cause it to ache.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Are you that stupid? Are you not supposed to be her lover?” Her head turns upwards, crimson eyes spewing utter disgust in Alphinaud’s direction. “Perhaps it would wound you too much to think that this woman has always had difficulty giving herself in to sleep - and so instead of doing anything to save her, you would blame your own inadequacy on something else.”

His mind is racing too fast to keep up, to understand what kind of nonsense this man was spouting yet again.

And yet in his desperate attempt to brush Fray’s words off as nothing more than the mad ramblings of a sadist yet again, his final accusation towards Alphinaud pricked at him.

“My...own inadequacy?”

“Am I wrong? You of all people should have known, you of all the souls in both this realm and the Source should know better than anyone!” Illya’s voice rises, her head now fully turned up to glare at him.. and in a moment of weakness, Alphinaud swears that he sees a flash of violet in her eyes - hears not Fray, but Illya behind the disappointment and anger in those words.

Turning on her heels, the woman doesn’t bother to even cast a second glance back towards him as she opens the door to her suite.

She does however, have time to spare a few parting words of spite towards Alphinaud that he would spend the rest of the dark night mulling over.

“Her heart is weak. Too weak to bear all the burdens of this world. Like a cup, her emotions constantly fill, and fill, until it finally overflows.. and she begs me to release her from pain. If you will not save her, then I will.”

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #alphinaud leveilleur #fray #illya skawi #wondrous tails #fanfic #mine #alphinaud #we've come so far #sorta #dark illya #OOOOOOO THIS WAS SO BADLY WRITTEN BUT I HAD THE IDEA FOR THIS FOR SO LONG OOOOOOO

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brookscharis · 5 years ago

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how to own your story

I have to share my shortcomings and weaknesses. I refuse any space for the enemy to put me in a little box lined with mirrors so I can hatefully stare at myself from every angle. If I was to live for myself and fulfill a self defined purpose, I would only focus on my strengths and show off my greatness - my great taste in music, clothes, media, etc. But now that God has revealed Himself to me and showed me how, compared to Him, I’m not great at all, I’ve allowed Him to fulfill His purpose for my life. Which is the same for all believers –– to make Him and His greatness known, not our own.

I wrench and twist with embarrassment and pain when I think about the things I’ve done. How I’ve treated people and even how powerless I feel in the present. I lack the clarity to truly see my actions or know if I’m still perpetuating the same patterns. The enemy tells me that I’ll never get it right, that I will always be in this infant state of never changing. But, good thing satan is named, “the Father of Lies.” It’s true that I will never get it right, that’s what helps me to stay dependent on God. I am an infant in the eyes of God, I’m His child and He’s my Father. However, I am a new creation that God has began a good work in that He is faithful to finish.

I worry that I don’t deserve the mercy of God, even though I know I don’t. His mercy is a gift that doesn’t depend on what I do or who I am, but it’s just who He is. I often ask myself how I have the audacity to represent God when I’ve been so mercilessly selfish and defiant toward authority in my past. But it’s not audacity, it’s being obedient despite how I feel, we are called to be ambassadors of the Kingdom. I know I’m unworthy of the calling because I struggled with (and still struggle) with hating anyone and anything that got in the way of my desires. I played favorites and I never took no for an answer. And it was praised as “ambition” and being “determined”. But really, it severed close friendships in my life and led me to diva levels of pride.

At the beginning of my Junior year in college, I cut off friendships that I had for 2 years -- cold turkey with no warning. As soon as I made that decision, I instantly regretted it and decided to run away from the seeds that I planted. I was interested in studying abroad, not by coincidence but because of convenience. It didn’t matter where I was going or what the program actually entailed, I impulsively poured all of myself into the process of fleeing the continent. I moved out of my dorm before Christmas break and went home to wait until February to leave for Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

While I was home, I kept replaying the details over and over. I cut off one in person and three others through Instagram DMs. I would jump from regret to “that’s what they get!” incessantly over and over again. My sudden rejection toward them felt justified because I felt like an outcast in the group, I only liked hanging out with one of them. Even though they would include me in plans sometimes, I had difficulty understanding the inside jokes or feeling wanted. I had a favorite friend and started developing friendships with the others because she was friends with them. I was fake, but I blamed them for a long time. I had so much resentment toward them that swelled into pride and it blinded me. It took being home, 3 months after cutting them off to realize that I was running from them because I was wrong. I despised the connection they had with each other to the point where I didn’t even value them as people. I let hatred and jealousy keep me from respecting them enough to end a 2 year friendship face to face. I was a coward. I hated myself for a very long time. Every day my brain would go on a loop, “you’re toxic, you’re trash, you’re emotionally abusive, you’re a narcissist, you’re an abuser.” My thoughts were debilitating me and I let them, I felt like this was the proper punishment for what I did. I felt like I needed to condemn myself.

But rewind to before I made it home for Christmas break, I was in the Chicago airport and I missed my flight. I had a layover for about 2 hours so I decided to find a place to chill. While sitting down and thumbing through YouTube video recommendations on my feed, I found “Wretched TV.” The first video I saw was of a tall skinny, Abraham Lincoln looking white man on a podium debating theology with college students. They asked the hard questions about Christianity that I could never answer as a believer. I was captivated by the certainty and logic of the man’s answers and I found myself going down a rabbit hole. I thought this was my first introduction to the world of apologetics, however, before this I saw Preston Perry do the same thing in a more conversational manner on his channel “BOLD TV”.

“Wretched TV” led me to “Living Waters Ministry” videos and that channel changed my life forever. This was the first time someone ever broke down the gospel for me in a way that I could understand. I could see the full magnitude of my sin and the holiness of God. Ray Comfort (the guy in those videos) referenced the verse, “No one is good, no not one.” (Romans 3:10) And in that moment, I had a hope that I couldn’t explain. I felt like I was a good person before I did my friends dirty, but now that I made that mistake, I was a good as filthy rags to be disposed of. But this man, Ray Comfort, was telling me – actually, a stranger that he was interviewing in his videos – that we are all in danger of eternal punishment, even if we think we’re a good person. Because to be “good” is to be morally excellent, which only God is. The standard isn’t even based on doing “good” things or deeds in order to appease God, it’s placed on doing it from a genuine heart posture that wants to serve God. “All have fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) After I watched one video, I watched another, and another and another. The questions I had about faith that I was never comfortable enough to ask in church were given answers in these videos. I finally felt like I was getting it! I finally saw Jesus as the God who doesn’t want to condemn me for my life of sin, but wants to save me from my life of sin.

Even though I grew up in church, I never heard the gospel as it’s own separate message, it was always just sprinkled into the sermon –– that Jesus died on the cross for our sins. I didn’t know what that meant and I didn’t really care. I knew that to keep things peaceful in my home, I needed to go to church with my family and pray before I ate dinner. Later on in high school and early college, when I was distant from God and believed in astrology, law of attraction, angel numbers, and pursued a same sex relationship, I still prayed in Jesus’ name. I knew of Him in a religious sense, but not in a personal way. In 2018, when I had enough of the confusion and darkness of new age beliefs, I surrendered everything, including my sexuality to God –– I fasted, worshipped, went to church, and was even baptized –– but I did all of this from the wrong place in my heart. I did it to earn favor and love from Jesus, I did it because I wanted Him to change me and make me a better person. I didn’t know that He already loved me so much that He sacrificed His own life for me, before I ever wanted Him. He did that just in case I wanted a relationship with God. Just so I could be saved from the torment of sin and be right with Him. I was already favored and chosen by Him. Even while I was His enemy, He kept me and protected me. Once I realized that, I clearly saw Jesus as my savior and friend. It didn’t feel like a religious story anymore, it became reality and I could clearly see that there is no other way to the Father. I want to know Him more out of gratitude, not obligation. If it wasn’t for the Holy Spirit drawing me near to God, if it wasn’t for those videos popping up on my feed to share the gospel with me, if it wasn’t for God’s word being truth and Him revealing it to me –– I would still be tormenting myself over my mistakes.

Like Romans 8:1 says, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Actually, you should take the time to read all of Romans 8.

We are not the hero in our story, it’s always God. He is our Redeemer and our Restorer. If it wasn’t for God’s mercy on me, I would not have this blog. I would not post Tik Toks about His love and how to grow closer to Him. I would be bound by the past and the opinions of others would still be my god (I still struggle with this, but I’m learning how to surrender more and more everyday). I am a new creation with a heart of flesh and not stone, I was spiritually dead and now I am alive, I was truly lost but now I am found. I was blind but–– ya’ll get the point.

I did nothing to be in this position. I didn’t see much of a choice when deciding to follow God or continue in the darkness and confusion of my life of sin. I hated my life, so I gave it away. Like Matthew 16:25 (NIV) says, “For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.” He is love. One of the reason why I fell in love with following Jesus is that, as humans, we are to fully embrace how in need of God we are. How is anyone supposed to know Jesus as a savior if we front (or pretend) like we don’t need saving? The Christians around you who model being “perfect” need the most prayer because that’s pride. If we boast in our weaknesses, that’s when Christ’s power rests upon us (2 Corinthians 12:9). There’s no need to project a god-like image when Jesus didn’t even do that Himself (Philippians 2:5-11).

Your story is never supposed to show how strong and great you are, but how merciful and present God is in our times of trouble. When we are afflicted, He is with us. When we afflict others and do them wrong, He corrects us and is merciful. Share His greatness so other’s can have the same hope that you feel from reading my story. It’s not about us and it’s not about our reputations. It’s about making Christ known.

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toloveawarlord · 5 years ago

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Devils in Disguise (Ch. 2)

You can find my masterlist in my bio!

Tagging @plumpblueberry for her love of little Sasha!

Her mother’s shrill scream filled the air. She trampled over to her precious devil children to save them from being burned by the fire. The two lived to see another day. Sasha climbed down from the couch, book clutched tightly. She would need to find some other way to banish them from her world. Her intention to sneak out to the porch swing, away from the shouting, was thwarted by her mother.

“Sasha! What were you doing? They could have died!” Violet screeched, fingers digging down into her shoulders, shaking the indifferent child, a crazed look in her eyes.

The girl couldn’t be bothered. How can her mother be so sure that they would die? Hell spawn should enjoy the licks of flames against their skin. Eyes downcast, she watched a line of ants marching around at the base of the door.

“Now, dear. Calm down.” Seth came to intervene, having successfully calmed the twins down.

“Do you even care?” Violet shouted.

Sasha finally met her mother’s furious gaze. “No.”

The room went quiet after a resounding smack. Her head turned to the side, cheek showing a red mark. Tension rose high, flooding the room with the three. Had she deserved that? Sasha thought not, as she only answered truthfully.

Seth caught Violet’s wrist before another blow could be dealt. Her rage filled gaze fell on him, shoulders heaving. “Do something, Seth! She's your daughter too and she would have sat there and watched the twins die! What is wrong with you-"

"Sasha, go up to your room. I'll be there in a moment," Seth said, waiting until the girl had slinked away to properly address the woman beside him.

Her response caught in her throat, the darkened expression of her husband rendering her speechless. This was a side of him that rarely showed.

Seth pulled her close, arm slipping around her waist to cage her to his chest. A gesture that should have calmed her down, something intimately reassuring. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Don't you ever lay a hand on Sasha again." The rumble of his voice laced in venom drew the anger out of Violet's body and settled the threat deep within her soul. "We may be playing happy family, but do not forget that I know who you truly are."

Without his support, Violet collapsed to the floor, all her energy seemingly drained from her body. She counted each heavy step he took to the staircase. With her arms hugged tight around herself, she glanced at him just enough to get a glimpse of his face. “And I know you, Seth. Neither of us asked for this. This assignment or these children. It’s our fault for not being careful, but I definitely did not sign up for a psychotic little girl.”

Many responses passed through his mind, but he held them to himself. Violet had never had a problem finding faults in Sasha. Even as a baby, the woman found every fault in her as possible. Yet, the twins, she couldn’t get enough of. Seth turned his gaze away, striding up the stairs without giving any words at all.

The door to her room stood open, giving the 10 of Spades a perfect opportunity to just observe. His daughter sat on the floor at the small table that held all her papers and drawing pencils. A dark image on the paper, drawn only in black and gray. Seth took a breath and silently came forward to crouch down beside her. “We have to talk about what happened downstairs.”

The girl never lifted her head or stopped her hand from moving against the pages. A family photo, her mother scribbled out to the point that paper had ripped. The twins were adorned with horns and a tail. Her silence hanging over them both.

“Sasha.” Seth put his hand over hers to still the constant scratching of the pencil. Only then, she raised her gaze from the paper to him. His heart ached for the matching eyes staring back at him, empty of any remorse or regret for the near death of her brothers.

“She hates me.” The words left Sasha’s mouth so easily, as if she were talking about the sun shining in the sky.

Seth squeezed her hand lightly. Telling her otherwise wouldn’t change the girl’s mind, and Violet’s words still swirled around in the air. The two were toxic for each other. If he did nothing, someone would end up truly hurt. “How about you come with me back to headquarters for a little while.”

“Just the two of us?” Her head tilted to the side, chocolate irises lighting up with what seemed to be close to excitement. Sasha had been a calm child, taking her time with everything that she did, even her own birthdays didn’t bring out a wild side of her.

“For now, yes. Won’t it be a delightful for you to be spoiled by your papa and the other officers? They’re going to adore you! It’s been so long since they’ve seen you,” Seth rattled off with a tinge of happiness. He couldn’t bring himself to punish her for the incident with her brothers. Sasha was the most special little girl and that required a different approach to parenting.

Sasha nodded her head in response, glad to be out of the devil’s lair. She could sleep without hearing the constant screeching of the little demons, and avoid being chastised by her mother for existing. “Can we go now?” Her eyes darted around the bedroom, searching for the things that she would like to take with her.

“Well,” Seth paused. He’d come to have dinner with them all, but after all that happened, maybe separating Sasha and Violet would be the best choice. Tension was still high. “I’ll call for carriage while you pack your things.”

The girl set to work the moment permission had been given. Her small room, half a room, really. She shared it with the dark twins. Sometimes she’d taken to sleeping on the couch downstairs on their bad nights. There wasn’t any need to pack a ton of clothing, as she went through them quickly, by either outgrowing them or collecting new clothes when her papa went on a spending spree.

“You’re just too adorable and that dress is perfection!”

Carefully closing the lid and buckling the suitcase together, Sasha turned to scan her room one last time. Her lashes fluttered, brows pulled together. The only thing missing was her new book, the one that nice man had given to her. It had to be in the room, she clearly remembered bringing it.

“Sasha? What are you doing?” Seth asked. The carriage had arrived and Violet had agreed a little too easily to his solution of taking Sasha away for a little while. He spotted the girl on her hands and knees, peering underneath her bed intensely. “Have you lost something?”

“My book, the one I got in town today.” The darkness under the bed seemed almost too dark for the soft evening glow flooding in through the open window. It must be under here. Sasha had never been afraid of the dark or places like the closet or beneath her own bed. But a soft groan of disappointment passed her lips, it was too dark under there.

It must be the twins. They’ve cursed her bed. No wonder she has difficulty sleeping. Their screams and wails at night calling to the void beneath her bed to torment her with nightmares.

“We can come look for it another day. It’s time to go.” Seth took the suitcase, feeling how heavily she’d packed it, almost as if she never intended to return.

Sasha reluctantly climbed to her feet, an unease falling over with the loss of that book. It had brought incredible power. That book could purge her home of all the demons, she was sure of it. The way it felt in her hands, filling her with the warmth of relief. Leaving it behind like this tugged at her heart.

“I’ll be back tomorrow with what you requested. Aren’t you going to at least tell Sasha goodbye?” Seth asked, shifting his gaze between the two who wouldn’t acknowledge each other. He couldn’t place the strange notion that something was incredibly wrong.

Violet turned on her heel, intent on striding away. “Goodbye, both of you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Seth.” Not even bothering to say her daughter’s name. She would only have one day of the week, that had been her deal. Sasha would come for a visit one day a week to see the twins and her mother. It was all she needed to fulfill her mission.

Soon the carriage had carried the father and daughter off, a short ride to headquarters. Sasha fiddled with her hands in her lap, thoughts floating back to the book that must have been under the bed. She silently promised to retrieve it as soon as she could. It held much too importance.

A book that would lead the demon slayers right to her home.

Sasha is a good bean! Thanks for reading!

#things are angsty already but strap in #sasha hyde #ikemen revolution #ikerev #seth hyde #ikemen kakumei #ikerev oc #my oc

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fadingcoast · 5 years ago

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Death Of The Lie || Chapter 23: Lies

AUTHORS: @silverink-goldenlies & @fadingcoast

Summary: Odin and his daughter Hela are the perfect conquerors of the universe. The nine realms fall one after the other into their clutch. After Odin takes a second wife and has a son with her, he doesn’t need Hela anymore. Hela abandons her father and ends up marrying Laufey, a sworn enemy of the Aesir people. Not long after, she becomes pregnant with Laufey’s child. Odin cannot let that son be born, but against all odds, the boy survives. Odin is forced to bring him back to Asgard to be raised as his own until he could make further use of him. The half-Jotun-half-Aesir boy grows up to look and act a lot like his mother, which disturbs Odin, and makes him treat the boy horribly. Odin’s lies are deep and complex, but one day the boy will find out the truth about everything he is.

PAIRING: None RATING: Teen

MASTERLIST

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are encouraged!!

Chapter 23: Lies

Fire. Fire all around me. Flames hot enough to blacken flesh. Fire inside of me. My blood is boiling, my bones are searing coals. It’s too much. I’m going to break. Make it stop!

Let me die!

No, not yet. I will serve. I will bow. Just make it stop!

Madness.

They are breaking my mind in a million pieces, only to be put back together. But it’s not right, it’s different. Everytime I’m different. I’m not me anymore. I’m a puppet, a toy, having my strings pulled in every direction.

I am a weapon. A sacrifice.

I have a new purpose. War.

I have been given clarity. I know what I am, why I survived. I was saved. I am a weapon. I have a glorious purpose.

Isolation. Death. Screaming until hoarse and no one listens. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault!

No one listens. No one cares.

An escape. So small a chance. But what else is there for me?

A sword through my chest.

Loki woke up with a start in the opulent bed covered in frost despite the furs he was wrapped in. His head was spinning, and he had to shut his eyes to gain focus.

Another restless night. Yet another long, dreadful day ahead.

He'd thought that impersonating Odin would become easier in time. It wasn’t the mannerisms, or even the occasional outbursts of rage that made it difficult - after all, he had been subjected to those throughout his life. Thinking as the All-father would was what caused problems. Loki had to perform as a blood thirsty, controlling, despotic monarch. One that wanted a firm fist and ever watchful eye on the Nine Realms. Something that went against everything he believed in.

It didn’t help matters that Alfheim and Vanaheim were both on the brink of rebellion.

With Frigga dead and Thor gone, the bond that kept Vanaheim and Asgard together was slowly falling apart. The Vanir openly mistrusted the sanity of the King, as well as his capacity to rule.

Alfheim was a completely different set of issues. The elves had found some truths about Odin and were no longer recognizing The Allfather’s rule. Loki knew Sigyn was involved and that it probably was a result of his request to find everything Asgard had erased from history. He could feel in his heart that what he did know wasn’t the whole story.

A year in torments he longed to forget. A short and failed incursion to Midgard, and another year in solitary confinement had made contacting Sigyn impossible. Loki was curious to know what she had discovered in the archives of Alfheim and wanted desperately to reach out to her... But to let even one person know he was alive was too great a risk. It could potentially destroy everything he was working so hard to build.

No, it was necessary to let them all believe he was dead. And he should be, but the Norns weren’t going to give in so easily. Against all odds he had survived taking Kurse’s sword through his chest, just under his heart, and being left behind in a dust storm on Svartalfheim. No one knew he was merely at the brink of death, and not even Loki knew how he managed to pull himself together and make it back to Asgard in one piece.

Many times he wished to tell Sigyn the truth, to take the place he was promised and find the care and support Alfheim had always provided. In those moments in his guise as Odin, when the weight of his burden became unbearable, Loki would let his mind drift. To wonder what could have been if he had remained in ignorance of his parentage… If he and Sigyn had wed on Alfheim… If none of this had ever happened…

But it was out of the question. He knew he had to hide, to disappear. He knew he would be hunted if he ran. His best chance was coming back to Asgard, stay dead. Get rid of Odin, for Loki knew he alone could see through his ruse.

The All-father was drained when Loki made it back, his life force weak and dwindling. Frigga’s death and the chain of mistakes that followed had broken the King’s spirit. It wasn’t hard for Loki to enter his mind, to block the memories, to disorient him. It wasn’t hard to abandon him on Midgard. A small mercy, Loki thought, or sheer revenge. To leave Odin to fend for himself as a common human, to die of old age, alone and abandoned. Same as I “died”. It was a far better death than he deserved, but Loki was not going to allow revenge to make him cruel.

Thor had been even easier to get rid of.

Odin always favored Thor, letting him do whatever he wanted. It was simple to just let him go on his own journey, find himself, help his new friends on Midgard, or whatever Thor pretended to do with his time away from the realm and his duties. Thor’s remark about Loki being able to understand what it meant to rule in a way he never could had surprised him, but it was too little, too late.

Settling into a routine once he assumed the throne was tedious at best, and agonizing most days. Wake up, bathe, get dressed, morph into Odin, go about daily business. Grieve. Rebuild what had been destroyed, secure Asgard. His people - Odin’s people - supported him. A meeting, a dinner, a dance, a play. Hear the people talk about what really happened to him, what he really was. Swallow the rage every time. Correct them, tell them he had died a hero, protecting Asgard, protecting Thor. No one would dare go against the All-father. At least they all believed him.

Loki was tired.

Five years might be a breath of time in a life like his, but they were as if thousands of years had gone by. The scars of his tortures were still visible all over his body, stubbornly refusing to heal as though to torment him even further. Even when he wasn’t impersonating Odin, his body felt five thousand years old. It was unclear just how long he would have to keep up this ruse, but living in the body of the source of his own self-hatred wore him down in ways he found it impossible to explain.

It was particularly vexing to attend the war council. Odin’s generals had been insisting on a more bellicose approach to dealing with Vanaheim and Alfheim. Loki had done everything in his power to stop such ways, reasoning that Asgard’s armies weren’t fully recovered after the Dark Elves invasion.

“My King-” One of the Hersir tried to insist again.

“Silence!” Loki rubbed the bridge of his nose as he had seen Odin do many times. “As much as I agree, we don’t have the manpower to go against both Vanaheim and Alfheim. Do I need to remind you all once again that the Alfar King and Vanir Queen are brother and sister? Do you think they won’t support each other if we attack?”

The generals remained silent, some of them biting the retorts, others relieved that Odin wasn’t sending them and their troops to a bloody and pointless battle. One they would surely lose.

The distant echo of a horn interrupted the meeting.

Thor, Loki thought. With a tired sigh, he sat back on the king’s chair.

“Ah, Thor has returned!” The same Hersir as before spoke, with a hint of a smile.

Loki clenched his jaw and dismissed the generals with a wave of his hand. Only one einherji, Odin’s personal guard, was still guarding the door when Thor entered the war room.

“Father.” Thor bowed his head slightly, and stared at the king.

“My son! Welcome, welcome.” Loki said plainly, as he had no energy to pretend to be excited.

Thor lifted a massive crown and dropped it on top of the table. The sound of metal clanking on to wood filled the room.

“The skull of Surtur?” Loki said. “That’s a formidable weapon. How did you acquire it?”

“With difficulty.” Was all Thor answered. “It must be moved to the vault, so Surtur doesn’t arise and destroy the whole realm.”

Loki gestured to the guard standing by the door. The crown was promptly taken away.

Trying to remain calm, Loki poured himself some wine. “Why the visit, Thor?”

“I’ve been having this recurring dream lately, father.” Thor said, sitting across the table, mimicking Loki’s actions and pouring wine for himself. “Every night I see Asgard fall into ruins… Fire and destruction engulf my home.”

Ragnarok. Loki thought, but said nothing. Instead he feigned interest in what Thor was saying.

“I decided to go out into the cosmos and investigate.” Thor continued. “And what do I find, but the Nine Realms completely in chaos. Enemies of Asgard assembling, plotting our demise. Vanaheim and Alfheim breaking from our kingdom.”

Loki had to bite his tongue at the mention of Aflheim. “Well, it is best to respect our neighbors’ freedom, and do so without violence. I see you have learned very little in your travels.”

Something in ‘Odin’s’ expression wasn’t right. Thor played with the goblet in his hand before taking a sip.

“Oh, I have learned quite a few things.” Thor countered. “Rumors about the weak king of Asgard, one who won’t defend or maintain his territories, are on the mouths of many.”

Loki again had to bite his tongue.

“Many say the king has been bewitched.” Thor downed the goblet. “Other say he’s just demented, and old.”

“And what is your opinion?”

Loki sensed something else going behind Thor’s words. Surely the dimwitted meathead doesn’t suspect anything, does he?

“Are you really going to make it hard for me?” Thor gowled.

Loki straightened his posture and pretended to be confused. “What do you mean?”

Thor was enraged. In a flash, he stood up and pressed Mjolnir to Loki’s chest. “Where is father?!”

Loki flinched in pain, as Thor, unknowingly pressed Mjolnir harder on the wound that almost killed him in Svartalfheim. “Fine!” He spat, and made the glamour disappear, revealing himself to Thor.

With a small seidr shock, Loki made Thor stumble back. Free from Mjolnir’s weight he stood up, his robes changing to the more familiar green leather ones.

“You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” Loki said with a sardonic smile. “I offered you the throne and you rejected it. I gave you exactly what you asked for!” With a wave of his hand, he locked the door, sending a silencing spell with it.

“I can’t believe you’re alive!” Thor kicked a nearby chair.

“Did you mourn?” Loki asked coldly. Thor didn’t answer, still staring at him in shock, disbelief, and outrage. “Of course not,” Loki sneered. “You were too busy playing the hero with your new friends. Why come back now?”

“Where is father?” Thor repeated the question, threatening Loki with his hammer. “Did you kill him?” Loki failed to speak, and Thor backed him up to the nearby wall, Mjolnir once again against his wound. “Answer me!”

Loki winced, but didn’t let Thor see. Biting the words he stated, “I know exactly where he is.”

Thor tripped as they stepped out of the portal, and looked around. The meadow where they landed was atop a cliff, covered in lush green grass, with the occasional stump and rock protruding from the green. The sound of crashing waves rumbled below them.

A lone figure sat on one of the rocks, right by the edge, and seemed to be staring at the fading sun. Thor rushed to Odin’s side, Loki followed reluctantly.

“Look at this place. It’s beautiful.” Odin spoke when he felt their presence.

“Father, it’s us.” Thor said softly.

“My son. I’ve been waiting for you.” Odin turned his head to Thor and smiled.

“I know.” Thor smiled back. “I’ve come to take you home.”

“Home, yes. Your mother, she calls me.” Odin again seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the passing clouds. “Do you hear it?”

“Loki, lift your magic.” Thor demanded.

But Odin smiled.

“Took me quite a while to break free from your spell.” He said, turning to Loki. “Frigga would have been proud.”

Loki clenched his teeth.

“I don’t have much time.” Odin said out of breath. “I failed you. It is upon us… Ragnarok.”

“No, I’ve stopped Ragnarok.” Thor shook his head, wearing a rather proud smile. “I put an end to Surtur.”

“No. It has already begun.” Odin pressed. “She’s coming. My life was all that held her back, but my time has come. I cannot keep her away any longer.”

“Father, who are you talking about?”

“The Goddess of Death. Hela. My first born. Your sister.” Odin said looking at Thor, whose jaw hung open in confusion. Loki looked at Odin as he turned to him. “Your mother.”

“What?” Loki couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

“Hela is your mother, Loki.” Odin finally admitted. “Her bearing Laufey’s child was what prompted the war on Jotunheim.” He said. “Her violent appetites grew beyond my control. She betrayed Asgard and married the Jotun King. I couldn’t stop her, so I imprisoned her. Locked her away. And took you.” Odin looked at Loki again. “I sought to protect you, knowing the Jotnar wouldn’t take pity on you as a half breed.”

Loki stopped listening. Once again, the lies of Odin had been deeper than he had imagined. Loki remembered when he killed Laufey. The Jotun King had said this to him. That he recognized him as his son, that he had tried to come to him. Laufey’s last words echoed in his memory: “I am sorry, Loptr. I hope you know your mother loved you. As did I.”

He had been so drunk with power and grief that he didn’t listen. He had been taught the Jotnar were heartless monsters. How could he believe Laufey when he said it?

The Jotnar weren’t the monsters after all.

“She draws her strength from Asgard… Once she arrives there, her powers will be limitless.”

“I hope she gets there.” Loki muttered.

Thor looked at him, bewildered. “Are you mad?”

“I’ve been lied to about my own family my whole damn life! Of course I’m mad!” Loki stood up and faced Odin and Thor. “For once in your life, tell me the truth!” He shouted at Odin.

“Whatever we said was only to protect you.” Odin said, repeating an old and stale speech.

“Lies!” Loki spat. “I would have believed that from Frigga, but not from you. Not anymore!”

“Loki, please calm down!” Thor said, far from calm himself.

“No!” He barked. “Last time this happened you conveniently fell into Odinsleep.” Loki pointed at Odin.

“So now his death is convenient?” Thor stepped in between Loki and Odin.

“For him it is!” He shouted. “Every single time I’ve asked for the truth I’ve been lied to and tossed aside.” Loki pushed Thor out of the way. “You’re dying anyway, old man! Telling the truth for once won’t change that.”

Odin took a deep, pitiful breath. “You’ll find out the truth soon enough.”

Loki felt angry tears well in his eyes. He wanted to grab Odin by the neck, kick him, slap him, stab him, anything to make him feel the littlest amount of pain his “father” had inflicted upon him his whole life. Hel, he would kill Odin painfully before peaceful death came for him. Odin didn’t deserve peaceful death. But Thor was in the way, and he held him, kept him away from Odin.

“I would ask for forgiveness, but I guess I deserve your hate.” Odin said.

“You deserve much more than my hate!” Loki snarled.

“I probably do.” Odin let another tired breath out. His hands were shaking, he could hardly stand in place, as if his body was collapsing from the inside. “I can’t-” Thor tried to hold his father up, but he weighed a thousand tons.

Loki fell to his knees, oblivious to Odin’s decay. A thick dark frozen fog hovered on the grass, tainted tendrils seemed to suck the life out of the greenery, leaving dry wrinkled leaves in its place. He was shaking, in pain, horror, disbelief. Odin had made him believe that he wasn’t an asgardian, but he is. Not his son but his grandson. Loki had a real claim to not only the throne of Jotunheim, but also Asgard. And Odin had taken that away from him, as he had taken so much.

Hela is your mother, Loki…

A mother he would never know.

Your mother loved you.

He would never get to experience that.

Centuries of learning how to keep his power under control cracked and crumbled. Something was binding him to the ground, making him deaf to Thor’s commands and pleads to stop. The fog turned dark and ice began to form on the surface, choking the ground with its weight.

“Loki!” Thor’s voice was distant and distorted.

Odin’s lies carved deep in your soul…

Loki’s power was oozing from his skin, his tears were dark ice crystals, his skin blue and rugged, the darkness and cold bled from him, he was too tired to keep it all in. Thor was still pleading and yelling, desperate as Odin began to choke with the shadows that engulfed him.

Loki opened his red eyes and stared at a cloud of swirling dark smoke that was feeding off his power, paralyzing him. He could see a silhouette forming, but he could not move. Something was calling out to him. A voice he had heard before. Those were dreams!

Thor, too preoccupied with Odin, didn’t seem to notice what was happening. The Allfather was on his knees, fighting for breath.

“Thor-” Odin choked. “Hela!”

“Father-”

Whatever Thor was going to say was cut by the pained gasp of the Allfather. A dark gleaming necrosword protruded from his chest, and ichor seeped from around the wound. Thor screamed, making the skies rumble. His accusing eyes fell on Loki first, but he had not moved. Confused, Thor looked at his hands, already slick with his father’s blood. The necrosword had disappeared.

“What?” Thor stuttered.

Odin said nothing. His eyes closed and his body slacked, slipping from Thor’s grip. It hit the frozen ground with a loud thump, staining the ice with his blood. The Allfather was dead.

The swirling cloud of smoke became more defined, a dark portal to another world. Out of the darkness, a woman came. Long locks of dark hair framed an extremely pale face. Her bright eyes were bloodshot and crowned with dark circles. Her body was slim, almost emaciated, covered in rags of black and green cloth that clung to her bones, showing all the bruises, wounds, and dried blood on her skin. Her hand was gripping a large necrosword that was still stained with Odin’s blood.

Loki blinked slowly at the sight of her, trying to get a grip of his senses. The blue faded from his skin and the red from his eyes. Focusing on his surroundings, he took time to look at the woman. Something strangely familiar irradiated from her.

Her eyes.

He had seen them before. And the cheekbones. And the eyebrows.

You look just like your mother.

The woman smiled at the sight of Odin lying dead on the ground. But her smile was empty and joyless.

“Finally…”

Thor stood up, his fingers and arms already summoning the power of lighting, and Mjolnir flew to his hand. Loki stood up, somewhat blocking Thor’s view.

“You must be Hela.” Loki spoke.

Hela’s expression changed to confusion, and then pain. She drew in a sob and stared at Loki as if she was seeing a ghost.

“Loptr?”

<< Chapter 22 – Chapter 24 >>

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