#I know I haven’t responded to the messages with her yet but please forgive me!

[anew-art]

Testing out the IBIS Paint coarse pencil brush and shading on @lunastarhawk’s stunning Marin (surprise, bestie! 😘)

Including all layers for fun. Just the line art, some light shading, light shading with a touch of red, no shading just red, full mono-color shading, and full shading with touch of red.

[tvgals]

i accidentally posted it so i had to delete it 😪

ALSO THANK UOU BAE 💞💞

‘ LET THE LIGHT IN. ‘

even though bully! connie had undeniable feelings for you, he hadn’t told anyone besides you yet. how big of a mistake was that?

you were smiling at yourself while getting ready for you and connie’s second date. you were officially his girlfriend, no one else knew but you two. connie said he’d never keep you two a secret! the lies he told.

your phone started to ring, the name ‘con 💞’ popping up. you grinned and answered the facetime. he was in the car with someone, a boy it sounded like. you were 50% sure it was his friend eren, but you weren’t sure.

“hi baby!” you grinned, waving at him.

connie’s eyes go wide, he immediately turns down the volume and keeps on driving, not saying a word. this was weird. usually he’d be so excited to be on the phone with you, so enthusiastic to talk to you, why was he so different now?

“who that?” you hear the boy in the passenger seat talk, now you were sure it was eren. “it ain’t nobody.” connie responds. eren laughed to himself. “i know that ain’t y/n.” you perk up at the sound of your name, you purse your lips and listen further. connie gave eren a look to ‘shut the fuck up’ but he kept on going. “bro, just tell her about the prank. i’ve seen her following you around, shit’s getting embarrassing.” eren starts to laugh harder.

“you haven’t told her yet? dude, you’re gonna crush her.” eren reprimanded connie through laughs. good thing this was his house. “okay okay, i’ll see you tomorrow?” eren asks, sticking his hand out so connie can dap him up, but connie just huffed and told eren to get out.

once the coast was clear, you sniffled. “what prank, connie?” connie’s heart breaks at the sound of your weak voice. he turns his phone back up and sighs. “nothing, baby.” connie sighed. “it is something. i’m not stupid!” you say into the phone. you’d gotten all pretty for no reason. for someone who asked you out as a joke. “no, it’s not. eren is just a dumbass. don’t listen to him.” connie tries to shrug off the situation.

“fuck you connie. i thought you’d actually change for me. i’m breaking up with you. don’t text me, don’t call me, don’t come over. we’re done.” you cry into the phone. you hang up and block connie, throwing your phone onto your bed. connie fucked up. something in his head told him to tell everyone else before shit got fucked up, but he never did. and it came back to bite him in the ass.

“jesus..” connie mumbled to himself, rubbing his face. he never knew this would blow up in his face. he thought it would just be harmless and no one would get hurt. he looked at the time, 5:45 and he headed off to walmart. he had to make it up to you. he pulled into the walmart parking lot, shoving his phone into his pocket. he walks inside and goes directly to the floral section, grabbing you a plethora of pink and purple and orange flowers. he smiles at the sight of your face in his mind. he hopes you can forgive him. connie then relocates to the card section, where he grabbed you a plain pink glittery card, where he plans to write a message to you. he then grabs you a few plushies and a pink gift bag.

he checks out and heads to his car, holding his breath on the drive to your house. he can’t even listen to music. he’s scared he’ll find a song that’ll remind him of you. he parked his car across from your house. he turns his car off and takes a deep breath, grabbing his gifts and walking to your door. connie is glad he knows his way around your family. your dad takes the morning shift, so he’s dead asleep while your mom takes third shift, so she’s at work. he lightly knocks on the door a few times. “please, y/n…” he whispers to himself. he gets a bit excited when he hears the pitter patter of your feet. he’s sure you have those cute pink socks with the bow on the top. you open the big door, sighing at the sight of connie.

“i told you don’t come over…” your voice is hoarse, sounding as if you’ve been crying ever since you’d hung the phone up. “i couldn’t just let you leave me without an explanation, baby.” connie says. “i gotchu some stuff…can we just talk?” he asks. you look down at his hands to see flowers and that cute little pink gift bag. “okay.” you say. you unlock the screen door and connie walks in, closing both doors before taking his shoes off. he follows behind you to your room. he intakes the familiar smell of winter candy apple immediately. connie hands you your gifts, which you handle with care when you place it on your nightstand.

“talk, connie.” you mumble, fiddling around with your fingers. “look, it was…” connie struggles to get the words out. “it was a prank.” connie admits, his head hanging low. you hold your breath, trying not to cry. “so what the fuck did you come over here for? just to play in my face?” you ask, almost crying. “no, no. you ain’t let me get to the point mama.” connie said, pulling you close. you tried to resist, but your mind wouldn’t let you.

“it started off as a prank. but when i started gettin’ to know you and seeing how you are, i fell in love. im sorry i didn’t tell anyone, baby…” connie apologized, rubbing circles along your hips. you gave yourself a second to register what he said to you. is he telling the truth? or was he just trying to string you along? “okay…” you mumble. “so you forgive me?” connie asks, hope in his voice. you sigh. “how are you gonna make it up to me? y’know i can’t forgive you this easy.” you grin, looking up at him. “i gotchu, mama.” connie says. he gently pushed you down on the bed. shimmying you out your pajama pants.

“you’re so pretty f’me…” he whispers, pulling your print panties to the side and gently kissing your cunt. “please connie, don’t tease.” you whine, arching your back. connie knew this was his last chance to make it up to you, so he did what he had to please you. he delve into your cunt, slurping and pressing sloppy kisses to it. connie almost lived in your cunt, always eating you out when you were stressed about finals, maybe even if you were just minding your business. “shit, connie!” you groan, arching your back and pushing his head further.

“mhmm…” connie hummed into your pretty pussy. “jesus, con!” you whined, your legs tightening around connie’s head. connie pulled away for a brief second. “open ‘em up, mama.” connie instructed you, pushing your legs apart before continuing to eat you out. “i’m gonna cum!” you moaned, trying to be quiet to not wake up your dad. “mhm, cum f’me…” he mumbles as you came on his face. connie couldn’t be more handsome than what he was now. his eyes low and filled with lust. “gonna let me fuck you now?” connie asked, pulling his dick out his nike sweatpants. “mhm…” you hum, pulling connie close to you. he chuckles at the action, pushing his dick inside your wet cunt.

“i’m so sorry, baby…” connie whimpers, thrusting into your cunt. “it’s okay…it’s okay…i k-know you didn’t mean it.” you forgive connie, holding his veiny hands. “please please, i didn’t mean f-for this to happen…i love you y/n.” connie moaned into your ear, his pace getting gradually faster. “don’t just throw that word around!” you reprimanded him, clawing at his back. “m not…i mean it…” connie whispers, almost too quiet to hear. “p-promise?” you sigh out, arching your back. “pinky promise.” connie smiled.

“‘m gonna cum…gonna cum so hard…” connie warned you. moaning like there’s nothing else in the world but you. “where d’you want it?” connie asks, looking up at you. “inside…” you gripe, curling your toes. with a few more strokes and moans, connie shoots his cum inside of you, biting your shoulder to keep quiet. after a few minutes of silence, you suck up the courage to ask connie a question.

“you really love me?” you ask, looking into his big olive eyes. “of course i do…” connie grinned, pressing kisses to your face. “so you forgive me?” connie asks, holding your hand. “yes. but you have to tell people we’re dating.”

“deal.”

TAGLIST :

@looking4chanel @draculara-vonvamp @Therealcees-blog @laylasbunbunny @lovelytayy @d7n3 @deadgirlkisses @darkknightpeanutbagel @luvv-des @blackgirlontheblock @cherrycrys @thecoloredpages @xricly @jazzyluuv @peter-parkers-gf @chinaza444 @dynoduck @princesslilisworld @what-am1rah @baboon-milk333 @marcelineormars @mxspiderman2099 @ts1mp0ne @23victoria @ravereina @stevenknightmarc @laaailuh @diorsbrando @madz-rulez @spiderheartzz @chinieh @asensitivecookie @tourbug @anikaluv @mainvamp @strawberryshortcake143 @spectr3inl0ve @anitatvd @vitlicious @yuckyygutz @liyahontop @janaeby @milesmoralesesposa @lily-pythonz @s1xtr @naijagrl @ninaaaazzzz @sucuretcannelle @captaincyberqueen @sylisan @cafehyunji @gtsflawless @v1rtu4lsworld @anotherblackreader @petitecolibri @bakuhoe37 @anubisisthebomb @sillygoofymoodx @sinnerzstuff @viisgrave @silkcatsz @bratzdolly4 @motheroffae @dollypipp @princessru1 @s1rennsworld

[anxietytoapathy]

Every time I come on here with a plan, it all leaves my brain the second I open this up to write. It’s crazy how it does make me feel better to write it down.

I can’t stop thinking about her because she’s my comfort person and I’m in desperate need of comfort but I haven’t heard from her in any real way in months. It hurts every day and right now I have my nerve issue so I’m in physical and emotional pain. I’m missing out on a bunch of stuff because of it, it was the worst Thanksgiving yet. I feel like if I don’t hear from her by new year’s I’m gonna have to send a message for the sake of my mental health. Something like this:

I’ve tried to respect your space like you asked, but I need to help myself here. I know that I messed up and that you’re hurt and I am still so sorry. I would never knowingly betray your trust or hurt you. I know that what I say can’t fix things or make you feel better, but I also don’t deserve this. I’ve never acted with malice toward you and it doesn’t feel like I’ve been given the same courtesy. To me every day has felt a week long and I just miss my friend. There were times that I just wanted a hug because it hasn’t been a particularly good fall and I can’t get that. I just didn’t deserve to be cut off like that and it hurts too much to continue like this. You don’t have to respond, but if you want to please do it soon because, now I’m gonna be a little petty for a second, I’m giving you a courtesy I never got and letting you know that in order for me to move in I’m gonna block you. It just hurts too much to live my life waiting around hoping you’ll forgive me. And I honestly think that I am deserving of forgiveness. I only ever tried to act with care and kindness toward you and I know you don’t feel like that’s true 100% but even me confessing that I did that came from a place of care. I really loved our time together and all the fun we had and the memories we shared. I’m gonna be really sad to see it go, and to miss out on all that could’ve been. I truly hope you have a great life I’m sorry it came to a point that you don’t want me to be part of it. I know you’ll make a great dentist one day.

[mrs-han]

Facing the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, Jumin raised his glass a little higher than he did yesterday.

And the day before.

And the day before that.

Jumin didn’t know where you were, which created a knawing anxiety in him that he could not fully shake off. But somehow, he knew you were safe. Somehow, he believed you weren’t too far from him.

He could feel it. He could feel you.

There were traces of you in places he didn’t consider:

A Taylor Swift song playing on his way to and from work, a swirl of chocolate frosting on a newly-made cupcake, the strong scent of flowers placed on the dining room table, the warmth of a blanket around his shoulders…

He couldn’t escape you. He never wanted to.

Taking his phone from his pocket, Jumin tapped a new message to you.

October 29. Day Thirteen, darling. I miss you… do you miss me? Do you think of me, especially when you try not to?

He refused to erase anything.

The sun decided to hide behind the clouds today. It made me wonder if you are safe from the rain and the cold. You know how easy it is for you to catch a cold, so please - for my peace of mind - bundle up before you go anywhere. I hope my scarf is still keeping you warm

Jumin took a longer sip of his wine.

Sometimes, I wonder if you are mingling with other men. I shouldn’t, I know. I heard your voice in my ears scolding me as soon as I expressed this thought. But I am a man who misses his wife with more grievousness than I can explain. I dream that you will come through the door of our home and charge towards me with open arms. I am still dreaming, I’m afraid.

Jumin pressed his shoulder against the window, his fingers moving faster across the BlackBerry keyboard.

You haven’t responded to me yet, and I understand why. You still need time. But forgive my candor, sweetheart. I never needed time away from you. I still don’t understand why this is happening to us. I want nothing more than to hold you in my arms and demand you to put yourself first. I thought you had been this entire time. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me? When? When will you come back to me? How much longer do you need? I promise, I’ll be here when you return. You haven’t scared me off. You haven’t tripped any wires in our relationship, so please. Please.

Disheartened tears prickled his eyes, threatening to come crashing down. He didn’t know how to close the sentence — all he wanted to do was beg, grovel at your silent presence.

Elizabeth the Third, sensing Jumin’s anguish, rubbed her head against his calves. Her tender meows and assuring purrs granted him the permission he needed to give himself; kneeling to pet her feathery fur, Jumin bit the inside of his lip and allowed the tears to course down his cheeks.

The feline’s graceful presence didn’t match yours. No energy could match yours. But he held her close, fingers dancing over her ears and down the curve of her back. “Thank you.”

Her soft yet confident mewl brought a smirk across Jumin’s lips.

Standing slowly, Jumin moved to refill his glass.

And, without his knowledge, Elizabeth’s jellybeans pressed the enter button on his BlackBerry.

[flightless-rising]

Made a new Flight Rising iceberg and also wrote an explanation.. man, this took way longer than it should have.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy :D

Iceberg explanation

( If there are any mistakes please let me know and I’ll edit this asap. Also, English isn't my first language so please forgive me for any grammatical errors)

EDIT 28/06: Added some new info! Thanks to everyone who tagged and responded with new stuff to add, I really appreciate it!

The Sky

Naomi

Back in the day, whenever you bought or sold something on the auction house a message would show up in your inbox confirming the transaction. These messages were sent by one of the dragon couriers: Pearl, Spitfire or Edgar.

On January 2016, a strange glitch occurred that replaced the images and names of couriers with the ones of a female fae named “Naomi”.

It goes deeper than that, though: if you looked up her name in the user search menu, a clan would pop up with over 15 million dragons.

It was quickly discovered that all exalted dragons had somehow become part of her clan. Naomi herself apparently didn’t exist, and clicking on her page redirected to an error page. This was later fixed and the original Naomi page can be now visited.

What exactly caused this glitch is still a mystery and today Naomi is still a well-known piece of Flight Rising history.

Missing Tidelord

In the official lore, the deity of the water flight disappeared in early 2018, as described in the short story “Hear Today, Gone Tomorrow”.

In the follow up story (Mixed Elements) posted in April of the next year it is confirmed that the Tidelord is still missing, but alive. This coincides with the fact that the Tidelord account hasn’t made any forum posts aside from festival announcements.

Emperors

Emperors are a type of unobtainable dragon that are formed when several Imperial corpses are left in close proximity to each other, which then fuse forming a multi-headed chimera.

Emperors are described in the lore as having an animal-like behavior and destroying everything in sight. They are extremely difficult to kill, which is the reason why in-universe Imperials have such strange burial rites.

An emperor named Luminax is first described in the Raising a Family short story, and their sprite can be seen walking around on the world map.

The Surface

Old color wheel

Originally, there were only 67 available colors for dragons. On June 8th 2016, 110 more colors were added, meaning that currently there are a total of 177 colors available.

When making a custom progenitor dragon, it is only possible to choose among the 67 original colors because it would be otherwise unfair for those who made their account before the new colors were added.

Imperial breed scrolls

Imperial breed change scrolls are one of, if not the most, rare type of item on the site. They were given only to those who pledged 30 dollars or more on the original Flight Rising kickstarter.

At the time, this was the only way of obtaining an Imperial dragon, which meant that the breed as a whole was pretty valuable. Now that Imperials are abundant this is no longer the case, but First generation Imperials are still extremely sought and probably the most expensive type of dragon on the site.

There were also other items that were only given to Kickstarted backers, namely Skycats, Bonefiend, Golden Idol and Cogfrog familiars, and those are also pretty much impossible to obtain.

Baldwin breed change

When Baldwin was introduced in 2015 he was originally a Pearlcatcher. On September 14th of 2016 however his site art started to gradually change, until his transformation was completed five days later.

In-universe, Baldwin started to change after a lightning strike hit his cauldron during an experiment, which made him slowly mutate into the breed we now know as Bogsneaks.

Trans Fiona

When Fiona was added as a trading post dragon people speculated that she was trans, because the female pose for Skydancers only displays two antennae, while the male one has four.

Since Fiona has four antennae in her site art, many wondered whether it was an oversight or actually intended. Aequorin later confirmed in a forum thread that Fiona is indeed trans.

Boolean

Speaking of rare items, the Boolean familiar was only given to a handful of Flight rising beta testers and as such is extremely rare and valuable.

Plaguebringer coli team

On the Plaguebringer’s page she is listed as being part of a coliseum team.

As of now we have no clue as to why this is, and even more strangely she is the only deity that does this.

Boston & Hope

This story is a bit complicated. I’ve scoured the forums in search of info but it seems like there are still some pieces missing. I’ll try my best to explain anyway.

So, for a long while the Lightweaver was the only deity that had other dragons aside from herself in her lair: these dragons were a Spiral named Boston and a Tundra named Hope. Strangely, they were both Earth dragons and apparently have been there since the beginning (?). When asked why (this happened back when deities would interact on the forums) the Lightweaver responded that they were having a dinner party together.

In August 2014 during a pretty heated dominance battle between Shadow and Light Boston and Hope disappeared from the Lightweaver’s lair.

The Shadowbinder now had them, and both their elements were alsochanged to Shadow. The two deities acknowledged this and changed their broadcast messages accordingly.

If I had to guess this was some kind of inside joke that the admins had, although some people got angry that the Shadowbinder now had both Hope and Boston. Some time later(?) Boston was returned to the Lightweaver and for some reason his element was changed to wind.

I don’t have any more info on the matter but if some of you do I would appreciate it if you tell me.

Shallow Waters

Eyepocalypse

On June 8th 2018 eye type variants were introduced. This update was pretty controversial for a bunch of reasons, and the topic is still discussed today. The majority of people(?) seemed to be upset by the fact the “best” eye types (primarily goat, primal and multi-gaze) could only be displayed on dragons that were born with them, and the fact that every dragon born prior to the update couldn’t have these eye types at all displeased a lot of users.

Another problem was the fact that most of the non-special eye types (i.e the only ones that could be applied to already existing dragons using a vial of Scattersight) were not clearly visible on the grand majority of adult dragons.

A smaller(?) complaint was that two of the primal eye types, Shadow and Plague, were seen as kind of disturbing by some people.

Three years later staff attempted to fix this issue by adding Eye type vials for every available eye type. This resulted in a market crash for special eye typed dragons, as now these eye types could be applied to any dragon. The value of Scattersights also tanked, and the people bought them and hadn’t used them yet lost money as now they were infinitely less useful.

EDIT 28/06: Goat isn’t actually obtainable via breeding, faceted is. Bad mistake on my part.

Also, Scattersights were given away freely by Galore on Flight Rising’s fifth anniversary in 2018 and could not be bought afterwards. I admit that I thought people could be able to buy Scattersights due to how upset people were that the value went down, but whatever.

Courier Breed

The courier dragons (Edgar, Spitfire, and Pearl) are part of an exclusive dragon breed that is currently unobtainable. Even though their eye color still reflects the flight they were born in, in-universe they are considered to be “neutral” and they are granted free access to all domains. This raises the question as to which deity created them, as every other dragon breed (Bogsneaks being the only exception) has been created by one of The Eleven.

Multiaccounting

According to the site’s terms of service, no one is allowed to have more than one account. This is pretty standard for pet sites, as having multiple accounts grants unfair advantages and can mess up the site economy. This doesn’t completely stop people for having more than one account, and the practice as a whole is called “Multiaccounting” or “having multis”.

Some people only do this to have multiple clans or reboot their account without deleting their old one. They mostly do no harm but it is reasonable that the site wouldn’t allow this because of how easy it is exploit.

The real harm of multis comes from a practice called “funneling” which is when someone creates multiple accounts only for the purpose of giving items to their main account. This practice violates the game’s rules and can result in a ban. Funneling is not limited to multiaccounting though, and having an account only to feed another is against the site’s rules whether or not the account in question belongs to another person or not.

Some people fear of being banned for multiaccounting even if they haven’t done so, especially if they share a computer with other people.

Purble

“he purble” is probably among the most famous Flight Rising memes.

In 2016(?) a rant was submitted to the original Dramarising blog by a very angry user that wanted to buy an XXX Purple Ridgeback back when triples were pretty expensive, but got beat by someone else.

I’m not going to copy paste it here because in my opinion it’s one of the funniest Flight Rising related posts ever and I don’t want to spoil the experience of reading it for the first time. You can find it pretty easily by searching it up.

Tert Picking

This is something that refaced recently, even though I’ve seen people talking about this for a while. Some people vividly remember being able to pick their custom progenitor’s tertiary color, even though the developers have made it clear that such thing would be impossible. This is without a doubt just one of those weird situations where a lot of people somehow remember the same thing wrong.

Still, it’s fascinating just how many people claim to remember doing picking their tert.

Swiftwings

Swiftwings were a dragon breed that was scrapped in development. The design was rejected because it didn’t fit the 2 arms 2 legs 2 wings format that every dragon design had to follow before the introduction of ancient breeds.

The reason for this rule is that otherwise it would mess up apparel placement. Although the concept was scrapped, echoes of the design were scattered throughout the site: for example, the empty dragon slots that were present prior to 2019 had the silhouette of a Swiftwings dragon. They are also mentioned in the April Fool’s update of 2018.

“Real” Lore dragons

Most people don’t know that some of the dragons featured on the lore stories are actually real, and you can visit their pages. This is the case for Tetra, Cracklinne, Velya, Liefa, Garote and Mirth, which are currently chilling in Aequorin’s lair.

All of the other dragons in the developers’ lairs are not canon and are used to test bugs and features on the site.

The Middle ground

True deity names

When the site first started the deities used to have actual names instead of titles. Some of these names were based off of the site founders’s usernames on other sites.

The names are the following:

Amogayvhi - Gladekeeper Xhaztol - Arcanist Rhenik - Tidelord Akiri - Flamecaller Thrage - Stormcatcher Undel - Shadowbinder Jhortanas - Plaguebringer Ghurab - Windsinger Artaios - Earthshaker Rhiow – Lightweaver

As you can tell, Xhaztol, Akiri, Thrage and Undel are the usernames of some of the admins of the site, and the flight they are a part of corresponds with the previous name of their deity.

No leg coatls

On January 16, 2015 an iconic thread was posted in the flight rising discussion forum, which displayed a photoshopped image of a coatl with its legs removed. Quickly the thread devolved into a general photoshop thread were people took official site art of dragons and modified it.

The thread was eventually locked due to spam and quote pyramids, but spiritual successors of the original “phoatlshop” thread still exist today.

Dress slot unlocking

A thing that a surprising amount of people don’t know is the fact that when buy an additional apparel slot, the slot opens for every dragon in your lair and not just the one you bought it on.

This is something I also discovered very recently and it’s kind of funny that so many people that have been on the site for very long don’t know this.

Clanbound scatterscrolls

I think the wiki explains it best, so I’ll just copy paste this here:

“Tri-Color Scatterscrolls suffered from an issue where they would only scatter a random range from colors 1-47 (white through sunshine) rather than 1-67 (white through rose). They have been fixed and are now functioning correctly with a random range within the 67 color set. The affected timeframe was from August 15th, 2013 until September 22nd, 2013. The admins allowed users who were unsatisfied with their bugged Tri-Color Scatterscrolls to receive the same amount of them back in the form of Clanbound Scatterscrolls to try scattering their own dragons again with the full color range.”

Beta Mirrors

Ever wondered why they’re called Mirrors?

According to Undel, the main artist of Flight Rising, mirrors originally were supposed to have every part of their body “mirrored”, meaning they had two sets of eyes, two pairs of wings, two tails, and so on.

This design ended up being too cluttered and looked weird shrunken down. The name was kept the same, even though the only mirrored part of the design are the eyes.

Dragons are evil

If you read the “Beastclans on the rise” lore bit, the dragons come across as… very evil, stealing territory from the beastclans when they have been living on Sornieth way longer than the dragons have and killing them for loot.

Furthermore, in the Bounty of the Elements lore bit the Beastclan rebellion guided by Talona is seen by the dragons as unreasonable and wrong even when in canon Beastclans are framed as the innocent party.

The Depths

Scroll of Divorce

In the alpha stage dragons were supposed to be monogamous and could only breed with the dragon they were “paired” with. To break their bond you had to use an item called “Scroll of Divorce” which even featured broken marriage rings in the art.

If I had to guess, this item and the concept as a whole were scrapped because the idea of dragons having “weddings” and needing to divorce before breeding with another dragon felt kind of weird, especially in a game targeted towards teens.

First Festival

The first Holiday festival in Flight rising history was the 2013 Brightshine Jubilee. The items that were available for this festival only are incredibly rare, particularily the Light Sprite which is one of the most valuable items on the site. Apart from that and the fact that the skincent contest only had 6 winners, not much is notable about it.

Offsite drama

Flight Rising has had its fair share of drama both on and off site, but due to the fact that it’s against the site’s rule to discuss user drama on the forums most of the notable drama happened off site (mainly tumblr).

Egg rot

Egg rot was a very early mechanic that was pretty quickly removed from the site. If you forgot to incubate your eggs, they would “rot” and no longer hatch.

It’s the reason why in the nesting grounds the text reads “Eggs healthy” and also the reason why on the stats section of the Account settings it says “Eggs discarded”. The mechanic was removed because it heavily punished casual players and the frequent downtimes of the site meant that even if someone logged in every day they could still have their eggs die.

Also, the images of egg rot look extremely cursed.

Pablo

From what I could gather, Pablo is a dragon which became somewhat popular after user “Desmondtiny” wrote a very long and detailed backstory of them being the Arcanist’s lost boyfriend.

I’m pretty sure it gues deeper than that but I couldn’t find any further information. As usual, if you know something more let me know.

Latest News

On November 12, 2014, a glitch(?) occurred that let anyone post in the Announcements thread. Anything that was posted went directly to the front page, which resulted in quite a bit of chaos.

This was fixed only half an hour later, but the screenshots people have from that time are extremely funny.

Lameforger

On the 2014 Flameforger’s festival announcement Undel accidentally misspelled “Flameforger” as “Lameforger”, which prompted the official account of the Flamecaller to respond aggressively. Lameforger is still jokingly used by users, even after the typo was fixed.

Festival of one (1)

On the first day of the 2014 Greenskeeper Gathering a glitch occurred which switched the site banner for the Starfall celebration banner instead of the Greenskeeper one.

It didn’t end there, in the coliseum Magical shards dropped instead of Bladed Flatleaves, even though skin chests dropped as normal(?).

The weirdest thing about it all was Joxar’s Space inventory, which didn’t display any items at all and had glitched dialogue.

The event was nicknamed by the fanbase “Festival of 1” and even the deity’s official accounts acknowledged the incident.

Vape Juice

As far as I know the original forum thread as been lost, but the vape juice fiasco will always remain cemented in Flight Rising History.

A company called Vape Daugz was making vape juice with Flight Rising dragons plastered on their packaging, completely violating the site’s policy.

The company’s site still exists, and browsing through their products I found that the products that previously had Flight Rising dragons on them still exist, but now feature completely different packaging.

I have no idea whether they changed the packaging spontaneously or staff did something about it.

I think there’s a potentially interesting story buried down there, but we’ll likely never the truth behind the Flight Rising vape juice.

The Abyss

Humans

There’s been some speculation over the years as to whether or not humans are canon in the Flight Rising universe. Some people believe that the “Mages” of the second age in the official lore are actually humans, but we can’t be sure because they are depicted with long robes that cover their whole bodies.

The idea of humans existing in canon has spawned a couple of memes, most infamously Thomas.

Plague healers

Again, I think the wiki explains this one better:

“According to Aequorin, Plague healers are an interesting bunch because rather than administer treatments that counter illness, they use a mixture of magic and contagion that stress the affected dragon further, allowing them to reach a stronger, healed, and resistant state faster than other elements. Plague healers will treat physical injuries with sutures, bandages, and braces, but they won't clean the wounds or apply ointments."

Akitla

As described in the original thread, Akitla was a dragon that user “qunii” saw on the front page, but noticed that she wasn’t accompanied by the username of the person owning them.

After clicking on her, an error page loaded. It was discovered that putting her color combination or ID in the search bar would result in an error page. This was later fixed, and both Akitla and her mate were now displayed as being exalted to the Arcanist. T

here are some theories as to what happened to the Akitla’s user, some think that she belonged to a deleted account, others that it was the result of an incomplete account creation.

As with a lot of things on this iceberg, it will likely remain a mystery forever.

Arcane sprite book

“what is the arcane sprite reading??” is probably one of the oldest still active threads on the forums.

On September 25, 2013 user “Kaadashi” started a joke thread were they wondered what exactly is the arcane sprite reading, and playfully suggested that it could be erotic fanfiction. People went crazy of course, and started to wonder what kind of juicy secrets were hidden within the pages of that book.

I don’t want to say too much because I really don’t want to spoil the experience of reading through this very cursed tread.

Sunshine

Sunshine is one of the most… interesting lairs on the site, and certainly one of the most well-known.

They(?) have a lair (almost) completely full of triple basic sunshine dragons, most of which are Tundras. So far they have collected about 320 triple hundred Sunshine dragons, almost all of which are also named “Sunshine”. They’re not all the same, some of them have apparel, some of them are gened and some have unique art and descriptions.

They’re dedicated and I respect that.

EDIT 28/06: Apparently some people seem to think that the sunshine-dedicated lair is based on a meme concerning the announcement of the color wheel expansion, which became so discussed that the itself site broke. The two things are unrelated however, as the Sunshine lair has been around for much longer.

The announcement of the color wheel expansion was cryptic, with only a few post showing off differently colored coatls and then 3 pages of reserved posts, with no explanation whatsoever.

Simple Farmer

Another very famous thread is the “I am but a simple farmer” thread started by user “someKindOfGenius”. It’s not really about anything specific, it’s just a rather silly thread were people photoshop flight rising dragons onto various crops.

Still, this thread is iconic so I had to include it.

Dragon Deaths

Way back in 2014 former flight rising programmer Thrage revealed on a forum thread that way back before the beta, dragons could actually starve to death if left unfed.

Yep.

Obviously they had to remove this mechanic because it would have been extremely harsh to casual players and make people frustrated with the game.

Zalvador

User “manojalpa” became fairly well-known for the extremely dark lore they(?) had written for their Clan, it was so dark in fact that every single one of their dragon’s bios had to moved to their tumblr where they couldn’t be easily seen by the site’s mainly underage usebase.

Their lore centered around their progen dragon, a tundra named Zalvador, which behaved and had the same powers as a flight rising user: buying dragons off of the action house, having “breeding projects”, exalting dragons, etc.

These things seem pretty normal when done by a player, but when taking them as actual real things that happen in universe… yeah, it was way too morbid for the site.

The Pit

Black linen neck wraps

For some weird reason, the apparel piece “Black linen neck wrap” when put on a male pose Coatl wraps around the dragon’s throat instead of it’s neck. It’s kind of subtle and hard to see, but if you compare it with the female pose the difference is clear. This is probably just an art error, although it’s weird that it hasn’t been fixed yet, since linen wraps are a very old piece of apparel.

Another weird thing about linen wraps in general is that the wing wraps just sort of… go through the membrane? This is not possible. These dragons are in pain.

Icewarden ears

Another very remarkably popular thread is the Icewarden ears thread.

In 2014 user “Llanai” simply makes note of the fact that the Icewarden has teeny tiny ears.

As we have come to expect from these threads, it quickly devolved into nonsense.

Forbidden Snapper lore

Snappers used to have a way different lore section that was changed because it deemed too similar to the lore of another petsite.

This is what the original section read:

"Snapper dragons do not sleep, but exist in a constant state of reverie. They receive and catalogue all experiences and stories told within their dreams. This persistent state of awakened dreaming awards them the longest memory of any dragon species. They are living encyclopedias, and any dragon who is seeking difficult-to-obtain information will have the most luck unearthing it from a Snapper clan - provided they have the patience for it. If you want two dozen quick answers, talk to a spiral. If you want a fully developed answer, camp out around a Snapper. These dreamers move at their own pace, which varies from dragon to dragon. For some, the awakened dream can prove to be more interesting than their surroundings. This leads to a focus upon the dream, and the waking world as filtered background noise. Interacting with these sleepwalkers can be a trying and repetitive task. Other Snappers may be fairly lucid, with a focus upon their surroundings and the constant hum of the dream pushed aside."

Bee movie script

I’ve seen this story around the forums a few times but I’ve never been able to learn the details.

From what I’ve heard someone copy pasted the entire bee movie script into their clan bio in a drop down text format, which completely broke the page for anyone who visited it. This was fixed, apparently, although I have no clue as to who this user is.

EDIT 28/06: Zeus

Zeus is an XXX gold g1 permababy imperial that used to belong to user "happywing".

Their account is now locked because Zeus was created with the use of a duplication glitch on an imperial breed change scroll, which is obviously not allowed (although I've heard some people say that the dragon was hacked in altogether). Before the account was locked, people speculated that Zeus was the most valuable dragon on the site, because an XXX g1 imperial is impossibly rare.

Wegg shaming

On July 2017 user “Dreamnorn” made a thread were they(?) claimed to have a dream where everything was the same except people used the term “wegged” when two dragons would lay only one egg in a nest.

Ex. Aw man! I’ve been wegged again! = Aw man! I bred two dragons and they only had one egg!

The dream ended up being prophetic, as the term catched on and people started to use it unironically.

The practice of “Wegg shaming” I think refers to the trend of people posting pictures of the dragons that “wegged” them in order to “shame” them.

Plague nest skull

The site art of the plague nest features an unique dragon skull that doesn’t match with any currently existing dragon breed or creature: It appears to have two sets of eyes, like a mirror, but also long and curled horns.

It’s probably just for decoration and it likely doesn’t have any significance whatsoever, but personally I believe it would be pretty cool if when they eventually release plague ancient it at least somewhat resembled this skull.

EDIT 28/06: On second thought, the skull doesn’t seem to have two pairs of eyes, It just has the generic shape of a carnivore.

Rock bottom

CAPTAINPLANET

…this is CAPTAINPLANET. Somehow, user “Decres”' managed to overlay a Fae skin on top of a Tundra, creating this horrifyingly fascinating abomination.

I have no idea how she did this, and she seems pretty adamant to tell.

EDIT 28/06: People have pointed out that this skin overlay glitch was actually somewhat common (although I still haven't found another dragon like CAPTAINPLANET). What you had to do was breed change a dragon while attaching a skin to them in another tab.

This glitch has been patched and such thing is no longer possible.

Lair 46264

A cursed lair.

Dreams

I’ve seen a lot of people, both on forums and on Tumblr, sharing dreams they had about Flight Rising.

A lot of people dream of just being on the site, while occasionally weird things happen.

I’ve read of people who dreamed the distribution of a new breed, buying an exclusive item, a new Fiona feat or Swipp trade, or just browsing the forums.

The most common type of Flight rising-associated dream I’ve seen however is being caught multiaccounting and having their account banned.

I’m no psychoanalyst, but I think it’s pretty clear that these nightmares stem from the paranoia of being banned from their beloved petsite instead of showing any actual intention of doing the “crime” in question.

Anyways, I think it’s fascinating how so many people dream about this site, and it reminds me of the dreams people claimed to have about Mario 64 where completely new levels were added or a scary monster appeared.

Dragon Slime

Dragon Slime was an infamous thread which was supposed to be start off point for an ARG.

It was deleted because it was considered too “spammy” and also because ARGs are banned from the forums. The thread has been lost, unfortunately.

EDIT 28/06: Thanks to @randompurple-fr for providing screenshots of the dragon slime tutorial! You can find them here

Cucumber

Cucumber is the only dragon ever to have been exalted with a skin, which is something that should not be possible. This raises some questions as to what exactly did the person that exalted them do to achieve this, but we have no way of knowing who Cucumber belonged to.

EDIT 28/06: Actually, we do know who used to Cucumber belonged to! Its owner was Osiem: an official flight rising artist. I couldn’t find the thread where they(?) acknowledged the glitch though, if someone has it please let me know!

[storiesforallfandoms]

proposition ~ corpse husband

word count: 1880

request?: no

description: in which her friend invites her to play video games with them and she decides to playfully proposition the stranger with the deep voice

pairing: corpse x female!

warnings: swearing

masterlist

You had been bored out of your skull until you got a message from Sean asking you to play Among Us with some of his friends. You had met some of his closest friends, like Felix and Mark, of course, but he made sure to warn you that there would be some new people in this group. While that made you a little anxious, you knew that playing a video game would help you to warm up to the new people.

Sean sent you a link to the Discord call and you joined almost immediately. You weren’t sure if anyone else was in the call, so you didn’t speak for a moment while you set up the game. It wasn’t until an unnaturally low voice spoke that you realized you weren’t alone.

“Hello?”

You jumped at the voice, shocked that just that one word made your heart race a million miles a minute.

“H-Hello?” you responded.

“Who’s this?” the voice asked.

“Who’s this?” You immediately cringed at the lame response.

The voice chuckled, another sound that made your heart race. “I asked you first.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you finally responded. “I’m friends with Sean.”

“Oh yeah, he’s mentioned you a few times. I’m Corpse, I’m friends with Dave and Felix.”

“Corpse?” you question. “Is that your real name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You couldn’t help but smile at this. You were shocked at how fast you were warming up to Corpse, but there was just something about him that was just so warm and welcoming.

The two of you talked for some time until Sean popped into the chat. “Geez, (Y/N), you fucking nerd. You’re so early.”

“I had no other plans tonight!” you argued.

Corpse’s low chuckle alerted Sean that he was in the chat as well. “Ah, (Y/N) I see you’ve met deep daddy.”

Your face burned with blush, although you weren’t sure why. “Wait, deep daddy? Please tell me you guys don’t actually call in that.”

“Jason does,” came the familiar voice of Felix as he joined the chat. “Can’t blame him, Corpse’s voice even makes me question my marriage with Marzia.”

The more people that joined, the more jokes that were made about Corpse’s voice and how upset they were that Corpse was playing because he was such a good imposter. You sat in silence, chuckling every now and then but never really speaking. Not like anyone was giving you the chance with how much they were yelling over one another.

You started missing talking to Corpse one on one, but you knew the game had to happen eventually. You just hoped that it would go better than you were expecting.

The first few games started with you as a crewmate. You were killed first in the first game by Sean, who immediately self reported and got voted out because of it. The second game, you made it three rounds before catching Toast kill someone and got him out. The third game, you were in the other room when Corpse killed someone and he blamed you, leading to you getting voted off.

By the time the fourth round came around, you were teamed up with Corpse as the imposter.

“Easy dub,” you commented to yourself. “He’s too good. He’s gotten imposter like three times in a row and no one has noticed.”

You followed Corpse for a while, pretending to do tasks with him. You walked into a room that had only Felix and Rae when your kill button was ready to go. At the same time, you and Corpse killed them both and raced out of the room.  You were about to kill Sean when Toast found Felix and Rae’s bodies.

“I don’t want to sound sus by pointing fingers,” he began, “but Corpse and (Y/N), you haven’t left one another’s sides all game. What the fuck?”

“I’m watching her back,” Corpse responded before you could say anything. “(Y/N) is so small and innocent, if she died on my watch I would never forgive myself.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at this.

“You blamed her for your killing last game!” Leslie argued.

“That was last game! I’m not imposter now!” Corpse responded.

“If Corpse was imposter I fully believe he would’ve killed me by now,” you added. “He has no reason to keep me alive.”

“Unless he likes you,” Jason singsonged, causing the group to all talk at once about you and Corpse.

“Get back to the game!” you called over them, even though the thought of Corpse potentially liking you made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

No one was ejected (Skipped).

You tried not to think about what everyone had been saying, but it was hard not to. You didn’t know what Corpse looked like, he made you aware that no one knew except for a select few YouTube friends, but you found yourself drawn to him. Sure, his voice was hot, but in the short time you two had to talk together you found that his personality was equally as attractive. 

The distraction caused you to forget what you were doing and almost kill right in front of Toast. You held your breath, hoping you hadn’t accidentally clicked on the mouse and absolutely decapitated Sean right in front of someone. When nothing happened, you quickly ran out of the room and as far away from them as possible.

Your phone chimed. You took your eyes off the screen for a moment to see that it was a private message on Discord from none other than Corpse himself.

“What was that about? 😂”

“I was distracted and almost killed Sean in front of Toast. Had to make a speedy exit.”

“What were you distracted by? 😉"

Lucky for you, another meeting was called before you could respond.

“Okay, for real (Y/N),” came Toast’s voice. “What the fuck is going on? You were just stood in admin with me and Sean, then suddenly you raced out, and now you’re just standing in the middle of the cafeteria not moving at all.”

“She’s distracted,” came Corpse’s voice before you could respond.

You felt your face heating up again. “I was distracted, by my dog. He’s currently at my feet with his toy. He keeps looking at me with his big eyes, it’s hard to concentrate.”

“Awe, send me a picture of the little guy! I miss him a lot!” Sean said.

No one was ejected (Skipped).

You took a deep breath and concentrated on the game. You decided to stick with Corpse again, only breaking off to make it look like you were fixing the sabotages that you were setting. You and Corpse managed to kill three other bodies, leaving you with one more to kill before winning. And you knew exactly who you wanted it to be.

You sent Corpse a quick message before going to look for Sean.

“Do not kill anyone, leave this to me”

Seconds later you got a response. “Aye aye captain.”

You entered electrical as Sean was doing a task. You walked up behind him and hit the kill button without hesitation. You watched your character cut his body in half before the victory screen came up for you and Corpse.

“I fucking knew it!” Toast exclaimed. “You guys were too sus!”

“What can I say, we make a good team, right (Y/N)?”

You smiled to yourself as you responded, “Yeah, we do.”

Everyone started talking the one time again, joking around with each other. You started feeling like you were fading into the background again, which normally you’d be okay with, but you were starting to feel more comfortable with the group. You wanted to feel more comfortable with Sean’s friends, especially with Corpse.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You smirked to yourself as you declared into your mic, “Guys! Guys, I have something I wanna say! Everyone, shush!”

The talking soon died down as everyone listened to you intently. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you knew there was no backing out of it now.

“I have a proposition for Corpse,” you said, which was met by cheers and exclamations of excitement. When everyone silent down again, you took a deep breath and forced the words out before you chickened out. “Corpse, are you single?”

You heard his low chuckle through the voices talking excitedly. “I am single, yes.”

“Good to know.”

There was a silence as everyone waited to see if you’d follow up on your comment. When you didn’t, Sean exclaimed, “What was the proposition?!”

“Wouldn’t you guys like to know,” you said with a knowing smirk to yourself.

The game went on for another few hours before you finally had to call it a night. You said goodbye to everyone and exited the game. While shutting down your computer and getting ready for bed, your phone chimed. Another message from Discord.

“It was really nice meeting you tonight. We make a pretty good imposter team, you should play with us more often.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Corpse’s message. You felt like a giddy teenage girl as you got into bed, clutching your phone tightly in your hands.

“It was really fun, I’m glad Sean invited me. I’ll definitely come play more in the future if you guys want me!”

You saw the three dots pop up, showing that Corpse was typing. They went away a moment, then popped up again, then away again. This happened a few more times before another message came in.

“About that proposition...”

“What about it? 😉”

“Was just wondering how serious you were about it, or if there was an actual proposition at all.”

You looked at the message for a long time. Of course, at the time you didn’t think it was serious. It was just a fun joke at the expense of your friends. But now that he was asking...what did you say?

You thought about your message for a long time before typing, “I was as serious as you want me to be.”

There was an extended pause on Corpse’s end before he responded, “Well, I know we just met, but I’m pretty serious about it. I’d like to get to know you more. You seem like a really nice girl.”

“You seem like a nice guy.”

“Can I Skype you tomorrow?”

The question shocked you considering what he had told you earlier. “You’re willing to show me your face?”

“Only a select few know what I look like, I trust you to be one of those few.”

Your heart fluttered yet again as you typed your response. “Well then, I’d love to Skype tomorrow. I’ll send you my name so you can add me.”

You laid back in bed after adding Corpse to Skype, feeling excited for the next day. You could hardly sleep now thinking about what you’d get to do in almost 12 hours time. It felt like too far away, you wanted to call him right then and there.

Just as you were starting to drift to sleep, your phone chimed again. You checked it one last time before bed to see a final message from Corpse.

“Goodnight, see you tomorrow”

“Goodnight Corpse, see you tomorrow”

[minniepetals]

Hi!! I have maybe a dumb question? But what do you think happened after the car accident in butterfly? I’m assuming the other guys found out and Freaked but I’d love to hear some headcanons about that if you have any from when your wrote it? 🥺❤️ it’s one of my favorite series (honestly everything you write I love) so I’d love to know more about that moment ❤️ hope you’re doing well love!

not a dumb question at all bub! if anyone's wondering what anon means, you can find the butterseries here and the chapter butterfly here! honestly it does sound intriguing doesn't it? i should've added a little bit of it in the main story but perhaps it'd go a little like this...

warning: spoiler for butterfly if you haven't read it yet

.

.

When Hoseok got the call about the situation from Taehyung, of course he was panicking but he knew that while the younger one was freaking out and could put himself in danger due to recklessness and the overwhelming of his emotions, he had to be the one to act as calm as possible.

When the call ended, he was quick to turn to his assistant who stood a few inches behind. "Cancel the meeting," he ordered and although last minute cancelations weren't the best action to take especially when there were only ten minutes left before the meeting would take place, one look at the hard expression on his boss's face which did his best to hide his true emotions, Hoseok's assistant couldn't talk back and simply nodded to take care of the matters at hand.

When he knew he could trust his assistant with the task to handle that for him, Hoseok quickly dialed for Namjoon who picked up one the fourth ring.

"Mr. Jung," his secretary answered for him instead and Hoseok inwardly cursed. "Mr. Kim is in the middle of a meeting with the Yoon corporations, would you like me to forward a message after it is over?"

"No, this is an emergency, forward it to him immediately," he responded instantly with a grave tone that let his secretary know that the situation at hand was far more important than any meeting the CEO of the company was holding.

After that was over, Hoseok turned to his assistant again. "Let the others know what happened," he said, knowing it'd be faster that way, and without waiting for a reply, the man rushed to leave the building.

Word was quick to spread to the rest of the men who were in the middle of their work. The second the news reached their ears, however, everything came to a standstill as their hearts escalated with fear and work was immediately set on hold.

Meanwhile Taehyung who had reached you first had carried you into his car so that he could drive you to the hospital. The ride was silent, almost deafening in a way that he didn't like.

While he knew he had to focus on driving, it wasn't easy to ignore you who sat in the passenger seat, eyes staring blindly at nothing before you as harrowing thoughts walked into your head.

You were quiet, so quiet, but the grip you held onto the blazer he had draped around your shoulder was knuckle white, trembling, until Taehyung couldn't take it anymore and pulled over to the side of the road.

"Y/N." His voice didn't reach you until you felt his touch, which at first caused you to instinctively flinch, before you quickly apologized for reacting that way. How small your voice was, so weak and frail, and Taehyung's heart shattered at the state you were in.

"Please don't apologize," he begged. "There's nothing for you to apologize for." He took ahold of your hands which wouldn't stop shaking no matter how much you tried, enveloping them in the palms of his large hands in order to give you warmth and comfort. "Can you look at me?" He asked, softly, sweetly, so how could you ever refuse when he was the only thing keeping you sane and was your saving grace?

The tears that escaped your eyes fell a little more when you met Taehyung's gaze who looked almost as broken as you were.

"You were scared, weren't you?" He held your face with gentle hands. "But you did so well, sweetheart. You're alive," he whispered. "You're hurt and we have to get you to the hospital but you're alive, and that's all that matters right now."

"I...I-I...-" Words caught up in your own emotions through the hiccups that followed, Taehyung waited patiently for you to speak. "Tae..." You cried, tears spilling further more as you leaned against the palm of his hand and squeezed his hold so tightly. "Tae, I-I'm so scared."

"I know, I know," he acknowledged with a nod before unbuckling the seatbelt which strapped you to the seat. "Come here." It took a few seconds but he eventually got you over to his side, sitting you securely in his lap so that he could hold you and protect you from all harm. "You're alright," Taehyung promised so softly as he allowed you to lean against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. "You're okay now. I'm right here, I'm right here."

He should have prioritized this before trying to rush you off but who could blame him when your health was just as important? You were hurt after all. Though he'd never forgive himself if he wasn't there to make sure you knew you were safe again when he was the only husband there for you at the moment.

It took some time to calm you down but if it was for you, Taehyung would wait for a hundred years staying in that position just to make sure you felt okay again.

After a long session of crying, you finally fell asleep due to the overwhelming emotions you had just gone through. He brought you back over onto the passenger seat with careful consideration of not wanting to hurt and wake you up before checking his phone for all the missed calls and missed messages that were left from the other boys.

"Taehyung? Where are you?" The second he decided to call the leader, panic was clearly heard on the other line of the phone. "I've arrived at the scene and the police said you were on your way to bring Y/N to the hospital so the others went on ahead while me and Yoongi are taking care of things here. But the others have already arrived at the hospital and you're not there yet. Did something happen? Please tell me you're alright."

"Sorry." Taehyung let out a sigh, calmly ready to explain the situation unlike the panicked Namjoon. "I couldn't just bring Y/N over with the state she was in so we took a moment to let her calm down and breathe again."

"How is she?" Concern filled his voice.

With one glance your way, the younger one pressed his lips before replying. "She's asleep now but I'm sure it won't be long until she wakes from a nightmare." He adjusted his blazer on you, acting as a blanket, and put the seatbelt on you again. "I'm gonna head over now, I'll let you know any news but by then you'll probably arrive at the hospital with Yoongi."

You did wake up again, but only after Taehyung had already taken you to the hospital and you were moved to get treated by the doctor. So when you woke up to find yourself in an unfamiliar room, you began to grow scared once again and even the doctor couldn't help you calm down.

"Please, get Taehyung," you pled at her with trembling hands that held onto her lab coat. "I-I want to see Taehyung."

Where was he? He told you that he wasn't going to leave you alone so where was he? Why wasn't he there when you woke up?

"Please. Taehyung, where is he? Where is my husband? Where—"

"Y/N."

Your head instantly perked up at the familiar call and tears were quick to fall when you saw not only Taehyung but the rest of your husbands walking in through the door.

Taehyung rushed to hold you in his arms being as he was the last person you were with and restlessly calling for him when you woke. You sighed shakily in relief at the familiar feeling of his arms around you but it wasn't enough to keep the tears away.

They hated seeing you in the state you were in, hearts breaking into tiny pieces at the sound of your cries and the sight of your trembling body as you held onto Taehyung so tightly as if afraid he was going to disappear before your eyes if you didn't hold onto him tight enough.

It took a while but eventually you remembered the rest and was quick to reach out to them as well, panic and fear filling your eyes as you sought for their presence just to make sure they were there, right there, and that they weren't leaving any time soon.

Your legs were too shaky to walk on your own when the hospital discharged you that night so Jungkook had to carry you to the car in order to head home.

You fell asleep right there in his hold before he even reached the vehicle, hand holding tightly onto the blazer of his suit even through your dreams.

"She looks so worn out," Seokjin worried when they arrived back in the drive through of their home, the door of Jungkook's car opened ajar with you still deep in your slumber.

"She was shaking so uncontrollably," Jimin remembered.

"Can't blame her. Our little one was so scared," Taehyung said as Yoongi kept a steady gaze on your figure which leaned against the passenger seat, your under eyes red with a flushed nose and flushed cheeks along with trails of dried tears to remind them of how hard you had cried.

Namjoon walked up towards the open door, leaning in to unbuckle the seatbelt around you. He took a moment to caress your face, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, before taking ahold of you to carry you in his arms.

They followed him in while Taehyung stood still for a moment, retracing his memories back when you had been happily talking to him on the phone before the incident occurred. Did he do good enough being the one to have been by your side through it all? Or could he have done better?

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it."

He looked up at Hoseok's voice who stood a few feet away, looking back at him while the rest of them had already gone into the house. The older man had his brows creased, eyes sincere with a grave intent lying behind them.

"You did well by her side, Taehyung, we're thankful you had been there for her." He walked on over to him, taking long strides his way and stopping to stand right before the younger man. With hands held at either side on Taehyung's face, Hoseok rested their foreheads together with closed eyes and whispering words.

"Losing Y/N would have been horrible," he said, "I don't want to ever imagine a life without her. And losing you too? You'd break us, Kim Taehyung. So thank you, thank you for keeping calm and thank you for being the one to have been by our wife's side."

Taehyung's face contoured into a grieving mess, his walls broken down as he's finally able to let his emotions pour out whereas when he had been with you, he knew he had to stay strong for your sake.

But right now it was just the two of them, just him and Hoseok, so he no longer had to worry about staying strong and simply let his walls down while the older one held him tightly in his arms, holding onto Taehyung as he cried at the thought of having almost lost you.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”   

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them. 

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth. 

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time. 

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.

[writefightandflightclub]

End of the line (Santiago Garcia x GN! reader)

@autumnleaves1991-blog​ runs a fantasic # Writer Wednesday, and this week’s photo prompt sparked a lil idea! Of course I’m a day late, please forgive. The prompt is the photo below, and my response is a rather angsty Triple Frontier one-shot. This is different to my usual takes, so I’m so grateful for the prompt!

Summary: you are reaching the end of the line, and there’s only one person you want to pick up the phone to.

Word count: 2.4k, somehow

Rating: mature for themes of violence (18+ only)

Warnings: theme of reader being pursued / targeted; ongoing mentions of guns / gun violence (not graphic); reader injuries (not graphic); themes of character death; angst; vague mentions of past wrongdoing / implied illicit activities; theme of former lovers.

You run your fingers over your scathed knuckles and the bruises on your hands, flexing and opening your fingers and trying to work out niggles in your wrist that you doubt will ever truly leave you. You wince as the motion tugs on a spot which is particularly stiff, and a pain zips all the way up your forearm.

Your only consolation is that the other guy fared far worse.

Undoing all your attempts to unknot your taut muscles, your fists clench again as you hear the door to the dingy motel bar swing open to your right. Your head whips towards the newly-arrived patron and you tense, your hand twitching against the weapon concealed in your jacket. As it becomes clear the new arrival is an old, inebriated local and not a threat, you relax a shade; though not all the way.

You barely remember the last time you fully relaxed. You wish you could shake this state of hyper-vigilance. Eyes constantly sweeping the perimeter. Clocking every open-carry tucked into a belt, scoping every exit route, monitoring every micro-gesture and expression. But one slip now and it will cost you.

You bounce your leg under the table, filled with an onslaught of sadness that you can’t even enjoy a cup of coffee without the looming fear of retribution. Still, you are safe enough here for now, you assess. For at least one more night. At least, you hope. Certainty is a thing long-dead, just like your old life.

Your eyes flick out through the scummy window, reaching across the lot to the stretch of motel illuminated to your left. Not that there’s much to look at out there -snow and vehicles and the shitty exterior- but you are not looking at those things, after all. Your study is far more careful. You’ve been sat here long enough though to be sure that no-one is casing your room. No suspicious vehicles or individuals; at least - there are plenty of suspicious individuals, but none whom seem to have followed you here.

So, you allow yourself to shed one layer of worry, and you give your gaze permission to wander back to the only other thing you can see out there. The ominous looking phone box, stood directly in the path between your table and the window to your motel room. It glows in the dark like an illuminated angel, though you are not sure whether this signals it is a guardian or a traitor. Angels can be fickle things too.

Either way, the booth taunts you, like some dark harbinger or sentinel from a horror film, and, each time your eyes flick back to it, it seems to loom more prominent - even if that’s only because of the single, related thought which swells to the forefront of your mind.

Call him. It’s time to call him.

You promised yourself you would only call him as a last resort. If you had no other options remaining. If you were at the end of the line.

A nausea rolls in the pit of you when you realise that might be true. After so long on the run, you’ve called in every favour you were owed, exploited every scrap of intel you could, manipulated or paid-off every asset you could find to help you... And now there is no-one else left. No-one else left who owes you a favour. There is only the man who had once promised you he would always have your six. There is only the last person you want to ask for help, and the first person you want to see.

Santiago Garcia.

Your nausea turns to aching despair, and you wrap your hands around your cup of shitty coffee, reaching for some vestige of warmth, however faint. And yet, like everything else, it offers you little comfort. Indeed, you have lived without comfort for so long that you tell yourself you don’t need it, but as soon as memories of him flood you, you ache for the distant comfort of his arms.

Arms which will never encircle you again, you’re sure. Not since you’d been forced to compromise every ideal you’d once shared with the solider. Still, that was back in the days when things seemed a lot more black and white. When you still believed in good people and untarnished souls. When he still believed in you.

Your eyes flick once again to the boxy, mocking angel in the parking lot. Now you are sure it is fallen, and that it has come to drag you to hell.

Still, hell would be a relief, you think, compared to this. Compared to this vestige of a life.

Call him. It’s the end of the line.

You bounce your leg more furiously, your muscles tensing so hard they cramp as you think about the prospect. You used to carry his number on a little slip of paper in your top pocket. You’d long since memorised it, but it was the last thing he gave you - you suppose that’s why you couldn’t throw it away. Why you subconsciously kept it close to your heart.

If you ever needed him, he would be there. You knew it. Maybe you should have called him long ago, when things first went south. When you first pissed off the kinda man it wasn’t desirable to piss off. Maybe you would have, but then one thing after another kept happening, and the slow descent into hell began, one compromise and one mistake at a time. So, you called in every other favour rather than face him. Rather than having to explain how you’d let him down - become someone he could no longer believe in. Like a fallen angel.

Now, years had gone by.

Years on the run. Years of hyper-vigilance. Years that had taken their toll.

Now, you’re out of options. Out of money. Out of favours. You’re even out of burner phones until you can hitch a lift to the next town over.

So, the glowing phone box almost sings to you, as if it’s a siren luring you on to the rocks. As if it’s a magical item in a computer game and if you step into its circle of light you can have a new life. You can reset everything. Return to a prior save point.

You know exactly where you would go, if you could. Back to the last time your remember where you didn’t feel so alone. The last time you felt comfort.

You fumble some over-spilling tears from your cheeks and stand, pushing the chair back across the floor behind you with a harsh scrape. Then, with a soft smile to the barkeep you return your mug to the bar-top, to save her from having to clear up. You wonder then. You can’t help but wonder like you do every time. If she’ll be the last person to see you alive will she at least say, to who ever shows up looking, that you seemed kind?

She gives you a small smile and you hang on to this vestige of warmth too, wishing you could pocket it for later for when you inevitably feel so empty and so cold. If only you could have stored up warmth, you would have more than enough to thaw you. There was a time when you had an abundance, after all. Enough to carry you through the longest of winters. 

Your face drops as you tread out, winding your scarf around your neck and your boots puncturing the fresh, powdery snow.

Would anyone who mattered even show up looking? you ponder. Is there anyone left who would remember all the things you were before all this? Before you were a cold, lost thing?

There may be one person left.

Your eyes patrol the lot around you, an automatic sweep for threats, and, seeing nothing of note, you track determinedly towards the phone box, tears near-freezing on your cheeks.

You pick up the receiver and you punch in that number you have memorised, your eyes closing and your other hand bracing itself against the scratched and cigarette-burn puckered surface. You don’t even know if it will ring, or if he will still be at this address, but you do know that your knees will buckle either way. With relief if he does, and hopelessness if he doesn’t.

The line clacks as the number connects, and you grip the receiver hard enough that a day-old wound on your knuckle splits, but you can scarce care. Instead you simply hold your breath as the phone rings once, twice, three times...

Your stomach lurches as the ringing stops.

“Santiago? Santiago Garcia?” you ask, hoarsely, tugging on the coiled phone wire so hard as you wind it around your fingers that you are close to breaking it.

“This is Mrs. Garcia. Can I help you?” a woman’s voice responds.

You want to dry heave. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“You’re his wife?” you ask, the question like a poison barb on your tongue.

“Yes, who’s speaking, please? Can I take a message?”

All this time, you had been the only one alone, it seems. You should be glad for him, but you are too sad for yourself to muster it.

You hesitate. You can’t say who’s calling. You can’t risk it. However, while he may not be at the end of the line, you are. This might be the last chance you get to say your piece.

You have to think on your feet, but that’s become second-nature for you. You haven’t enjoyed the luxury of plans or hopes or dreams for some time now.

You begin. Your voice is choked up.

“Just tell him... Tell him to remember me the way I was in Massachusetts. Tell him I’ve never been happier than then. Tell him not to worry. I won’t cash in that favour, but he’s already done enough.”

He has. He’s given you the strength to make it this far, even if he didn’t know it.

“Who is this?” his wife presses, her tone sharp.

You can’t say, but he’ll know. He’ll know - if he remembers you. Your eyes mist over with tears, and your chest tightens, emotion stealing the air from your lungs.

“Can you just tell him that? Please?” you beg, having been strong for so long and finally collapsing in on yourself, a desperate plea imbuing your voice.

Still, you don’t even wait for an answer before slamming the phone back down on its hook -can’t bear to hear her say no. Instead you surge towards your hotel room, sobs wracking your chest as you realise the cold hard facts. Now, you are truly on the run without any semblance of home to return to, even if you could ever stop. He did not wait for you.

So, you cry, even as you peel off your clothes from your pained body, leaning into the stream of luke-warm water in the motel shower. Water which may rinse the blood and grime from the surface of your skin but has no hope of washing the blood from your hands, or wiping the red from your ledger.

Nothing ever could.

Then, you lie alone in bed, your sleeping bag and liner protecting you from the motel bed covers, at least. You stare up blankly at the ceiling, and, as you often do, you try to pinpoint where it all went wrong. You try to rewrite history. You try to imagine all the ways in which things could have worked out.

As always, with certainty, you can say exactly when and where it all went to shit. And, as always, you wish that you could take it back.

You loll your head against the pillow, watching shadows dance through your curtains as snow falls past the glow of that ugly, beautiful phone box. It was a guardian after all, you think, if Santi got to know that you still think of him. That even now you can’t let him go. 

Always. Until the end.

Then, your whole body jolts in shock as the phone begins to ring - a loud, shrill insistent noise sounding out into the night, setting off a dog barking across the way, and a baby crying through the paper thin walls to your left.

It couldn’t be? Could it? It couldn’t be for you?

Still, you have to know, and so, you scramble into your snow boots and dash into the brisk night, grappling to lift the phone from its receiver before it rings out, your breath a white cloud of exertion before you.

And, at the same time that you connect to the caller, you spot the second harbinger. You see the shadowed figure there, approaching you from across the lot. You see the outline of a gun in their hand, and their trench billowing around their shins as they maintain a steady pace towards you.

You have nowhere left to run. This is the end of the line. You know it in the depths of you.

So, you simply flatten your back to the phone box, facing your assailant.

You simply close your eyes, willing everything else to disappear as an unmistakeably familiar voice filters through the speaker into your ear. You grip the receiver tightly with both hands.

Santiago Garcia says your name. Your real name. Not one of many aliases you’ve had to assume, painting lies over your existence. He says your real name -one you haven’t heard spoken in so long- and your bottom lip begins to tremble. “Honey, is that you?”

You smile, tears of joy cascading down your face as his simple words stoke more warmth than you have felt in so long. Even as the cold bites at your skin. Even as you hear the continued crunch of footsteps in the snow. Even as you hear a gun cock, mere feet from your body.

Hearing his voice, you think your knees may buckle in relief regardless.

“Hey, old friend,” you say fondly, through an inexplicable, watery smile. And, despite the situation, you feel happy, for the first time in a long while. Bizarre as it is, you are finally able to relax all the way.

Will he remember me as kind, at least?

You grip the phone even more tightly as Santi’s voice surges, coming at you with a million urgent questions. You let them flow through you, and then they are gone, just as easily. You know you will not be afforded the chance to answer even one. So, you say something else instead.

“Remember me, okay?” you breathe. “Remember how I loved you. And I did, Santiago. Right until the end of the line.”

You hope that he will. You can only hope that when the stories and lies and secrets and compromises come out, that he will remember you the way you were in Massachusetts. Before things started to unravel. Before you went on the run.

And, as your eyes screw themelsleves tightly shut, and you brace yourself for what is inevitably coming, you don’t think of him as he is now. Someone distant. Someone who doesn’t belong to you. Someone at the end of the line. You don’t think of yourself that way either.

You remember him the way he was in Massachusetts.

You hope dearly, that he will think of you that way too.

You finally feel warm.

[zuluc]

anonymous requested: hii !! do you mind writing a hurt/comfort fic with kaeya? reader saw something that reminded them of something that happened in the past (could be loosing almost all of their loved ones, just something traumatizing) and kaeya comforts them (bonus request : friends to lovers and kaeya accidentally confesses as he comforts the reader)

pairing: kaeya alberich x gn!reader

style & genre: written; angst & comfort, angst to fluff

warnings: mentions & description of death; violence on the hilichurls

notes: it will be angsty hours (this one is only a little angsty dw); i felt that there needed to be a backstory because it would seem too rushed without one

i hope i do not misrepresent anything because losing someone is not a light topic. if i have offended anyone with anything in this fic, please message me

She was the little girl you looked after whenever her father went off to sell his wares. She was the sweetest and she loved seeing you as you always made sure she never felt lonely.

You kept her safe and warned off anything and everything that frightened her in the forest you would walk through. She, in turn, would gift you with flowers, namely cecilias, because she knew they were your favorite.

But how you ended up in that situation, what you saw, it still felt unreal.

It happened so quickly when the hilichurls threw their fire slimes into the small village, setting ablaze the wooden structures and homes where families were. So quick that the path for an exit out of her home was already engulfed in flames.

Her hand tries to desperately reach for yours as she backs away from the Abyss Mage. There’s a terrified look in her eyes as it nears her but your body is frozen in place. Why couldn’t you get to her or pull her out of there?

“Y/n!” She calls out for you. You’re begging your body to move but it won’t. 

“Y/n!!”

The town was devastated at the loss, many lives were claimed before help arrived. Her father pats your back but you can’t face him. He told you that it wasn’t your fault but you couldn’t believe him. You saw her life be taken away and you could have done something. You could have moved. But you were struck with fear. 

“I’m sorry,” are the last words he hears from you when you leave the village that next night.

--

It’s been a year since then and a few months since you joined the knights. You still haven’t recovered, but that didn’t mean you never gained a new perspective. After that night, you pledged to not make the same mistake again. She would have forgiven you, even her father said so, but you wouldn’t forgive yourself.

The Knights of Favonius welcomed you with open arms, Kaeya especially. He first seemed like he was hiding something but it was just his nature, you learned, though you weren’t sure why he took an interest in you. He would even take you to taverns to try to get you drunk enough to share your secrets. He never got your past out of you, however.

To be honest, Kaeya liked your personality that grew on him as the days passed. You were cheerful and had that fond look on your face while watching the kids run around. But there was that sadness that underlay your facade when the kids were gone.

“Are you alright?” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts as you near your destination.

It was supposed to be a quick mission: finish off the remaining hilichurls in the area and possibly treasure hoarders if they were close by and decided to mess with the knights yet again. Easy, right?

Kaeya is paired with you for the patrol and you didn’t mind it one bit. You had come to know him during your time with the Knights of Favonius and he would always be kind to you, albeit mildly flirtatious. And you couldn’t deny that he was quite attractive.

“They should be around here. How much would you like to bet to see who can get the most?” He tilts his head at you and you roll your eyes.

“In mora or wine?”

“Ah, you know me well,” he laughs lightly and summons his sword, you doing the same. “Why don’t we make it a night at the tavern? With wine, of course.”

“Deal,” you respond, running forward when a hilichurl spots the both of you, “I’m sure it’ll be your bill to pay!” He joins you quickly to make sure that you don’t hog all of them to yourself.

The hilichurls weren’t a problem as you dealt with them on numerous occasions so it was a fairly short battle. There is only the largest one left, brandishing it’s large wooden shield. You manage to distract it from the front, but it pushes you out of the way. You scowl at the pain in your side from contact with the ground but it comes charging. You narrow your eyes and try to jump out of the way but not before Kaeya pulls you to the side. He points to a small puddle and you nod your head.

You rush forward to bait it and once it’s foot is in the water, Kaeya freezes it as you both continue the last assault.

“Thanks,” you say to him, rubbing your left arm that you know is going to bruise. 

“Of course, I’ll always watch out for you,” he places his hand on your arm and it’s cool to the touch. You’re grateful for the relief but you look away before he can notice the blush on your cheeks at his soft touch. “And I believe I took down one more than you,” he teases. 

“As if! We finished the last one together.” You retaliate with no malice in your voice.

“Okay, okay! We’re even, but let’s go get you--”

“Help! Anyone!” You both turn your attention to the yell coming from over a cliff, rushing to it quickly. A carriage had been overturned with hilichurls surrounding it. You heard a child crying inside with her mother shouting for help. The father of the family is to the side of the road and you run over to check for a pulse. Luckily he is only knocked out so you move him behind a boulder. 

“I’ll distract them and you get them out,” Kaeya whispers, gripping his sword tightly. You nod and he quietly sneaks up on one of them, slicing it from behind. You sprint to the underside of the carriage and climb to the top, breaking the handle and throwing the door open. The two look up at you and the mother’s face breaks out in relief. She hands you her child and you hold her, placing her close to the side and out of sight. You take the mother’s hand and she steps out to embrace her daughter again but she’s gone.

The little girl is right in front of the both of you and one of the larger hilichurls is approaching her. 

“M-Mom...” she stutters and trips backwards as she tries to get away. The mother is staring ahead, afraid to move herself as if if she moves her daughter will be snatched much quicker.

But you, you are frozen in place. Again.

“No, no...” you manage to mutter to yourself and force your right foot to scoot forward. The hilichurl pounds its fist on it’s chest and holds it’s axe up. You look at the girl and she is reaching her hand back. Towards you.

You pledged not to make the same mistake again.

“Y/n!”

In flash you lunge towards the girl, pulling her to you in the process and shielding her from the blunt of the force. Your sword was summoned behind you and while it wouldn’t take up all of the attack, it would do enough for you to take the rest and have the girl protected.

She is clutching onto you tightly and you open your eyes when you hear the familiar crinkle of icicles behind you. The hilichurl staggers back and Kaeya takes the opportunity to pieces his sword through its head. 

“Y/n!”

--

The family thanks you profusely before the soldiers appear and help with the cleanup. Kaeya receives the thanks and the girl runs over to where you were, crouched behind a stone. 

“Um,” she approaches you slowly, holding out a cecilia, “t-thank you.” You take the flower and smile at her gently. She runs off back to her mom and they leave with the soldiers.

You clutch the flower close to your chest as you let sobs rack over your body. Kaeya searches for you to make sure you’re okay and he sees you crying into yourself. Gently, he kneels down and coaxes you into his arms.

You’re muttering to yourself and he makes out the words “it happened again” and “I could have done it again.” Your breathing quickens and he tries to quiet you down, patting down your hair while rubbing your back. “K-Kaeya--”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all over.” He’s holding you tightly but you shake your head. He must have thought you were scared of the fact that you could have gotten injured, but that wasn’t the case. 

“No, you don’t understand I could have made the same mistake again and I could have killed that girl!”

“Y/n, what do you mean?” Kaeya you tighter to him and you finally spill out the story you’ve been hiding. Throughout your words you think that he’s going to hate you. You think that he’ll be repulsed that you let that happen. He’s not.

He continues his soft ministrations, “That didn’t happen here, y/n. You saved her, she’s okay.” Your hands grip the cloth of his jacket. “While I wasn’t there and I can’t imagine what you felt in that moment, I know it wasn’t something you did intentionally. Like you said, her father didn’t blame you because it wasn’t your fault.” 

“But--”

“And you’ve been holding this all to yourself,” he holds your face close to his, only centimeters away, “if you see yourself from an outsider’s point of view, you do your best to save people. You look out for everyone, especially the children and that girl, she’ll be there in your memory and she’ll be so proud of what you’re doing right now, knowing it’s not holding you back but making you stronger.”

“While what I’m saying isn’t going to fix everything, even though my linguistic powers are one of a kind,” he smiles at the small laugh it gets out of you, “just know that you can come to me. Okay?”

You finally look straight at him and nod your head with the limited movement his hold provided you with. “Okay.”

“Good,” Kaeya releases you and helps you stand with a hold on your hand. When you stand fully, he cups your cheek to place a small kiss on your forehead, not letting go of your hand and instead squeezing it. “Let’s head to the tavern now.”

[omg-imagine]

Forget Me Not (Part 12/15)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, language

A/N: Kinda nervous posting again since it’s been a while, but we’re winding down to the end of this story with only three more parts to go (2 chapters + an epilogue). As always, feedback is appreciated. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoy!

Part 11

Home.

You are home. It’s supposed to be home.

But it wasn’t. To you, it couldn’t be. 

This place feels too far from home, too foreign. You had no memories of it, no recollection of the safety and security it offers. Not even the faintest remembrance of the laughter, smiles, and tears; the fondness and the sadness these four walls have witnessed over the years. 

You can’t call it home. You don’t know where home is, and you’re not sure you have one anymore. 

Not after leaving him behind.

It’s cold and dark when you first wake, sleep weighing heavily in your eyes. A pair of curtains block out the sun from filtering into the room, leaving you to wonder if you had slept through half the day. With a yawn, you stretch, the bed underneath creaking as your body fully rouses from yet another night of fitful slumber. Almost a month back in New York, and it doesn’t make sense to keep blaming your lack of energy on the time difference.

The ache is still ever-present. The pain caused by the void in your heart remains, sharply throbbing in your chest with its refusal to go away. Two heartbreaks, two betrayals, occurring five years apart, but it feels as though not much time has passed in-between. 

It hurts to ponder about it, that evening when your seemingly perfect little world came crashing down. Hiding behind rose-tinted glasses, you were unknowingly tricked, fully caught up in a well-crafted illusion. His illusion. Love has blinded you to the sad reality, and in the end, it left you a shattered mess, a hollow shell of your former self.

You doubt you’ll ever be whole again.

Forcing yourself out from under the covers, you reach for your phone on the nightstand to check the time before scrolling through your notifications. Nothing was of interest to you, fortunately; you didn’t have the energy to respond to those you suddenly abandoned. Friends who cared about you but realized you were never close to them. Not in the way it used to be.

As you skimmed over the new texts and emails, you then came across his now unsaved number. The moment you stepped on the plane, you deleted his contact from your phone and blocked him. Yet the last messages he sent to you were still there and haven’t been read since, though you already knew what they could entail—

I’m sorry.

It was never my intention to hurt you.

Please give me another chance.

Let me fix this.

Just come back, Y/N. Come back home.

Home. There was that damn word again. You were beginning to loathe it, even more so knowing that whenever you think of home, you wind up thinking of him.

The last time you saw him was the morning after the storm. Booking a one-way ticket back to the east coast, you then spent the early hours packing as many clothes that would fit in a single suitcase. Tears had long since dried up, having none left as you headed down the stairs, ignoring the look he gave you from afar.

He was dressed in the outfit he had on the night prior; his hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and it was quite obvious he endured no sleep. Your resolve nearly crumbles as your gazes connect, bodies close enough that he could reach out the slightest bit, and he’d be holding your hand in the palm of his. 

Fighting the urge, you didn’t cave in. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall for it—for him. 

No, never again.

As expected, he followed you out of the house, remaining quiet as he watched the cab driver load your luggage in the trunk. You paid him no attention when he approached the vehicle once you climbed in, wanting nothing more than to escape this nightmare. With nowhere else to go and no one to turn to, you decided it was best to leave California, not that you belonged there anyway.

It played out like a scene from a movie—the taxi pulling out of the driveway slowly as the raindrops started to fall. Hearing him call out your name, his voice cracking with each syllable, made you hesitate for a beat. Perhaps you could forgive him, you had thought in that split-second. Forgive and forget; let what happened in the past stay in the past. 

But even if you did, the pain’s still there, and it was overpowering. This pain resulting from his deception had been too consuming, too unbearable to move on.

You told the driver to hurry as you couldn’t afford to miss your flight.

The atmosphere in the car was fraught with grim silence. As the house sequestered in the hills vanishes in the rearview mirror, you knew you were running away from it all. You couldn’t stand being here in LA, where every turn, every corner, and every street reminds you of a life that wasn’t truly yours. 

As idyllic it once was, you wanted no part of it anymore. Instead, you sought for familiarity, the life you used to have, the one you could only remember. 

What you thought was your real home.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you had broken down in the backseat, never feeling more alone than you did at that moment.

You wish you could forget, but it’s not that easy. It’s never easy. Memories of him linger in your mind, still tragically fresh as they haunt you day in and day out. Closing your eyes, you could see him wearing this smile that used to make your stomach flutter. You came to love his smile the same way you had loved him wholly. 

Now? Seeing it was a stab to the heart—a reminder of how he took advantage of your condition, your vulnerability. Of every lie you were fed. That smile, the one you previously hoped to wake up to for the rest of your life, had been an act, a facade. 

Everything had been a facade.

A sudden knock on the door startles you, and you clicked off the phone screen before announcing to whoever that they could come in. Your mother Nancy enters soon after, her face displaying concern when she realizes you had just woken up. She’s silent as she walks towards the window and then pushes the curtains aside, the sunlight outside immediately washing over the room. 

Briefly, you squint to adjust to the brightness, a confirmation that it was past noon already—another wasted day.

“Hey, darling,” she speaks softly as she moves to sit on the mattress beside you. “How are you doing?”

There’s no point in lying, but as much as you greatly appreciated her caringness, you didn’t want to burden her with your problems. They were yours to deal with and yours alone. 

“Better.” And that, you were. Just a week ago, you finally stopped crying yourself to sleep. “I might even go out tomorrow and look for a job. Can’t keep freeloading under your roof, right?”

You release a half-chuckle, a small attempt to lighten up the mood. It was comforting when your mother cracks a smile in response.

“Oh, hush. You’re always welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she assures, a loving warmth radiating from her tone. 

Lips pressing together, you sense that she has another thing to address. “What’s wrong?”

Nancy pauses to take a breath, shoulders rising and falling. For some reason, you’re on edge, finding yourself bracing for what was to come.

“Have you spoken to Keanu lately?”

Upon hearing his name, you swallowed away the lump in your throat. After telling your parents what had transpired, it stirred up various emotions—mainly anger from your father, sorrow from your mom. Their hearts sank as you recounted the story, tears blurring your eyes that you couldn’t see their faces. It was a good thing, however; you probably wouldn’t have reached the end.

Since then, they’ve refrained from speaking of him and to him. He’s called the house on a few occasions but could never get past the automated answering machine. Pictures of the two of you hanging on the walls were taken down shortly after the revelation, and you were unsure of who had done it. 

Your parents still couldn’t believe he was capable of such a thing. He had played them the same way you were, twisting the truth and omitting facts. Painting himself in a way that made them think allowing you to stay with him was the best decision when just months before he treated you as if you didn’t matter. 

As if he didn’t love you.

“No.” Curt, you had nothing else to say. 

“He’s a persistent one, I’ll tell you that. Left another message last night,” Nancy comments, feeling her stare as you fiddled with the hands in your lap. The next time she speaks, it’s slow and controlled. She’s careful with her words, wary of how you would react to what she has to say. “Hon, the last time you were here, you told me something. Something that I probably should have mentioned the day you woke up in the hospital.”

You tense, eyes flickering up to hers. “What is it?”

She sighs deeply, her smile fleeting and replaced by a taut frown. “I knew you and Keanu were having… problems. Not the full story, but enough that told me you’ve been unhappy for a while.”

“W-Why didn’t you bring this up then?”

“Because the second I saw him in your hospital room, I could see how much he loves you. How scared he was at the thought of nearly losing you—”

“Pfft, sure he was,” you scoff at the statement in disbelief. “What he did—you don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t lie to them, betray them. Hell, if you had given me a heads up earlier, then it would have saved me all this trouble.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t you get it? He’s an actor. Of course, he’s good at playing pretend. Got us all believing that things were all sunshine and rainbows. He fucked up and fucked up even more by lying. I’ve always had a bad track record in relationships, so I shouldn’t have been too surprised.”

Tension hangs thickly in the air, an apology murmured at the end of a passing second. You didn’t mean to snap at your mother, to let the anger and betrayal consume you that you began taking it out on others although unwillingly. 

But you were just too goddamn hurt. Every day, the memories are suffocating you despite constantly wishing and pleading for them to disappear. That life, the one you had with Keanu, no longer exists, and yet you were still holding onto the frayed remains of it, not ready to move on—to let go. 

You grieve. You grieve and mourn for the recent past, the happiness and love you experienced in the time you were left unaware. Never have you felt so complete, so content, and much at ease. You had turned a blind eye to the signs, to the small inklings of doubt brewing inside because you thought that there was no way you could get something else as close to this.

Perhaps you were both to blame after all.

“I thought he was different,” you whisper, sorrow flowing from your words. “I thought he was the one. The man I’d settle down with, marry, and then maybe someday, be the father of my kids. We’d build an entire life together, a family, a future. The kind of life where I could look back on it fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and not regret a single thing.”

Feeling your mother’s hand come on top of yours with a light squeeze, you fought off the tears forcing their way from your eyes. You swore you would never shed a tear for Keanu ever again, but you are crumbling from within. The weak walls you put up are now tumbling down, leaving you even more vulnerable than before. 

“I want to hate him. I want him to feel my pain and suffer through it, knowing that he’s the reason why. But I can’t. Somehow, I just can’t.”

“It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him,” Nancy adds solemnly, and you nod shakily. “You’re healing, dear. So far, all you’ve done is put on a bandaid, but it doesn’t mean the wound closes up immediately. It’ll burn, it’ll bleed, and it’ll ache, and right now, that’s what you’re feeling; the pain of a fresh open wound.”

“Make the pain stop,” you mumbled incoherently as you lean against your mom’s side, wet cheeks pressed to her shoulder. “It has to stop.”

“And it will,” she promises, listening to your soft and tired cries. “It’ll take time for the wound to heal, but eventually, it will. Until then, life continues, and you would have to as well. You don’t have to go all-in right away, but don’t let this heartbreak hinder you from living, sweetie. You’re strong, and I believe you will feel that same happiness again, in one form or another. But you won’t find it unless you go out and look for it.”

For the first time in what seemed like a while, you felt something other than loss and despair. It creeps into you slowly, half-expecting a cold, crushing weight to fall heavily on your chest rather than the warmth and light it is. But as quickly as it came, the sensation subsides, a wave of loneliness, emptiness filling the vacant space surrounding your heart.

A shuddering breath released, you then reflect upon what your mother said about time and how time heals all wounds. You wonder how much time is needed until you can finally break free from the remnants of the past and breathe again. Could be days, weeks, or even months more, but it’s right there, waiting for you on the horizon. 

You may not have a place to call home, but what you do have is time.

---

Seconds turn into minutes; minutes turn into hours. The sun sets, the moon rises; bright, blues skies bleed into a fiery red before dimming to an inky darkness. The world spins on its axis as people wake, move, then sleep, and the cycle begins all over again.

Two weeks have come and gone, and life pushes onward. You could tell by the scenery outside where the season of fall has taken charge of the Northeast. Days are shorter, with nights stretching out longer as the year fades into winter. Time was flying by at a brisk pace. Very soon, a blanket of snow will cover the ground you walk on, reminding you to take a step back and admire the natural beauty of mid-November.

The crispness of the late afternoon air is refreshing as it fills your lungs, a welcome change from the hazy summer heat. Leaves that were once lively shades of green are now painted in deep hues of amber and burgundy, and they crunch beneath your boots with each leisure step down the earthy path. The nearby lake is as pristine as ever, sparkling freely underneath the rays of the ochre sun as it waits for the impending frost.

Wandering about outdoors for hours now, you were lost in your stream of thoughts. You honestly felt better, not entirely mended, but just enough that you can step out of the house and explore the quaint little town. A picturesque place, it was a perfect settlement for your retired parents where everyone knew everybody; their faces, names, the street they lived on. Boilding down to more personal details such as knowing the pets they owned, which book club they’re a part of, and any recent travels. 

When the townsfolk saw you, you sensed the feeling of familiarity. Those you passed by in the streets waved at you, and though you couldn’t exactly recall your relationship with them, it made you smile. Recently, old friends and family in the area had begun reaching out after hearing you were back. You never gave them the full explanation, only revealing that things in California did not work out, and you figured it was best to leave. 

Was it a permanent decision? Most likely. Life here is simpler, quieter. You enjoyed the peacefulness, favoring the calm atmosphere of this town much over the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles. It gave you space to think, to focus, to breathe. To reacquaint with yourself, rebuild who you are as a person by taking this journey of self-discovery. 

It’s the brand new start you desperately wanted, needed. An opportunity to find your place in this world without the past holding you back. Without the shadow of the woman you once were looming over you. And if your memories don’t ever return, which deep down, you hope they never would, you would be fine with it. 

You were tired of being stuck searching pieces of the past. You had to live.

Trekking up the gravel road leading to your parents’ home, a black car sits on top of the hill, one that you did not recognize. Perplexed, you approached the house with hesitant steps, dragging your feet through the pile of dead and dry leaves. There was a moment of panic when you noticed a man sitting on the front porch steps, hands clasped on his knees as he hung his head low, a curtain of dark hair masking his identity.

But you don’t need to think twice, for you already know who it is.

“Keanu?”

His name slipping out of your mouth feels different now. Gone is the affectionate tone that it was usually spoken in. It held no meaning, void of any warmth or tenderness. Keanu, the name is bitter on your tongue, a poison that could cause you to spiral down yet again, and saying it out loud brought upon a rage that swirls through your veins.

How dare he show up here unannounced?

As you take your breaths, one… two… three... and out, Keanu straightens his posture and meets your stern glare. Slowly, he gets up, the expression on his face hard to read. But aside from that, he looked worse for wear. The bags underneath his eyes were dark and prominent, the beard on his chin was unruly and untamed. He appears gaunt and exhausted, as if he hasn’t slept a wink ever since you walked out of the door and out of his life.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You’re the first to break the thick silence, a testament of your bravery and strength of some sort. Brows furrowing and teeth gritting in anger, it contrasts with Keanu’s lax demeanor as he steps closer. “No, stay back. You have no right to be here right now.”

“Y/N, please...” He speaks calmly, each and every one of his movements measured. “I’m not here to fight—”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you seethed, shaking your head as you stormed past him and towards the door. Tears brew in your cloudy eyes, a sign of how much he still affected you. Seeing him again after all this time only proved that the wound he had inflicted bleeds to this day.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Keanu quickly trails from behind, his voice dripping with utter desperation. “Please, just… give me a chance to talk. All you have to do is listen, and I promise you won’t ever have to see me again.”

The seriousness in his timbre causes you to halt in your tracks. Swallowing dryly, you turn around, sad, tired eyes reaching his guilt-filled ones. Keanu stands before you with a face written in despair, making him barely recognizable. The way he’s staring at you as if he’s hopeless and in pure anguish is unsettling, and you almost pitied him for it. 

“Y/N…” He pleads softly, defeatedly. “Hear me out, please.”

You wrestled between your options, half apathetic, half curious of what Keanu had to say. Unspoken words on the tip of his tongue, he mutely begs for you to relent, and if this is all it takes for him to leave you alone, leave you for good, then so be it.

“Ten minutes,” you muttered, low enough that he barely catches it at first. Crossing your arms against your chest, the gentle autumn wind rustling through the trees pierces the silent air as you observe Keanu staggering forward, a hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he begins, gazing at you with his searching brown eyes. “I-I know saying it a thousand times won’t make a difference, but I really am sorry. What I did before and after the accident was inexcusable and selfish. I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself that. Don’t expect you to do so, either. You probably hate my guts right now, and flying out here might be a mistake, but I needed to talk to you in person. To say goodbye one last time.”

Brushing his hair back, Keanu then pads over to the trunk of the car, and all you can do is wait for him to come back. It doesn’t take long, but he makes two trips to unload two boxes, setting each of them down in the space separating you two. He instantly notices the confusion etched across your features, burying his hands in his coat pocket with an exhale.

“Are those—”

“All the things you left behind,” Keanu finishes feebly. “Thought you would want them back.”

Stunned, a mirthless chuckle escapes your throat. “You didn’t have to do this. Those aren’t my things anyway.”

“But they are—”

“They’re not mine,” you cut him off with a weary gaze. “Keanu, I’ve said this before; I’m not the woman you fell in love with. Not anymore. Look, throughout those months we spent together, I tried to fit into this life everyone told me I had. A life that’s far from what I was used to. God, it feels like a dream being her. So confident, happy, and successful. Waking up from the coma, of course, I would want that. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship which left me broken and unworthy of anything and anyone. Then you showed me the love I thought I didn’t deserve, and it kept me from realizing that it was all too good to be true.”

Eyes faltering to the ground, your fingers fumbled with the hem of your sweater, ultimately distracting yourself from the tears threatening to fall. “The truth is, I didn’t know you. You were, are, a stranger to me. You had done things behind my back, hid details that would have been a deal-breaker, but you didn’t care. I’ve thought about it a lot lately; would I have stayed if you told me from the very beginning. I wasn’t sure if I was madder at you kissing someone else, knowing how much it would hurt me, or the fact that you lied to fix this—us.”

There is a moment of silence that weighs over everything. The wind stops blowing; the leaves are motionless. Time seems to slow around you and Keanu as he waits for your next words. Words that you are still searching for since you hadn’t prepared to voice those thoughts out loud. They all came rushing, flooding like a broken dam, too overwhelming to keep at bay. 

“Which one is it?” Keanu probes delicately, equally afraid of which answer you’re going to give.

“Neither,” you revealed, surprisingly. “I’m angrier at myself for falling too fast; for being the naive little girl who let herself be fooled, who refused to listen to her instincts even though she knew they were usually right.”

You see Keanu open his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done. “I always believed this accident was a curse. It erased years worth of memories that, at this point, I’ll never get back. But now, I see the good that came out of it. Our fights, our arguments, they were all signs that our relationship was falling apart, but I couldn’t let go of it—of you. I held onto us thinking the bad will just phase out eventually when in reality, I couldn’t bear giving up on you and this life we shared.”

Another pause. “Huh, funny. Looking at it, the same thing happened all over again.”

With that said, you felt relieved, somewhat lighter. Despite previous inclinations, you didn’t shout or yell at Keanu. Nor did you discuss to the fullest extent of the suffering you’ve endured. Strangely, it was nearly therapeutic admitting all of that to him, to yourself. For months, you had been unable to let go and accept the truth, allowing fear and doubt to control your actions. 

But that was then, and this is now. 

And now, it was time for you to be free.

“Guess this is it,” Keanu sighs dejectedly. He didn’t come here to win you back, knowing there’s nothing that he could do or say to repair the damage. Like you, he’s letting go, letting this be the closure he needs, and you need as well. “I guess this is goodbye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “Guess this is goodbye.”

Before you could leave his sight to spare Keanu the awkwardness, he holds up a finger, signaling you to wait a second. Swiftly, he goes to retrieve something that’s lying on the front seat, something that you’ve spent countless hours flipping through. He then reluctantly passes it over to you, and you’re unsure what to do with it.

“Your pictures,” he points out, though you were already aware. “I’m not trying to be an asshole or anything by giving this, but this book is yours. Keep it, burn it, do whatever seems right to you. But I want you to know, to remember, that I did love you. I still do, and these photos are proof of it, even if you can’t bring yourself to believe that I’m telling the truth. You deserve love and to be loved, Y/N. More than anything in the universe. I fucked up my chance to be the one to tell you that every day, but it doesn’t mean the next person you fall for will.”

“Ke…” your voice suddenly breaks with emotion, uncertain of what to add after his statement. It’s because you still love him. No matter how much it hurts, you’re still in love with him, your mother’s earlier words echo in your mind, ringing true in your heart. Even after everything, a piece of you still loved Keanu, and saying goodbye to him more painful than you anticipated.

As you stand frozen, Keanu inches nearer until he’s by your feet, the palm of his hand coming to rest on your cheek. He strokes your face with a tender caress before tilting your chin upwards to meet his gaze, brushing his thumb along your lower lip gently. You allow him to have this moment, to hold you and study you for a final time, commit you to memory as this would be the last. 

Eyes fluttering shut, you feel him press a soft kiss on your forehead, the warmth of it immediately spreading throughout your body before he slowly pulls away.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N,” Keanu says, opening the driver’s side door of his rental. You look at each other once more and see the subtle, hopeful smile he shoots your way. “And don’t be afraid to love again.”

You watch as he starts driving away, opting to wait until the car is finally out of view before releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

In your hands is a keepsake of your memories. A collection of captured moments that you had cherished so dearly. But things are different now; mistakes were made, words were said, people have grown apart. You found no reason to linger in the past when there’s nothing left to salvage. 

Nothing left to do but heal.

The warmth of Keanu’s kiss eventually disappears, the world around you unpausing, continuing as it was before. You stay standing in place, glancing back and forth between the book you clutched on tightly and the boxes laying on the ground. 

Yet in the quietude, the wind still blows. The leaves still fall, and the earth still spins.

Time resumes, bit by bit; passing for life to move forward— 

For you to move on.

Part 13

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer​ @fanficsrusz​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee​ @ringa-starr​ @ficsnroses​ @iworshipkeanureeves​ @keandrews​ @greenmanalishi​ @feminine-machinegun​ @thehumanistsdiary​ @lilyette​​ @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea​​ @breakthenight​​ @allie1804-fan​​ @partypoison00​​

[pinkishfilter]

Promises and Lies

Taehyung always said he loved you when his actions spoke differently. His apologies began to feel like lies until, maybe, the last apology?

(A/N: I will be posting other short stories twice every week so if you want to read those feel free to follow. Anyway, I hope you like this story!)

Warnings: Sexual content and references.

Genre: Angst & smut.

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Love has never felt like this before. You felt like you were in a constant loop with Taehyung, and you always wished he would change, but people don't change, do they?

9:23 PM

You sat on your couch with tears running down your face. The pain of this was almost too much to handle. Why did he sleep with that girl when he only loves you? You quickly left your thoughts when you heard a knock on the door. You wiped the tears off and went to see who it was. "Taehyung?" You said in shock as you opened the door. "Y/N, I wanted to apologize," he said. You took a moment to look at him; His hair was dripping from the hard rain falling outside. "I am sorry about all the girls," Taehyung said. He has made apologies like this a million times in the past, but 'was this one the genuine apology?' That is the question you would always ask yourself. "I am so sorry, Y/N. I still love you." Taehyung took your hands in his own. "Okay," you said softly, feeling doubts about how much he really loved you and how much he cared about you. "I love you too," you responded. He hugged you and said, "I love you so much even though I do the wrong things." You felt so confused; if he didn't love you, why would he say something like that?

Taehyung kept his arms around your waist and softly pressed his lips against yours. You kissed each other lovingly. After you slowly pulled away from his lips, "Do you want to come inside?" you said almost in a whisper. "Yeah," Taehyung replied.

"I will be back with a towel," you said as you left. "Thank you, aein," Taehyung said as he pulled out his phone. You smiled, knowing he called you aein, which means sweetheart/lover. You sat down next to him and began drying his hair. His eyes shifted from his phone to you; his stare was captivating; you glanced away, trying to avoid it. "Do you not like it when I stare at your beauty, jagiya?" Taehyung asked. You looked in his eyes once again as he smiled. You couldn't help but smile either. "Do you want to go upstairs? It's getting late." You said.

10:28 PM

In all honesty, you loved Taehyung very, very much.

That night you decided to watch some TV and cuddle like you used to. You loved being in his arms while he kissed your head. You only had on your underwear and a hoodie; Taehyung used that to his advantage. "You are so beautiful, Y/N," he said as he began to drag his long fingers slowly down your body. You smiled and let him continue as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Taehyung slowly pushed you on your back and got between your legs before beginning to take your hoodie off. After you only had on your bra and panties, he quickly took his shirt off and pants and discarded them on the floor.

Lustful passion filled his eyes as he began to touch your breasts in your bra. You began to feel that warmth between your legs as you got wet. He slipped your bra off and started kissing your chest down to your abdomen while pulling your panties off. You shuddered from his touch. He spread your legs; you could feel his warm breath get near your folds. He slowly licked your clit, making you moan as the waves of pleasure rushed through you. "Tae..." you repeatedly whimpered. "Does this feel good, baby?" He smiled. You blushed and nodded your head right before he continued. After a while, you were on the brink of orgasm; he stopped as if he could tell. Taehyung raised and kissed your lips before you put him on his back and took off his underwear. You rubbed his hard When he entered you, you both let a moan slip from your lips. You bit your lip as he began to thrust into you at a slow pace. "I love you." Taehyung said as he stared into your eyes. "I love you too." you said as you looked into his big eyes. 'I guess he really does love me.' you thought to yourself.

Taehyung kissed your neck and reached your g-spot; you saw stars each time he would hit it. The sound of moans filled the room. Your nails dug into his back as that familiar pool began to form in your gut. When you hit your orgasm, your back arched, and you nearly screamed. Taehyung hadn't had hid high yet, so he kept ramming into you, making you overstimulated. He came deep inside you before pulling out then holding you in his arms. "That felt good." You said out of breath. "It did. I love you, Jagi." Taehyung replied as he kissed the top of your head. "I love you too." You smiled. A few minutes passed before Taehyung said, "You can get the first shower." "Okay." You said as you got up and left for the bathroom. You felt so happy. Taehyung really must be sorry for his past actions. He did love you.

After your shower, you changed into your pajamas and sat on the bed while Taehyung got in the shower. As you began reading a book, you started to hear Taehyung's phone text notifications. You said to yourself, 'It's probably one of his hyungs.' But after the 8th sound, you became suspicious. You grabbed it, and the person who was texting him was Yoojung. A flurry of questions flew into your mind. Who was she? And why was she texting him?

You proceeded to read the messages; Taehyung told this Yoojung how much he loved her and how much she meant to him.

Tears began to run down your face. Why would he betray you again? "Hey, What are you doing?" Taehyung asked as he came out of the bathroom. "Who the hell is Yoojung?" You retorted. "She's just a friend; why?" He asked. "Since you are just her friend, why would you tell her how much you love her?" You said as tears began to fall down your cheeks again. "Y/N, I am sorry. I just-" "I don't want to hear it. You have been doing this to me for a year!" You interrupted. "Listen, I love you and no one else," Taehyung said. "I don't believe you." You said, throwing his phone to the other side of the bed. "Y/N I'm-" "Just go." You said avoiding eye contact. Taehyung took his phone and left. After the anger wore off, all that remained in your heart was sadness. You felt like you had gone back in time to earlier that evening; Just crying over this guy you knew would never change. This guy that you still loved.

Weeks pass; you don't see Taehyung or talk to him. 'Maybe this is for the best,' you thought even though you missed him.

6:30 PM

You had gotten home from work, and now you were ready for your dinner. As you began to cook just some simple ramen, you heard a knock on the door. You set your cup down and went to see who it was. "Taehyung?!" You said in shock. You didn't know whether to be furious or slightly delighted that he had the nerve to come and see you. "Y/N, I just want to apologize again," Taehyung said as he looked to the ground. "Go ahead." You said. "I'm sorry for all the pain I have caused you. I really do love you." He said. "Ever since I lost you, I haven't felt the same. So I decided to change for the better. Again, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.". 'Was this a genuine apology?' you thought to yourself as you stared at Taehyung, who had tears that began to fall down his cheeks. "Would you like to come inside?" You asked. He looked up at you. "Yes," he said. "Taehyung, I love you, and I care about you." You said. "I love you too," Taehyung said as he held your hands. "And I care about you more now than I ever did. Can we try again?" "This is the last time. If you mess it up again, there is no coming back." You said sternly. "I won't." Taehyung slightly smiled. You couldn't help but smile too. After all, he was the love of your life, the love of your life that kept his promise.

[fresh-prince-of-denmark]

New Dawn Fades — Literary References Analysis Part 4: The Id, the Ego, the Superego

Cyberpunk Spoiler Warning 

Here’s part four of me going through all the endings and looking for the literary references in each of the endings, which I believe allude to what happens to V/Johnny, possibly in future DLC. If you haven’t read my other posts, you should read them here (Johnny’s Mikoshi poem, V’s Mikoshi Poem, The Star ending) first since we’re gonna loop back to them later.

New Dawn Fades was such a pain in the ass; because Johnny is such an art hoe, I found three different poems/stories scattered around. Not only that, but two of them are translated from Polish, and one of them us from Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. I studied English literature so…forgive me if this is super surface-level. Also, stuff gets lost in translation, so the original meaning sometimes gets lost. If Polish literature is anyones niche, please teach me a thing two, but all I can do now is my best! But from what I could tell, damn…paints a pretty depressing picture. Let’s start with the two Polish writers first:

Bolesław Leśmian, "Why so many candles...”

Why so many candles, these faces above me?

No more harm shall ever meet my body.

Everyone is standing - while here alone I lie -

Grieving, feigning. One must be true when one must die.

And so, buried under these wreathes of leaves, I lie -

Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.

Death, gone silent, once again rushes to my head,

Though by now I know all my comprehension is dead.

How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.

This one is…yikes. Depressing. As I talked about in previous posts, V’s poem is more pessimistic: nothing we do matters, we’re all just dust in the wind, you know, the good stuff. Johnny’s poem has a very different stance; art makes us immortal, and we can change the world, etc. With this…Johnny seems to have given his larger-than-life attitude up in favor of V’s resignation that life sucks. Much like Prufrock in V’s poem, Johnny is lying “Solemnly - Agelessly - Solitarily.” Almost as if he didn’t want V’s body, not as a selfless gesture…but because he has grown accustom to his previous form. In Johnny’s version of Alt’s poem, it almost seems as if he embraces being a construct — the form of immortality it, and his legacy, grants him (remember all that hokey about being a golden bird to sing his message to the youth?). Blackwall was a kind of death Johnny knew — yet now:

“How I loathe to become accustomed to this grave,

To be what I once was - that is all I crave.”

Interesting. We never find out where Johnny is going when he leaves Night City, but it makes me wonder. Is he truly starting anew? Or hoping to fix what went wrong?

In the next room, we find another poem, this one an excerpt from Labyrinth by Wisława Szymborska:

So this way or that,

Or no, the other,

By ear or by your gut,

By your wits or by shortcut,

By any means necessary,

Cutting crooked corners.

Past whatever row in a row

Of corridors and gates,

Quickly, in the meantime

Your time grows short,

From one place to another

To one of many still open,

Of darkness and plight

But also delight, held just ajar,

Where there's joy, though sorrow

Lies well-nigh nearby,

And elsewhere, somewhere,

Wheresoever and whereabout,

Fortune in misfortune

Like a parenthetical parenthesis

Acceptance of it all

And suddenly - a fall

I’m a little shaky on the meaning behind this one. My immediate response is to compare it to the poem found in The Star — which contains a piece from The Marriage Between Heaven and Hell by William Blake. The overarching use of this poem, by my interpretation, is an explanation for what the Blackwall is: hell. But not hell how most would perceive it. In fact, according to Blake, hell isn’t so bad. Our views of heaven and hell, good and evil, are wrong. Everyone contains both good and bad within them, and neither is wrong, simply two opposites; between conformity and rebellion, art and obedience. If we were to look at it this way, V would most likely belong in “Heaven,” the world of the obedient, those who play by the worlds rules (at least, in the beginning of the story, before Johnny influences them toward the rebel path), while Johnny represents “Evil,” and would belong to Hell. In some dialogue choices, Johnny will even state that he no longer believes he is a human, and is in fact code, no longer belonging in the world of the living. In this scenario, both have found themselves where they don’t belong. Not only that — but one is supposed to be a healthy mix of so-called “Good” and “Evil.” The “Soul,” and “Body,” are one, not meant to be separated. Uh oh. The tone of this poem in Johnny’s context just seems so…lost, to me. Someone who found their other half, their perfect foil, a soul and body as one…and now it’s gone. What does one do after such a loss?

And finally, the most grim of the three stories: Ovid’s The Metamorphoses. Specifically, Book III, Narcissus and Echo. This one most likely has the greatest significance; not only is it a shard you can pick up, but an open copy of the book can be found in Johnny’s hotel room, drawing further attention to it. 

If you haven’t read it, let me give you a quick and dirty summary:

At the beginning of the story, Narcissus’ mother, Liriope, asks the prophet Tiresias if her son will live to see old age, which he replies “only if he does not know himself.” One day when Narcissus is 16, he is out hunting when he finds a mountain Nymph named Echo. Echo, as one might guess, was cursed by Hera and can only repeat what is said back to her. You know. Like an echo. Echo falls in love with Narcissus at first sight and follows him throughout the forest, waiting for him to speak so she can communicate with him. Narcissus eventually gets separated from his hunting group, and calls out for them, which Echo…well, echos. Eventually Echo reveals herself and Narcissus freaks out, telling her basically he’d rather die than be with her. She hides in a cave and pines until she whithers away from hunger, and only her voice remains.

Many other nymphs fall for Narcissus because apparently he’s a straight up snack, but he rejects all of them. Apparently someone gets so salty about it, they summon the Goddess of Vengeance to do something about it. She leads him to a crystal clear pool, in which he is able to see his reflection. Remember the thing about knowing oneself? Yeah…At first, Narcissus thinks the reflection is a different person and falls in love. He smiles, the reflection smiles, so it must like him back, right? Eventually he reaches to touch it, and realizes that it’s him. He freaks out, and much like Echo, stays by his reflections side until he withers away. Having a total meltdown, he cries out “Alas!” which is echoed, by well, Echo. Her voice lived on, and she watches him die as he calls “Farewell, dear boy. Beloved in vain.” Once again, Echo repeats this. Narcissus dies and all the thirsty hoes make a pyre to burn him, but when they go looking for him they find the Narcissus (flower) instead (nooo...dont transform into a flower, you’re so sexy ahaha). 

So what does this mean for Johnny/V? Well, two main things pop out to me: transformation, and reflections. Much like Echo and Narcissus are reflections of each other, V and Johnny reflect each other. As @ellitira pointed out in my analysis of the Star, V and Johnny constantly reflect each other. One of the most obvious ways is their literal reflection; if you look in a mirror during a relic malfunction, you’ll see Johnny, not V. But scenes are reflected as well; the first and last time V meets Johnny, they grab him by the shoulder from behind to get his attention as he turn to face them. The first time Johnny and V have a civil conversation, they’re sitting at a table in Tom’s Diner, Johnny’s foot on the table. This mimics their conversation in Mikoshi with Alt. Their conversation about taking a bullet for one another in the Pista Sofia where Johnny is sitting backwards on a chair while V is on the ground is also repeated moments later, as Johnny and V have their final conversation about who will stay and who will go with Alt. Johnny also mentions that he spent his first few weeks in NC laying in bed, staring at the ceiling fan. When he awakens in New Dawn Fades, what is he doing? Staring at the ceiling fan…in Pacifica, not far from the Pista Sofia. The boy who he gives the guitar to is even wearing V’s “favorite shirt”…the one we see them wearing in the first scene they’re introduced. There’s probably loads more, so feel free to share if you find any more. If you want to know more about why this is significant, make sure to read about V’s version of Alt’s poem. 

So why do these reflections/echos matter? Well, what does one do with a reflection? Reflect. Johnny begins to examine himself through V, and he begins to realize he doesn’t like what he sees. If V calls him the man who saved her life, he’ll respond with “you have no idea how badly I want that to be true.” He tries his best to right his wrong only after this conversation with V, not only in Burning Love and Chippin’ In, but in other ways too. For example, it’s Johnny’s idea to call V’s loved ones to say goodbye on the roof scene, because “he wished that he had had a chance to.” Because of V, he grows, changes, and becomes a better person, just as much if not more as he seems to change V. As he leaves V’s grave, he even states that he has changed; that he’s wiser now, and won’t make the same mistakes. He states he won’t dwell on what happened, but somehow I doubt that, considering everything above.

The other theme of Narcissus and Echo is of transformation; after all, metamorphosis actually means "to change or transform.” Echo becomes, well, and echo, and Narcissus becomes a flower. V and Johnny also transform; not only physically between engram and human, but they transform one another. Both of them fall in love, and neither will move on. Echo falls in love with Narcissus, and Narcissus falls in love with his reflection. Because they refuse to transform the way they feel, they must die and transform physically. So who represents who in this scenario? In a way, Johnny is both. Johnny is a bit, well, narcissistic. He’s self-absorbed in his flashbacks, and adored by countless fans, yet ignores them in favor of his own company. He thinks everything is about him (Alt’s death, Samurai, etc.)  and is willing to die for his beliefs. He is also constantly reflecting on himself through V. However, what really kills him is losing Alt; she tells him not to follow her (much like Narcissus tells Echo to leave him alone). He does anyway, and avenging her leads to his demise.

What’s especially sad about this is the way Johnny views transformation; he is very concerned with the idea of one’s individual identity, and hates the idea of turning into something you’re not. He despises that he’s going to turn V into himself by force. He hates dolls because he sees their behavior chip as something that changes them into something they’re not. He’s scared of V going to Blackwall not because it’s death, but because they “won’t be the same.” I don’t think Johnny ever wanted V’s body; again, not as a courtesy, but because it’s not him. After all, he could have just let nature take its course and let himself re-write their psyche, but instead he actively tries to save them as best he can. If V chooses to let him have their body, he hardly seems happy about it; especially compared to how happy he seems to see that part of him will live on in the way V refuses to give up should they choose to live on. By taking V’s body, he is no longer himself; rebel, rocker-boy, legend, and the guy who promised to save V’s life. Johnny in A New Dawn has lost his entire sense of self, his entire new and improved identity; one that learned from his mistakes and became a better person because of V. Johnny has The Tower tattooed on his arm, the card of (often painful) transformation and change. Yet this is what Johnny is most afraid of; not death, or even the not-so-bad sort-of hell that is Blackwall. He’s afraid of losing himself, and by losing V, he has lost a part of himself. The part of himself that was supposed to be a better person; who was supposed to save V’s life.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 137

Trying to figure out Author’s notes is hard.... Sometimes I just don’t have anything pithy to say, or have too much to say and don’t know where to put it all.

Obviously I am an overthinker.

So, for the sake of everyone reading: Let’s cut to the Shoutouts!

The obvious first: @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog! I love all of you, you are the best.

Special mentions to: @zommbiebro bc I miss you and hope you’re okay. @nekohuntslight for being the OG person to message me about liking the story (yes, Bael, this is the dirty secret behind why I thought you lived in Australia when we first started talking.... shhhhhh). And alllllll the binge readers who blow up my inbox every day, Iloveyousomuchyoudon’tunderstand. Very much adore all of you, you have no idea how serious I am being right now. I need to go through and make one post just screaming all your names to the universe.

Tyche brought drinks and snacks from my kitchen before flopping on the couch in my quarters. The guys were at work, along with Antoine, but my office was closed down for the day. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Vati and Hannah have everything planned to the smallest detail,” I shrugged. “They’ve already coordinated with Xio and Evan for all the crowd control and monitoring shifts, and the murals are going up today.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of the logistics stuff. I literally handle all the staffing for the humans on the Ark, and Antoine was also part of the crowd control conversations.”

“Then why did you ask?” I laughed, grabbing a cracker and carefully stacking cheese and other toppings on it. 

Before I could get it to my mouth, she snatched it and held it out of my reach. “Because I’m asking how you feel. You’re only attending as… well, an attendee. No monitoring, no calling the shots, no working from the floor.”

She surrendered my cracker, but I found myself setting it down, appetite gone. “I’m okay - “

“Lie.” There was suddenly a finger levelled between my eyes like a gun. Just as quickly, it was lowered, and my sister was tilting her head at me. “Come on. You know you can’t lie to me - I’ve known you longer than literally anyone on this ship except yourself.”

“Fine! It’s weird!” I admitted in frustration, standing to pace and shoving my hands through my hair. “My skin is crawling with anxiety, my hands are twitching to snatch up the files and nitpick everything to the smallest detail….”

“Except they locked you out.”

“Except they locked me out, yeah. But I’m pretty sure I could get Derek to let me in, which is why I’ve made a point to tell him not to, no matter how much I ask.” Dropping my hands, I sighed. “But if I ever want to leave this position, I have to let them do this.”

She shrugged and stole my cracker, this time chewing and swallowing before she responded. “You could have kept some involvement in it, you know.”

“Pfft, yeah right. I would have taken it over, and you know that.”

“Yep.”

“Then why even ask.” I dropped back down on the couch.

“‘Cause you needed to hear yourself say it,” she explained, nonchalant as ever, snagging an olive and watching me calmly.

I sat in silence, processing it.  I hated when she outsmarted me like that, especially when she was right. “Can I at least eat first?”

She laughed and let it go, telling me how well the murals for the Festival were coming.  I hadn’t even gotten to - allowed myself - to see the designs, and the more Tyche talked about them, the more I wanted to see them.  By the time I finished my share of our snack, I decided to check out the progress.

We finally made our way to the decks where the Festival would take place, and I thought Tyche was going to die laughing at the way I gaped. The alcoves where the vendors would stage looked the same on first glance, but a closer look revealed very subtle shapes added that would give them a more savage, wild look in the right lighting. Metal sconces had been added to hold what looked like torches, but with special light emitters to simulate open flame. As we walked further, swirls of color revealed themselves slowly, first in light, curling tendrils, but slowly sharpening and taking on a more angular shape, twisting together into phantasmal images that vanished as soon as you tried to focus on them.

“It’s like walking through a garden, or a rainforest, but when I turn my head, I’m in a city.”

“Right?” she laughed as we came around the final corner. 

At this point, we were surrounded by this mural.  Just up ahead, there was a messy head of black hair tied back with a green piece of cloth. Bare feet and arms show smears of paint, and overalls covered a tank top - that, or the cloth for the hair had formerly been sleeves, I couldn’t tell.  One hand propped up on hips while the other hung down, holding a very familiar paint pen.

“Christ on a triscuit, Vati, this is incredible,”  I gasped softly.

She turned and smirked at me over her shoulder. “Not yet, but it will be when I finish.”

“I mean, all of it. The sconces…”

“Those were Hannah and Ivan.” Parvati walked over and touched one with her finger tip, stroking it gently.

Tyche made an impressed noise. “I’m only a little shocked that he had enough time.”

“The materials are on loan from the engineering departments, and we wanted them to be rather rough in the finishing. It helped. Sophia, no matter how curious you are, please do not lick the walls.”

A giggle bubbled up through my chest. “The thought never crossed my mind. I was trying to put together all the flavor profiles here. It’s… a lot.”

“Forgive me if I focused more on color than how the walls would taste. I don’t generally cook, remember.”

I stared down a swirl of pomegranate, popcorn, and gochujang. The colors - blue, pink, and yellow, respectively - worked well together, but the thought of the flavors made my stomach churn. “I solemnly swear not to lick the walls,” I promised. “How much of this are you expecting to still be up by the third night?”

“We have a team that will specifically come touch up the mural in specific places the morning before the second day.”

Tyche turned toward me and away from her study of the art. “Also, you would be surprised how much paint is on the walls. It will take a lot for Else to eat it all, once they are allowed in the area.”

“Before you ask,” Parvati cut me off. “We just asked them nicely. Well, Sam and Derek did.  They’ve become quite the ersatz diplomats to Else.” 

“Anything left?”

“Hannah is putting the final touches on the curtains for the alcoves and the seating areas. She’ll have a team installing them tonight once I finish.”

It was clever, and explained why she was only touching up part of the mural halfway between now and the closing of the event. “You two have really put your stamp on it.”

“Feel better?” She held one hand up gesturing at the entire entire project, eyebrow arched  to show me that she hadn’t been fooled for a moment.

I rubbed my neck, and glanced at her from underneath my eyelashes. “Busted, I guess.”

“That would imply that anyone had believed your charade,” she smirked.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around us again. “I honestly do. I could never have done all this. Holding on would have…”

“Kept you in a position you frankly hate,” Parvati interrupted gracefully. “It’s the same reason Sebastian went back to the Undine. He’s passionate about it, and it shows in the quality of his work.” When I gaped in insult, she held up a hand. “Not everyone can succeed through fear of failing and a determination that things be done right if they must be done at all.”

“Everyone talking about me needing to retire, like I’m old or something,” I joked, throwing my hands into the air.  “Physically, I’m only thirty-five.”

Tyche nodded to concede my point. “What about the food? I haven’t seen a menu come out yet.”

The change in topic made Parvati’s face collapse. “What? It should have gone out yesterday…” She flicked open her datapad, which flickered from the overspray that covered it. Frantically scrolling, she groaned. “This was scheduled, why didn’t it send?”

“Did you check the date?” I asked calmly. “Specifically the year.”

“Three times, it’s scheduled for tomorrow,” she insisted. “Right here: May seventeenth, twenty-forty aw fuck….”

“At least you got the decade right,” I pointed out. “You wouldn’t believe how many scheduled emails I’ve tried to automatically send out for ten or fifteen years ago.”

She nodded and seemed to get her bearings back. “So, protocol for this is… just send it right now and apologize for the late notification, don’t try to make excuses or explain?”

“Exactly. They won’t care why, they’ll just be excited the list is out.”

With a couple quick gestures, she sent the email and dismissed her datapad. “Okay, that was the last thing, then.” Turning back toward the wall she was working on before, she waved to us over her shoulder. “I’m not trying to be rude, but I really do need to finish this up. Thank you for coming to see everything… it was oddly reassuring to have both of you give us your stamp of approval before the Festival instead of making us wait until after.”

“For the record, you two have always had my stamp of approval, or I wouldn’t have tried so hard to keep my nose out of it.” I knew she couldn’t see me, but I still smiled. “We’ll catch up with you after the Food Festival.  Remember: both of you need to plan on taking the day off afterwards. I’m serious.  Have your unofficial advisors drop in and chat about everything, that’s fine. But no actual work, and I won’t let either of you see the survey results until the second day after. So rest.”

“Got it, boss lady. Have a good night!”

Tyche and I turned and headed back to my quarters. We remained silent as we took in all the preparations that had been done, waving to the handful of vendors who were bringing their supplies in already. Once we were back in normal corridors, the silence broke almost immediately.

“I think they’ve got this,” Tyche suggested nonchalantly.

“Oh, I know they do.”

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[thatgirlonstage]

I'd be very interested in a ficlet about the Witcher daemon AU you messaged me about a while back, if that's something you ever meant to actually write out. 👀👀👀 If not that, then, hmmm, some soft geraskier, maybe with this sentence from a prompt list that went around: "Is that my shirt?"

I got too into writing Sad Jaskier Hours + puppy therapy and the length got away from me but here is that inciting scene I talked about, in full prose

(And now that I’ve done this one scene I feel freer to do more stuff in this AU, so more later possibly)

Witcher & HDM fans please forgive me my lore sins, I have only seen the Netflix Witcher and I haven’t read HDM in like over decade, so please hand wave any wrongness as crossover changes

———

The words still stung.

They felt physical, still crawling over Jaskier’s skin like ants four days since he had come down the mountain. Whenever I find myself in a pile of shit, it’s you, shoveling it. He half expected to wake up to them tattooed across his arms like the mark of a pariah. “Stay away from this one. No one who knows him wants him around.”

Geralt was prickly and stubborn and rude and what friendship Jaskier got from him came quietly. It came in his perfect recollection of all the stories Jaskier told him, no matter how inconsequential or how much he professed to be annoyed by Jaskier’s prattling. It came in those rare, sardonic smiles Jaskier had gotten better at drawing out over the years. It came in his acquiescence to let Jaskier wash his hair whenever they could afford hot baths, in the yellow-eyed glare he sent anyone who tried to cheat Jaskier at cards, in the way his shoulders would relax and he would start humming along under his breath when Jaskier practiced music by their shared campfire. It came in the softest press of lips against his forehead, when Geralt finally came back from Yennefer’s the night after the djinn and thought Jaskier was asleep. Until the mountain, Jaskier had thought it came in the lack of any serious objection to his presence, in the way Geralt seemed to take it for granted that they would travel together for a while each time they ran across each other. Now, he was starting to wonder if he had misunderstood. He was starting to wonder if he had misunderstood a lot of things, and only imagined others.

He poked listlessly at his fire. His lute sat with his pack, untouched for a week. Kazia, his daemon, perched on a fallen log opposite him, preening her feathers for lack of anything else to do. Even she had been almost entirely silent the last four days, making none of her usual songbird chirps as she and Jaskier made their lonely way back—Jaskier wasn’t even sure where he was going. Away. That was all. Away.

Some rustling in the woods made his back stiffen. He tossed another log on the fire, hoping to deter whatever was out there. It had been a while since he’d camped this far out in the woods without Geralt to scare off anything that stalked the nights. He’d been so unable to face running into Yen or Geralt or even the gossip about them back in town that he’d just struck off into the wilderness. Hopefully that piece of stupidity wouldn’t be enough to actually kill him.

He held out a finger for Kazia, and she hopped onto it. He deposited her on his shoulder. “Fuck him, right?” he asked. Despite his best effort he found no flippancy to put into his voice, only bitterness.

“He didn’t mean it,” she said. “You know he didn’t.”

“No,” Jaskier said. He poked the fire, flipping over a log, sending a burst of sparks skyward. “I wish he didn’t mean it.” He leaned back, careful not to jostle Kazia on his shoulder, bracing his palms on the ground. Tilting his head up, he could see the light of a few stars, just managing to poke through the canopy. “I tried,” he said, and hated the crack in his voice. “I’ve been trying for so long but— what else could I have said? What else could I have done?”

She nuzzled her head against his cheek. “I don’t know, Jask. Maybe nothing. I’m sorry.”

He kept staring up at the stars. Silence fell again, Geralt’s final terrible words scraping him raw.

Witchers didn’t have daemons. When people said they felt nothing, had nothing human left in them, they pointed to that fact. You couldn’t possibly be human without a daemon. Even the likes of elves and dwarves had daemons. Witchers were monsters in the shell of something that had once been human.

Jaskier thought that was a load of horseshit. He hadn’t wavered on that point. Geralt had his own fears and feelings and wants like anyone else. Jaskier was just beginning to believe he might have misinterpreted what some of those feelings were.

He nudged Kazia to get off his shoulder and pulled his blankets up. Blankets, plural, because his own had proven woefully inadequate for the mountain and Geralt had, with a grumble, come over in the middle of the night to the miserably shivering Jaskier and dumped a thick, scratchy wool blanket over him, and when Jaskier had protested, Geralt had said it wasn’t cold enough for him to need it, and then Jaskier had forgotten he had it before he fled. Gave him a blanket, and then a day later screamed for fate to get Jaskier out of his life. Jaskier hadn’t quite managed to parse that yet. It hurt too much to look at.

“Do you expect me to keep watch?” Kazia quipped. “I can hear something moving around out there. I don’t like it.”

Jaskier curled his hands around the blanket, tugging it around himself. “Hopefully the fire is enough to scare it off,” he said. “I need to sleep or we won’t be able to make any progress tomorrow.” He turned, a little petulantly, on his side, facing away from Kazia. “It’s not like I can do anything if something decides to come eat us, even if I am awake.”

He heard the flutter of her wings as she took off into the low branches of the nearest tree. “Sleep lightly all the same,” she told him.

Jaskier didn’t respond, tugging his knees up to his chest, closing his eyes, and willing the world to disappear for a while.

**

Kazia’s frantic chirping woke him with a start.

“Jaskier! JASKIER! Jaskier WAKE UP!”

He blinked his eyes open, squinting in the dim light of the dying embers of the fire, and found himself staring directly at a giant white wolf.

He shot up and back in instinctive terror, hands scraping against rocks and roots. “Geralt—!” he squeaked, on reflex, and felt his heart twist somewhere beneath the terror as he remembered no Witcher slept beside him. Kazia was fluttering frantically around his head. He stared at the wolf. The wolf stared back.

It was a gigantic thing, its shoulder probably higher than Jaskier’s hip if he were to stand next to it. It was white from head to toe, shining like a ghost in the firelight. Its eyes gleamed yellow, a misplaced pang to Jaskier’s heart. Something about it felt off, not-quite-a-wolf, almost as if it were a daemon, but that didn’t seem right either. He wondered for a moment if it were a mage’s daemon — out here apparently alone as it was — but that wasn’t right either. He’d met Yen’s daemon, a sleek black feline thing with four eyes and two tails. He’d known it for daemon instantly, despite its strangeness. This wolf just seemed not quite right, somehow. He tried and failed to place it in Geralt’s endless bestiary, and came up blank. If there was a monster that looked almost exactly like a wolf but wasn’t one, Jaskier hadn’t heard of it. At least it wasn’t eating him. Yet.

He stayed frozen for a long few minutes, he and the wolf just staring at each other. Kazia landed on his shoulder, puffing herself up as much as she could, her claws digging in just shy of breaking skin. He tried to calm his thundering heart. Maybe the wolf would just go away. Maybe it had smelled what meager rations Jaskier had left. Should he make a go for his saddlebags and toss his last piece of salted beef at it? Would it attack him if he moved?

The wolf did not leave, nor did it attack him. Instead, after a long enough pause that Jaskier was afraid they’d be stuck at this impasse all night, it ducked its head and whined. It shifted forward, almost cautiously, as if it wanted to avoid spooking him. It snuffled around his feet, at his blanket, and whined again. It took another step closer. Then, to Jaskier’s terror, it butted its head into his chest.

Jaskier inhaled sharply, quickly, trying not to hyperventilate. The wolf whined again, one ear flicking. It moved its head back and butted against him again — not with any force, just pressing its head into Jaskier. It reminded him of...

“Do... do you... want... pets?”

His voice sounded hysterically high in his own ears, but the strained tone didn’t seem to scare the wolf. It butted into him again and whined emphatically, almost a quiet howl. Very, very tentatively, Jaskier lifted one hand and, telegraphing his movement so the wolf could pull away, gave the wolf a quick little scratch behind the ear.

The wolf gave a little huff and — of all fucking things — wagged its tail. It whined and turned its head into Jaskier’s hand, so Jaskier gave it a longer scratch this time. He could still feel Kazia’s heart thumping a million miles an hour, but her panic had abated somewhat. She hopped off his shoulder and onto his head, letting him lift his other arm to pet the wolf’s side. Up close, now that Jaskier could focus on something besides just size and eyes and teeth, the wolf seemed nearly pitiful. It was far too skinny beneath its fur, with mangy patches here and there. He caught sight of a line of scratches across its haunches. One eye looked crusty and swollen, as if it were infected.

“Poor thing,” Jaskier murmured. “Did you get left all alone too?”

The wolf howled, a low and piteous sound. It butted its head against his chest again and pressed into him. Jaskier wrapped his arms around the wolf, taking comfort he hadn’t wanted to admit he was craving in its solidity and warmth.

“Jask...” Kazia took off from his head again. “I don’t know if I like this. I thought she was a daemon at first but she’s not. I’ve never been mistaken about that before. I’ve never even heard of anyone being mistaken about that before.”

“She?” Jaskier leaned sideways, peeking between the wolf’s legs.

“That’s not the point!”

“I know, I know.” Jaskier leaned back from the wolf, getting another look into her face. “You’re... not a daemon, are you? You can’t be, you wouldn’t have come up and asked for pets if you were a daemon.” The wolf looked back at him, her gaze almost too steady for mere animal intelligence, but she didn’t speak, and no one jumped out from behind a tree to strangle Jaskier for molesting their daemon. “Where’d you come from, huh?” he murmured. The wolf only whined and pawed at the blanket where it had pooled on Jaskier’s lap. “You want to sleep with the blanket and the fire, I bet. I don’t blame you, it’s cold out there tonight.”

“Jaskier!” Kazia wailed. He looked over and shrugged helplessly at her.

“Do you want to tell the giant wolf to go off and mind her own business?” he hissed. “If she were going to eat me, I think she’d have done it by now.” He looked back at the wolf, one finger still idly scratching behind her ear. “You promise you’re not going to eat me?” The wolf huffed, blowing in his face. Jaskier, for the first time since he’d arrived at that godforsaken mountain, laughed. “I think she’s telling me I’d taste bad,” he said to Kazia. “You’re probably right,” he confided in the wolf. “I haven’t had a proper hot bath in two weeks.” The wolf huffed in his face again.

Kazia fluttered down to a nearby branch, and then again to the log she’d been on before, and then up near the wolf. The wolf looked at her, her gaze steady. Kazia landed on the wolf’s head.

“Kazia!” Jaskier yelped, but the wolf went still, and then let out another very quiet howl. Jaskier felt Kazia soften, saw her feather down smooth.

“Oh,” she said. “She’s so sad.” She looked up at Jaskier. “I still don’t know what she is but— I’ve never heard a sound that sad.” Jaskier’s fingers curled into the wolf’s fur. He leaned forward, resting against her shoulder.

“That makes all three of us,” he said. “A fine group of sad, lonely outcasts, hmm?” He shifted, trying to spread the blanket so the wolf could lie on some it without leaving Jaskier cold and exposed. Kazia took off again, landing back on her perch on the branch. “Here,” he said to the wolf, patting the blanket. “You can stay the night with us, if you want.” The wolf’s tail wagged again — just a brief lash back and forth — and then it turned itself in a circle, settling down against Jaskier’s side.

He was not going to cry for how all the times he had wished Geralt would lie down beside him, to keep him warm in the night. But he curled a hand in the wolf’s fur and let himself be lulled by her quiet breaths. “You know,” he mumbled, just on the cusp of sleep, “if Geralt did have a daemon, I bet she’d look exactly like you.”

**

After breaking camp the next morning, Jaskier got barely a hundred paces before he found the carnage.

The graveir’s throat was torn out — arduously, ripped along the edges, its thick skin snagged again and again until its head was all but severed from its body. It smelled of rot, its fingers were bloody, and it had white wolf hair sticking out of its wounds. The wolf gave a quiet whine when Jaskier froze at the sight of the thing. He glanced down at her, back at the graveir, and back at the wolf.

“Did—” He swallowed thickly. “Did you do that?” he asked. The wolf looked up at him and barked once. She stalked over to the graveir, growling at its body. Jaskier felt suddenly very faint. He steadied himself against a tree. Kazia flitted around his head, concern radiating off her.

“That thing got so close to our campsite,” she said. “Way too close.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, not quite hearing himself. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Hey,” he called the wolf back over, and gave her a scratch behind the ears. “Good girl,” he told her. “Very good girl.” He looked up at Kazia. “I think she ought to come along as long as she wants to.” Kazia flitted down to land on his shoulder, puffing herself up territorially.

“As long as she understands that I’m your daemon.” Jaskier almost smiled, and tickled a finger over her head.

“Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite, Zizi,” he teased. He glanced down at the wolf again. She was smiling, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She was clearly enjoyed the scratches. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. She howled in response, that low, piteous noise from last night, as if she dared not be any louder. Jaskier stood back up, hefting his pack, shifting the lute case against his back. “Right. I am not spending another night almost getting eaten alive, so let’s try and find the road again today.”

He traipsed off through the woods, leaving the mangled graveir behind him, Kazia flitting about his head and the mysterious wolf loping along at his side.

—————

(if it’s not super clear, that 100% is Geralt’s daemon. the conceit is that in this world part of becoming a witcher is being severed from your daemon, but Geralt’s escaped after that happened and she’s been wandering the wilderness. she’s lost a lot of herself, which is why she can’t speak and it’s iffy how much she understands, but she still remembers the smell of her lost human :’) and hopes that Jaskier can lead her back to him)

[writtenjewels]

Loop

Dorian started his day by breaking his fast at Herald's Rest. He wasn't sure if the tavern food was getting better or he was just getting used to it. The Iron Bull and his Chargers were clustered in a group talking and laughing about something. One of the serving girls passed by and paused to bat her eyelashes at the qunari.

Another girl placed Dorian's food in front of him. He took one sip and almost immediately spat it back out again. There was faint laughter from just above him. He sighed, getting to his feet and ascending up the flight of stairs.

“Sera,” he acknowledged. “Was there a reason you had your 'friends' give me swill this morning?”

“Wasn't meant for you,” she assured him with another giggle. “Wrong glass. But it was funny, eh?”

“Depends on who you meant to give it to.” She told him, and Dorian conceded with a little smile of his own. “I'll think of a better prank for you later. Something where they won't get the glasses mixed up.” That got a wicked grin to spread over Sera's face. Dorian headed back down the stairs and outside.

It was one of the quieter days around Skyhold. Malika was likely spending her time with Blackwall in the stables. Dorian could go back inside and start sorting through more of the library, but it was far too pleasant a day to spend it cooped up. He would save the task for later in the evening. For now he took a turn to the garden. Everyone in Malika's inner circle contributed some seeds and he wanted to see what was growing.

“Hello, Cole,” he greeted the young man. Cole glanced up and responded with a quiet little smile.

“How does a ghoul have a beard?”

“That sounds like the start of a joke. Though I can't think of a punchline.” He leaned over to check on the plant. Ghoul's beard, naturally. “That's growing nicely. Was that one yours?” He supposed it was helpful in its way, though not a very pleasant way.

“If they're confused, they may not want to fight.”

“That's one way of looking at it,” Dorian agreed. He moved on to some of the other plants and tried to guess which of their group brought the seeds. After a few more minutes in the garden he headed back out. He could see Cassandra practicing her swordplay on dummies while their recruited mages threw some magic around in the training yard.

Those books were still waiting to be sorted. It was still far too nice of a day, but Dorian couldn't trust that anyone else would sort through the books properly. He headed for the library and crashed into a messenger.

“Lord Pavus, please excuse me!”

“It was my fault.” He reached to help the messenger, but the person shrank away from his hand.

“N-no, please, it was my mistake. I... forgive me, I must be going.” The messenger dashed off. Dorian tried not to be too stung by the reaction. After all this time, the people of Skyhold still didn't quite accept him. But the messenger left in such a hurry they forgot their message. It was a message for Commander Cullen, but Dorian had no idea where the man's office was. He found one of Leliana's crows to send off the message and headed up to the library.

It was the usual work of going through books and tossing out useless ones. He did this late into the night and fell asleep. Dorian woke and headed to Herald's Rest as always. The Chargers were in the same spot making noise, and that same serving girl stopped to make eyes at Bull.

“You're usually not so slow,” Dorian remarked. “Why haven't you bed that girl yet?”

“Eh?” Bull turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“She did the same thing yesterday.” Bull just frowned in confusion. Dorian sighed and reached for his cup that the server just put down. He spat it out. It was the same stuff he drank yesterday! Annoyed, he stomped his way up the stairs.

“Twice in a row, Sera? It couldn't have been the wrong glass again.”

“Again?” the elf repeated. “What are you on about?”

“You told me you meant the drink for someone else.” He named the person, and Sera's mouth dropped.

“Did one of my friends tell you? How'd you know?”

“You told me. Yesterday.”

“Did you hit your head? I didn't even talk to you yesterday.”

Dorian was starting to think he had. But he had to check one more thing. He headed out and found Cole by the ghoul's beard. The young man lifted his head on the mage's approach.

“How does a ghoul have a beard?” The boy paused, blinking as he caught Dorian's thoughts. “This happened before, but it didn't. No one else remembers.”

Hell. Dorian had no idea how it happened, but he somehow got into a time loop.