#also do whatever you must to weaken/let go of ego

[4dkellysworld]

Do whatever you must to quiet your mind

Robert: You have to use whatever method you need at the time. Whatever you have to do, you have to do. But we share all these different methods so you can do something. Student: As the mind becomes quieter, as we surrender, then we would automatically use the best method. Robert: Yes, to the extent your mind becomes quieter, to that extent does your reality become seen or felt, and it's intuitive. It will tell you what to do. It will guide you and lead you in every direction. But the mind has to be quiet, that's the first requisite. And to quiet the mind use whatever method you have to. I know some people who really get angry with their mind, and it worked for them and they shout at it, they say, "Shut up mind, I don't want to hear a word you say, keep yourself still! I can't stand you anymore. Shut up! I don't believe you, you don't exist." And they had a talk with the mind for about a half hour and the mind quiets down. You have to use whatever method you have to use. But the whole idea is to quiet the mind and everything will happen of its own accord. Believe nothing, just practice and see what happens. Student: Robert, the mind can be quiet but isn't the presence also necessary? Because a lot of the Buddhist texts speak of the person whose mind is quiet but their consciousness is hazy, they're like in a daze or a daydream; they're not present or aware. Robert: The presence is always there. What happens when you quiet the mind is that the presence becomes more dominant. Student: I read in that book that you showed me that said that there was a disciple of Ramana who sat in the hall for long hours and he was able to stop thinking but he wasn't in the correct state and Ramana made him go for walks and everything. (Robert: Oh yes.) What was that all about? His mind was quiet and yet it wasn't the correct state? Robert: Well because fear was coming in. He began to become fearful. He picked up a lot of fear. The way he quieted his mind, whatever method he used caused fears to come in more powerful. Student: But how can you call it a quiet mind if there was fear present? Robert: It wasn't really quiet. It was never quiet. But there was fear, so he made him walk around. Student: Oh, so it was a feeling of fear. Robert: It was a feeling of fear, yes. Student: So that's also a mental construct, fear and emotions are also (that)… Robert: Of course. That's why I say you don't have to use one particular method to quiet your mind. Do whatever you have to do to quiet your mind. And everything will take care of itself. Everybody's different, what's good for you may not be good for somebody else. So that's why I never say, "This is the only method." You have to do whatever is right for yourself; practice, find out. If you read too much you can never find out. Be alone with yourself. Find out what makes you tick and everything will work out.

from Robert Adams satsang

[phantomnostalgist]

Ethan Freeman Phantom interview

An interview with Ethan Freeman from about 1994 or 1995, printed in “Beneath the Mask” #8 (which I haven’t found my print copy of yet, but the interview was reproduced on our old POTO fan site). 

Also of note about Ethan: at the time he was one of the two youngest actors to have played the Phantom - he and Anthony Warlow were both 28 or 29 when first cast in the role.

Are there any differences between London and Vienna - if so, what are they? The general tone of the production in Vienna was slightly more Operetta-like, probably due to the language, the sound of the translation and style of acting of some of the players. The tempo was also at some points quite different depending on who was conducting, and would undoubtedly feel strange to me now. The audience tended to be less tuned in to the humorous moments in the show in general, and some scenes like "Managers I & II" for example, simply run better and are more clever in English.

How did you get the role? I got the role of the Phantom after auditioning for Hal Prince and Gillian Lynne and the Viennese producer and musical staff. They appeared very excited about the audition. I'd sung "Music of the Night" which they praised in a friendly manner (Hal is always positive and encouraging), and they sent me off to learn the segment from the Final Lair "Order your fine horses... This is the choice. This is the point of no return!" When I came back the next day to do it (the Phantom candidates appeared by then to have been reduced to three) Hal said "OK Ethan I want you to scare me!" So I did the section with as much power and venom as I could muster (Id never seen the show - I think Id heard the record once or twice...) and after it was done, Hal just said "Great. You scared me!" and that was that really. Later that day they explained to Alexander Goebel and me what they would like and would we be willing to share, obviously with Alex, who was very well known, being the dominant of the two. So we split 5/2 which frequently ended up being 4/3 as the run went along.

How did you research the character? I read the novel finally, all the way through. Ruth Hale, my partner in "Cats" at the time, later to premiere as Mme Giry in the Hamburg production, gave me a copy as a present. I'd seen several of the films over the years so I knew there wasn't much to be mined from those - although Lon Chaney Snr did display some magnificent body language, and I've nicked at least one dramatic gesture from him. Principally though, I had several long meetings with Hal in New York to talk about the role and show. He instructed me to go watch Michael a few times then come back and talk some more. Crawford was magnificent, at the peak of his vocal power and still fairly fresh in the role and I was moved and impressed as I have not been since by a Phantom. (Though Dave Willetts, I must say, also made a huge impression the first time I saw him, for his power and well-delineated psychotic behaviour.) At first I thought boy, you've got your work cut out for you on all fronts. So, I would say my "research" of the role was principally based on my own discussions with Hal and also largely on my own thoughts and feelings. Obviously most of the physical manifestations of the role, make-up, costume, blocking, etc were predetermined so there wasn't much scope for change. To be honest, I feel some of the Phantoms I've seen tend, in an effort to be different, to stray from the basic line of the drama and weaken themselves as a result. Michael's acting was extreme, yet very clear and economical at the same time, and I also try to offer the audience a complicated and ambiguous character going through clear, unambiguous moments of his life - otherwise it's so easy for the audience not to "get" everything that's there - or to "get" things that aren't intended to be there at all.

How do you feel on stage? So varied in thought and feeling that I can't really give a concise answer. I feel quite differently now to how I felt 600 odd shows ago. I used to have to concentrate on staying concentrated - now it just happens. I know what to achieve and just try to let it happen. I'd say I'm both in and out of Erik at the same time and he in me.

Do you think it's based on a true story ie. did the Phantom exist? I doubt it - I haven't read this newer novel "Phantom" yet and don't intend to until I finish playing the part. However I've been to the Palais Garnier and in all senses of the word it is a 'phantastic' theatre, one which easily conjures up many stirring images - beautifully represented in the Phantom designs, I'd say!

What do you think of Erik? I wish he'd let me have a little more time to myself! Oh, I don't know. He's a sad, bitter, brilliant man. He has a great brain and can be a real bastard. I find him easy to understand - he's motivated by a terrible profound loneliness and has been forced to create his own universe which has its own laws. Anyone who has known some kind of loneliness or feeling of apartness when they were children or growing up can tune in to this crucial aspect of the Man, which is his great mythical attraction. He is so powerful, awesome, in control and yet so hurt and vulnerable. He must epitomise great beauty and great ugliness at war with each other, reason and insanity, God/Satan, Id/Ego battling it out. In the end, he learns about sacrifice, shows mercy and is redeemed by love - a great, archetypal Romantic drama - another reason why the story has always been so popular. I can't stand it when I see Erik played as a "nutter". Yes, he goes "crazy" a few times, but in general he is not insane in the pathological sense. I feel if he is played as a schizophrenic or a psychopath, the romantic ideal of the story is dashed, because both of those conditions would indicate a "determination" that makes any hope of redemption impossible, and would break with the "Romantic" style. He is very melancholy, angry, egocentric, neurotic perhaps, and goes off into rages of frustrated sexuality, but he is not insane. And I'll kill anyone who thinks otherwise!

What do you think happens to him at the end? That's our little secret! I think the different fan magazines have probably spent pages on that so I don't see I need to contribute. He goes!

Why do you think the show is so appealing? Some lovely songs, great orchestrations, a nice mixture of melodrama and light comedy, some stunning sets and a lot of good theatrical magic: and on the thematic side, many of the things I've mentioned before, which I suppose you could define as the archetypal Beauty and the Beast scenario which, if honestly portrayed, can tug the heartstrings of even the most urbane Japanese businessman.

What is your favourite role of those you've played? Obviously Phantom is the supreme role in my repertoire to date. I did however, really enjoy my stints in other Lloyd Webber shows as well. Che in "Evita" was very cool to play and Gus/Growltiger, while exceedingly 'uncool' thanks to the heavy knitted costumes, was a joy to play, despite being totally knackering, and one that I was surely born to do. I really enjoyed doing Hajj, the Poet in "Kismet" with the BBC Radio 2 last year, working with the composers, and would love to have the chance to do that again on stage someday.

What role would you like to play? I'd quite hope to have a go at Sweeney Todd somewhere down the line and would still like to play the Celebrant in "Bernstein's Mass" at some point. (I've nearly done that a couple of times.) Add to that a heap of great operatic roles I'd love to do but probably never will and whatever new, unknown roles lie lurking up ahead. We'll wait and see!

End note from me - Ethan’s wrong about schizophrenia, but hey, this interview was 25 years ago and actors can’t be expected to be experts on mental illness. But I really love this interview, the depth he goes into, and how his sense of humour comes through too.

[missmungoe]

I would sell my soul to Satan for a corn chip– or a tiny snippet of Moon and Her Maiden's chapter 3 (if you would, pretty please I'm obsessed with Shanks and his crush Makino and his other crush Makino's fey alter ego).

Haha, no need for such drastic measures!! But this made me so stupidly happy to hear, since I’m currently editing this beast of a chapter, have a little more than a corn chip!

(the story so far)

The galley was abandoned, but it was late for anyone to be up, and she was familiar with their routines now, having learned who were likely to stay up, and the early birds who’d be the first through her doors in the morning, after their captain.

She’d never been inside, but didn’t linger to take it in, noting only briefly the long tables and the stove, and the drying herbs hanging from the beams. Large wooden kegs were stacked and tied securely along the bulkheads, bearing the brands of breweries from every corner of the world, the galley asleep, but ready for a party to weather any storm that might greet them at sea, but then knowing them as she did now, Makino wasn’t surprised.

She’d nearly crossed the whole galley when the flare of a lighter caught her clean off guard, and her heart lurched into her throat as a darkened figure materialised by one of the tables, having been sitting so still, she hadn’t even sensed his presence, but she recognised him instantly, his hair as dark as the shadows as Ben put his newly-lit cigarette to his lips.

“It’s late for you to be awake,” he said mildly, as he took a drag. “You get up even earlier than I do.”

Understanding was slow in hitting her, before she realised with a start how she appeared, stark naked in the galley of their ship, and she scrambled to pull her pelt around her. It wasn’t big enough to hide her, and she kept her arms in front of her chest, even as the rest of her was left exposed.

But his eyes didn’t travel, only held hers calmly. And as his words registered, so did the fact that there was no surprise on his face, even seeing her as she was, wearing nothing but her sealskin, and the terror that surged through her left her voice shaking as Makino said, “You knew.”

Ben said nothing, but then it hadn’t been a question.

She shifted her weight nervously, acutely aware of her nakedness, and where she was, her eyes darting to the closed door where it led to the deck. If she bolted, she might reach the water in time, but even supposing she got away before he grabbed her, what would she do? Hide until they left for good?

And if he reached her before she could get away, and she’d be trapped on their ship―

The old fear had resurfaced from where she’d forgotten it, the weeks she’d spent getting to know them, and their captain, dragged up from her depths with her mother’s voice, faced with the complete and utter recklessness of what she’d done, putting herself in danger like this.

But Ben did nothing, although there was a slight softening in his eyes then, and she knew her face had given her away, and that there was no way for her to even pretend she wasn’t terrified.

And while it wasn’t the triumph she’d feared, should any of them discover her secret, or something much darker that she’d heard even kind men weren’t immune to, it allowed her terror to subside enough that her first instinct wasn’t to flee.

For a tense beat, neither of them spoke. He was seated against the bulkhead, two tables between them, and made no move to get up to approach her. The only light within the galley was the faint red glow of his cigarette, and the moon where it crept through the portholes. It brought out the pattern on her skin, and if her pelt hadn’t been evidence enough, there was no denying what she was now, awash in moonlight.

“How long?” Makino asked him. Her hands shook where they gripped her pelt at her front, still uncomfortably aware of her vulnerable position.

Ben’s expression surrendered no more than it ever did. “Figured it out not long after we came here.”

Her mouth parted with her surprise, but Makino didn’t know how to respond to that information. Had it been a recent discovery, that was one thing, but he’d known this whole time?

The sudden thought found her, that more of them must know, but before she could ask, “They don’t suspect anything,” Ben said, although she heard what he was really saying, which wasn’t referring to his crew as much as his captain. “But you should be more careful. All it takes is one person catching you.”

The gentle reprimand was accompanied by a raised brow, as though to indicate himself, even as she couldn’t tell if the warning note in his voice was because of her recklessness, given where he’d caught her, or because of her deception.

She wanted to ask how he’d found out, if it was something she’d done or if he’d simply put the pieces together, but held her tongue.

Ben’s look was measured, although his eyes never strayed from her face. But then that was the most incriminating part of her, Makino knew, although didn’t think that was why he was studiously not looking anywhere else.

“Are you going to tell him?” Ben asked her then.

She folded her lips. But while it hadn’t been asked accusingly, she didn’t know what else lay in that question. He was difficult to read, and the level cadence of his voice betrayed no more than his face did. His song was the same, steadier than the others in its calm, even metre, never swayed by the desires so openly expressed by his peers. Only occasionally did it yield a thrill, the beat ever-steady but the tempo lifted to an almost breathless pace, watching as he observed his crew, a new bet in the making, or a game of cards. A love of high stakes, regardless of the rewards; a love of the stakes themselves, and a puzzle to figure out.

And so maybe it wasn’t so strange that he’d kept her secret, if he believed this a game worth betting on, even if her gut twisted at the thought that his captain should think it was all a game to her, when she was risking everything.

“I don’t know,” Makino said, honestly. “I don’t want to lie to him, but it’s just…simpler, this way.”

She wondered how she could explain it so he would understand―that being with him in her other form was liberating, even if she couldn’t be herself, at least not fully. That it was safe; that it made her feel in control, when she could never hide her reactions otherwise.

And the simplest truth, although perhaps also the most selfish: that she just wanted so badly to be desired by him.

But whatever his personal thoughts on her reasons, she didn’t think Ben believed she had any ill intentions towards his captain. If he had, he would have voiced his concerns earlier, or outed her, even as that felt like an unfair accusation, watching him now, having known for so long without telling anyone, not even Shanks.

And she didn’t know what that meant. Ben had no loyalty to her, and she couldn’t think of many who’d just keep that kind of secret. Humans were terrible secret-keepers. Pride always weakened their resolve, that already fragile membrane on their conscience broken by their need to be seen, and admired. There was a reason her kind concealed their realms with charms and contracts, binding unwitting humans with unspoken clauses and ambiguous phrasings. And even then there were those who found loopholes; who were dangerous for an entirely different reason.

This was such a man, and Makino had known since their first meeting.

“Ben―” she began, but didn’t know what she even meant to say. It felt wrong to ask him to help her continue to deceive his captain, but just the thought of Shanks finding out through someone else filled her with such a crippling fear, she couldn’t even put into words.

Ben didn’t say her secret was safe with him, but then he didn’t strike her as the kind of man to offer an excess of assurances. But she felt it, regardless―that surety, expressed most vividly when he nodded towards the door and said, “Go left. It’s the door at the end of the passage.”

Her breath rushed out, and Makino didn’t know what to call the feeling that flooded her, struck by the explicit demonstration of trust. It was more than just relief and gratitude, but she was glad of her honest face then, because even if she couldn’t find the words, she wanted him to know what it meant.

“Thank you, Ben.”

She was about to go when, “You shouldn’t be worried,” Ben said, stopping her, before he explained, “About telling him.” Then, the corner of his mouth jutting, lifting his cigarette, “I’d ask to be present when you do, because I want to see the look on his face, but that’s up to you.”

Her smile fleeted over her lips, a little trembling. And it might have been reassuring to hear it said like that―that it would be something they could all laugh about, and she knew his captain well enough now to know he wasn’t someone who took things personally, and who was more likely to laugh at himself than at others.

But it wasn’t that she thought he’d be angry, or anything so primitive, although she didn’t tell Ben that it wasn’t his reaction she feared but what came after.

Turning to go, she didn’t question what gave her the courage, but then had it been anyone else telling her they knew her secret, she wouldn’t have felt like this, Makino knew. But even if she should be worried, the certainty within her refused to budge; the knowledge that he wouldn’t do anything with the information, beyond keeping it.

Trust, and it was curious to feel it so strongly, having been warned her whole life against giving it too freely, and yet it was the only thing that could have made her turn her back to him now, and to walk further into the ship, away from the water, and safety.

Her heart was racing, an almost painful pace, but she didn’t look back, slipping between the shadows as the door shut behind her. Ben let her go.

The passage beyond the galley forked, the right towards a hatch and a ladder leading belowdecks and the left towards the captain’s quarters, but even without his directions she would have known where to go, his presence always at her fingertips, and she knew he was asleep even before she’d reached the door.

She hesitated, her fingers trembling around the handle, and even knowing there was no one else in the passage, Makino did a last check before letting herself inside.

The captain’s quarters greeted her, quiet and dark. And while she’d seen the galley before, the night she’d first come aboard, she’d never been inside his cabin, and didn’t know what she’d expected, but found no surprise as she took it in, the shadows swept by thick brushstrokes of moonlight where it spilled generously through the glass panes wrapping around the compartment. The windows had little diamond-shaped muntins, the tinted glass casting patterns on the planks, like the scales of a mermaid’s tail.

It was spacious, as befitting the captain of the ship, lined with dark wooden boards that looked recently cleaned and oiled. It had built-in shelves stacked with ledgers and rolls of parchment, and a large desk held pride of place in the middle, laden heavily with maps. A comfy-looking armchair sat near the stove in the far corner, one of his cloaks thrown across the back.

His bunk sat off to her right, a sturdy frame around it where it had been built into the ship, and her eyes went immediately to the big figure sprawled across the mattress.

He was also very visibly not wearing a single stitch.

A scalding flush flooded her skin, as her eyes shot to the ceiling in surprise, although they didn’t remain there very long before she lowered them back down, a deeper warmth filling her that left her suddenly flustered, somehow more unprepared for this than she’d been to find Ben in the galley. And it shouldn’t be such a shock when she’d already seen him naked on several occasions, but this felt intimate for a different reason, observing him now in his private quarters―in his bunk, which held an entirely different implication than watching him strip down for a swim.

And just like every time before, she couldn’t take her eyes off him, the powerful frame where it lay, half-wrapped in the rumpled sheets, white against his darker skin and the hair climbing up his chest. He looked to have thrown them off in his sleep, and on his back, he hid absolutely nothing, his nakedness brandished so cheerfully, she might have believed he’d arranged himself like that on purpose.

She’d never seen anyone sleep like that, so―provocatively, for a stunned beat all she could do was stare like an idiot.

She felt a moment of panic, as though the sight of him naked in his bunk had really driven home just where she was and what she was doing. And she didn’t know what she’d even planned, coming here, but then she hadn’t had a plan, except to see him, not as she did every day at the bar but as her other self could. She’d wanted the freedom it gave her―that he gave her, to see him, and touch him.

And even if she didn’t know exactly what she’d planned to do, she knew what she wanted, recalling the last time they’d kissed, that night in the cove. The following times they’d met they’d spent talking. He’d made no advances, but then she wondered if he might be waiting for her take the lead this time, which might have been considerate if she had even the slightest idea of how to proceed from here. Because kissing him was one thing, but it was something else she wanted now, and that had kept her awake so many nights, thinking about him.

Makino watched him where he slept, indecisive. And it wasn’t too late for her to leave, to run back to her bed and pretend she’d never been here. Shanks wouldn’t know that she’d chickened out; the only one who would was Ben, but she could live with his amusement.

She tried to gather the unravelling threads of her courage, her eyes leaving Shanks’ sleeping figure in search of something a little safer, and chose the first that presented itself.

Drawn towards his desk, her heart held in her chest, as silent as her bare feet where they carried her across the planks, the stillness of the compartment broken only by the gentle creaking of the ship and Shanks’ snores.

Outlined in the moonlight, the maps showed the oceans of the world, and more islands than she could have thought existed, drawn in breathtaking detail.

Wide-eyed, Makino drank them all in. She found Dawn Island on the topmost map, outlined in green ink; a small blot in the vast East Blue. And she’d always known the world was big, but it was something else to see it in this context, and to realise just how small her little corner of the sea was, or at least how it must feel to someone like him, who’d seen so much.

The cartographer had embellished them with illustrations, the borders of the maps showing landmarks and creatures that defied even her imagination. The kings of the ocean; the lords of the coastlines and bottomless depths, each one greater than the next.

Her brows knitted gently as her eyes were drawn to a tiny figure, pictured along the borders of West Blue, and touching her fingertips to the illustration, her breath caught softly as she traced the familiar lines of a small, round shape, the little creature gentle and unassuming amidst the terrifying kings in their colourful scales and trappings, the speckled white spots in its pelt glimmering in the moonlight.

She was so absorbed in the maps, she didn’t notice that it had gone suddenly quiet.

And that Shanks had stopped snoring.

The cool edge of a blade touching her throat had her eyes flying open, although it was his voice that seized her breath in her chest.

“Trespassing?”

[milos-fanfics]

The Evil’s Within - Chapter 22

Luigi stood shocked at his ticked-off dopplegänger, watching his hand glow as he charged up another attack. Mr. L shot a beam of electricity to Luigi, who shifted to the side, barely avoiding it. Angry that his attack missed, he charged to Luigi, drawing his arm back as he prepared to strike. Pained as he was, Luigi stood his ground, grabbing his opponent’s hands, keeping them away from his person. The force of the attack threw Luigi back to the walls of his brother’s cell. Luigi let out a pained grunt.

“What is your problem? Why are you doing this?” he asked through his teeth, using all his strength to keep Mr. L restrained.

“If you were in my shoes, you’d be doing the same thing,” Mr. L responded, struggling to break free from his double’s grip.

Luigi was both shocked and confused by his response. He pushed him away. “No, I wouldn’t! I could never bring myself to hurt them. I care about them!”

Mr. L scoffed, “This innocence of yours is merely a façade. I know how you really feel about them. How you feel devoid of your true abilities from underneath your brother’s shadow or how you think you’d make a much better leader than the princess. Have you forgotten? I’ve been in your head for years. I’ve seen everything you’ve seen, heard every thought you’ve manifested, felt every emotion you’ve felt. There is nothing I don’t know about you.”

Luigi froze at this. He knew Mr. L wasn’t wrong about his thoughts and feelings. He felt attacked. His mind raced as he glanced down to the Sarasaland princess. “...What about Daisy? She didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

Mr. L looked down to Daisy then back up to Luigi with a shrug. “Merely a precaution. You know what she’s capable of and you’re afraid of it. She is a rather… experienced fighter and leaving her out of all this would just get in my way,” he replied. For a brief moment, his mind wandered. For a brief moment, he felt… bad, but he immediately shook it off. “But, this isn’t about her, it’s about us...”

Getting his mind back together, he noticed Luigi try to take advantage of his inattentiveness. Luigi slowly worked his way to help Daisy. Mr. L would not accept this and shot a bolt of electricity to Luigi’s feet.

Luigi jumped in shock and snapped his attention to his alter ego.

“...or rather… you,” Mr. L scowled. “I know what you want. This is what you want,” Mr. L gestured to himself, “Attention, power… being player one. I’ve seen the scenario you’ve played for yourself time and time again. And I really liked it,” He smiled, evilly.

Luigi shook his head, “What? No! You- You put that in my head, didn’t you?” He questioned.

“Me? Oh no, no,” Mr. L chucked, “I didn’t put those thoughts into your head. All your twisted wishes, your selfish desires, that was all you,” Mr. L smirked. Luigi refused to believe what he was being told. He thought he was being lied to, yet, deep down, he knew it was all true. His breathing quickened as Mr. L continued.

“I just sat back and enjoyed the show, hoping someday your wishes would come true. Then again, you being… you, I knew your wishes would never come to fruition. So, I wanted to take matters into my own hands, and I’m so close! And I know you can’t do a thing to stop me.” His smirk only grew. 

Luigi’s head was to the ground at this point. While his thoughts may have been a little screwed up from time to time, deep down, he knew he was still a good person. His motives, his intentions, his passions, they were all for the greater good, something his alter ego couldn’t possibly understand. “But you’re wrong, I will put a stop to you…” Luigi spoke up.

Mr. L scoffed once again, “Really? You really think you can stop me?” He laughed, “I would love to see you try.”

Mr. L stood, opened armed, awaiting Luigi’s attempt at an attack. Luigi charged a punch to Mr. L, striking him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, having completely forgotten about their shared pain.

Mr. L was also in pain but laughed through it, “You can’t hurt me without hurting yourself! I know you! I know you can’t handle it! You should just give up, I’ve already won.”

Those words juggled around in Luigi’s mind. He did not wish to prove him right once more. He turned back to Mr. L and charged at him once more, striking him in the head, dizzying the both of them. Through his light-headedness, Luigi attempts to land another attack.

Mr. L notices this and charges up his hand again, shooting a ray of electricity at him. Unlike previous attacks of this kind, this one lasted longer than usual. This beam was to keep Luigi off his feet, to weaken the willpower that had suddenly grown inside of him.

Mr. L winced through the pain as he could feel a burst of determination flow through him. He noticed Luigi trying to break free from his prolonged attack. He knew where this newfound determination was coming from.

“I can feel your determination to beat me,” Mr. L spoke through his teeth. Luigi suddenly realized the consequence of his burst of persistence. “Determination is one hell of a thing.”

Mr. L charged up his free hand for the attack, effectively doubling its strength. This kept Luigi on the ground.

“Bowser's Castle, Sarasaland, and the Mushroom Kingdom are just the beginning. Once I take care of you, nothing will stand in my way of carrying out your wildest dreams!” Mr. L exclaimed, a pained tear forming in his eye.

Luigi noticed this through his own, coming to a realization. “So… you're just going to… kill me? If you… if you do that, what's going to happen to you?” He struggled to speak.

Upon hearing this, Mr. L realized what he was doing. He had no idea what would happen to himself if he killed his dopplegänger and he didn’t wish to figure it out if he did. Reluctantly, he stopped electrocuting the green-clad hero, only growing angrier in turn.

“Then I'll just have to find a workaround. One that involves keeping your ass alive. One that involves keeping you out of my way,” he commented. He approached Luigi -- who struggled to get back up to his feet -- and swiftly kicked him in the face in a display of rage. Luigi flew backward as Mr. L bit his lip in an attempt to not exclaim in pain. He could feel blood spill from his nose and wiped the flow away with his hand.

On the ground, Luigi put his hands to his face in pain, pulling them away at the feeling of his own nosebleed. His gloves now marked with a stain of blood, he looked up from his hands to see Mr. L drawing close to him. Mr. L drew a punch to Luigi who rolled to his side, causing Mr. L to punch the ground. As Mr. L recovered from the punch, Luigi pushed himself off the ground, leaving a stain of blood on the cell floor.

Mr. L noticed this, but before he could turn around, a sharp pain struck him in the back of his head. Luigi had delivered another blow to his wicked counterpart before stumbling back to the ground at its dizzying effect.

Mr. L laughed at this, his anger now simmered down a tad. “Pathetic. This must be... very difficult for someone like you. Maybe- maybe we could put all this- this fighting behind us and you could come with me peacefully. Before... one of us gets us both killed,” he mocked, dizzily and out of breath.

“I… I-I can't do that! I've... seen what you've done. To my home. To my friends. To my own family. I- I've seen the mess you've made, the trouble you've caused and you think I'd have the audacity to just... give up?” He realized the only way out of this situation was not a pretty one. “If… if the only way to defeat you is to get us both killed…” Sparks of lightning emitted from one of his gloves, a long-lost ability returning to his fingers. He raised his now glowing hand to his chest, just above his heart, “so be it.”

Mr. L took a step back in disbelief. "You don't have it in you to do something so... careless," he gasped.

“Then you clearly don’t know everything about me.” Luigi’s hand glowed brighter. He had no idea if his plan was even going to work, but he just had to try.

Desperate, Mr. L lunged to Luigi to attempt to separate his hand from his chest. Before he could even get close, Luigi shot a beam of his own at Mr. L to keep him away, sending him backward.

On the floor behind the two, Daisy stirred awake, confused, to witness the end of their battle.

Mr. L returned the electricity beam to Luigi. Luigi took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he was about to do. Mr. L’s ray of electricity struck him just as he struck himself, intensifying the shock. Luigi one last exclamation of pain before it suddenly stopped, his arms falling limp to his sides as he fell to his knees, giving Mr. L one last look. A weakened look that simply read, ‘I won.’ Luigi fell to the ground, no longer moving, no longer breathing.

Both Mr. L and Daisy gasped in shock. Seeing her friend’s lifeless body on the ground, Daisy turned to Mr. L, angrily. She knew whatever was going on was entirely his fault. She tried to push herself off the ground but was too weak to pick herself up with her own arms. She collapsed back onto the floor as she noticed something changing about Mr. L

Mr. L glanced to Daisy, noticing the perplexed look on her face towards him. But just then, he could feel something off, a strange, tingling, sensation in his fingertips. He quickly pulled off one of his gloves to see his hand slowly begin to vanish. He did the same to his other glove and rolled up his sleeves, watching his arms slowly fade out of existence. Without Luigi, he couldn’t exist. He looked back to Daisy, a fearful look in his eyes.

Daisy’s confusion shifted to a smirk. The tyrant was finally getting what he deserved. As Mr. L’s limbs disappeared, his clothing grew limp. His jumpsuit had come from the real world, so it stayed in the real world. The final part of him to vanish was his head. He gave both Luigi and Daisy a scowl, softly uttering the words, “You... green… fool” before disappearing completely, his hat falling softly to the ground.

Now that the miscreant was no more, Daisy’s attention shifted to Luigi's lifeless body. Weakly, she crawled over to him. She put an ear to his chest in desperation. No heartbeat. She quickly searched her person for any spare 1-Up mushrooms. She didn’t have any.

Her eyes began to well up with tears as she picked him up off the ground with the little strength she could muster and hugged him close. Her tears only flowed faster before she felt something poking out from his chest. She pulled away to examine, noticing something in his overall pocket. She reached in and found the one thing she was desperately looking for: a 1-Up mushroom.

She smiled, relieved as she gave the mushroom to him. Almost immediately Luigi took a deep breath and shot up, catching his breath. He turned his head to Daisy, whose grin was as wide as it could possibly be. Luigi smiled back before glancing to the pile of clothes that used to be his alter ego.

“Is he… is he gone?” He asked.

Daisy looked back as well. “I-I think so,” She responded, turning back to Luigi, “You did it!” She stated proudly.

Luigi’s smile grew before looking to the ground. “I don’t think I could have done it without your help,” he said, quietly.

Daisy looked at him as her grin grew softer. She placed a hand on his shoulder, causing Luigi to look back up at her. “That… that was all you,’ she patted his shoulder. “Now, come on.” Daisy hands Luigi a super mushroom. “Let’s go help the others.”

Luigi stood up to his feet and turned around to offer Daisy a hand up. She denied with a simple hand gesture and grabbed another one of her super mushrooms and used it on herself. Luigi continued back to Mario, super mushroom in hand, while Daisy made her way to help Peach.

Upon using the super mushroom on his unconscious brother, Mario blinked his eyes open, turning his head to the green figure that sat beside him. The figure slowly made itself clearer to his eyes. “L-Luigi..?”

Luigi smiled to his older brother.

“Did… did you stop him?” Mario asked, quickly sitting up.

Luigi simply nodded

Mario smiled as well before engulfing Luigi in a tight hug. “I am so proud of you, bro!”

Partially choking from the hug, Luigi managed to utter, “Thanks, Mario. And… thank you.”

Mario pulled away from the hug and looked at Luigi, confused. “What for?” he asked.

Luigi sheepishly looked down, twiddling his thumbs. “For uh… being there... E-even when I said I didn’t want you to. I really did. I just… didn’t know what was going on inside my own head…” He responded. 

“No problem, little bro,” Mario chuckled, pulling Luigi back in for another hug.

From the corner of his eye, Luigi spotted Peach and Daisy enter the cell the two of them were in. He could see the proud smile across both of their faces. He outstretched one of his arms and gestured for the two to join them. Quickly, they joined in, Mario, Peach, and Daisy all giving Luigi a hug to express just how proud of him they really were.

Luigi sighed contently.

Everything was going to be okay.

~~~~~

Chapter 21 Cover

[darkasagrowl]

Understanding Wesker’s motivations

I’m not claiming to be an expert on character analysis, but I sure as heck am tired of seeing every RE head canon I come across making this guy seem like he does what he does just for laughs, or because he is “just evil”, or emotionally unattached. Like seriously?

Here I list 3 major points about his character. Some are speculation but most of it is based on information that we have been given throughout the games.

Let me know what you think:

1. Emotionally detached - I can't believe people pull this one up on him constantly. We have more than enough evidence that this couldn't be farther from the truth. First of all, we have Birkin as one proof that he can develop and maintain deep and meaningful connections with other people. We can also go back to re6 and argue that maybe he also had a relationship with Jake's mom, but we don't have enough evidence of that (that I'm aware). Ultimately, we can refer to how he lets his anger control him in re5, if nothing else. He might be incredibly intelligent, but he isn't as rational as he likes to make people believe. 

2. Concerned for Alex? - in re5 there is a list of which of the Wesker children are alive, but in rev2 we see a picture of both Alex and Albert together. He seems to be wearing the same clothes from re4, which could mean the picture dates from around the same time. If this is true, maybe this is around the same time that Alex started her own experiments at that island and they lost touch. Wesker could be using that list and info about the children to try and track her down and find out what she's up to, and maybe he himself gave her the uroboros sample she ended up working on.

3. Superiority complex - I argue that he has in fact the opposite. Wesker has an inferiority complex and it is only enhanced further the more he interacts with Chris. I think Wesker is a bit jealous of him, and also, hates that Chris got such an accurate read of him. So this one's a little long:

Wesker has lived his whole life thinking all he had ever accomplished was on him. He believed he was smarter and generally better at everything than everyone else. This boosted his ego from a very young age. He finally discovers that everything he has ever done, everything he had ever thought or discovered or whomever he'd manipulated to get what and to where he wanted could actually not be due to his free will, but because he was being controlled by Spencer and Umbrella and even his existence was, as he put it, "manufactured". He was manufactured to act that way; to think that way - he was manufactured to be this next step in human evolution that he had always thought he was. But he was actually a thing, not an actual person; no better that those experiments he had trifled with his entire life. This realization, I believe, broke him. Just think about it, what would you do if you found out suddenly that your every action or thought might never have been your own; that they might have been imposed on you? Well I certainly know what I would try to do: prove to myself and to whoever is still watching that I can, in fact, make my own decisions; act according to my own free will.

And that's what he did. The whole "God" thing, I think, was him trying to make his actions big, and by big, I mean meaningful. I mean, can you imagine being someone that has been involved in how the world is being shaped, in how different societies are developing solely because of your own advancements and meddling in either science or political relations around the globe (due to selling and enforcing the use of chemical warfare and terrorism)? Can you imagine, after all that, something that would really have an impact in your life and prove to you and everyone around you that you are your own person; that what you are doing, you are doing it of your own accord and, again, free will? I mean, it HAS to be something BIG.

Que Redfield. Like I said before, Chris had Wesker all figured out immediately at the end of re1 (tyrant scene). It's obvious how his laugh affects Wesker. But I believe Wesker is visibly confused by this, and not angered per se. See, I think this is the point in which he has one of his first realizations as "himself" and not as an Umbrella/Spencer project. I think he did think the same thing as Chris: what he was doing, and the way he was acting at that moment, WAS pitiful. But the thing is, although he knew that, he couldn’t understand why. I mean, that was what he had been working on for a long time, and he was finally about to see it in action, but it still felt lacking; and what happened next proves it to him (being stabbed by it meant that thing he was so proud of, so enamored by, wasn't perfect -but he was - so it made no sense to see himself in such a thing; such a “failure” as Chris puts it, or did it?). This started his hatred for Redfield. Before this, we can argue that maybe, during their time together at STARS, their interactions made Wesker see how different his life could have been. Seeing how carefree Chris was in his younger years made him realize how repressed he must have felt when he was his age (and maybe at that time as well), but there isn't much information about this time, except the novels, but I'm not sure about how canon they are, so let's leave this part at that.

Even in re5, when Chris asked if he always takes his ideas from comic book villains, he got it right. I know this one sounds far-fetched, but bear with me here. What if he did? What if the only thing he could think about was to a simpler time in his life, when Umbrella didn't feed him their intentions 24/7? I believe that, when he was a child, his life must have been relatively normal, to a certain extent so he must have had hobbies; things kids like to do growing up. And what is something kids enjoy? Reading comics. I know, this doesn't make much sense, that I'm making this part up or whatever, but we don't know about this part in his life. Maybe, when he found out about his origin and felt the need to reject it, his mind shot back to a simpler time; to when he felt safe and as normal as everyone else. It makes sense to me. But you can disregard this part if you want.

Back to Chris, in re5 we can see more closely how Wesker is jealous of Chris. He's had numerous chances in the past to either let him die or directly kill him, although he always opted for the option of "toying" with him. In re5 this is no different. He could have easily killed Chris (and Sheva) in the first fight they have, but opts to "play" for 7 minutes. The second fight he could have finished the job, but he wanted to make it last and was defeated, which led to him being temporarily weakened and presumably dying at the volcano.

The way he says his name, the way he yells for him; it's always Chris, even though others have thwarted his plans and machinations, Wesker always seems to have Chris in his mind; it doesn't matter who else is around, Chris is always there - it's always him, even when it isn't. It feels as though Wesker wants to prove to either Chris or himself (or maybe both) that he is better than Chris, but always ends up failing.

And ultimately, I think it's because Chris has the life Wesker always wanted to have. This hatred developed from earlier in their lives, to seeing how he has a family that cares enough about him to risk their own lives for him (Claire in both re2 and code Veronica), close friends and a seemingly easy ability to befriend people (something that his cold and controlled demeanor prevents him from, achieving little more than a relationship of authority towards most people *and also, can we talk about his sunglasses? He's been wearing them since before his eyes mutated. Was this on purpose to create even more distance from people and make developing any form of connection impossible?*) and finally, a purpose. Yes, a purpose. He's always had something up his sleeve during his time at Umbrella and after, but their accomplishment was never enough; it never satisfied him. And after speaking with Spencer about his origin, it finally made sense. Those were never his goals. They were the designs of other people whom, at the end of it all, failed; which could also be something that affects him, knowing that, to top it all off, he failed - his existence is summed up to be just a failed experiment.

 Idk man, if that were me, I'd also be poppin' off.

[datawyrms]

Electric Influence

Danymay2020 day 10- Corruption

It was easier to ignore the fact Danny should not have walked out of that portal alive. Tucker ignored any ‘shock’ his friend must have gotten would have been lethal. Sam pretended the scorching stench of flesh burning was only the ectoplasm of the portal. She didn’t kill one of her best friends on a dare.

He’d fallen out of there, after all. Cold, glowing and terrified once he had seen himself, but it was fine! He just. Stopped being that way. He breathed, his heart raced and his grip was warm when they hugged, so tightly as if they let go they’d be separated forever.

Did it have to make sense that Danny was somehow a ghost while also being human? So their friend had ‘ghost powers’. Powers that he struggled with, but they were there to help and support him. What kind of friends would they be if they didn’t?

Sam and Tucker didn’t seem to hear the low constant buzz that felt like it was trying to rip out from under his skin. They didn’t jerk away from him, or hesitate in helping as he started falling through the floor, even though at those times it was louder, more like something clawing at his ears and demanding his attention. He didn’t want to worry them, so he didn’t mention the noise. It did make it hard to concentrate. Tucker did manage to help him without knowing about the problem, though it had been a bit of a joke.

“I swear I’m not trying to fall through every floor in the school!”

“They’re your powers dude. Maybe try thinking loud thoughts?”

Loud thoughts had actually helped. If he tried screaming in his head, louder than that irritating low hum, his powers actually seemed to respond. They still went off basically at complete random, but he could at least stop the falling or the vanishing once he noticed it. It was awkward, but he’d take anything at this point. Tucker and Sam had convinced him that letting Mom and Dad know wouldn’t be good. They might think he was dead, or something like that. With how much they seemed to focus on ghosts, he really didn’t want to be their new ‘special interest.’

They weren't sure how to react when Danny became that inverted self again. The dead-no he wasn’t dead. His ‘ghost form’. He seemed proud that he had enough control to do so intentionally, so they smiled and congratulated with a few jabs about practicing not vanishing as often. They ignored the hissing voice in the back of their minds, insisting their friend was dead. Dead people couldn’t just stop being dead with two rings of light. The small spike of fear Danny caused when he was glowing was just because of the temperature drop. He was still their friend, he wasn’t acting like some out of control monster like the Fentons said all ghosts were. So he couldn’t really be a ghost. When the black haired boy suggested he might simply be half ghost, they latched on to the excuse, not thinking very hard on why their friend even thought that.

The never ending noise changed after he figured out how to switch between himself and the green eyed ghost form he’d gotten. It was less a meaningless irritating noise, now it seemed to vary and change depending on what he was doing. At first he figured it was just more noises he had to mentally ignore, but they started to be consistent. When it pitched low with a steady pulse it became easier to become invisible, not needing the mental shout to get his powers to play along. The times he unintentionally went invisible out of alarm also dropped, now that he knew if the weird energy scrabbling at his skin was making that sound, he could shout over it before it happened.

He still failed to catch it sometimes, the odd ectoplasmic song was just a constant background noise to him now. If he didn’t tune it out from time to time, he probably would have gone mad. It was more manageable now. When he became that second self, his ghost self, the crackling sound wasn’t trapped under his skin. More that he was wrapped in it, protectively swaddled in the noise that swung from beautiful to nails on a chalkboard irritating depending on his mood. The powers always came easier like that, as if being under his human flesh made it hard to exert his will on them. More surprisingly was when he managed to just instinctively do things. He had no idea he could fly, until he had started hovering because it ‘felt better’.

He didn’t really need to think too hard, or struggle to control anything with the sound outside. He could just relax and just do. His head pounded less as his capabilities broadened. In fact it almost seemed like planning too far ahead weakened him, or had him take the wrong choice. His hangups about being a poor ghost fighter led to so many unneeded hits against Bertrand, more so when the right answer came to him too late. The self doubt and shame was a weakness.

It was easier to be reactive, to let these instincts do as they will. After all, he was getting better at all of this, Sam and Tucker said so. Relaxing into the steady buzzing confidence felt right, and seemed to be working out fine. It was still part of him, it wasn’t something to worry about.

Danny was really getting the hang of this ‘being half ghost’ thing. That should have been a good thing, that they didn’t need to fish their friend out of walls or hiss at empty air to ‘show up’, but something felt off.

He’d stopped using his powers for his own gain. Sure, Tucker was glad his friend wasn’t casually possessing people after the whole Poindexter thing, but the slow shift from occasional ghost pranks to practically none was strange. Sam would say he was just ‘more mature’ now and didn’t want to blow his cover over something stupid. Yet even she would admit it was weird he wouldn’t brag to Tucker about sneaking into locker rooms he did not belong in anymore. He just ‘wasn’t interested’ in doing that sort of thing anymore.

More disturbingly he seemed to reverse that opinion shortly after the Freakshow incident. He slipped back to ‘before the accident’ Danny, more interested in space talk than ghosts, openly offered to help sneak them into a movie for free and seemed to avoid ‘going ghost’ as much as possible. Were they bad friends for not noticing Danny had practically dropped any ‘negative’ trait like being selfish or spiteful? Surely he had only been trying to ‘not be like Vlad’, or be like a comic superhero. After all, their friend slowly slid back to his new normal over a few weeks.

Sam didn’t tell Tucker that Danny had come to her one night, eyes wide with a strange mix of terror and exhaustion.

“He would have let you die! I-I broke free but I’m so, so sorry!”

“Danny, you didn’t do anything wrong. You broke free when it counted.” she reassured her friend, trying to ignore how fragile he felt as she forced the trembling boy into a hug.

He’d shaken his head. “I let him-I didn’t even realize-”

“You couldn’t help it! It can’t happen again, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

It was only weeks later that it occurred to her that Danny might not have been talking about Freakshow that day.

The sound was too much. His skin felt stretched tight simply containing his now ever present companion. Every movement, every action felt like this would be the one that would split him open and let the crawling screaming noise devour him whole.

Though it wasn’t really a noise anymore. It could talk. It had been named, though he wasn’t sure if he had named it, or the sound had named itself. He remembered the conversation, how Tucker had called him out for such a terrible alter ego name, but he couldn’t remember if he had answered back as himself, or if Phantom had done it. They were always influencing one another now, the ghost had practically trained him into letting it take control through the constant ghost fights. Danny didn’t know how to fight, Phantom knew almost nothing but. Of course it had made sense to just let the noise prompt and delegate his actions, of course it had been easier when he didn’t try to struggle control away with a half baked plan.

Yet apparently this throbbing pulsating thing wanted more than that. Being the hero that forced ghosts back wasn’t enough, because apparently Danny was misusing their powers. Danny was their weak link.

Didn’t his friends deserve better than some slacker? Didn’t he want to be the best he could be? He’d stumbled through fourteen years with minimal success, while the new self under his skin was practically a hero within a year.

It wasn’t a fair comparison, and he was only struggling so much this year because of all the ghost fights. Yet who’s fault was that? Who was the one who let them all here to put everyone in danger?

It was his responsibility to fight it. Shirking it just showed he wasn’t a very good human.

Their only real compromise was they couldn’t worry their friends. So Danny was still present in a way, a flimsy bit of cloth hiding who really was in charge a significant amount of time.

He had always wondered how Vlad could have gone off the deep end, to turn so violently on people who were once friends. Now he was fairly sure it was easy because Plasmius barely knew the Fentons at all, and warped Vlad into whatever best suited him.

His friends didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they liked him better this way, dragging them into adventure and danger because of ghosts instead of throwing out star charts and insisting on nights they needed to watch the skies.

Phantom was always happy to remind him that Sam and Tucker liked him better than Danny nowadays. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Yet the shrieking in his ears was getting harder and harder to ignore.

The Master of Time broke him. His ghost half, his dead self, whatever Phantom was would no longer stand for Danny to put their friends at risk. He made a bad choice. He got all their friends killed. HE plunged the world into ruin by trying to escape his guilt! He’d asked Vlad to remove his humanity after all, and wasn’t Danny always insisting that was him? He couldn’t risk any of that happening, not when Clockwork gave them a second chance. The uneasy status quo was torn asunder as Phantom attempted to claim dominance over both forms by force, the static sound a shrieking agony, like knives being driven deep into his brain. He wasn’t needed, he wasn’t wanted. No one would know that Danny was gone. He was just getting replaced by a better version of him in every way. The one who didn’t almost drive the world to ruin over being an immature child.

He was a child! Of course he was! He wasn’t even sixteen, he was allowed to make mistakes. That didn’t keep the ghost from shoving him deep down, too convinced in his own way to even consider letting his other half do as much as blink.

The sound finally stopped, but he couldn’t even feel the pain that should have been put in his stomach, disconnected as he was from himself. Now he was the quiet humming nudge, aware and ever constant, but unable to act without permission.

He was fairly sure his sound was not like the electric hum Phantom had been. At least, he had no trouble ignoring him. He’d listen when talking to his friends and family sometimes, but that was it. The ghost eventually got to the point that Danny didn’t even have much to add. He already knew what to say, they were his friends and family too.

Maybe he was pointless. Trying to fight for control was exhausting, and even if he won there was nothing to do. Sam and Tucker wouldn’t know what he was going on about if he said he was trapped in his own body. Being split apart never seemed to go well, and his ghost self was vehemently against it thanks to Clockwork.

He had to just stay put and watch someone else live his life. Someone that was basically him, but not quite.

Yet as time went on, he almost started to believe Phantom. Maybe this was for the best. He’d never reach his own dream now. No one cared that Danny wasn’t actually Danny. They liked this one just fine.

He could feel the strange pressure that seemed to be trying to crush him completely. Yet it was warm and comforting instead of terror inducing. A warm weighted blanket that slowly squeezed ever tighter. He’d be whole again. Not the same, not himself. Assimilated, overwritten. Replaced.

He couldn’t bother to keep fighting it anymore. Besides, the ghost’s whole name was Danny Phantom. Maybe he was meant to have been devoured like this way back at the accident. He didn’t even need to bother to ask the ghost to protect his loved ones.

They were more Phantoms’ family now anyway.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 64

Warnings: mentions of depression, PTSD

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y,  @alievans007​

He wakes up gasping for air; body covered in a sheen of cold sweat and his legs frantically kicking at the blankets covering them.  The weight against his limbs seeming unbearable; thin, smooth cotton   weighing him down and trapping him where he lay. Chest both heaving AND aching;  a mixture of sheer terror and utter panic squeezing and tightening his lungs as he struggles to draw in a single breath. Brain stuck between the horrors of the nightmare he’d just endured and trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings.  Fully aware that he SHOULD know where he is, yet finds it impossible to piece all together. An after effect of the handful of pain meds he’d swallowed dry before settling down to sleep; the strength of them further muddling an already battered and tortured mind. It’s gotten worse since the Ketamime. Increased instances of short term memory problems and finding himself more easily confused and having trouble with remembering even the simplest of words during a normal conversation.  And it frustrates him. Makes him feel broken and utterly useless.

It also makes the rage inside of him grow. An anger so raw and so profound that he can barely rein it in; worried that he’ll snap and take it out on the people who don’t deserve it. And there’s fear; bitter and legitimate.  Concerned that somehow the ketamine has caused permanent issues; aggravating his already brittle and fragile brain and leaving him with the worry that he’ll never get back to where he was before all of this ever happened.   The neurologist had long ago warned that it could happen; the damage done from lack of oxygen when he’d coded twice in the OR either worsening or becoming progressive.  And he’s operated under a guise of slight fear that his frustration surrounding his mental issues and the confusion he often experiences will only grow and eat away at him from the inside out; turning him into someone he no longer recognizes. That he can no longer stand.

The nightmares started twenty four hours ago.Vivid and horrifying. Temporarily parlazyed by drugs yet hands and feet still restrained by zip ties; a captor’s hand on his throat and another tightly gripping his hair as he’s forced to watch some of Mahajan’s men slowly torture and brutalize his wife and children. Mocking his rage, disgust, and grief; spitting in his face and digging their fingers into his eyes to force them open whenever he tries to close them. Unable to move yet desperate to save his family; resorting to sobbing and begging for mercy. Pleading with them to just leave Esme and the kids alone; that they’re  innocent and Mahajan could do whatever he wants to him. But they only laugh at him, keeping him firmly in place as they continue their brutality and make him listen to the way his family screams and cries out for them to help them. And it isn’t until one of the captors puts a gun to Esme’s head and pulls the trigger that he snaps awake; unable to move or speak in the same way he’d been immobilized and silenced three days before.

It’s the inability to move or speak that brings on the panic. His heart pounding in his chest  and his lungs impossibly tight and burning as they try to suck in air; violently shivering, his body covered head to toe in a cold sweat. And when the feeling of being paralysed subsides, his body and mind choose to fight; kicking and thrashing and writhing while tears spill down his cheeks. Unable to fully graph what is going on around him; hearing the thundering of his heart in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears both overwhelming and deafening. And he’s vaguely aware of her voice trying to push its way through all the madness; his name gentle and concerned at first, then more stern and forceful. He can feel her hands tightly gripping his forearms and then his shoulders. Looking right at her yet not actually seeing her. Focused instead on those horrible images still taking up residence in his brain.

“Tyler!”  Her hands on his face, nails digging into his cheeks. “Look at me! It’s over. Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. You’re right here. Look at me!”  She forces his face towards her when he attempts to look away. “Everything’s fine. Whatever it was, it’s gone. It’s okay. I’m here and you’re here and everything’s fine now.”

It finally begins to dissipate; panic subsiding and his lungs releasing and his heartbeat returning to normal. Breath still coming out in ragged pants and his legs -previously drawn impossibly straight and tight= relaxing and his fists letting go of their grip on the fitted sheet. He closes his eyes; feeling her hands on his face and the way her knuckles stroke his beard and her fingertips brush away his tears and her thumbs swipe across his lips.  And when he opens them he can actually see her; those terrifying and gruesome images from the nightmare disappearing. Her face mere inches from his; dark hair tumbling over her shoulders and down her back, tears in her eyes and the moonlight bathing her skin in a soft, silvery light.

“It’s okay now,” Esme says. “Everything’s fine. You’re not there anymore.  Wherever you were, you’re not there anymore.”

“Fuck…” he manages through ragged breath.  “...what the hell?”

“It was a panic attack. Or at least I think it was. One of those dissociative types. You used to get them all the time right after Dhaka. You haven’t had one in a long while. A few years at least.”

He sighs heavily -and shakily- and drops his chin to his chest. Easily relaxing at the touch of her hands; soft and soothing against his face and the side of his neck. Fingertips grazing his skin and gently tracing each tattoo and scar and bulging, strained muscle.

“It’s alright,”her voice is gentler than he’s ever remembered hearing it, and one of her hands slips around to the back of his head, the other rubbing his shoulder. “YOU’RE alright. Bad dream?”

He nods.

“You want to tell me about it, or…?”

“I can’t. Not this one. I can’t tell you about this one.”

“Worse than the ones you were having at home?”

“Way worse.”

“About me and the kids?”

“Don’t...please…don’t. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” She gives a reassuring smile, running her nails along the back of his neck and up into his hair. “Baby, you’re sweating like crazy. You’re drenched. That must have been a really bad one.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

“I’m not asking you to talk about it.”  The tone of her voice never changes; soft and low and comforting. And she doesn’t become defensive or irritable when he snaps at her.  “Look at me...Tyler...look at me.”

He raises his head from his chest. Afraid of what he might find in her eyes. Annoyance. Frustration. Maybe even disappointment. Or even worse, pity. But none of that is there. He finds nothing but genuine concern and a tenderness and love that -even after almost seven years- he’s not sure he deserves. And neither of them  speak as her eyes slowly take in every inch of his face and her fingertips brush across his eyebrows  and down the bridge of his nose. Then over the scar on his forehead and near his left eye.  

“It’s okay.” Her voice is just shy of a whisper, and he closes his eyes once more when that impossibly soft touch travels down his jaw. “...everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m more about you than my sleep. Are you okay now?”

“Not really,” Tyler admits.

“Do you at least feel a little bit better?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“It’ll be alright. Whatever it was about, it wasn’t real. None of it actually happened. Wherever you were in that dream, you’re not there anymore. Do you need some anxiety meds or pain ones or a drink of water or…?”

“I can take care of myself.” His response is more irritable than he’d intended it to be, and now he sees the annoyance creep into her eyes and face. “I’m not a child. I don’t need you babying me.”

“Let me love you,” Esme implores. “Let me take care of you. You’ve done it for me.”

“I’m supposed to. I’m the guy.”

“Oh for fuck sake. Shut up, Tyler. You know how I hate when you say shit like that.”

With his face resting in her hands once again, she presses a kiss to his forehead. And his eyes flicker open as she climbs off the bed; feeling that slight dip in the mattress and then watching her as she heads for the ensuite bathroom. He feels pathetic; a watered down, weakened version of his former self that needs someone looking after him. His body and brain so messed up that he can barely function as a self sufficient adult. When the fuck did that happen? When did he become so goddamn soft that he needs someone...especially a woman...to take care of him? It makes him angry. Frustrated. That seven years ago some fucking teenager trying to impress a drug lord took so much away from him. His confidence. His pride. His ego. And that he’s been struggling ever since to hold onto the remaining shreds of those traits.

“What?”  Esme inquires as she returns from the bathroom, holding a bottle of meds and a glass of water in one hand and a damp face cloth in the other. She looks so goddamn cute; her hair messy and wild from sleep, clad in one of his t-shirts falling well past her knees and hiding the sleep shorts she wears underneath. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I love you.”  His response is simple. But heartfelt. And true.

“I know,” she says with a smile, then kneels in front of him in the middle of the bed. “And I love you. Here…” she hands him the bottle of meds and the water, then places the cloth against the back of his neck. It’s cool to the touch, and she holds it there for several seconds before softly patting it against his clammy skin. Over the nape of his neck and along his hairline line before moving to his forehead and temples.

“Why do you do this?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Take care of me like this.”

She moves the cloth to the left side of his neck. “Would you rather I didn’t? Would I rather be the type of wife that doesn’t give a shit about you? That doesn’t give a fuck when you’re struggling?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I know you hate it. I know you think I’m babying you. That you somehow think it makes you less of a man. And I won’t get into how that’s the biggest bunch of horseshit I’ve ever heard. I do it because I love you. Because I want to take care of you. Because I worry about you. And because you’re my husband and the father of my children and my best friend and I hate that you’re going through this.”

“I’ve been going through it for about seven years. And you’re still here. Doing this.”

“I’m here because I want to be. Because my life would totally suck without you in it. Because we have a lot more really good times than we have really bad times.  And because regardless of what you think, you deserve someone that loves you wants to take care of you.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. And besides, you’d do it for me. You HAVE done it for me. More times than you even realize. You’re not weak, Tyler. Being human doesn’t make you weak. You’re not a goddamn cyborg or some shit like that.”

“I just hate it. Being like this. It’s so fucked up, babe. My brain. I hate it and I hate living like this.”

“You’re not like anything.  You have issues. Lots of people have issues. Are they weak? Do you see them that way? How about me? I have mental health problems. Am I weak?”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You stick around. Through all of this bullshit. All of MY bullshit.”

“I stick around because my life is better with you in it. Because I love you and you make me smile and you make me laugh and you look at me like I’m the most beautiful, incredible woman on earth. And because we have a good life. A GREAT life. It’s just hard to remember that sometimes when this kind of stuff happens.”

He nods in agreement, eyes closing when he feels the press of the cool cloth against his throat; soft, feathery touches over the gathering of scars and tattoos and painful to the touch bruises. Before her, he’d never experience this; a voice so gentle, a touch so tender, eyes so loving. No one has ever looked at him the way she does. Not even having to touch him or even speak, yet so effectively letting him know exactly how she feels. It’s overwhelming. To be loved THAT much. And even now...after almost seven years and five kids...he’s embarrassed by the tears that well in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” Esme continues, running the cloth down the bridge of his nose, then along one side of his jaw, followed by the other. “That this is happening. The things going on in your brain. It’s not like you can stop it. It’s not like you can help it.”

“I haven’t been there in a long time. This place. This dark, hopeless fucking place. And I don’t know if I’m going to make it out. It’s dragging me down and it won’t let me go. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t talk like that, okay? Because that’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem. We’ve got you through this before. We’ve  got you out of that dark place. And we’ll get you out of there again.”

The tears come now. Slipping easily down his cheeks as she cradles his face in her hands; lips placing impossibly soft kisses across his brow and over his eyes; along each side of his jaw and then onto his lips.  And her forehead comes to rest against his, hands moving to the back of his neck and then into his hair.

*****

“It’s going to be okay.” she whispers. “You’ll be okay.”

“I fucking hope so. Because right now? I just want to put a bullet in my fucking brain.”

“That’s what you THINK you want to do. But I know you don’t. Because the last thing you want to do is leave those kids. I know that’s one of your worst fears; the kids growing up without you and forgetting about you.   And I also know that you love those kids  more than you love yourself. That you’re an amazing dad and you don’t take a single second with them for granted. You were given a second chance. A new life. And you don’t want to lose that.”

“They’d be better off. Without me. Without the bullshit that comes with me. All this fucking bullshit. The people I’ve pissed off. Guys like Mahajan who want me dead and will stop at nothing to make that happen. Who will hurt them to get to me. They don’t deserve that, and if I wasn’t around…”

“No. Stop,”  Esme orders. “Don’t go there. Don’t let your brain go there. That’s a bad place to go into, Tyler. Don’t even think about it . Don’t open that door. Because once you do and go in there…”

“Can’t you fucking see who I am? Why are you blind to it? I’m a fucking mercenary. I’m a shit person.  I kill people. For money.”

“You HELP people. For money. And sometimes, yes, you have  to kill. And it sucks and it’s hard and you always feel like shit after you do it. But you do it because you have to. Not because you WANT to. Not because you enjoy it. Would you rather it be you? Would they rather they kill you first? Or is that what you’re hoping? That someone will. So you don’t have to do it. You’re hoping that someone else does it for you. Is that where you are right now? Is that you’re head space?”

“I don’t want you to spend your life looking over your shoulder. Worrying about who’s going to come after you. Who’s coming to come after the kids. It doesn’t matter how many people I wipe off that list. It doesn’t matter if Anil takes out Mahajan. How many more do you think are out there? People that would love to get a hold of me and teach me a lesson? How many toes do you think I’ve stepped on? How many people do you think I’ve pissed off? You’re never going to be away from that. You’re always going to be a target. And so are those kids.”

“And I knew all of that going into this. I knew who you were and I knew all about your past and what you did for a living.  It was always right out there. I was in it too, remember? It’s how we met.  Right off the hop I knew everything I needed to know about you. Just like you knew everything about me.  And if I didn’t think I could handle it...handle YOU...I never would have stuck around in Australia after Dhaka. I would have left.  Pregnant or not. If I didn’t think I could deal, I would have been gone and you never would have heard from me again. I would have made sure you never would have been able to track me down.  You’re not the only one with a past, Tyler. You’re not the only one who has pissed people off and put yourself on umpteen shit lists.  The people I’ve lied to? The people whose lives I wormed my way into and who trusted me only to have me fuck everything up and bring in guys like you? Those kinds of people make Mahajan look innocent. So don’t sit here and act like you’re the only one who’s left a shit ton of burnt bridges behind you.”

“You’re not the one with blood on your hands.”

“The hell I’m not!” she argues, body and voice shaking with anger, tears threatening. “Who tracked down those guys in Dhaka? That had Ovi at that apartment. Who got people to trust her enough to tell her where Ovi was? It was me. I found out where he was and I was the one who sent you there. So yeah, I do have blood on my hands. Saju is  dead because of me. Because he had to get me out of that fucking shit hole. And you? What happened to you? That sniper, Farhad, the whole fucking mess? That’s on me too. And for seven years you’ve done nothing but blame yourself for decisions you made in Dhaka. Decisions you made for me so you could get me out of there. So YOUR  blood is on my hands too.”

He blinks at the vehemence in her voice.  

“You think you’re the only one with guilt? With regret? That you’re the only one who hates themselves for the way things went there? Every day for seven years I’ve felt like a shit fucking person for what happened. To Saju, to you. Every time I would see that scar on your neck or you’d talk about what happened or you’d second guess the choices you made, all I would think about is how much I hate for myself before being the one that  led you to the goddamn bridge.”

“You weren’t. It was the only way out of there. We had no other choice but to go there. None of that was on you. None of it.”

“IF I hadn't been there...in Dhaka...you wouldn’t have to make the choices you did.  You could have gotten yourself out of there. None of what happened on that bridge would have gone down. You don’t think I live with that? That I haven’t been living with? You think I don’t feel guilt or regret? That I don’t think it’s my fault that all this happened to you.  That I don’t think ‘if only I’d left. If only I’d pushed him away.  If only I didn’t let things happen between us’. You’re not the only one who thinks those things, Tyler.  Every time something goes wrong...every time some asshole comes after you...every time you get dragged back into this bullshit...I think about it. How what happened to  you on that bridge was my fault.”

“But it wasn’t,” he insists. “None of that was your fault.”

“You always talk about how you could have saved me from this life by pushing me away, by forcing me to leave, by not letting things happen between us in Dhaka. You think you’re the only one who thinks shit like that? That I haven’t thought about it? That I haven’t thought ‘if only I’d made him leave, he wouldn’t be going through all this crap trying to keep me safe’.  It’s all I’ve been thinking since all this shit with Mahajan started.  That I’ve I never let things happen or I’d pushed you away or if I hadn’t stayed in Australia…”

“If you hadn’t stayed, you’d be out there with my kid. My daughter.”

“But she’d be safe , right? You seem to think she’d be better off without you.  That her life would be better if you weren’t in it. Isn’t that what you said five minutes ago? That if you weren’t around, her life would be better. Did you not say that?”

Tyler  nods. “Yeah...I did.”

“You wouldn’t have known about her. You wouldn’t have known her name, what she looked like. Nothing. And that’s okay with you?”

“No. That’s not okay.”

“Had I walked away, you never would have known her. And she’s beautiful and she’s amazing and she’s so fucking smart and she’s so much like you. And she deserves having you in her life. Whether you want to be in it or not.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in his throat. “Of course I want to be in. She’s my daughter. My little girl.”

“Then why would you ever…ever...say that she’d be better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. She loves you. She thinks the sun shines out of your ass, for fuck sakes. She adores you and worships the ground you walk on and yet you turn around and you’d take yourself out of her life?”

“I just want to protect her. All of them. You.”

“And you think not being around would do that? Saju is dead and Mahajan still went after his family. Neysa and Aarav are in hiding because of him. What makes you think they wouldn’t come after me and the kids? You really think they’d leave us alone? You being gone wouldn’t stop him, Tyler.  He’d come after us regardless. And we wouldn’t stand a chance. The only thing you being gone would do is kill all of us. Because without you, there’s no one to stop him.”

“And you think I can? Stop him? Look at me.”

“I don’t need to look at you. I don’t…”

He takes her chin in his hand, in the curve between his thumb and forefinger, and turns her head towards him. “Look at me. Take a good look at me. Look what they did. What one guy was able to do. I won’t be able to stop them.”

“You’re not going to be like this forever. A week at the most, right? And then you’ll go back to being you. You don’t let anything stop you. I saw you on that bridge. After that sniper got you. You were already in rough shape…horrible shape...way worse than you are now…and you still got up and fought back.  Nothing stops you. Especially not when it’s about your kids.”

He sighs, then lays his forehead against hers.

“The only thing that you being gone would do, is kill me,” she says,  eyes closed as the tears trickle down her cheeks. “Inside. Because I don’t want to do this without you. This life. We have five kids.  We have a whole life ahead of us. We have a lot of years to go still. We have kids to put into college and to see graduate and get married and have their own children. We’ll have grandkids to spoil. And I don’t want to do all that without you. It’s not that I can’t; I know I can. I just don’t want to.”

“Baby…” he holds her face in both hands and presses a kiss to her brow. “...I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to say that shit. It’s just all too much. Mahajan, his people, the other night, the fucking nightmares. It’s weighing me down and it’s eating me alive and I hate what it’s doing to me. And I’m scared. Because if anything happens to you or my kids…”

“It won’t. Not if you’re here. And I just don’t mean, here, here. I mean HERE. On this earth.  As long you’re here, fighting for us? Nothing can go wrong. And I need you fighting us. Not just me and the kids. But US.”

“I don’t know how much fight I have left in me, Esme. I’m pretty fucked up. The other night? What the guy managed to do? That never should have happened. If I was half the guy I was seven years ago….”

“You’re better than you were seven years ago, Tyler. In every way.  One bad night doesn't erase who you are and what you know and the things you’re capable of. And I don’t know how I can drill that into you. I don’t know to make you see yourself the way I see you. How your KIDS see you.”

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You mean with the sun shining out of my ass?”

“Yeah,” she manages a small laugh. “Just like that.  Or through Addie’s eyes; shitting rainbows and glitter.”

“The day I shit rainbows and glitter IS the day I put a bullet in my head.”

“You have five kids that love you so much.  Five beautiful, amazing kids. That YOU helped make. And they’re worth sticking around for, aren’t they?”

“Of course they are, baby. I didn’t really mean what I said. I’m frustrated and I’m in pain and I just want this shit to be over with. I just wanna go home.”

“I miss home,” she laments. “More than I thought it would. I miss it just being us and the kids.  I miss the beach and sitting out there at night with you. I miss us. The us we were BEFORE all of this. When things were calm and we were happy and didn’t have to worry like this. I want that back. I want US back.”

“So do I, Esme. You have no idea how bad I want that.”

“It hurt,” she says, and nestles her face in the spot between his neck and shoulder, both arms wrapped tightly around his torso. “Hearing you say what you did. That your kids would be better off without you. Because that’s so far from the truth. It would destroy them if something happened to you. And I would never forgive you if it was by your own hand. If you purposefully destroyed our children.”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. I just said it. It’s been a shit few days and I’m pissed off and I’m in pain and I feel like a weak, useless fuck. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He runs a hand over her hair and presses a kiss to her temple. “Last thing I ever want to do is hurt you.”

“I just need you to hang in there. In a few days, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll feel so much better and you’ll be ready to get back out there. You just need some time; to heal.  You’re no good to anyone like this and you’re especially not good for yourself and you’ll put yourself in danger. You just need to spend a few days NOT worrying about the job. Just hanging out with me and the kids and letting everyone else figure shit out. It will be nice, don’t you think? Time with me and the kids?”

“Of course it will.”

“And I know you won’t stop thinking about it entirely. Because the threat is still out there. But you’ll get some time with your family. And it would do the kids a world of good having you here and I know it will do the same for you.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“I don’t ever want to hear that kind of talk from you again. Saying we’d better off without you. Because that is so far from the truth. You have no idea how loved you actually are. I’d give anything to take this all away. So your brain wouldn't be the way it is. I’d fix it in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would. And I AM sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That was pretty fucking stupid; what I said.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “It was. But I know you’re hurting, Tyler. And not just physically. We should go on  a trip; when all this is done. Just the two of us. Just get away for a week or two.  No kids. Just adult time.”

“That could be our making number six time,” he muses.

“It could be. If number six wasn’t already on the way.”

His body freezes against hers. “What?”

“I wasn’t going to tell you. Not until I had a doctor confirm it. But I was having all that PMS and it would go away and come back, go away, come back. Then I thought maybe I was just really stressed. Which I am. My stress level is the freaking roof. So when I started feeling sick and dizzy, I just thought that’s what it was. I mean, Addie’s only two and a half months and that would be really, really soon. But then again Millie was only two months when I got pregnant with the twins and…”

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“I let on things were normal. That nothing was going on. Because home tests aren’t always accurate. We had HOW many negative tests with Declan? So I thought I’d just keep it quiet and go along with it whenever you talk about having another one. That I’d just wait until we got home and I’d go see the doctor. And I also figured you didn’t need anything else on your plate right now, so…”

“You’re not joking, are you.”

Esme shakes her head.. “I’m sorry. I should have told you before. But there’s never really been a good time to tell you. So I just kept it to myself and…”

“Baby…” his hands find her shoulders, and he pulls back to look at her. “...are you fucking serious right now?”

She nods.

“Things haven’t been reversed yet. How did it…?”

“Doctor mistake? You never went back to check if things were working. Or not working. Or whatever. You were supposed to go back but Addie came early so you never did. So we didn’t find out for sure if you were shooting blanks or not, so…”

“I just assumed I was. I didn’t have reason to think the doctor fucked up.”

Tears once more sparkle in her eyes. “You don’t really think that, do you? That this is a fuck up? I mean, you wanted another one, right?”

“I don’t mean a fuck up in that way. I mean the doctor fucked up. Hasn’t he done one of these before? How hard could it be? You go in and shit or whatever. How do you screw that up?”

“This is kind of your fault too. I notice you didn’t tell me that we should have been using protection for a few months. The doctor must have told you that. He had to have told you that.”

“I mean, he might have. I don’t remember for sure. I guess he could have said something and I just forgot.”

“Well…” she shrugs. “...surprise. You’re going to be a dad. Again.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t know how reliable the tests are here. I’m assuming they’re fine and it was two pink lines and we’re pretty much experts on what two pink lines mean. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like THAT. Like you’re getting ready to flip your shit. I know it’s not the right time. But it is what it is. We’re having a baby.”

“Jesus Christ…” Tyler breathes, then pulls her into his arms. One hand on the small of her back, the other buried in her hair. “...are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about this. About ANYTHING. We have this uncanny ability of making babies at the worst possible time.   And if you don’t want it and you think we can’t handle it, then…”

“We can handle it. We’ve handled five before this. Millie didn’t come exactly at the right time either and we made that work. We found out about Addie in Ireland and that was pretty fucked up too.”

“You see why I need you around? THIS is why I need you. My kids need their dad. This baby needs you. I don’t want to do this without you, Tyler. We’re in this together. The two of us.”

“Well, actually, it’s three of us now, but…”

“Tell me this is going to be okay.  That  WE’RE going to be okay. That this baby will be okay. I need to hear you say it.”

He gives a small, reassuring smile. “The baby’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

It’s the first time arriving in Mumbai that he’s been that confident. About anything.

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Hello! This is actually my first time requesting on Tumblr May I request a Revali x Reader? I really liked the last one you did and I was wondering if you could do a continuation of that oneshot. I'm curious of how the party will turn out. Will the other Champions be suprised that Revali bought a "date?" :0

Ok so first off, thank you for the request, this one I really enjoyed writing. However, I got carried away with this one scene that kinda took over the whole prompt...sorry about that. I plan on writing one more part to include the Champions reactions like you requested, but for now, this is what I got. Sorry it’s not exactly what you asked for (I’ll try to post the other one tomorrow) but for now, enjoy?

An Enjoyable Ride: Part 2 of 3~

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild 

Revali x Reader

Upon the painted sky, the stars began to wake. The brighter ones had started to nestle into a murky blue sky, the fainter ones still fighting through the strokes of indigo and midnight. You couldn’t see the moon, perhaps it was still rising beyond the mountains. Journal on your lap, you flipping through all the sketches you had made of Divine Beast Vah Medoh, who now drifted across the sky. If you could, you would sketch some more right now, but your quills were currently under a hostage situation. Your feet once again swung through the air, since you were settled on the landing, the larger one that gave the view towards the Rito bridges. Apparently, they had recently named the landing after the great Rito Champion. Of course, when he shows up you won’t acknowledge it, otherwise his ego might ascend towards the heavens and never return.

He had said to wait here, and to show up with “whatever you think is appropriate for such a large event. But don’t wear anything red or pink, cause that clashes with my feathers too much, understand? He,y are you even listening? I—” 

Naturally, you had brought your satchel with your journal and a canteen of water. The leather strap sat across your deep crimson tunic, which you had worn out of spite. The air was crisp and clear, the only noises were the melody of crickets and sparrows, little wooden windmills sputtered in the wind. The sun had set a few moments ago, and the night was calm. Suddenly the wind picked up below you. You sighed, that’s about to change.

Revali arose with the speed of a gale, but was graceful and silent in his landing. He was wearing his colorful, ceremonial armour, his bright blue scar billowed in the wind. Once more he perched on the arm railing beside you. Perhaps he liked looking down on everyone from up there. He stood for a moment, waiting for your applause and praise that he never expected to come. Finally, Revali spoke.

“Well I’m glad you showed up. I was thinking I would have to start taking you books as well.”

“Do so, and you die, feather face.”

“Aw,” Revali cooed, “Look at this cute little scientist, threatening me. Well,” He turned and glanced your way, your eyes rolled at the tone of his mocking voice. “I’ll just wait until I need something from you again. But for now, I suppose I’ll heed your words, lest you do attempt to kill me with one of your many weapons. Wouldn’t want to confront something dangerous, like your journals, satchels, and boo—”

You threw a book at him. He caught it, of course, and he clicked his tongue. 

“Do you plan to be like this in front of the other Champions?”

“Depends, are they anything like you?”

“Ha! Everyone wishes they were like me, but alas... no one is.” He laid his wing upon his forehead, giving out and exasperated and exaggerated sigh. He tossed the book back towards you. Revali then seemed to notice your outfit, “Well, your clothes are nice enough. Something fancier would have been good, but what did I expect from some bookworm scientist. Did you pick the color just for me?”

You snorted, “Yeah, I don’t owe you anything but my presence, do I? If you're so worried I could always sit this out and come next t—”

“No-no, it's fine, I was counting on you wearing something comfortable anyhow. The winds can become remarkable strong when you fly up high enough”

“Fly...up?” You quickly stood up back. “Um, want to remind me where this event is again?”

“Hyrule Castle”

“Huh?!”

Revali cocked an eyebrow. “Well, where else do you expect a bunch of fancy nobles and Champions to show up?”

“Well I don’t know, I just expected it to be somewhere closer. Tabantha Village? Some large stable? How are we supposed to get to the castle by tonight so quickly?”

“I just said how, by flying. Do try to keep up.”

Revali turned towards the edge of the landing. He adjusted the scarf around his neck. “If you’re so insistent on being punctual, then get on my back.” 

“What?”

“Must I repeat everything? Want to head to Tanagar Canyon so my echoes can please your ear? Get on my back and let’s go. Unless you’ve suddenly grown wings of your own, in which case feel free to meet me there.”

An awkward scene followed as you tried to position yourself and comfortably as you could on Revali’s back. The best you could do was kneel on his back, your face uncomfortably close to his neck. He gave a long spiel about not damaging his armour, or shifting your weight  when in the air, along with an assortment of other complaints. 

“Also, don’t fall off and die. I’d hate to waste my precious time attending your funeral.”

“Aw, you’d come to my funeral? That’s probably one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”

Revali scoffed. “Whatever, just hold on tight.”

“Wait wait wait, before we go can’t we get a count do— OOOWN!”

The wind swirled around you, rushing through your hair. The gusts whistled in your ear as Revali gave a powerful flap. Within seconds, the gale lifted the two of you into the sky. You shrieked, feeling yourself become weightless in the air. Instinctively, you gripped tighter around the Rito’s feathers, your feet desperate for the safety of land. The world seemed to fall around you. The trees were shrinking and the landing you had taken off from was now the size of a doormat. Your ears popped as you ascended vertically towards the stars. After the gale under you weakened, the speed of your ascent slowed. Revali then arched forward, balancing in the air, you could feel gravity pull you back forward as the two of you angled more parallel to the earth. 

The wind whipped fiercely past you, the cold still heavy on your face. You realized, embarrassingly, how tightly you had held on to Revali, your fingers burrowed deep in the feathers by his neck. You shifted your hands, the movement causing Revali to look back at you.

“You all right?”

“Yes, just...pumped on adrenaline.”

Your eyes suddenly narrowed in irritation. “No thanks to you though. A warning would have been nice.”

“Ah, but we don’t owe each other anything, do we?”

You sighed, your breath clouded into the air. “Well as soon as this event is over and I get back my stolen stuff, then yes. We’ll be even.

Revali drifted through the sky, turning towards the southeast, towards Hyrule Field. The sky was still darkening from a rich, dark blue, a few shades darker than Revali’s feathers. It was a canvas, clear of any clouds and dotted with winking stars. The stone pillar that Rito Village wrapped around stood below you. Their lanterns had dimmed, but still faintly lit up in the night. Vah Medoh hovered above, glowing bright blue against the night. It’s colossal stature and steady but unstoppable march through the air, really earned it the title of “divine.” In front of you, the plateaus of the Tabantha Frontier made bumps on the horizon. Beyond them, the sky was still crimson, but the sun long departed at the eastern edge of Hyrule. Hyrule Castle was nestled in the distance, 

You were filled with a feeling of wonder. You were but a moth, drifting through an endless world. With the Hebra Mountains, towering ominously on your left, the two of you seemed truly, insignificant. Hyrule was vast and huge, even experiencing the spectacle of flight couldn’t trump the beauty of the world from up here. 

Looking back down at Revali, you noticed he was looking around as well. His eyes wandered the wooden huts of Rito Village. His usual smug or annoyed face (the two of which seemed to be the go-to expressions when around you) was now replaced with a pleasant smile. For once, he wasn’t tense, his body was relaxed and free in the air. Revali arched his wing to catch the flowing winds, seeming to enjoy the gusts flowing through his feathers. After a moment he glanced back at you, but when meeting your eyes, he quickly turned back around.

The two of you continued to cherise the sky. After several minutes of watching the world, Revali broke the silence.

“[Name]?”

“Yeah?”

“Um, savouring the view?”

“Wha- oh, yes. Yes I am.”

“That’s good, glad that you’re...enjoying this.”

The feathers on his neck poofed up. Revali seemed to focus intently on the horizon ahead, his body suddenly tense.

“Revali?”

“Hm?”

“Is this how you feel...everytime you’re in the air?”

He shifted, his eyes narrowed as he appeared to struggle in finding the right words. “Honestly, flight is something you take for granted as a Rito, even more so since my abilities can make ascent effortless. Most times it feels invigorating, but nothing more. 

“But, if you specifically mean the feeling of right now, in this moment,” he turned his head back towards you, “then no, it's not something I get everytime”

Revali looked back at you, gaze wandering your face. His jade eyes glistened in an unreadable expression. Then, he snapped back forward.

“I wouldn’t mind feeling it more often though.”

[oops-supercorptrash]

4x17 and Insight into 5x08

since tumblr deleted my post that i spent an HOUR working on, i have to rewrite it. I rewatched 4x17 and i feel like it really gives some insight into why Lena responded to Kara the way she did, and why Alex treated Lena the way she did in 5x08. Spoilers for both episodes under the cut, obviously. Trigger warning for abuse.

The episode starts with Alex coming to rescue Lena after she was drugged by Lex and tied to her office chair. Alex and a DEO agent rush to Lena to ensure that she is safe and alive, and Alex unties her. The DEO agent then hands her a letter that is addressed “Lena”. Alex then leaves Lena and steps away to open and read the letter. Not only is this a violation of the Fourth Amendment as Alex is there under DEO orders and there is no probable cause to think that a document addressed to Lena on her work desk would be in any way related to her kidnapping, but it’s also a violation of Lena’s trust. Alex had no right to read something that was written to Lena, and Lena never even gets to read the actual letter. Also, one would think that Alex would be more concerned about her friend rather than a letter that can be read at any time. 

Moving on, Kara returns to the DEO to offer her help searching for Lex. She and Alex decide to talk to Lena to try and get as much information about Eve as possible. When Kara turns to leave, however, Alex points out that Lena has been through trauma and she and Supergirl aren’t on the best of terms. Kara catches Brainy’s eye, who also looks sad for Kara’s damaged relationship with Lena, and agrees to let Alex go speak to Lena alone. Alex shows up at Lena’s office, goes inside, and reads a file off of Lena’s desk. Lena walks in and catches her, and Alex throws down the file and says “There you are. I went to look for you at the hospital and they said you already left.” Lena looks around at her scattered files and says, “I thought the FBI already went through all this. Have you changed your mind about me?”. Alex had no warrant, no probable cause, not even friendly justification behind searching through Lena’s files while she wasn’t there and not informed of the search. Alex didn’t even know Lena would be at her office. For all she knew, Lena would have made her way back to her apartment since she just went through a kidnapping. And Lena’s the one who apologizes when it was Alex going through her stuff!

Back peddling a bit, before Lena arrives at her office, she visits Lillian in prison.  Lillian begins the meeting with, “The reports say you were knocked unconscious. You were always prone to migraines. Is your head okay?”. This instantly trivializes the trauma that Lena just went through, gaslighting her and making Lena feel as if she was dramatizing the entire ordeal. When Lena tries to cut through the bull, Lillian follows up with: “Do you have to be so emotional? It’s disappointing.” She again hits Lena where she knows will hurt her. To further drive home her point, Lillian hits her with “I know you’re upset Lex outsmarted you.” She even mocks that he hurt her “poor little heart”, to which Lena replies “Well, at least I have a heart.” Lillian brushes this off yet again, claiming it’s an overrated organ that’s been romanticized by poets and frivolous women. Lillian then questions why Lena never accepted Lex’s many offers to work with him. Lena instantly responds “I will never be on the same side as you and Lex.”. Lillian knows this, of course, but chooses to mock her again, saying “Of course not. The only side you’ll ever be on is the side of your friends.”  pointing out the Danvers sisters as her first example. She continues, “Oh, what those besties would think if they knew what you’ve really been up to.” referring the weeks helping Lex and experimenting with the Harun-El. Keep in mind that Lillian is fully aware of Supergirl’s true identity. She’s beginning to drive the wedge between Kara, Supergirl, and Lena by pointing out that Supergirl will never forgive her for working with such a dangerous device and helping Superman’s worst enemy. Lillian is also playing on Lena’s fear of abandonment, something we know Lex has done many times in the past when they were growing up. Lillian knows Lena’s biggest fear is to be hated by her friends. “I can smell your fear, Lena. Doing everything in your power to make sure your friends never find out your complicity. They would hate you. Then you’d find yourself utterly alone. Again.” It’s obvious the tactic is working. Lena’s lip is trembling just slightly, and her eyes shine with tears. She lashes out, jumping up and snapping “This is foolish.” to try and claim that Lillian’s words have no effect on her. Tears nearly falling, Lena claims Lillian doesn’t know anything because Lex deserted her, too. But, with a smug smile, Lillian merely says, “I may be in prison, but I’m not the one who’s going to be deserted.” Knowing she’s lost, Lena turns and leaves before she can lose control of her emotions. 

This is why Lena reacts to Kara’s secret in the way that she does. Lillian has spent most of Lena’s life convincing her that no one but the Luthors’ will want her, that she’s evil and all her friends hate her to keep her complacent and willing to help them with their nefarious plots. But Lena argues with her, claims that Kara and Alex would never hate her, that they’d never keep things from her. This is because out of all of their friends, Lena wanted Kara to be the one friend that proved Lillian wrong. That despite whatever Lillian said, Kara would never hate her simply because of her last name. So when Kara’s betrayal came to light, Lena was absolutely crushed. It felt like everything Lillian had said must be true. Her best friend treated her like a Luthor after Lena spent years fighting the conditioning that she was unlovable, untrustworthy, something to be kept at arms length. Kara’s betrayal validated the years of mental and emotional abuse Lena endured at Lillian and Lex’s hands. 

Moving on to the scene where Supergirl, Lena, and Alex investigate Eve’s lab. Kara discovers that Lena has been making synthetic Harun-El. Lena admits to the project, but the evidence of the fear Lena carries that Supergirl will hate her for it is everywhere. She doesn’t make eye contact. Her eyes dart around the room, landing everywhere but Supergirl. She admits to the mistake, thinking that the truth would gain her more than lying would. She admits to it after steeling herself against Supergirl’s anger, reminding herself that she and Supergirl never got along. Supergirl immediately asks in Lena intended on giving Lex powers, and Lena explodes. “This is why I didn’t want to work with you,” she says, “Because every time I think things are getting better with us, you display an inherent distrust of my intentions.”. Kara tries to defend herself, but Lena points out: “You look past all the good we’ve done and see red whenever you feel vulnerable.” This is when Alex steps in, pointing out all the good Lena did with the Harun-El, saving both Argo and James with it. She even points out that she saved Sam, which is highly ironic considering in 5x08 Alex claims that Lena kidnapped Sam and kept her in the basement. This is enough to calm Kara down enough to actually hand Lena a real, sincere apology. 

“You’re right--” Kara says, and Lena is so surprised at the admission she actually says “Excuse me?” But Kara continues, louder. “You’re right. If you hadn’t made Harun-El, James wouldn’t be alive; you saved him in a way I couldn’t. I do see red sometimes, and it’s not an ego thing or allegiance or anything like that. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. And since Superman left and Lex has been free, it feels a lot heavier. If my enemies are strengthened, if I’m weakened in the slightest bit, I could lose. I just can’t...I can’t lose. I’m sorry, Lena.” Throughout this apology, we can see Lena is uncomfortable. She’s shifting around, not looking Supergirl in the eye, glancing at Alex. She’s trying to gauge if Kara is being honest or not. She’s just had a meeting with Lillian, who manipulates her at every turn. She isn’t sure what to believe. Lena is still struggling with the triggering event of facing her abuser, and this exchange has caused her to respond in a way that she would to Lillian or Lex’s attempts to manipulate her. This becomes more obvious after Kara’s finished, as she looks to Alex. When Alex doesn’t respond, only then does Lena accept the apology. This genuine apology surprises Lena so much she physically takes a step back and rocks on her heels. She’s nearly in tears again as she nods and whispers, “I appreciate that.”. 

Where is this Kara in season 5? This Kara, who explains why she did the thing that has hurt Lena (fear of failure), explains why she reacted the way she did (feels the weight of the world on her shoulders, and without Superman and Lex free, it’s heavier), and takes accountability for her actions (”I do see red sometimes, and it’s not an ego thing or allegiance or anything like that.”) Followed by a genuine “I’m sorry, Lena.”. This would go a long way with season 5 Lena. She needs reassurance that this wasn’t due to the fact that she’s a Luthor. Lena needs to hear that she isn’t what her family has spent decades telling her she is. She needs Kara to reaffirm that it was Kara’s mistake to not trust Lena, not Lena’s mistake to trust Kara. A simple “I’m sorry” would be better than Kara parroting back all of Lena’s past betrayals to her, digging in the fact that her best friend was just yet another addition to this list rather than being the one person who never hurt her. It wouldn’t fix things, but it would begin the long road to recovery and remaking their friendship. Are Lena’s actions excusable? No, she still broke the law and kidnapped Malefic. Are these actions explainable? Absolutely. Lena may never trust Kara in the same way ever again. Kara is a trauma survivor, able to relate to Lena in many ways. But the fear of becoming everything your abuser ever told you you were is a different type of trauma, and not one Lena will be able to shake in a few conversations. They need time, open and honest communication, and therapy. 

[kasiagrey]

Theory of Morga - Part 3

Warning: Morga Dawn of the Grub SPOILERS and other Routes.

If you are reading this, then I assume you have read Part 1 and Part 2 of this Theory of Morga post. If not, then I strongly urge you to read them before proceeding any further.

In this post, we will be addressing the possibility of if Morga cares for her son or if she is truly done with him…

I will be doing so by combining culture with a hint of psychology.

First, let us look at how Montag/Lucio views her. It is obvious that he fears his own mother, and rightly so…but does he fear her power as chieftain…or is it something more personal? Either way, there is also admiration for her. This is proven by the way he describes her in Dawn of the Grub.

As well as the fact he had a portrait of her made for his palace (even though the way he has her painted is a lie)…

But how does Morga feel about him?

Personally, I think deep down she still cares for her bratty son but is surrounded by conflicting emotions and personal reasons. I think it is safe to say it is no surprise she is completely disappointed with her son. One reason I strongly believe she cares for her son is the fact she allowed him to live. I mean, aside from the fact she shielded him in battle and such, this is the action that puzzles me the most...

Now you might be thinking, “holy shit, she should want him to live” and that is exactly the point I am trying to make.

Let me break it down for you…

Montag, after making a deal with a demon for their aid to murder his parents, challenges his father to a death match and wins; removing his heart to present it to the Wyrm. Then, he plans to go after his own mother, wishing to do the same to her. Morga knows this and she is even upset by all of this; at least as far as Montag relying on the help of demonic forces to get what he wants. She knows he is waiting for her to weaken just as Lutz did, but it never happens. When he confronts her under the guise of a concerned son, she has none of it.

She knocks him down and has her spear at his throat. However, the killing blow never comes…Why? Why if not for the possibility she sees the red-faced screaming babe she gave birth to at that moment? She could easily take him out then and there. She could put an end to his deal and everything that would come to pass, but she didn’t. Instead, she stabs her spear into the ground and tells him to run. She says she is giving a head start and to run for his life.

Culturally speaking she probably has an obligation as chieftain to execute her son, but she doesn’t. If that is not the case though, then we can at least assume given the tribe is based on Vikings, the leader must be ruthless and without mercy…something she DOES give her own son. Morga strikes me as the kind of person who would never show mercy or pity to anyone who dares defy her or even threaten her life, but for her own son she gives him a chance to run. For someone who was possibly raised to cut down her foes and spit on their graves, she certainly is being more merciful in giving him a shot to get away.

Continuing even further, if I am going to be honest, I believe she stalled her meeting with him over the years. Look, Montag claimed she was the best tracker he knew, and it seems that he wasn’t exaggerating. Pushing even further, we can say she has an advantage when it comes to her own son, a supernatural advantage.

Whatever the case may be, whether it be a mother-son supernatural connection or some crazy supernatural sensing ability, she could have found and killed him years ago.

I can only think of a few reasons why she didn’t…

One could be that she stayed with her tribe during those years due to her chieftain duties…

Or maybe everyone got sick shortly after he left, and she felt a need to remain there and do what she could. Maybe another war broke out and that needed to be tended too. Or the tribe was suffering some form of famine.

Or maybe she was stalling���

Right now, this makes me curious if the tribe is alive and well. Did she leave someone in temporary charge until she returned in order to finally go chasing after her son…or did everyone fall to the disease that spread and she is all that is left of their great tribe?

Even so, if the thought that everyone is dead is correct, it would have happened quickly. Lutz grew terribly sick within the course of ONE day and while Montag was waiting for his mother to grow ill, he was still among the other tribesmen…I imagine it wouldn’t take too long for everyone else to die out if it spread.

That said, either way you slice it, it shouldn’t have taken her SO MANY YEARS to track him down if she is just that good at tracking and is incredibly fast on her feet.

I really do think that deep down Morga doesn’t really want to kill her own son, but this is about her honor as a chieftain in a manner of culturally speaking…

Personally, I look forward to seeing how the Devs handle Morga meeting her Son in Lucio’s Route. I do have some ideas of how I would love for it to go down, but I could be wrong and I’m just being a wishful thinker.

Who knows? I might just make that as a Part 4 or just make it a separate post from the Theory of Morga and make it more like a “How I hope the Morga-Lucio meeting Begins and Ends for Lucio’s Route” kind of deal…

BONUS:

Morga…might be on the path of being the Chariot in Reversed. If the tribe is wiped out…then the only thing she would have left, aside from her own will power, is her son. While this isn’t necessarily bad, I can’t help but wonder where her mind is at currently. Is her finally pursuing her son some way to “end” everything? Is she feeling like she is losing control of her life given that home is no longer home for her in that scenario? Currently, in the game, she heavily represents the Upright part of the Chariot…but could she already be on the path of the Reversed meaning? If the tribe is gone, is she shouldering the blame on herself deep down????? Such a sense of responsibility would be a strain on the ego and the mind. No matter who you are, everyone has a breaking point...

[ofheroesandvillains]

What Is Owed - Steve Rogers

Steve/Anti-hero!reader (eventually) 

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: None that I can think of?

Summary: A damsel in distress…just not the one you’d expect.

Okay! So this is pretty short because I was thinking about writing more of these for different points in time when reader and Steve run into each other. That’ll make sense after reading. But please let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in! I’m not too happy with this part because I cut it down a lot for the next part, so it doesn't feel complete to me. But hopefully you enjoy it! 

(Gif not mine!)

On days like these you couldn’t help but think that they didn’t pay you enough to do your job.

Lately, you’d been forced to deal with a group of hired guns so moronic that you honestly wondered why your employer even bothered with them in the first place. This was well below your pay-grade, but you also knew that after a number of failed attempts at locating a certain serum your boss wanted, a simple slap on the wrists wasn’t going to cut it. They either got the job done, or they wouldn’t get the chance to try again - you’d make sure of that.

So here you were, all mean-faced and pissed off, strolling through the old abandoned warehouse (typical, you inwardly scoffed) to meet the leader of this little group. The sound of echoing footsteps alerted the guards and you were greeted with the barrel of a gun as you rounded a corner.

There were four of them, sweating bullets and clearly on edge. The leader was the scrawniest, and clearly the ’smart one’. He was quick to pull his comrade’s gun down to face the ground, hissing something in his ear before offering you his best smile - which turned out to be far shakier than you would have guessed for a mercenary. It did wonders for your ego.  

“Agent Nyx…the serum, as requested.” He wasn’t wasting any time and clicked his fingers at one of his men. He was quick to present a suitcase. They seemed to want to be there just as much as you did, so you were grateful for the efficiency this time ‘round.  

The leader watched on anxiously as you flicked the latches and eased the suitcase open. Your expression gave nothing away, and he found himself fidgeting when your impassive stare turned to him. He could feel the sweat building across the back of his neck.

“I-I also have another gift for you…” after a beat of silence and mounting anxiety, he cleared his throat.

“It’s an apology really, for our previous failures.” He quickly added, eager to finally have your gaze directed elsewhere.

“Well?” You cocked a brow. “Show me.”

He jumped as if he’d been shocked, quickly shuffling over to what looked like a storage room and shooting glances back over his shoulder to check that you were in fact following. He unbolted the door with a loud clang, and eased it open. You didn’t miss the way his eyes darted around the room. Paranoid, or cautious?

The sound of dripping water echoed throughout the tiny room, and the only source of light was a dim lightbulb, swaying from the ceiling and drawing attention to the only noteworthy thing in the room.

Definitely cautious.

If you focused, you could hear ragged pants entwined with the steady drip-drop of water. No, not water…your eyes zeroed in on the IV. You almost did a double-take at the sight of the man sat chained to the chair before you. You could feel the mercenary’s eyes on you, waiting for a reaction and hoping it was one of approval.

You hid your surprise and discomfort well.

“Captain America…” you murmured, slowly approaching his weakened form. It was an incredibly rare sight, and served to remind you that even he wasn’t invincible.

His pale eyes, glazed and drooping, were doing their best to stay open against the effects of whatever they had pumping through the IV lodged in his arm. You could see the recognition flutter over his handsome features for a split second, a slight widening of his eyes, a shift in his posture - little things only you could notice.

“N-Nngh…” he tried, your name on the tip of his lax tongue. Well, the only name he knew you by.

“Sh, shh…” you hushed him, and for some reason, he obeyed.

Tearing your eyes away from him, you shot your contact a practiced smile.

“You’ve outdone yourself.”

He practically preened at the praise. His men had failed your employer one too many times to go unpunished, but he’d hoped that this would be enough to pardon their short-comings. His shoulder’s slumped in relief when you confirmed that it was.

“You and your men are free to go.”

He didn’t wait around, spluttering a few words of thanks and farewell that you completely ignored, before all but launching himself out of the room. You didn’t care, it was better for you this way.

A soft groan captured you attention.  

You tilted his his chin up with your thumb and forefinger to get a better look at him, and watched as his head lolled back pathetically against the chair.

He groaned again. It seemed like it was the only thing he could do.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?”

His eyes managed to pry themselves open at the sound of your voice, and you sighed. You had a decision to make, and though you knew you really shouldn’t, you did anyway. The IV was eased out of his arm and he huffed quietly. You assumed it was a sound of gratitude, but judging by the grimace on his face, it may have been discomfort instead.

“Gi…ngh...gim-gimme a min…”

“Oh? To do what exactly?” You cocked a brow sarcastically.

Steve levelled you with the best glare he could muster. You rolled your eyes and moved over to help him stand. It was a tall ask, you both knew that, and Steve swayed precariously until you forced his arm around your shoulders and allowed him to rest his weight on you. You grunted at the effort it took to hold his hulking frame up, but tightened your hold when he tried to pull away out of guilt.

Always gotta be a goddamn hero…

“Stop it,” you snapped when the stubborn ass tried it again, “we need to get to the car, and you’re not exactly up to the task alone, are you?”

He heaved a deep breath but didn’t waste any energy on a reply. The sound alone was enough to communicate his irritation, exhaustion, and his defeat where your argument was involved. Instead, he let you drag him to your car. Exhaustion hit the moment he slumped into the back seat, and the soft rocking of the vehicle lulled him to sleep.

When Steve woke up it was to unfamiliar surroundings. The time was a mystery to him, but it was dark out. The room wasn’t particularly big, just big enough to fit the bed he was on, a small desk, and a dresser. The walls looked like they were made out of wooden planks, and as he sat up in his bed, he could see the silhouette of trees against pale moonlight through his window.

A floorboard creaked from somewhere outside his room, and he was alert once more. A hundred questions raced through his mind, but they were quick to disperse when his memories finally caught up to him. He remembered seeing your face, or perhaps that was just another one of his many dreams, maybe even a hallucination, he couldn’t tell. But his gut told him that he was safe, for some strange reason, he knew it was you - even if he had no idea how you managed to drag him inside alone.

He couldn’t tell how long he’d been out for, or kept incapacitated by those goons, but even if it had only been a day, Bucky and Sam were likely losing their minds by now.

They wouldn’t find him here for a long while, he knew that. You were too good at your job, and no matter how much Sam didn’t like you, if you wanted to hurt him you wouldn’t have been there busting his ass out of trouble…again.

He didn’t know how it started, this sense of trust. You weren’t friends, you should have been enemies, but Steve trusted his gut. He always had, and he always would. His gut told him that you were a good person in a bad situation, and maybe that’s why he found himself gravitating to you. It hardly mattered anymore. Even if you didn’t feel the same trust in him, he’d remind you every chance he got that there was more to you than you let on, and that you could have a friend in him if you ever wanted one.

Another creak tore him from his thoughts and he eased himself out of bed, leaning against the small desk as his word tipped from side to side. He screwed his eyes shut and took a deep, steadying breath. Better...kinda.

Slowly, he made his way out of the room and down the dark hallway, towards the only light in the cabin. His head was swimming again, and he opted for leaning against the back wall instead of trying to make it over to you.  

Your back was facing him as you emptied the suitcase’s contents into a duffle bag. He had half a mind to argue against you taking whatever it was your boss asked you to retrieve, but he was in no shape to deal with the situation if you put up a fight. There was also the fact that you’d gone out of your way to likely save his life, and it didn’t sit well with him, the thought of wronging you after that.

Just leave it for now, we’ll get Tony on it later…

Steve doubted that you hadn’t already sensed his presence, but still you refused to acknowledge him first. Stubborn little thing, he mused.

“Leaving already?”

You didn’t even flinch at the sound of his rough voice, confirming his suspicions. He was patient as you zipped the duffle, and bustled about the room to grab the last of your weapons. It must have been a safe house you were quite familiar with, and he felt a strange warmth seep into his chest at the thought of you trusting him enough to bring him there.

“Wasn’t meant to take this long to begin with.”

To anyone else, you would have sounded abrasive, but Steve knew better. He also knew that he’d unintentionally made your life that much more difficult.

“Thank you, by the way…I uh, I owe you one.” Or three, he mentally added.

Steve cleared his throat, a faint blush finding its way to his cheeks. It wasn’t unusual for him to go home with a few bumps and bruises after a mission, but being completely immobilised was embarrassing. Especially in front of someone who would likely have never found themselves in that situation in the first place. Someone whose opinion he (against all logical reasoning) cared about.

“Yeah, well,” you sighed, sliding your gun back into its holster, “don’t get used to it.”

“You say that,” he huffed, a small smile tugging at his lips, “but this is the third time you’ve had a clear shot.”

“And?” You cocked a brow and finally looked over at him.

Your eyes had a mind of their own as they assessed him and offered a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. It was certainly one you’d been trying to tell yourself you didn’t want. He looked a lot better, the serum was probably to thank for the speedy recovery, but you just wanted to make sure he wasn’t about to collapse on his feet. That’s why your eyes took their time tracing the outline of the arms crossed over his broad chest.

You tore your gaze away and tried to focus on the task at hand.  

“And I’m starting to wonder why you haven’t taken it.” He said softly.

So softly that it made you falter for a split second.

“Did you ever consider that maybe you’re just not that high on my list of priorities?”

His brows shot up and he uncrossed his arms, looking every bit the skeptic you knew him to be.

“Is that right?” He asked, doubt heavy in his tone. “Captain America is low on HYDRA’s list of priorities?”

“Don’t get cocky now, Steven.” You shot him an unimpressed glance. “Or else I’ll think Stark is finally rubbing off on you.”

He smiled at that.

“Alright, well, if it’s not that…” he pushed off the wall, and slowly made his way over.

You pointedly ignored the large shadow that settled over you - something he noted. A gentle hand wrapped around you elbow, halting your movements and demanding your attention. You heaved a loud sigh but gave him the eye contact you knew he wanted. There was a look in those clear blue eyes that made you squirm, but you refused to be the one to look away.

“Maybe…maybe there’s just more good in you than you say there is.”

You scoffed, and with a roll of your eyes you slipped your final knife back in its sheath - perhaps a little too forcefully.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Cap. I go where they send me, like you.” You pointed out with a tight smile, before throwing the duffle bag over your shoulder and turning to look him in the eye once more. “One day that might just lead me to you…and when I finally take that shot, I won’t miss.”

His smile fell, but despite your words, Steve could see the cracks in your armour. He wasn’t the only one that didn’t know what this was - this back and forth that you had every time you ran into each other (which was far more often that you’d think). But what he did know was that somewhere within the time you’d known each other, you managed to scrawl your name on the list of people he cared about. Now, that list was quite short and he doubted that you knew just how highly he thought of you, but if it ever came to it, he’d do whatever he could to keep you safe. All you had to do was ask…which he knew was highly unlikely in the first place.

Steve wasn’t a gambling man, but he’d wager that your words were nothing more than an empty threat. Because somewhere along the line he’d etched his own name on your list, and despite the hold that HYDRA had on you, you’d done nothing but go out of your own way to keep him safe on multiple occasions.

So, he ignored the small voice inside his head that told him to grasp the hand that lightly brushed his own as you walked by him, and he silently watched as you shot him one last glance before stepping out of the cabin. He’d argued with you before, telling you that you were better than this, better than HYDRA. The first time it happened, you’d shot him down instantly, but the more he tried, the clearer the cracks became.

You didn’t want this, he knew you didn’t. But it was all you knew, and there was a safety to be felt in familiarity. It would take time, he couldn’t force you.

He shook his head with a sigh and looked over the room for any trace of a phone or laptop in order to contact his friends. The only thing he found was a folded post-it note on a small coffee table. Steve frowned as he hobbled over, but it melted away into a soft smile after reading and re-reading the note.

Kraków, that’s all you’re getting.

At least give me a 24-hour head start…and stop getting into trouble.

He may have failed his mission that day, but it wasn’t the only one he had. If it was the last thing he did, he’d see you out of HYDRA, that much he could promise himself.  

[halcyon-travesty-blog]

I HAVE SEEN THE NEW DRAGONS MOVIE!!!

I’ve just seen what might be the best movie ever (I don’t live in the States so earlier release!!) and need to process my emotions and discuss discussable points through this rant post, so fairly obvious warning: 

SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING SPOILER WARNING

Alright, you have been warned. 

PS: an edited, spoiler-free version may be posted later

THE HIDDEN WORLD IS AMAZING! Such a beautiful story, a more-than-fitting conclusion to the epic tale of dragons, vikings, love, loss, leadership, growing up, acceptance, strength, becoming who you were always meant to be, and, perhaps most importantly, learning to let go and stand on your own.

I’ll try and sort aspects of the movie by paragraph but this is pretty much just a therapeutic emotional outpouring so here we go. 

First cab off the rank (although it may be obvious), the animation was incredible. The village, the Hidden World, every island and ship and dragon and outfit enriched with vivid colour and intricate detail. The outfits were a particular highlight for me (a la my post a few months ago about their battle suits - they look even better on the big screen); even the updates for characters like Valka and Eret were great. The obvious question I guess is: was the Hidden World itself worth it? A HUGE YES. I thought maybe it would remind me of another other-worldly movie (e.g. James Cameron’s Avatar), but it didn’t; all I could think about was how beautiful the world’s design was, with all the colours and lights, waterfalls and chasms and crystals and, of course, dragons. 

Grimmel was a good villain, nothing ridiculously ground-breaking or whatever, but not a bad bad guy by any means in my opinion. There were also three warlords who had employed him whose roles were very minor and pretty much just a way for him to discover that (prank!) he hadn’t killed all the Night Furies after all. The movie isn’t really about the villain though, he’s more of a plot advancer, a catalyst if you will. 

The Stoick and lil baby Hiccup flashbacks are gorgeous and serve almost as a form of conscience and inspiration for Hiccup: a monologue on love (sparked by a cute “are you gonna get us a new mom?”) that Hiccup recalls when considering letting Toothless go be with his love, the Light Fury, is particularly poignant. 

The Dragon Riders are wonderful and hilarious once again, and a particular highlight of the movie for me was how they were learning to work together more, a la Race to the Edge, especially (sobs) without their dragons. Astrid and Hiccup have many great moments together once again. For those wondering who won between Rufflout and Rufflegs: Ruffnut says she can’t choose between Snotlout’s ego (“I don’t know if he’ll ever love me more than he’ll love himself) and Fishlegs’s meek nerdiness, but at the Hiccstrid wedding says (or maybe jokes) that she chooses Fishlegs because she “likes sensitive guys.” The replacement of TJ Miller is nothing to worry about: it’s noticeable if you listen closely, but definitely not a problem. Ruffnut’s prisoner monologue is a comedic highlight, Tuffnut’s “boy talks” in regard to marriage! (more on that later) are also great, Fishlegs is pretty much just Fishlegs and Snotlout’s banter with Eret and Valka are fun. Our teenage adventurers have grown up, and with growing up comes responsibility, something I’ll explore more in...

Mature Chief Issues (TM)! Hiccup is a young chief with many balls to juggle: raiding trapper ships and rescuing dragons, a dragon overpopulation crisis on Berk, managing viking and dragon priorities, his relationship with Astrid (and the possibility of marriage), threats from enemies across the seas (and the target he has inadvertently made Berk), the legacy of his father (considered one of the greatest chiefs of all time), and (perhaps most importantly) his own self-esteem, acceptance and self-worth, fundamentally the question of his worth without Toothless. This is one of the reasons why I (and many others I suspect) love this franchise so: it deals with mature issues like responsibility and leadership in a meaningful and realistic way. When Hiccup says they’re all going to pack up and leave in search of the Hidden World, he faces opposition and doubt, and as the film progresses he must further contend with the conflict with Grimmel (and events such as Ruffnut getting left behind at the base) and Toothless’s budding relationship with the Light Fury. 

A lot of people have been complaining that the Light Fury has been ‘feminised’, and that she shouldn’t look like she does from a zoological standpoint. I read a particularly good post a while ago by a tumblr user who was a zoologist or something like that (no disrespect intended, just can’t remember exactly); if you can find it I recommend the read. I agree with the points made in those arguments, but can’t help thinking that her design is beautiful, and her personality is definitely not weakened. She glistens in the moonlight and fights with incredible strength and can turn invisible at will for goodness sake. Their love is sweet and wholesome and makes for a breathtaking flight sequence and a funny scene reminiscent of the Hiccup-Toothless bonding and drawing scene in HTTYD1. The dragon babies are cute (although I don’t understand why they’re each blotchy black and white when Night and Light Furies are apparently the same species, so therefore based on gender the kids should be one or the other, but anyway) and the Light Fury provides Toothless with someone to spend his life with in the Hidden World when the dragons go away.

Yes, it happens. We knew it would. “There were dragons when I was a boy” sent me into a flurry of tears, and Hiccup and Toothless’s reunion with their kids at the end of the movie was...I don’t really know what to say. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. The dragons go because, as Hiccup says, “The world doesn’t deserve you”. More enemies would rise to fill Grimmel’s place, and dragons will never be truly safe unless they disappear. I think most movie-goers will know deep down that humans and dragons aren’t going to end up living in the Hidden World together like Hiccup suggests; it is, quite simply, not meant to be. Toothless leaving allows him to complete his journey of becoming, in terms of being an alpha and literally standing (flying) on his own (with a self-functioning prosthetic tail). Toothless leaving is also the final step in Hiccup’s becoming, as he learns that he is strong, can stand on his own and lead, even without his faithful dragon by his side. It is hard, as Astrid says, but he can do it, because he has always been a great viking, and has the support of his friends and family. Letting go takes courage and maturity, but can sometimes be the only way you can become who you are meant to be. Hiccup and Toothless’s parallel journeys are truly something to behold. There is a lot more I would like to say on this, but at the current moment I believe I lack the eloquence to do so. In summary, the moment is beautiful and everything you don’t want it to be. 

On a happier note, THERE’S A HICCSTRID WEDDING!!!!!!! Following much jest and uncertainty (aka foreshadowing) throughout the film, Hiccup and Astrid have a beautiful winter wedding with the whole village present. Gobber cries, Snotlout cries, Fishlegs cries, I cry, you cry, everyone cries. Astrid’s hair is left down, the bride and groom wear white (don’t think vikings actually did wear white but they look awesome so whatever), there’s a couple of traditional viking things and then comes love then comes marriage then comes BABY IN A BABY CARRIAGE!!!!

The auburn-haired girl, perhaps 7 or 8 years old, and the blond-haired boy, maybe 5 or 6, joined their mother and (bearded!) father on an unexplained boat journey to the entrance to the Hidden World, where they meet up with Toothless, the Light Fury and their children and we come full circle, with the kids holding out their hands and Toothless leaning in, an image we know and love all too well. They fly together, we the audience are promised that dragons did exist and may return someday when the world is worthy of them, and the movie ends. 

One of my favourite things about this franchise will always be its maturity and the beauty in simplicity (aka a story of growing up and letting go). I can tell you from the bottom of my heart that this is one of the most beautiful movies I have ever seen and I literally feel privileged to have experienced this story. I cannot recommend it enough and intend to see it again sometime in the next week. More posts and analysis and etcetera will come (apologies for the hiatus - exams and Christmas and yes hectic), especially after it is released in more countries, and I hope everyone loves this film as much as I did. 

[ellanainthetardis]

I've got a prompt for vampire au: Please give me vampire!Chaff so annoyed by hayffie's antics that he's ready to bite it (if only he could). Because spending eternity next to hayffie surely sucks (pun intended) ;)

I reblogged part 1 and part 2 earlier (though you can follow the links). I love this au so much I’m always glad to be able to play in it. I might trasform it into something more constructed one day, I don’t know. {ff] or [ao3]

The Village’s King

Being a vampire came with enhanced hearing and,for the first time in more than a century, it was something Chaff could havereally, really done without.

“They’re at it again?” he sighed, leaningagainst the frame of his front door, stealing a cigarette from the packetJohanna was holding.

Why Johanna felt the need to come litter his front yard with her cigarettes wasanyone’s guess. He had stopped expecting serious answers to his questions threedecades ago. The girl was caustic on her best days and aggressive on her worstones. She was one of those he and Haymitch kept a close eye on because it wastoo easy for them to slip and stop hunting animals to go after humans. It was anice place they had found in that gated community, he and Haymitch would haveboth liked to keep it as long as possible.

“Do they ever stop?” she scowled, tossing thebutt of her cigarette and crushing it under her boot, flashing her fangs.“You’ve got to talk to Haymitch, Chaff.”

“Me?” he scoffed. “Why me?”

“’Cause you’re the oldest.” she said veryseriously and he became aware that they were being watched. The night was youngstill but already alive. He throbbedwith the thrill of it, the urge to seize it, hunt something nice, a deer or awild cat, sink his fangs into warm flesh…

“Mags’ the oldest.” he argued. Mags was almostas old as Snow himself but she was weak, thanks to their rival vampire’s ploys,and completely dependent on Finnick. She was no vampire queen and while he andhis one hundred and twenty-five years came after her in age… He was no vampireking either. He wasn’t the one managing this hive. He wasn’t the one keepingthe youngsters under control through sheer charisma.

“It can’t go on.” Jo hissed. “We all agree.”

“Oh, you allagree, do you?” he scowled. “Then why don’t you all get your asses over there and tell him yourself?”

Johanna rolled her eyes. “We can’t challengehim.”

“But Ican?” he snorted.

“You’re the oldest.” she repeated as if itmeant shit.

They might not have been running this gatecommunity like an official hive – they were certainly not running it like Snowruled his little kingdom of slaves – but there were still protocols to follow.It was ingrained in their nature. Vampires lived in hives and hives ralliedaround a leader. Mags might have beenthat in the beginning, after they had all fled Snow’s tyranny, but that hadbeen before they had starting taking in rogues and loners abandoned by theirsires, it had been before Mags had spent years locked away in a crypt becauseSnow had hoped losing their leader would weaken them… Losing Mags hadn’t weakenthem. Because they still had had aleader.  

And it certainly wasn’t him even if he was theoldest there.

“Give me a fuckingbreak.” he snapped. “Didn’t even drink any blood yet.”

And he would need coffee in it. A lot, lot of coffee.

“I’ll get you blood.” she growled. “I’ll getyou a fucking bag of O neg and somewhiskey to top it but, for fuck’ssake, go and talk some sense into him.”

He rubbed his face.

Youngsters didn’t challenge a master vampire,not if they valued their hide.

He was no youngster and, by right, he mighthave been considered a master too. He was a century old after all. But he had always been aware Haymitch was morepowerful than he was. Instinct was hard to suppress for them and his instincthad a very strong submit or flightresponse to Haymitch. Fight wasn’t an option because he knew he would lose.Haymitch was aware of that, it would have been hard for him not to be. He had been sired by Snowhimself and Snow was as old and powerful as they came. His own sire had been aminor vampire, not enough power to pass along.

They had long ago agreed not to let thatinfluence their friendship. Haymitch liked to pretend everyone was equal intheir little community. He liked to pretend he wasn’t their king.

Everyone humored him but everyone also knewbetter.

Even Katniss and Johanna.

“What do you want me to do here?” he scowled,flicking ashes off his cigarette with annoyance. “It’s only been a couple ofweeks…”

“It’s been threeweeks.” Jo cut him off. “She can live on her own now. If he can’t control her,then she needs to go. They’re bothering everyone. When they’re not screaming ateach other, they’re fucking loud enough to wake half the Village. Day andnight. We’re not animals. The way he’s behaving… He’s never been like this. Youcan’t tell me you don’t see it? She’s done somethingto him.”

He actually chuckled at that but there was noamusement behind it. “She’s done some things to him alright… You’re sure that’snot what’s bothering you?”

Johanna sneered. “Please.”

But her shifting eyes said it all. She had beensporting a crush for Haymitch ever since they had found her in New Orleans thatsummer thirty years earlier but he had never wanted to do anything with her.Aside from the occasional lay, Haymitch had never wanted to do anything withany woman that Chaff could tell.

It was the first time Chaff had seen him takingany interest in a woman like that.

And despite the incessant arguing, his friendwas happy. Sure, the shouting and the never-ending sex noises soundtrack werebecoming old… But Haymitch was happy.

“You’re so eager to kick her out, why don’t youtry challenging her?” he mocked.

“Like I couldn’t flatten her in five seconds.”Jo muttered, burying her hands in her pockets.

Maybe, maybe not, he mused but didn’t say that outloud, mindful of Johanna’s ego. The girl prided herself on being the toughestof their lot and it would have been difficult to say who, of her or Katniss,was the most powerful one.

But Effienow…

The moment he and Haymitch had walked into thatclub he had felt her and that had been beforeHaymitch had finished turning her. Given who her sire was… It wasn’t thatsurprising she was that powerful. Shemight not have been a skilled fighter but she had charisma enough that he wascertain it wouldn’t be long before she managed to develop a thrall.

“I’m not sure she’s the one you should be worryingabout.” he snorted. “Can’t see Haymitch taking it very well.”

“You’re going to go talk to him or what?” shespat, bringing them back on topic.

He sighed. “And say what? Look, you don’t like her, I get it, but I ain’t gonna marchover there and get my ass landed to me just ‘cause it all bothers you thatHaymitch is getting some.”

“It’s not about him getting some.” she snarled.“You’ve seen his neck? She uses him as a chew toy.”

“Whatever floats his boat.” he dismissed. Hehad his suspicions that Haymitch used her as a chew toy too, except the bitemarks must have been in more… discrete places.

“What if she claims him?” she insisted. “She’sthree weeks old and she thinks she can waltz in and…”

“Johanna.” he growled, putting just the rightamount of authority in his voice that the girl shut up. She glared at him andplainly resented the show of power but she blissfullyshut up. “Listen to me, girl. He’s a hundred and he’s her sire. She won’tforce him into anything he doesn’twant. And if he wants to claim her or let her claim him…” He waved his stump inthe air. “It’s about time he finds some good in this world. He spent half hisundead life taking care of all of your ungrateful asses who want to send me explain to him what he can or can’tdo. Newsflash. He can do whatever hewants. You know why? ‘Cause he could tear us all limb to limb and not break a sweat.”

Jo’s pout was an ugly thing. “So you won’thelp, that’s what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying it’s been three weeks, they’restill all over each other.” he grumbled. “It will fade soon enough. Now runalong and let me enjoy my evening in peace for fuck’s sake.”

He tossed the cigarette and stormed back in hishouse, slamming the door behind him for good measure. He had just finishedfixing himself some blood with his coffee when his too sensitive ears picked upthe echo of yet another argument.

He closed his eyes and let out an annoyed sigh.

He couldn’t quite make out what they werefighting about but he had figured out quickly enough that fighting was a lotlike foreplay to them. And, surely enough, the shouting match soon left placeto more straightforward noises. And even if he had been deaf, it would havebeen difficult to ignore the buzzing.Haymitch’s power was a familiar and comforting background hum that they had all gotten used to – it was comforting, it wassafety, it was home. Effie now…Effie’s power was new and nobody was still quite used to it yet, which lefteveryone on edge. It would settle eventually but when they were together like that… Well… Haymitch’s power seemed to throb and it was impossible to ignoreit.

He ate his breakfast and waited.

He might not agree with Jo’s methods or withthe cowardice of the rest of their friends who would rather push him under the bus but he could still see some stuff would have to be spelled out.

It wasn’t Haymitch’s fault. There weren’t a lotof couples in the Village and none of them were as powerful as Haymitch andEffie were. His friend probably didn’t even realize.

So when the buzzingreceded, Chaff took himself by the hand, gathered his courage and crossed thestreet. He hammered on the door until Haymitch wretched it open, sporting anirritated look and only wearing a pair of checkered sweatpants that seemed tohang low on his hips.

“What?” Haymitch barked, gruff. His grey eyesdarted behind Chaff to several specific points down the street where, no doubt,people were spying on them.

“We need to have a talk.” Chaff declared,crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Do we?” he growled, flashing fangs, clearlynot liking the authoritative attitude.

Chaff held on as long as he could but in theend, he licked his lips and forced his shoulders to relax, forced himself notto appear too confrontational. “Yeah, we do.Maybe Effie could quit eavesdropping and go visit Peeta or whatever.”

As if on cue, Effie emerged from theliving-room in a ridiculous pink dress and disheveled hair. He wasn’t angrywith her, unlike Jo he had nothing against her per se, but he was still annoyed to have to do this and he supposed it showed.She hissed because she felt threatened and then winced, shaking her head.

“My apologies.” she sighed. “I still havetroubles controlling… Well.. This…”

“It’s fine, love.” he dismissed.

“Not sure it is.” Haymitch growled, his eyes still staring at something behindhis shoulder. “The fuck is Jo lurkingaround for? ‘Cause if she’s got it in her head to attack my girl…”

“Nobody’s gonna attack Effie.” Chaff stated,loud enough to be heard three streets away by sensitive ears. It was an orderthat everyone would respect or regret defying.

“Better not.” he retorted. “Cause if they do,they won’t walk away from it.”

“Enough nonsense, Haymitch.” she chided,slipping past him, letting out a small purring sound as she did so. “I will beat Peeta’s.”

Haymitch watched her go and then stepped asideto let Chaff in, slamming the door shut almost pointedly. “What’s this allabout, then? ‘Cause if you all think you’re subtle…”

“Get an old friend a drink, yeah?” he snorted,clapping his shoulder. “Whiskey will do.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes but led the way to theliving-room, seemed to think better of it and then steered him toward thekitchen. Probably because the proofs of what had just happened with Effie were all over the living-room.

“I ain’t letting her go.” Haymitch snapped.

“Not asking you to.” Chaff shrugged.

“Theyare.” he spat, glaring at whatever – or whoever – he could sense beyond thewindow. “I get it. She’s a pain in the ass and I hate her most days. But if shegoes, I go. She’s never been to Paris, I might take her there.”

“You hate Paris.” he pointed out, taking a sip ofthe whiskey Haymitch had just poured him.

“Didn’t say I would stay there.” his friend scoffed. “She’s all fancy and shit. Might like a tour of Europe. It’sbeen a while since I did that.”

“You would never leave us for good. Not for Europe anyway.” he chuckled. “Stopplaying at being an old grumpy vampire.”

Haymitch smirked, amused, but it was short-lived.He soon grew serious. “I ain’t kidding. She goes, I go.”

“Nobody’s asking her to go.” Chaff temporized.“But it’d be good if you could keep it…. Low.Buddy, I’m all for you pleasing the lady but I really don’t need to hear asmuch as I do. Or feel, for thatmatter. Maybe you don’t need to… show offabout being an old powerful vampire that much or that often, yeah? I’m sure she’sgot the drift by now.”

Haymitch had the good grace to look embarrassed.He finally sat down and poured himself a glass, rubbing the back of his neck ashe did so. “She’s young, she’s still getting used to the vampire thing… And…”

“And?” he prompted.

His friend made the whiskey twirl twice in hisglass before downing it. “She challenges my authority. All the fucking time. I’m her bloody sire – pun intended – doesn’tthat go with instinctive respect or whatever? I can’t help myself. She defiesme and I just… You know. Show off, likeyou say. She’s such a pain in theass, I swear…”

Chaff sighed, snatched the bottle and refilledtheir glasses. “She’s powerful.”

“That too.” Haymitch admitted with a snort. Hedidn’t look sad or disappointed about it though. If anything, he looked happyto have find someone feisty. A good match.

“Teach her to keep herself under control, yeah?Work on that…” he advised. “She’s still feeding of you?”

“No.” Haymitch shook his head. “Well, yeah,sometimes. But I’m feeding of her too, so… It’s less about feeding than…” He waved that away. “She’s on blood bags now. She’snot big on it but she’s doing fine. I was thinking about taking her into townin a week or so, test how she does around humans.”

“We could take Peeta too.” he agreed. “He’s hada hard time with keeping off live human blood. We can’t keep him secluded hereforever.”

“Works for me.” Haymitch approved. “We can takeKatniss, Finnick and Beetee with us. Between the five of us we should be ableto control them if they lose it.”

“Alright. Good. That’s settled.” he nodded. “Now, back to the matter at hands…You’re my best friend and I love you but I swear I’m gonna walk outside indaylight if you don’t get your house soundproofed.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on…”

“No.” he cut him off. “We can’t do much aboutthe power thing until she learns to control herself but I won’t listen to youscreaming at each other or fucking each other senseless if I don’t have to. Forone thing, it’s giving me a hard on every time and I don’t have any pretty chick to take care of it. You’re gettingthis house soundproofed.”

His friend pursed his lips in displeasure buteventually gave him a brief nod, cheeks and tips of his ears a nice shade ofcrimson. “Fine. Alright. I’ll talk to Beetee about it, see what he can come upwith.”

Chaff almost rubbed it in but then he decidedhis friend had been embarrassed enough for the day. He nodded to the collectionsof vampire hickeys on his throat. “Jo thinks she uses you as a chew toy.”

“I’m hers and she’s mine.” Haymitch growled,almost defensively.

Chaff drummed his fingers on the rim of hisglass, choosing his next words cautiously. “You wanna be careful with all that yours and mine business when you’re biting each other… Wouldn’t do toaccidentally claim her. Eternity’s an awfully long time.”

Not that you could claim someone accidentally. It was very much like amarriage and only worked with the full consent of each party involved. It wasall in the blood after all.

A shadow passed on Haymitch’s face.

“Wouldn’t be that bad.” his friend muttered.

Chaff was surprised and didn’t bother hidingit. Yes, it was the first time he had seen Haymitch willingly enter a seriousrelationship and, yes, he had talked about that possibility with Johanna but…He hadn’t thought he was thinking about it yet.

“You’ve known her a month.” he pointed out.

Haymitch awkwardly shifted on his chair anddowned his glass. “The moment I saw her in that club I…” His friend stopped andshrugged. “Look, I know it’s stupid, won’t blame you for laughing at me, but… Ifeel like I’ve known her forever. Like… Like I was waiting for her or some shit.I don’t know if it’s because I sired her. I don’t know if it’s because she’s sodamn powerful it’s intoxicating. Ijust know I can’t lose her, alright?”

There was a hint of a growl in there, achallenge or a dare Chaff wasn’t sure.

“Still fuckingearly to think about forever.” he pressed all the same.  “Give it a decade or two.”

It wasn’t like Haymitch to rush into that kindof things.

“Ain’t saying I’m gonna ask her tomorrow.” hisfriend grumbled. “Just saying… I’m serious about keeping her here. And if theothers have got a problem with it…”

“The others have a problem with hearing youhaving sex and shouting at each other all the time.” Chaff insisted. “Get thatout of the way, it will go a long way into smoothing things over. They’ll fallin line.”

“Even Jo?” Haymitch mocked.

“Jo needs her ass kicked once in a while.” hechuckled good naturedly. “You know she doesn’t deal well with new women. Shefeels threatened easily. And she likes it even less when the newbies get allyour attention. It was the same when you brought Katniss in.”

She was jealous, in short, but he wasn’t goingto say that aloud. It wasn’t that her crush was much more than that but Johannawas insecure. She kept people at arm length but she was desperate to belong andwas terrified of finding herself on her own again. She was afraid of beingreplaced.

Haymitch had a gift to find strays who neededhelp. He also had a gift for finding kids who had a temper. Katniss hadn’t immediatelyfit in and she and Jo had butted heads more than once before they had becomefriends.

“She better get used to it.” his frienddeclared. “Effie’s mine and she’s here to stay.”

Which made her Haymitch’s official consort.

Which put her above Johanna in the food chain.

Which wouldn’t go down well.

With the Careers using their back yard as theirhunting ground, it wasn’t the right time for that sort of power struggle.

“Just get that house soundproofed.” Chaffbegged and then he couldn’t help himself, he laughed. “What the fuck did you break that last time?”

There hadbeen the sound of collapsing furniture.

“Coffee table.” His friend admitted.

“She likes it wild.” he taunted.

“She doesn’t like her sex life discussed andshe’s coming back.” Haymitch warned, about thirty seconds before they heard thefront door opening and closing. Surely enough, Effie walked in the kitchen,looking very much subdued. Haymitch frowned. “What’s wrong with you? Someonebothered you?”

Haymitch was very good at controlling himselfbut Chaff saw a flash of his fangs.

Effie was flushed and didn’t seem to be able tomeet their eyes.

“Peeta mentioned a few… problems.” sheexplained before pursing her lip petulantly. “Haymitch, why didn’t you mentionthe enhanced hearing? Are you aware everyonecan hear us when we… And… And what is this about feeling us?” Haymitch winced and Chaff burst out laughing to herclear irritation. “I fail to see whatis amusing! Truly, if I had known…Oh… I am never having sex again.”

“What?” Haymitch’s head snapped up so fastsomething must have snapped in his neck.

Chaff wiped tears of hilarity from his eyes buttook pity on her. She looked mortified.

“You know the buzzing you feel when you’re nearanother vampire?” he asked.

“Yes.” she nodded, half glaring at Haymitch andhalf squirming in embarrassment.

“It’s stronger or weaker depending on who it is,right?” he continued.

She nodded. “You are strong but less thanHaymitch.”

“Yeah, well… You’re not exactly weak yourself.”he snorted. “So when you and Haymitch get into a fight and you try to get theupper hand, you power throbs and the buzzing increase. You need me to explainwhat happens when you’re into that othersort of fighting or…”

“No, I understand.” she said quickly, flushingever redder. She cleared her throat. “We are very sorry for any inconvenience we have caused. Please, assure everyone it won’t happen again. Now, if you willexcuse me, I will go hide upstairs and not come out until a year or so.”

Chaff burst out laughing, shaking his head ather back.

Haymitch made a face and propped himself on thetable to stand up. “I need to go see Beetee. Now.”

He walked to Beetee’s house with him, planningon going to the woods to hunt himself something afterwards.

“For what it’s worth… I like her.” he told hisfriend.

Haymitch didn’t acknowledge that but hisshoulder bumped against his.

They didn’t need to talk to understand eachother.

[myselfinserts]

“Thank you for calling me back, Derek.”

“Thank you for calling me about this, Damien! You won’t believe what I dug up.”

“You found something on this Ceri person?”

“Oh did I ever. You’re going to get a kick out of this.”

Everyone was digging into dinner. Étienne tried hard not to let the slurping of soups and drinks get to him. But the noise was nearly unbearable. Nearly. It’d have been impossible if Ceri wasn’t there.

It’d have been better if he and Ceri were sitting next to each other. Instead they were on opposite sides of the table, with Étienne being beside Sylvie and their mother while Ceri was wedged in between Damien and Yvonne, the latter trying to flirt with him. Part of it was probably to pry information, the other part probably genuine interest in this man’s “rich” history. 

Of course she’d try to take my boyfriend, he thought. Wouldn’t be the first time she tried to do something like that.

Lucky for him, his boyfriend wasn’t the sharing type. 

“So where did you get the eyepatch?” Yvonne asked. 

“Étienne made it special.”

“Must have cost quite the pretty penny. I know my brother can be a bit of a calculating bastard and a bit of a miser-”

“Actually he made this as a gift. Not long before we became friends.” Ceri smiled, his fingers lightly dancing over the soft red fabric. “Used to wear these old bandages. They looked horrid and never stayed on right. I don’t have that problem with the eyepatch.”

“That so?” Damien snickered, glancing over at Étienne. “So when are you going to stop dilly-dallying and get a real job? Arts and crafts surely can’t be that good.”

Ceri glanced at him, a slight chill in his voice. “Whatever do you mean? He has probably one of the least appreciated and most respectable jobs out there. Being a support designer for some of the world’s top Heroes? Designing costumes and equipment to keep them from dying in the field and to help them protect civilians?” He let out a gentle hum, reaching for his glass of wine. “Honestly, I can’t tell you how many times Renegade showed up at my pub after a close call with a knife in his armor. If it weren’t for Étienne’s brilliant work on the Techno Age costume, that boy would be dead. And you should have seen the craftsmanship he put into Inkwell’s new gloves. Your brother is a truly fantastic Hero in his own right, if you ask me.”

As some of the younger nieces and nephews whispered excitedly, Étienne couldn’t help but beam. Ceri didn’t sing people’s praises often, so to hear any kind of genuine compliment was a gift in its own right. And the fact that they were directed at him was icing on the ego cake.

Okay, he thought, maybe I am getting a little ahead of myself. But can anyone blame me? The man’s a poet when it comes to stroking egos.

“So Ceri,” one of the cousins said. “You’ve known Étienne for a little while, right? I bet you talk about everything. Like, say...medical history? He was in the hospital not that long ago.”

“Not really,” Ceri shrugged. “Only things we’re comfortable talking about. We respect each other’s boundaries. I don’t go prying into things that aren’t my place to pry at. Unless absolutely necessary, but that’s rare.”

“Is that so?” Damien let out a chuckle. “I bet Compatibilia makes that quite easy.”

Suddenly the pleasant feeling that had satiated Étienne’s fears vanished. “Damien-”

“I’m sorry?” Ceri asked. “What are you-”

Damien held up a hand, smirking. “Don’t play coy. You’re that Ceri Aylward. The one from the news a couple decades back. The son of Tired Jack and The Crooked Theuchter, right?”

Everyone started murmuring. Warning bells were going off in Étienne’s mind. He had to get out of here. He had to grab Ceri and run. They couldn’t stay. Something was going to happen if they didn’t leave right now.

But he couldn’t move. He was frozen in place. Something was keeping him in his seat. 

He had to move.

But he couldn’t.

“A child of Heroes?” Yvonne’s curiosity was piqued. “That so?”

Ceri tried to play it off. “So what if I am?”

“My friends and I like looking into cold cases. Derek is a detective, you see. It’s a hobby of ours.” Damien gave him a pat on the back. “Your cold case was an interesting one. No one knows for sure what happened. You died and came back? Or just kinda vanished?”

Ceri smile was gone now. “I was away. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“I want to hear more though,” Sylvie whined. “Tell us more, please?”

Damien nodded, looking Ceri over. “Heard Tired Jack still hasn’t been found. It’s been, what, over twenty years? Probably never coming back. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Can we please stop talking about it?” Ceri asked softly, keeping his head low.

“By the way,” Damien continued. “You mentioned bandages and that eyepatch...why do you wear it again?”

“None of your business.”

“But we’re practically family now! Surely you can trust us. What’s under there?” Damien reached up. “My buddies and I have a bet going that it’s either a glass eye or a robotic implant. Let’s take a look.”

Ceri leaped to his feet, wincing away.. “No! Stop it!”

Damien wouldn’t let up. Soon everyone was on their toes, and Étienne managed to find the strength to get out of his chair. But the family was now blocking his path to distressing boyfriend. He pushed and shoved, trying hard to reach for him. Calling out to him.

“Ceri-”

“Stop it!” Ceri shouted. ‘Get away from me!”

“Let us take a look!” the family insisted.

“Got it!” Damien cheered triumphantly, holding up the eyepatch.

The room went silent as Ceri fell to the floor.

Grey.

Everything was grey.

Grey and heartless. 

Much like that basement.

Ceri remained still as he sat in the court room. He hated that he had to let them see what happened to him. He hated being so open. So bare. But he had to show them the damage to his face at the very least. Otherwise nothing could be done. 

He was thankful that Parisa and the Elemental Geodes had agreed to be present for the trial. And that it was Cindra who would remove the facial bandages. He remained quiet as the entire room let out a collective gasp. 

“Blimey,” one of the jurors whispered. “He looks like a piece of old jerky on the right side of his face.

“These are but a fraction of the injuries inflicted on this boy in his three years of confinement,” the prosecutor stated. “Among the facial scarring and the missing eye, he’s also suffered several broken bones in his arms and legs, cuts along his arms, unidentifiable wounds on his back, a missing toe, and weakened hearing in his right ear. He’s also maintained several injuries to his ribs-”

Ceri began to tune out the attorney, trying hard not to burst into tears as the whispering and snide remarks continued. He wanted to cover his face. He wanted to run. He had to leave. He had to find his papa. He needed him.

“Papa...help...”

I want my papa back.

“Mr. Aylward? Are you alright?”

Ceri snapped out of his thoughts, glancing up at the judge with a blank stare. Salt water stained the left side, trailing along the scar that divided his left eye from the rest of his face. 

He could still feel the cold steel of the butter knife. 

“May I ‘ave my covers back now, sir?” he muttered. “And a brief moment to recompose myself?”

“Of course. We’ll have a thirty minute recess and then reconvene.”

The gavel came down. Cindra brought back the bandages. Inkwell escorted him out of the courtroom and to the back, fetching him a bottle of water as they went.

The moment he was out of the eyes of the courtroom, Ceri sank to his knees and wailed.

“Holy shit! His face looks like a giant raisin!”

Étienne shoved everyone out of the way, a look of fear on his face as he saw Ceri sitting on the floor staring up blankly at everyone. It was as though he wasn’t even there in the dining room with them. 

Which might be for the best, given the buzzing. 

“What a shame. He’s got such a handsome face otherwise.”

“Kind of looks like melted mozzarella, doesn’t it?”

“Mommy, what’s wrong with his face?”

“Come on now,” Damien chuckled. “It doesn’t look that bad. Lots of people like raisins.”

Ceri slowly curled up on himself, looking down at the floor as his eye filled with tears. His lip quivered slightly. He was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Damien sneered. “Come on, it’s just a little harmless fun. What’s gotten into you?”

Ceri curled up even more, his hair hiding his face as he let out a whisper, barely audible. So soft, Étienne almost missed it.

“Papa...help...”

Étienne knelt down and pulled Ceri to his feet, wrapping his blazer around him as he whispered soothing words to him, escorting him out of the dining room. 

“Oh come on now,” Damien laughed. “It was just a joke! Just some tongue and cheek to welcome in your boyfriend. No harm no foul, right Scabby?”

Étienne stopped in the doorway for half a second, leaving Ceri just long enough to storm over to Damien and swipe the eyepatch back, leaving a decent back handed mark on his brother’s face as equivalent exchange. Before anyone could react, he took Ceri and grabbed their things, leaving the house and getting down the street and into a hidden nook in the ally so they could have some privacy.

“It’s alright,” Étienne said, helping put the eyepatch back on. “You’re safe now, Ceri.” 

“...You were right,” Ceri muttered. “We shouldn’t have come...I’m sorry...”

“No. You were right in insisting we go.” Étienne pulled out a handkerchief and began to wipe the tears away. “If we didn’t, I wouldn’t have found out just how despicable Damien could be...” He glanced to the ground, the sting of tears pricking at his eyes. “I’m sorry you ended up getting hurt because of that though...and I’m sorry for not acting sooner and keeping you safe...”

Ceri shook his hear, lightly caressing his cheek. “Hey...don’t go crying for me...I’m not worth the tears.”

Étienne reached up to feel. Indeed, his cheeks were damp. 

But he didn’t care. 

“Believe me,” he muttered. “You’re worth crying a thousand tears for.” He managed a smile, lightly pressing their foreheads together. “How about after we’re done crying, we go bar hopping and get plastered before heading home.”

Ceri barely managed a grin. “Not too plastered. We still have to walk home.”

“Not too plastered. I promise.”

[nightmaresindreamland]

HC: ‘Fear Juice’, What It Is And What It Does

[x] | [x] [x]

Introduction

Nightmare has no organs, no bones, no flesh. No a single part of him is technically organic. This is because he is made up entirely of magic— basically, anyways. This magic is simply called ‘Fear Magic’ because it is based off the user’s fears. In order to be used, the caster must have previously undergone specific rituals to store up this magic or must be subjected to seeing their fears at that specific moment. Nightmare, the biggest and most well known user of this magic, is not subject to this due to his nature as a fear demon; something that gains magic from others feeling scared.

With being an extremely powerful sorcerer whose blood is magic means that he can do some strange things. One of said things is the creation of ‘fear juice’. If Nightmare wills it, he can slightly liquefy part of his body (ex. his finger) and cause it to drip. When it drips, it will start off as metal before turning into a starry, purple mixture (see above). Using certain technologies, this process can be forced to happen, even so much so that it can reduce an entire wizard to a puddle if done correctly.

This is pure fear magic condensed into liquid form. If that doesn’t automatically sound nasty, then I don’t know what would. This stuff landing on your skin won’t do much of anything, but got forbid you get it in your mouth or nose. If fear juice is ingested, to any degree, there are horrible effects.

Lets go through that.

Ingestion

Fear juice has a terrible taste as to keep people from drinking it. It’s sour like year old rotted milk, with a consistency that always seems to change depending on whoever’s drinking it. It will instantly want to make whoever’s drinking it vomit. 

If for some reason they do not instantly vomit out the fear juice and manage to get it down their gullet, then things start. 

Initial Pain

Intense full body pain will occur only after all fear juice given has been put into body. Pain will not start instantly. If there is a waterfall of fear juice being put into one’s body, the pain only begins once it stops.

Pain is caused by bones and bodily organs forcibly shifting from one point to another, unnaturally so. Bones may be broken and vitals may be ruptured, but no matter what, the consumer does not die. 

This is the stage where those who consumed fear juice mutate into a beast of body horror. Transformation can be long or short depending on what the person’s end product looks like and what they’re made out of.

Bodily Mutation

All results are seemingly random. Like a mystery bag, never know what horror you might get. Some features include the following:

Extra limbs or lack of limbs

Additional facial features (eyes, noses, mouths)

Sometimes these extend to places that are not on the face, and can be found on other places on the body.

Body elongation (vertical, horizontal, or both)

Random change of body texture (from skin to goo, from fur to scales, etc)

Random protrusions 

Morphing of clothes into skin

Loss of senses / gaining of senses (additional eyes, ears, etc)

Additional body masses 

Retractable skin

Bones being forced outwards, piercing through skin if sharp or rubbing through if dull

Stomach skin being pulled apart to reveal bodily organs

Organs / inner body being replaced by goo

And much, much more.

An increased amount of fear juice consumed results in more of these traits being prevalent in the end product.

Behavioral Mutation

Those that consume fear juice will be in control of their actions directly. They are not possessed, they are seemingly influenced and moreso driven. The effects of fear juice have a harsher pull on the mind the longer one has it in their system.

The first few minutes after transformation will have it so the consumer is incredibly moody and angry. They will be drawn to attack the one who made them this way (if the transformation was unwilling) or anyone around them who has wronged them in some way. If no one is around, they will search for someone.

The first half hour is random, and seemingly based on strong personality traits. 

Consumers with a desire to protect others above all will search out those they value and possessively protect them to the point where if their protection is rejected they will kill the person they were protecting.

Consumers with a high level of heroism / desire to do good will seek out those they find evil and force reckoning upon them for their wrongdoings.

Consumers with a lot of pacifism will hide themselves away for fear of others seeing them, and if anyone DOES see them, said person will be slaughtered for the greater good.

Consumers who love humor above all else will gather many people to be infront of them and tell jokes. Those who do not laugh are subjected to torture or general bodily harm.

Consumers who are constantly angry are just. On a rampage destroying whatever makes them angry. People, objects, anything. 

Consumers who desire for progressiveness will attempt to annihilate any local authority before turning to anyone who opposes their ideologies.

Consumers with a desire to gain power and grow their ego will act accordingly to their mutations and use it to terrorize people into submission for their entertainment, or instantly go out and seek more juice to consume.

The list goes on, but consumers personality traits are taken and twisted to the worst possible way. They will be in full control of whether they fall into these tendencies, and consumers with extremely strong wills can stray away from any undesirable results. It’s said that the desire to do these things ‘is as natural as wanting to get a drink of water when parched’.

The following hours that come make it so it’s increasingly harder for the consumer to not fall into these desires, and make the consumer more and more outwardly violent and angry. Consumers may not be unlike a wild animal as time wears on. 

People who the consumer loves very much can temporarily stun the consumer’s violence with their presence, causing calm, but prolonged exposure to loved ones causes this effect to dull until it is nonexistent.

Consumers will feel an extreme desire to procure more fear juice the longer they are without a ‘fix’ and the feeling of getting more is an addicting feeling. 

Consumers feel compelled to gain as much juice as possible, which is something only obtainable via fear demons (ex. Nightmare, his creations, fellow fear juice monsters). They will actively hunt down these sources and viciously fight with them for more, even if the juice was given willingly in the first place.

If the consumer recieves more juice, they will be seemingly contented with themselves with however much more they get, no matter the amount (unless they are a megalomaniac). The more consumed whilst still a monster will cause further mutations and further pain, but allows for more ‘power’ to be obtained.

Reversal

In order to remove fear juice from one effected by it, the consumer must get the everloving shit beat out of them. They must be turned into what is essentially a bloody pulp. This is typically easier said than done.

However, removal of fear juice can also be done via a very specific magic that only Mirrormare knows. It involves making a singular cut along whoever is effected and causing fear juice to flood out. Contacting him and asking for fear juice removal is typically the safest, least stressful way to deal with reversing a consumer.

Post-Effects

Once juice is removed from the consumer, they will turn back to their normal form, completely unchanged. Though they will feel aches and generally feel tired. Those who gain extra limbs will feel phantom pains upon their removal.

Those who have stayed within their monster forms for elongated periods of time may feel greatly weakened, along with a pull to return to their previous, ‘powerful’ form. 

Consumers with confidence issues in self and abilities are much more susceptible to this desire rather than those that are confident in their normal body. 

These desires and the length of their stay in the consumer is entirely determined by the user’s will and personality. Intrusive thoughts about consuming more juice and returning to their monster form are very common. Whether these thoughts are acted upon are determined, again, by the person’s will and personality.

Concentration

There are two brands of fear juice; purple and yellow. It’s pretty obvious which belongs to which. 

There is one very significant difference between the two colors. Comparing them would be like comparing a bottle of beer to a bottle of vodka. One has more alcohol content than the other, and can effect someone faster and much more intensely with one bottle.

Purple is beer and yellow is vodka in terms of content. Purple may knock you around, but yellow will destroy you up even in the smallest dosages. 

But consuming either is not a smart decision.

Additional Notes

Fear juice is liquid. It cannot be turned into a solid no matter how much one tries to freeze it. This is because Fear Juice in it’s ‘solid’ form is Nightmare. And no matter how much you freeze a liquid, it’s not going to turn into Nightmare. Sorry.

It can, however, be turned into a gas. The boiling point is 287° Celsius (548.6  Fahrenheit) and will return to liquid state starting at 30° Celsius (86 Fahrenheit). This gas looks like glitter, dyed with its respective yellow or purple coloring.

[lordsicheng]

Raindrops

JBJ Break Up/Make Up Series: (1/7)

Kim Donghan

word count; 1,885

a/n: the other series (holidays w/ jbj) is on queue so yes i’m putting this up first as well as an intro wew

He couldn’t believe it; the rush of anxiety flowing through his body the moment he had arrived in the apartment, face slowly looking pale as he looked around. All your belongings, your clothes, your presence… gone. He ran towards the bedroom to see no sign of any of your items, frantically opening the closet and noticing all your clothes had been removed. His heart started to beat faster, running back to the living room to see any note from you, and then off to the kitchen, and yet he could not find any.

“What have I done?” he thought, comprehending his fault from the night before.

A mistake he had made that he knew he will regret for the rest of his life. His own self, enraptured mindlessly over another woman he had only met months before. Only to be caught by his one, true love; blinded by his slip for too long. His guilt had risen up in a rush, unconsciously punching the wall with his bare knuckles out of anger. Despite his hand becoming sore from his blow, he did not feel the pain. Instead, he felt a different kind of pain. He had lost the only person he had given his entire world to.

He had lost you.

-

No single call. No single text. Nothing.

You looked at your phone and stared at the photographic memories you have had with Donghan, heart throbbing in twinge because you could not accept what he had done. He had cheated, in the most unexpected way. In your mind, he must have known that what he was doing will get him into consequences. But what was done, is done. You have had enough of his lies and his selfish ways. He may have treated you like the usual and yet in your conscience, it was not the same as it was before.

You stopped at a video you took of yourselves, laughing while playing with an app where you both had animal ears on. A video you took during your last anniversary.

“I love yooooou y/n!”

“Shut up, Donghan!”

“Say it back or I’ll kiss you!”

“Do it, then!”

You paused the video the moment his lips came in contact to yours, a smile plastered on his face as he leaned in. You bawled your fist in anguish, slowly realizing that you had loved him. So much. But what he did to you was hard to forgive, and you had enough. You took a deep breath and slowly let it out, looking at your thumb shake and not able to press that one button on your screen. You thought, otherwise, and realized that you needed to move on.

And in one click, the video was gone.

-

In Donghan’s mind, he clearly knew he made the biggest mistake he could. He was restless, afraid of contacting you for he knew you were broken up inside. And yet, he found it difficult to put back all of it. He had broken your trust, and he definitely lamented over it. It had been three days and he had not left the apartment. He was remorseful, often silently crying to himself as a force to sleep and try to get rid of any memory with you.

But he couldn’t.

He loved you. He wanted to be with you. He always cherished you and he was very happy that you had come to his life. He may sometimes become cold for no reason, but deep down in him, he always cared about you even if you least expected it.

A knock was heard from the front door, but he didn’t move. He only stayed in his seated position on the sofa, not caring to even answer the door. Several knocks were heard after, and yet he still did not look. One swift push of the door swung it open as his friend saw him looking much most distressed before, immediately closing the door and running towards Donghan as he crouched down to look him in the eyes, Donghan only able to blink twice in a daze

“What the hell happened?”

His friend asked, but he didn’t answer. His friend looked around and saw that most of the belongings in the apartment were gone, taking notice that you were already gone. He stood up and bit his bottom lip, looking down on Donghan in pity

“How long since she left?”

“Three days…”

Donghan replied faintly, voice hoarse from not speaking for the past days

“How long since you have not left this place?”

“Three… days….”

Donghan felt his heart drop at the realization that you were gone. It may had only been three days, but he longed for you every single day. His mood was always up whenever he saw you when he got home, even better when you greeted him with a smile. He needed your touch, your hugs, your kisses. It was his happiness to be with you all the time. And yet he ruined it with a fault that possibly could never be forgiven. His friend grabbed him by the collar, shook him and tried to snap him out of it. Donghan’s eyes started to tear as he looked at his friend, instantly penitent with embarrassment

“I don’t know what to do, Sanggyun…” he whispered, feeling his body weakening

“You should be ashamed of yourself. If you loved her you should not have done this.”

The words his friend uttered became repetitive in his mind, suddenly infuriating him all of the sudden. He rapidly threw a punch to his friend, making him fall to the ground and hold his jaw in pain. Donghan suddenly grabbed a wooden stool from the side and threw it to the wall, breaking it as a frame was also hit, falling and breaking its glass to the floor. His friend understood how he felt and could only look at Donghan, slowly standing up before he started to speak

“I’ll help you. Whatever it takes.”  

-

It had already been two weeks since you had left Donghan, crashing in with your best friend while you were still on a hunt for a new place. You sat by the window and watched the water from the rain drag down, not feeling anything particular. As your friend continued on cooking, she heard the doorbell ring and paused everything to open it. Her eyes widened the moment she saw Donghan, all wet from the rain as he looked back at her with sadness in his eyes

“I know she’s here.” he sighed as he shivered from the cold

“She doesn’t want to see you.” she fired back, remaining on her stance

“Please, just this once..” Donghan begged, trying to catch a look inside the apartment to try and look for you

“Go away or I’m calling the police!” your friend yelled, startling Donghan from his search

“It’s alright. I’ll talk to him.”

You stood from afar, looking at your friend and then to Donghan. Your heart dropped at how weak he looked and you knew it was because of you suddenly leaving. But you remained calm, knowing he had made a mistake that you couldn’t grasp on and absolve. You slowly walked towards the door and looked at your friend, her only able to groan and give Donghan a stink eye before leaving.

You slipped yourself out of the apartment and closed the door behind you, leaning on the door without looking at Donghan who stood right in front of you, in a slight relief that you were alright. You both just stood in silence, wanting to say many things to each other, but you were afraid you were gonna end up in fury once again.

“I’ve made the most horrible mistake.” he admitted, looking at you with plead, but you didn’t respond back

“Please speak to me.” he pleaded again, and yet you still had not given a response

“I can’t take back what I have done. I know I’ve broken you. But please, at least tell me why you left without a word.”

“Put yourself in my shoes, Donghan. How would you feel if you were cheated on by the love of your life?” you looked up at Donghan in anger, and he could only look at you blankly

“I’ve done everything. I’ve sacrificed so many things to be with you. And yet you still aren’t satisfied?” you bawled your shaking fists, preventing yourself from screaming

“I’ve had enough, Donghan. It could have been the slightest mistake, but you’ve searched for another. And I can’t bring myself to forgive you.” your voice weakened as tears started falling from your eyes, Donghan’s heart aching in pain from the sight of your breakdown

“Y/n, I know you won’t forgive me easily. But please, give me a chance.” he took a step closer to you and gazed into your eyes; a gaze that you’ve been longing for the past weeks, hitting your heart as you had missed him so much

He leaned in and kissed you as he put his hand on the door to your side, deepening as he had missed your soft lips in contact with his. You let him kiss you and shook a bit, admitting that you also felt the same. But a hit in your gut told you that this was wrong, everything was getting wrong.

He did wrong. You couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. He had never explained to you why he did such a thing. You were blinded by his actions that tried to hide everything.

You pushed him away, making him confused as to why you did so

“I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. It’s over, Donghan. Goodbye.” you opened the door behind you and immediately closed it, leaning back and slowly dragging down into a seated position

You try to get yourself to love him back the way you did before because what he had done was something you were afraid of happening. And yet, it did happen. You coughed out in pain, breaking into a sob that made your friend run out of her room and towards you, crouching down to grab you into her arms to calm you down.

But how can you calm down when you had been deceived for too long by someone you loved with all your heart with?

You felt your world shatter into pieces the moment you found out and you couldn’t help but walk away, afraid to face him in the end. He definitely knew what he was doing, you thought. Realizing he had done wrong, he broke every contact he had with the other woman; but it was too late. His ego got to him and he shattered your relationship in one blow, difficult to put back.

He heard your cry from outside as the rain began to pour harder, him not able to move. He was done with waiting for you to come back to his arms. He couldn’t bear hearing your bawling, so he turned to the rain to walk away, not caring if he were to get sick since he knew he deserved it. He deserved everything that had happened to him for the past two weeks. But one thing in his mind came up, that he knew he didn’t deserve.

He didn’t deserve you.