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r0-boat · 6 months ago

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helllooo fellow Male Byleth lover, could I by any chance have s/o taking care of a sick Male Byleth? I just want to cuddle this man, check his temperature, kiss his cheeks, rub his shoulders, hold his hair out of the way as he's sick, I want to PAMPER HIM. CAN YOU help me wAtEr mY crops please they are dying? I just want to be his wife -Ichi <3

OH MY GOD YOU'RE THE FIRST PERSON TO ACTUALLY ASK ME

I love you so much

Sick day

Author's notes:

Byleth is unaware on his crush on you. You think it's cute but you also think he doesn't like you so you're always willing to impress him.

Byleth was late to his lesson. As his You gathered his papers and finished grading the students tests but to your surprise he wasn't there. With no teacher the students looked to you.

'What could he be? he was never late to a lesson.' You thought The eyes of the students ready to learn the lesson of the day making you nervous.

"A- I'll be back!"

"The house leader is in charge, be sure to do your tasks for today around the monastery."

You sure hope putting the house later in charge would not serve to bite you in the ass later.

You make your way too Byleth's dorm room You're not once calling his name only to get no answer.

"The door isn't locked but..."

Worry pools in your stomach. You took a deep breath opening the doors to his quarters.

Byleth hardly even noticed you. His eyes closed breathing deeply He was in his casual wear his armor too heavy for his weaked body.

You press the back of your hand against his forehead that made him open his eyes.

"oh, did I oversleep?" He grumbled his voice scratching and terrible.

he was hot, burning up

"yeah you're not going anywhere."You stated placing your warm hand up to your forehead.

"but the lesson the students-" He protested.

"Professor please You're not well. You need to stay in bed and rest Don't worry about the lesson I-I got it covered."

More or less got it covered but.

His eyebrows furrowed on his otherwise emotionless face.

Of course you wouldn't know how to deal with the students alone. That is his fault perhaps the teachers were right he does coddle you a little too much.

He sighs "very well, the students can handle themselves"

Knowing that you'll have to deal with whatever the hell issuance due today later doesn't upset him as much as he thought it would. Maybe he's just distracted by the fact he gets you all to himself. The students always monopolize your time You are quite popular with them That's one of the many things he likes about you. He can't help but savor that he has you all to himself today. Call him selfish.

With his emotionless face you can't tell what he's thinking from the way he sighed He seemed disappointed. Way to make your boss hate you more...

His eyes widen when you brushed his hair out of his face You're gentle fingers caressing his skin. If he had a heart it would have quickened instead butterflies filled his stomach. A feeling he was not familiar to.

If he was here the whole time he must have not had breakfast yet. As you start to leave. His body moved on his own his fingers catching your sleeve He wasn't sure why he did this either when you looked down at him your eyes full of life and fire He stuttered.

"where are you going?"

"professor you need to eat you haven't eaten anything since yesterday have you?"

He looked away from you confirming your suspicion.

"I won't be gone forever, I'm just going to get you some soup from the cafeteria."You smile.

Byleth nods "can I get something spicy?"He said with a cough.

Are you kidding me? He's probably hiding in but his stomach will not handle anything spicy. One spoonful and it will all go up.

"no" You respond bluntly. "When someone is recovering from a sickness, spicy food is the last thing they need. Professor or not no one is exempt from this rule."

The irony was cute here you were nagging at your own boss The person you are supposed to be assisting everyday. He looks like a kicked puppy. Sad that he can't have his favorite foods.

Byleth stayed on bed rest for the rest of the day You had left to take care of some extra duties as well as help around the monastery along with the students. The students of his class came to visit him every now and then but he felt lonely without you. He always feels a little antsy when he doesn't know where you are. You're always getting yourself into danger. You always tell him you can protect yourself but, he'd rather you not be in danger at all. You did tell him to call you when he needs anything. And to be honest he called you a lot. A lot more he'd like to admit.

He heard a knock at his door "come in." His voice was almost as smooth as before still sounded like something was in his throat though.

His eyes light up when you're familiar figure walks through.

"I'm here with some medicine"You play the glass bottle down next to his bed. Despite the bitter taste he takes it all with no change in his face.

"The medic also said I should stimulate your muscles to help you relax." You smile.

That got his attention.

His eyes wide his lips parting his cheeks pink. The thought of you touching him was making him go crazy you make him go crazy and he doesn't know why. His eyes starting around making your eyebrows furrow with worry.

"um Byleth?"Your name rolls off his tongue instead of his usual nickname a very welcome surprise.

"Y-yeah hold on." He mutters sitting up from his bed his body still felt weak and hot but he was getting better. He had taken off his shirt a while ago, You try not the stare too much to his rippling muscles and scars that decorated it when he turned around You can't help but stare. He held his head down when he felt, delicate fingers rub into his bare shoulders. His back was just as muscular as his front. You feel dirty oggling and touching your colleague like this. You just want him to get better. So you push your sinful inner thoughts down and continue pressing your thumbs against his shoulder blades.

Dear gods you're so good at this. He's practically melting in your hands. He never knew how much he craved your touch till now. Years of hard physical labor and harder battles melting away with each roll of your thumb.

Exhaustion hit them all at once by the time you were done. He grown does he laid back down in his bed He can already feel his body turning into liquid as soon as he hit the mattress.

He couldn't keep his eyes open He wanted you to stay. He wanted you to stay here with him but he couldn't bring himself to speak he was so exhausted and weak the last thing he Saw was your perfect smile as you thread your fingers in his hair.

#byleth eisner #male byleth #byleth x reader #fe3h x reader #male byleth x reader #byleth fire emblem #fe3h byleth #fe 3 houses

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thefanbasewhore · 3 years ago

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Geralt patching you up ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

summary: in order to have geralt soely concentrate on ciri's training, you ask Lambert to help you but geralt won't allow that.

content: hurt reader, angst but they make up at the end

paring: geralt of rivia x reader

a/n: if you are adding yourself to my tag list please make sure you are filling it out correctly - there are at least 10+ entries labeled 'yes or no', you must add your tumblr @ on every section of names! Thank you!!

join the geralt of rivia tag list - geralt masterlist

It only takes one skillful swing and the butt of his sword to the skull to knock you to the ground. Lambert smirks as the white fluff of snow clings to his dark hair but he offers you his hand to bring you to your feet.

"Again." The man says calmly, taking his fighting stance as you struggle to hold the heavy sword. More quickly than you would like, you swing the sharp object, loosing your grasp on it as an elbow hits your cheek. Even though it hurts and you taste blood, for a Witcher it is light; he is taking it easy on you.

"Lambert, what the fuck are you doing?" The man tenses instantly at the voice, one he knows very well and that he isn't happy. Geralt's eyes warn the man as he steps into his personal space with a growl rumbling inside his chest.

Geralt doesn't say much as he stares at you, brows set into a deep furrow. The sword had fallen next to you, Lambert's elbow to the face being the cause. The white haired Witcher stares at the man, a scowl present on his face, "I told you to be gentle."

Geralt bends at the knee to sink to your height, the pad of his thumb pressing into the corner of your lip, where the skin has torn and began to bleed. The frown forms prominent creases in his forehead, as he speaks with gritted teeth, "You have made her bleed."

"Geralt the way you train with her is gentle. You pull your punches, it's about time she spars with someone else." Lambert stands close, burring the heels of his feet into the ground, ready for Geralt's pending charge.

"I am fine, Geralt. He is right." Rubbing your head, feeling the swelling bump under the weight of your palm, "I asked him to spar with me."

Geralt now stares at you with the same amount. Of distate, "I have told you, you will only train with me."

"How can I? You let Ciri do more than me, it is unfair." You speak, taking Lambert's extended hand to help you stand. "Lambert has agreed to help me when you are not around."

"No." The words are said so fast it's head spinning but he doesn't leave much room to argue as he hand reaches to cup your cheek, examining the darkening bruise upon your forehead.

"It is not fair to Ciri, she deserves all of your time." The love you have for the girl makes his heart full, the two most important females in his life have the strongest relationship, it's all he could hope for his surprise daughter.

"Lambert will not train you, he will be having you jump off these mountains." The deep tone does not faulter, "I will not hear another word of it, go inside and wash up before dinner, it's our night to cook."

***

Geralt tears at the meat of the bore with pure, brutal strength, removing the insides while you peal the at the leaves of herbs and vegetables in silence.

Every now and then he would look at you but with tension so thick in the air, you ignore it. The thought of upsetting you is enough to have his chest feel empty, hollow but not for long as he gazed upon such beauty that he feels his heart pump blood to his ears but at once again see the bruises and bumps cast upon you, feelings his veins run with firey, hot anger.

"You cannot stay mad forever." Silence had lingered for so long that the baritone was startling, jumping at the boom of his voice. You ignore him, not muttering a word but it doesn't matter because his gentle hand to the small of your back.

"I miss your voice."

It's a nice try really, using the sweet, low tone that resembles the voice he lures you to sleep with but somehow you manage to stay strong. Attempting to walk further to prevent any further altercation but he uses that large palm to lead you in closer until the right side of your cheek squishes against the thin tunic.

With every breath, the large chest expands and falls into a gentle pattern of familiarity that is oddly calming. It's impossible to keep your eyes open, the last few days even before the altercation with Lambert have been unsteady. Both of you are feeling the distance between each other at night, the one worded conversation and the overall feeling of a heavy heart. The inches between you both, feel like miles.

Geralt's palm comes up to smooth over your hair, press a soft kiss against your forehead, "Everything will be fine. We are fine."

In those exact moments tears begin to gather in the corner of your eyes. Despite what others may think, there has never been a man more wise or tender hearted. He offers the reinsurance you need. He knows that you always assume the worst, that you are often to believe that the whole world is beginning to crumble starting with your relationship. But much like Atlas, he is the support of your world, holds it up like pillars.

"Let it out, sweet girl."

He doesn't falter once, continues to soothe with a palm on your head as he pulls you closer into his chest. These are stressful times for every Witcher but that also includes you and Ciri, something he thinks about often. How he had just come into your life and changed it, still debating if it is a good thing or not.

But just like that, the water boiling over in the pot crushes the precious moment. You're quick to react, reaching for the handle but only to get scorned by the red metal. Instinctly trying to shake the pain away and stepping back but ironically tripping on the table behind you where the knife you were just peeling potatoes with was and slicing your arm.

You're able to let out a small help of pain as Geralt presses a piece of cloth against the wound, and using his other palm to check the searing skin, "Why did you do that?"

"I clearly didn't think it was hot, Geralt, it hurts!"

***

"Up you go." Geralt warns you as his hands cup your hips and hoist you onto the table. He sighs before reaching for the stool and coming between your parted thighs, "Let me see, sweetheart."

He takes the wet cloth and tabs it against the open wound with deep frown lines as you hiss at the contact. Your other hand is in a bucket of snow from outside, skin cooling under the contact. Geralt holds the cloth close, eyes peering up into your own as he leans in closer to dap the cut in the corner of your lip, dry and matted with blood.

"I am sorry about before, Just understand it is hard for me," Geralt starts, "Seeing someone attack you like that stirs something in me. I want to protect you from everything."

"He means me no harm, we are only training." You speak lowly, leaning towards the Witcher for support.

"Yet, you are bleeding from both mouth and head." He interjects, a frown prominent across his lips.

"I am also burned and bleeding from my arm, your point is?"

"That with more training comes wanting to go on hunts and dying, I won't allow it to happen. You can stay mad at me until the end of our years, it is better than being dead." The words are.. sweet but in a very Geralt way. While most women would find them brutal and odd, they make sense. All he ever wanted to do was protect the ones he loves.

"Geralt," your fingers press against the strong jawline to bring his eyes to your own, "I will not die."

"You will die if you continue down this road. I agreed that you will train to survive, to defend yourself, not hunt." Geralt's fingers run along your arm, caressing the soft skin and pressing a kiss against it, "You will not hunt."

"You have my intentions confused geralt." The words cause the Witcher to tilt his head in confusion and listen to the words, "I want to fight to protect myself, to not need you or Ciri to protect me. Just not to be in the way."

Geralt chews on his bottom lip, dabbing the corner of your lip again. "This I agree too but I will always protect you."

"And this I know, Geralt. I do not wish to slay monsters, only to survive long enough to see Ciri a woman and be by your side every step of the way."

The words are enough to have the Witcher's heart skip a beat. He tries to be strong but at this very moment feels his heart melt into your own, forming into one beating heart. Uncharacteristic tears gather in the corners of his eyes, bottom lip quivering under the pressure.

While the words don't seem like a declaration of love.. that's exactly what they are to a man who lives a life like his own. Grateful to have a soul who understands his love language, understands his worries and fears, and accepts that his life is anything but normal. It's like you're crafted from the heavens above just for him.

No words are said instead your fingers find his hair, nails rub into his scalp in your own little way of comfort. The white wolf pulls you from the table and onto his lap where his lips find your own. The kiss mixes with salty tears and metallic blood as his tongue enters your mouth. It's not rushed, instead slow and sensational, spilling his feelings on the outside.

When he does pull away, he doesn't go far, only lays his forehead against your own as his hand cups your outer thigh, "I love you for eternity for you have always been a part of my destiny, you are my future. Like the sun in the sky, I need you."

Tags: @msjb2002 @mashtoncliffin @kmuir1 @itshamleth @tiredbeebo @rangotangomango @andreadea003 @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @bbrs-princess @inglourious-imagines @catgirlumine @zandoff @dorothea-hwldr @rafecameronswhore @greinch @uwiuwi

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#geralt x y/n #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia

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purityoflust · 3 years ago

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The Smile [Jeff The Killer X Victim!Reader] [PART 2]

Jeff the killer X Victim!

WARNING: Yandere. That's it. Yandere.

I finally decided how I would write part 2 to The Smile, which is my first and most popular post on my account so far. Anyone new who has come to read this, check out my other posts as well if you'd like. I'll post more like this. I also have a Quotev account with more fanfictions.

9/12/20, 3/4 days after the top part: God, AFTER SO LONG, I FINALLY DID IT! Took me days! I'm so sorry if this is a bit lazy, it is a tiny bit rushed by the end but how would you guys feel about a detailed part 3? I'll probably go as far as a part 3 or part 4 for the final part.

The vibrations in your brain felt warm and numbing - almost like when you have a horrible migraine and you can finally feel it subsiding with your eyes closed and your fingers gently holding down onto your eyelids as if you're holding your eyes into place to prevent them from bursting out of your skull. Upon waking up you can feel cold air settling into your skin. You haven't been awake 3 minutes and you already know what you're resting on; an extremely uncomfortable metal table. You've only seen them in movies but this was real.

The sound of a singsong voice just slightly echoing through what seemed like a moderately empty room. You groaned softly as you turned your head to your right, very slowly opening your eyes. Your vision blurred in and out, which, you wanted to rub to clear it out but as you went to lift your wrists, you felt pressure around them.

Something was holding your arms down. This catches your attention, blinking multiple times while turning your head back up straight and attempting to sit up. You were hardly successful with that, struggling while grunting under your breath to pull your hands from under what seemed to be a thick rope. As you pulled harder, you sucked in your stomach out of habit before immediately coming to a halt and choking up in pain.

This whole time you were ignoring the voice that was singing eerily nearby, "You and me, always forever~"

The voice was of a male. Scratchy, shaky. Familiar.

Familiar.

You could feel a string of your heart pop out of place as your breath stopped. That's when you knew something was wrong, but it just doesn't add up. You gulp while your eyeballs vigorously glance around to see where the source was coming from, only to see a figure in a corner. It was doubled over and it was sitting down on a simple wooden chair. Doubling over a...table? An average male figure, nothing unique. Although, the clothing style was unusual. At least what was on the clothes. He wore a fluffy white hoodie and what seemed to be black pants and black-and-white converse. The problem wasn't the outfit, no. His hoodie was spotted and had patterns upon patterns of darkened and more fresh-looking blood splatter. He had long black hair down to his shoulders. And luckily, his back was facing you.

You were dumbfounded. How did you get here, why are you restrained, and why is there a blood covered man near you? Is that even blood? Maybe it's paint or a design? Some people do wear clothes that have different kinds of blood splatter designs on them. Hm. Or he's an actual murderer about to gut you like a fish.

You wanted to speak. You wanted to speak so badly but you just couldn't. As you parted your lips, your throat went dry while your gaze stayed locked onto the bloody male that sat before you. The singing made you shiver as you tried so hard to remember where you could have heard or seen him. Why can't you remember?

The male then turned around to look at you. His singing had come to a gentle halt. Your mouth closed as he did so, your throat going completely dry and your whole body feeling like an ice cube. You were greeted with cold blue eyes. They looked hungry and bloodthirsty, yet they held a warm affection as they looked into your traumatized eyes. It was almost comforting until you saw the rest of his face. His skin was snow white and his lips looked dry. That's when more attention is drawn to his lower jaw. He's smiling. Too big for a normal person.

That's when you realize. He has a large smile carved into his cheeks going from ear to ear while his own lips were curled within a smile as well. And that's when it hits you.

And it hits you hard.

The memories of hours prior start brutally crashing into you, flooding back into your numb brain. All of the realization replaced itself with agonizing anxiety, your heart starting to race at speeds that felt impossible. You could pass out, but something inside you kept you awake. Something about him and about this whole situation was making you dizzy. The male slowly stands and turns his body all the way to face you. He seemed deranged, yet, he had a very relaxed stance and body language.

Uncomfortable silence loomed in the air.

He kept staring at you before slowly taking steps forward. You watch him carefully as your head feels like it's spinning, which you could notice your vision blurring a little bit here and there. The silence is suddenly disturbed with the male speaking up again, choking up in giggles. "Oh my sweet Y/N, you're awake~" He cooed, now standing over you. He leaned himself down and reached his hand to your cheek, gently brushing your skin with his surprisingly soft thumb. He leaned his face closer to yours. The smell of booze, blood, & smoke overwhelmed your nostrils. Yet it didn't seem to bother you that much.

His touch almost kind of made you feel...at ease. Your heart slowed itself and your breathing went back to pace. You felt fine, somewhat, but something in your stomach was still sore. The more you stare at him, the more memories come flooding back. The more memories flooding back, the easier you fit the puzzles together.

"M-my...stomach..--" You stutter out painfully.

In response to this, the male turned his head over to your abdomen and gently rested his other hand onto your bandaged stomach, applying very gentle pressure on it as to not hurt you. It was still slightly painful, causing you to groan under your breath.

"Oh, this...I'm sorry, my sweet butterfly. I had to make sure you wouldn't get away, and you didn't! Don't worry, Jack patched you up, so you'll be just fine!"

You remember now. You remember it all. The chase, your friend, the salty kiss before what you thought was your demise.

You naturally wondered as well; who's Jack?

"Wh-.." You weakly force air out of your throat again to speak, "why am I..tied-?"

"Oh, so you wouldn't be able to get away. I knew you would run away, or struggles, so I had to make sure you wouldn't do that!"

He was right. You would run away and struggle to get out of whatever the hell kind of place you're in. Well, knowing what he looks like. He DID stab you, after all. Who knows what this sicko wants.

He lifts his hand from your stomach and turns back to you, gently placing both of his hands at each side of your face. "You're so beautiful, Y/N. So sweet and so innocent. I couldn't keep letting the others eat you up like candy. You're mine and only mine. I need to protect you."

"Wh-who- are you?" You weren't really all too scared for some strange reason now. You were pretty calm. Probably from all of the energy this is draining.

"His name is Jeff." A deep and gruff voice cuts in.

The both of you turn your heads to the door of the room where a tall figure in all black stood. He was about 6"4 wearing heavy boots, black jeans, and a black hoodie. His hair was a dark brown though while he wore a mask. The mask was a dark blue with black goo oozing from the eyesockets. He was pretty intimidating even just by standing idly like a character waiting to be loaded in.

"And I'm Jack." He continued, "I'm the one who took care of your wound."

Jack stepped closer, soon standing at the other side of the table. He stood at the left as Jeff stood at the right.

"He wouldn't stop insisting I help."

You just blink, unknowing of what to respond with. He pursed his lips under his dark mask, in his own thought for a moment while staring down at you. You seemed calm enough, and your still pretty fresh injury was gonna hold you back anyway.

"[P]-[Pronoun]'s gonna-!" He attempts to blurt out, only to be stopped by you.

"I won't."

You were untied at your wrists and ankles, allowing yourself to pull your legs up and rest your feet at the top of the table, propping your knees up. It made your stomach feel weird, but it felt kind of nose and felt like it was easing the pain. You wrapped your arms around your knees, looking around the room more. "What is this place?" You ask.

"It's a medical room."

"Huh.." You shrug it off. Your anxiety levels had died down and the more you actually think about it, this isn't the worst thing that's happened. Your life has been pretty fucked up and you have damaged relationships everywhere. Honestly, being around new people and being far away from others sounds not too bad right now. Not like anyone would care anyway.

The next few hours, you're introduced to everyone else at the Mansion. They've been so...unique and honestly, you're surprised some people and beings like them even exist. They were all equally surprised with how little fear you showed.

You actually got along with most of them.

The others have taken a liking to you and hope you hang around longer. Alone in the living room, you, Jeff, Jack, and others sit at the couches and chairs in the living room, chatting away and getting to know them as they get to know you.

You feel Jeff wrap his arms around you and place a gentle kiss on your forehead, making your heart skip a beat.

You found out Jeff has been stalking you for months at a time. Watching your every move, eliminating anyone in the way. Huh, no wonder so many people in your life kept disappearing. You...couldn't bring yourself to be upset or scared, let alone even sad. You felt kind of at ease.

And far from uncomfortable. Someone loved you. Maybe more than they should, but they love you.

You didn't even feel upset at the fact Jeff had murdered that friend earlier. I mean, you just met the guy, so he wasn't even a 'friend'? So you paid no mind to it.

If anything, you really liked the thrill of someone being obsessed with you. A serial killer being so infatuated with you. He could be so protective of you and get rid of anyone you asked him to! There's is an advantage here. You knew he could snap and probably kill you intentionally or unintentionally, but you didn't mind. You really had no one else, technically speaking. No one that really cared. Not as much as he did.

Maybe he isn't so bad.

#Jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #part two #part 2 #yandere #male yandere #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x you #gender neutral #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x y/n #small series

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besotted-eros · 3 years ago

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Visit from a Ghost

Eren x Fem!Reader

Content: Angst, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f! receiving), pining, overstim, dirty talk, slight blood, bruising, established relationship, canon compliant

A/N: so this is a companion piece to my obsessed! Eren headcanons and fic. References to manga spoilers, heavy on the angsty sex. Very self indulgent. Hope you enjoy!

When you saw the figure at your bedroom window, lounging upon the sill as though he was meant to be there, you drew your gun.

It was a small, angry thing, wrestled from the grasps of a Marleyan soldier and entrusted to you to help protect the queen. You had yet to use it, but levelled it naturally now, letting out a growled command for the shadowed being to raise his hands.

When you saw the figure turn from your bedroom window, lazily leaning his head back so his viridian gaze met yours, you dropped your gun.

It hit the floorboards with a metallic thud, and in a better context you would have held your breath, jumped away from the risk of a bullet discharging from the fall. But you were motionless, staring at the apparition in front of you. That was what he felt like. A ghost, conjured from beyond the veil.

"Eren." You said it like one calls to the dead, your voice shaky and unconfident. But brimming, with hope. With fear.

"I come all this way to see you, and your first reaction is to shoot me?" He murmured, his rich voice creeping through the dark to find the holes in your heart.

Moth bitten, hung up in a closet and forgotten, you had lost the memory of the pain and euphoria that Eren brought you. But you could feel it now, searing your chest.

"You deserve worse. Months. It's been months." The words tumbled from your throat as you fought the urge to cry. "I didn't know where you were. For months. And they won't tell me what what happened, no one will." You felt like a child, choking on your words as your hands bunched into fists. The only thing you knew is that you were meant to raise the alarm as soon as you saw him. But you couldn't. Not for him. You wanted to fall to your knees, to see how he'd rush across the room to gather you in his arms.

"You don't want me to answer that truthfully." He moved from the windowsill, feet silently hitting the ground as he faced you completely.

You didn't recognize him. Those were the eyes of your lover, those the lips you kissed, the brow you rested yours upon. The man who was once the boy you slept beside, you fought beside, you grew beside. The face you had seen overcome with passion, with pain and glory. But he was stoic, as grey as the three walls. You had felt him slipping before Marley, but now?

Even though he was in the same room, breathing your air, he felt gone.

"I do. I know you're the one who pushed me onto this duty, you made Hisu call for me, and for what? To keep me stupid and ignorant?" You spat the words at his feet, and it made him bristle.

"To protect you, why else? This stupid farm house is the safest place on the island. Safer than any of the walls, or the inner castle, or-"

"Safer than with you?"

That touched him. The repetition of his vow, that as long as you were by his side you would come to no harm. That he would hold you with his heart and protect you with his life. As long as you stayed within reach of him.

"Yes. Safer than with me. So much safer." He didn't want that to be true. He wanted to be where you belonged.

But he needed to make the world safe for you.

"I needed to make sure you were taken care of, that I could do the things I was meant to do without risking you." He crossed his arms in front of his body, and the tone of his voice bordered on petulant. But despite his stoic face, you could tell he was nervous. The clench of his jaw, how his eyes looked past you instead of at you. This wasn't a man who had forgone emotions. Just a mask.

Maybe that was your Eren after all.

"I know you hate me-"

"I don't hate you." You cut him off sharply, reaching up to touch the pendant at your throat. It was a piece of sea glass, tumbled by the waves to the colour of his eyes. You had picked it up on a beach patrol, and told him how it matched him perfectly. He had stolen it out of your pocket that night and fashioned a cage with stolen wire. The next morning it hung from the leather cord his father's key once did, and found its permanent home upon your neck.

He told you it was his eye and his heart, and to keep watch over it as he kept watch over you.

He had been so gentle. You remembered how the sea breeze rustled the hair, grown to the nape of his neck, how he had given you a smile that had become so rare. He had known then that the boat would be returning without him.

"I don't hate you even if I want to. I never could. I... I miss you." The dam in your throat broke as you hiccuped a single sob. And the dam in his face broke, eyebrows upturned with remorse.

He had made you cry.

"No, no, no." He murmured, crossing the floor to take you in his arms. He was taller, his body somehow even more wiry than when he had left. Toughened by hardship. But the way his fingers curled around the back of your head, the way his arm wrapped around your waist. That was how he held you. How he always had. The familiarity made you weak, and you clung to him desperately, fists mangling the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face against him.

"Y/n." He said it through gritted teeth, and then repeated it. And then again.

You thought back to every time you had embraced after being apart. The sound of his feet pounding the stone of Wall Maria to throw his arms around you, his cries of your name loud enough to send birds flying. How he had whispered your name when you saw him after Shiganshina, his face buried in the crook of your neck and the weight of the world suddenly so much more heavy upon his shoulders.

"Eren." You reached up, taking his face delicately in your hands. His malachite gaze was wide, wild with desperation and hurt. "What happened to you, 'ren?" You asked, and his eyes shut tightly. "What did you do?"

"Please. Don't ask me. I'll answer to God, but I can't answer to you."

You could have pressed. He would have given up, at least... The Eren who loved you a lifetime ago would have. But the darkness in his mouth when he pressed his lips to your forehead convinced you not to.

He had followed you so diligently when you were young. Seeking the peace he had somehow found in you. And as you pulled him towards your lips, you knew it was that same comfort he was searching for. Peace, amongst his life of nothing but war. So you kissed serenity onto his lips, knowing that this may be the last taste of it he would ever have.

He groaned softly against your mouth, still for a moment before pressing into the touch. His fingers were gentle as they brought you closer, and closer still. Tugging at your hips, your shoulders, your hair, coiling around your neck. He was rediscovering you, reminding himself of the map of your body. It was like he was finding his way home again.

"I missed you. I thought about you, so much." He exhaled over your lips, and you tried to keep the welling of your tears from spilling over again. You had needed that. Needed to know that he still breathed for you. "Even when it hurt. I thought about you."

"I thought about you too." You whispered, stroking your hands through his silken hair. "I hoped... I didn't think it was smart, but I hoped. You would come to me."

Your hands traversed his chest and back, running down his shoulders and muscular arms. You grabbed his wrists, feeling the bump of your hair tie still upon it. He lifted for you to see, and you pressed a kiss to his hot skin, unable to hold back the tears anymore. You watered his skin with them.

"See? I kept you with me. Always." his mouth was against your forehead, tendons in his wrist flexing. "I lost a lot of myself. But I never lost you."

You let out a choked whimper and he pressed his cheek to yours, murmuring your name softly. Finally your knees gave out, but his arms were vices around your waist, holding you as you leaned against him. But he came down with you, kneeling with you in the puddle of moonlight. It painted him white and black, his shadows so much deeper but where it graced him, he glowed.

"I'm sorry." You sighed into his shoulder, all but pawing at his back. "I just... Am I dreaming, Eren? Are you going to be gone when my eyes open in the morning?"

He didn't answer for a moment, face buried in your hair. "I'm real. This is real. I promise."

"Prove it." You whispered, turning your mouth to his ear like a bloom to sun. "I've had this nightmare, every night since you've left. Prove this isn't one."

His fingers curled around your upper arms as his eyes bore into yours. They were shadowed, haunted by things you knew you'd never know. "Tell me how. I'll do anything for you."

Almost, you wanted to correct him. He'd do almost anything for you.

"Love me."

"I do." He murmured, voice strained as he moved to cup your face, his thumb stroking across your lips. You parted them, inviting his digit to press against your tongue. His eyes widened slightly, and you saw something spark. It encouraged you to wrap your lips around him, suckling at his first knuckle. You let it pop from your mouth, dragging your tongue from his palm to the pad.

"Show me. Show me the way only you can." You spoke softly against his skin, and he let out a soft groan, from deep deep within his chest.

"Only me?" He whispered hoarsely, hands squeezing the sides of your face. You nodded as best as you could. "You haven't touched another since I've been gone?"

"Of course not. Since that first night, since that first kiss..." You gripped his wrists tightly, voice thick with emotions you couldn't name. "It's only been you, forever just you."

He kissed you like he wanted to consume you. Open mouthed, hot breath, all teeth and clawing fingers. You fell into him, letting him pull you up and push you towards your bed. You fell backwards, welcoming the soft mattress against your back. A stark contrast to his body, all hard lines and firm hands.

Eren's heat was enough to melt you. You didn't realise you had been so cold. Your legs wrapped around him, pulling his warmth further against your core. He grunted softly against your mouth, jutting his hips forward so you could feel how you made him.

Your lips trailed from his, kissing along the sharp line of his jaw, up to his ear. You didn't need to say anything into it, just your breath made him wild. He tore at your shirt, sending buttons flying across the room as the moonlight met your skin. In response you pulled at his, unhooking your legs to push at his pants. You wanted skin, you wanted bare vulnerable touch. You wanted to see the parts of him he kept hidden.

He never scarred. Your hands traced the unmarred landscape of his torso as he flexed underneath you. No matter what horrors his body faced, it would never leave a lasting impression on him. The titan in him assured that.

You wondered if it was the same for love, as your teeth pricked at his skin, making him shiver. You marked him, delicate and light. In the sun it would look like stepping stones, tracing the path of a lovers touch. If it would even last till morning.

But you loved him anyway, even if it was temporary.

"So beautiful." His voice was guttural, hands cupping your breasts after yanking your bra down. Your nipples didn't have time to harden under his thumb before his mouth was upon them, suckling gently. You gripped his chestnut hair in response, letting out a soft whine of pleasure that encouraged him to suck harder. He switched sides, leaving the cold air to caress the wetness at your precipice.

"I can hear your heartbeat" he murmured, pausing for a moment to press himself against your flesh. "It's so fast."

Your nails traced vows on the back of his neck, down his back as far as you could reach. "You make me like this." You whispered, and his teeth sunk into your skin, making your back arch. "You scare me. You turn me on. You make my head dizzy and my st-stomach fill with butterflies." He stripped you as you spoke, pushing down the soft fabric of your pants, then the cotton of your panties. You felt the kiss of the cold night air for a moment, drifting through the window. And then his fingers were upon you, slowly stroking along your aching entrance and your slick lips.

"I make you wet." He murmured against your skin, and you flushed, nodding.

"Yes, you do." You responded, moving your hips along his hand, encouraging him. He obliged happily, digits wet with your desire now sliding into your hole. You had been so long neglected, not feeling the desire to even touch yourself without him there to see. He could feel your tightness, how you gripped his fingers.

"My sweetheart," he purred, lifting his face to gaze up at you. His eyes were heavy lidded, almost hiding the jade irises that haunted your dreams. "You're so tight, spread your legs." You obeyed him as easily as breathing, opening your legs as he began to kiss his way further down. You whined again, and his fingers gripped your thighs, forcefully enough to close them slightly.

"The fucking noises you make..." He hissed, breath hot against your pussy. He dragged a tongue from the bottom, to the very top, glancing off of your clit in a way that made you cry out. "I want you to keep quiet so we don't get caught but..." Another languid lick, another lewd gasp. "I want to make you scream too."

Your hand came down hard on the back of his head, gripping his hair tightly. He groaned against you, sending vibrations through you. You didn't mean to be hard, to have tugged so roughly. But Eren loved it, eyes glinting as he sank his tongue into you, letting your plush walls envelope the muscle eagerly. Each time your hand twitched, responding to the waves of pleasure he drew from you, you'd pull more. And it would drive him forward, tongue sliding across your lips desperately, lips closing around your clit to suckle at it.

Your body was uncontrollable, hips lifting from the bed and chest heaving. At points it felt like he was drinking from you, loud slurps as he thumbed your clit. The movement repeated, becoming faster and faster. The pleasure mounted, a knot tightened where his tongue touched you.

"Do it." He purred against you, feeling how your legs trembled and thighs touched his ears. He knew you, knew what every jerk of your body meant. "On my tongue, want to taste you."

That was what made the bud burst, your hips rocking desperately against him as your pussy fluttered, overcome with its first orgasm in months. It coursed through you, and you felt the bed wet with your love.

Your toes curled with pleasure and you moved onto your elbows, staring down at him.

"Eren," you whimpered, and his eyes opened once more. From your vantage point you could see how his hips moved, thrusting slowly against the mattress. He was as desperate for you as you were for him."Eren I need you. I need you so bad." With a final pop of your clit, one that made you gasp, he pulled back and straightened up. His cock bobbed as he looked at you, eyes filled with a dangerous mixture of love and lust. He was dripping, your wetness from his chin and his pre-cum from his mushroom head.

"How badly?"

You brought your legs to your chest slowly, and his eyes dropped from your face to your heat. Your hole closed around emptiness, so desperate to be filled. "More than anything."

His fist closed around his shaft, stroking slightly as he stared at you with a slack jaw, face softened with awe. He always looked at you as though you hung the moon. As if you were responsible for everything soft and wonderful in the world. You watched as he touched himself and his mouth twisted into a grin.

"Did this..." He whispered, his hand moving faster, the noises filling the room. They were hot, lewd. The hot slick of his skin, your moans rising to meet it. "Did this when I thought of you."

The thought of him, so far away from you, deep in trouble but still overcome by his want, the aching need of you. It was enough to make you gush visibly, and Eren moaned at the sight. Before you had the chance to beg again he was at your entrance, hands pushing on the backs of your thighs. You pulled at him, bringing him to your lips so you could kiss your moans into his mouth.

Because the moment he started pushing, moan you did. Loud and desperate, feeling how he spread you. How he made you stretch to fit him like a glove.

He was mumbling in your ear, alternating between sweet calls of your name and darkened swears. Your nails dragged down his back, digging into his smooth skin and making steam rise. His hips were slow, but only for a moment. The need took over quickly, and you bucked to meet him as best as you could. But he was long, long enough to make you start each time he bottomed out in you.

"Eren, Eren, Eren," you whispered into the dark, each iteration becoming more and more sloppy. He grabbed your face, pulling himself up so he could stare at you. Sweat beaded on his elegant forehead, his long hair slicked back. But his eyes glowed in the lowlight, focusing on your face as though nothing but you existed.

He pounded you in time with your chants, each drill concentrated on getting as much of himself into you as he could. He filled your needy hole like he filled your heart. Wholly, fully. Enough to make your eyes well with tears.

He caught one that trickled down the side of your face, lapping it up with his long tongue. You gasped for air, twisting his hair in your fingers as legs wrapped around him desperately. You wanted to stay like this, stay connected to him forever. His hands traversed you, finding the places he had made home. The curve of your waist, the precipice of your hips, the valley under your ass as he pulled you up further, hitting you now at an angle that dragged across the nub on your inner wall.

And then he lifted you, pulling back to sit on his heels and to suspend you in his arms. You grasped his face as you looked down at him, your hair falling like a curtain. Hiding him from the world, the world that would take him from you. He was beautiful. All wild eyes, soft pouting lips. His fine features were shadowed, his expression twisted with pleasure. You kissed him, once. Twice. Three times. Each time deeper.

Stay here.

You wanted to say as he began to bounce you, sliding you upon his length, fingers digging into the soft plush of your ass.

Stay here, we can be okay.

His mouth was hot on your neck and shoulders, leaving bruises that you worried would outlast him.

Stay here, I can love you safe here.

But all that came out of your mouth was a keening moan, your walls fluttering as you came like a river, washing over him. Your head was thrown back in ecstasy, the wave of euphoria making you tremble and making him growl. He bite your shoulder, drawing soft droplets of blood, and you felt his hips stutter, and the telltale wetness that heralded his own cum. Filling you, as it should. He moaned, vulnerable and wanton into your shoulder.

"That's fucking it, baby. Cream on my cock." He cooed, his pace unrelenting as he fucked you through both of your orgasms. You were relieved when he let you fall back onto the bed, eyes opening to pull in for a kiss.

But he didn't stop.

"Er-eren..." You whimpered, and he kissed you hard, enough to bruise the pulp of your lip.

"Hold on... Hold on to me..." He whispered, teeth dragging across your sensitive flesh. You obliged, throwing your arms around his neck, legs circling him and pulling him in to the hilt. He pulled back, snapping in quickly, his pace sloppy and hurried.

"Need more...need more of you and I..." A gasp, a throb from deep within you. "need to give you all of me."

You were seeing stars. Bursting across your vision like supernovas. Though your limbs clung to him, the pleasure grew almost unbearable. A burning fire twisting between your legs, making you jerk and throb. It's like you could feel him in ways you never could.

The drip of his sweat, watering the forgotten lands of your body. The way his skin soothed yours, healing empty wounds. How his hair shifted, a lock falling to caress your cheek.

And his heartbeat. You felt it. Inside you, beating as though it was your own. The sensation drove you wild, clawing at his shoulders and yanking at his ochre locks.

"Gonna- it's gonna..." You whimpered, unable to form coherence. He drove into you faster, nodding against you. You were reduced to a babbling mess, eyes rolled back, mouth slack.

"Yeah, yeah baby yeah me too. Gonna cum in you again. Take it, take me. Take it all." He said, his voice thick with lust as he clawed into you, the slam of his hips hitting you in the most unimaginable of ways. He reared back suddenly, gripping your face hard enough to hurt as he placed his brow to yours.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too." You replied, and with that you were both over the cliff, bodies shaking with pleasure. He filled you, his hot cum spurting from the slight space between you. His hand slammed against the head board, chest heaving, hips stuttering. But his eyes never left yours, gaze glazed with pleasure. His weight collapsed against you, and you cradled him, murmuring as his lips pressed to yours.

"Say it again." He demanded, hand moving to cup your cheek. "Say you love me."

"I love you." You turned your head to kiss his palm. "I love you, Eren. I love you."

He let out a soft sound, resting his mouth against your cheek. "More." He demanded, rolling over now and pulling you with him. His arms caged you, in a way that made you never want to be free. "I want a lifetimes worth."

"I'll give you a few months." You muttered, and could feel him smile against the top of your head. You wondered when was the last time he did that. When would be the next. "Just to catch you up." His hands stroked through your hair, teasing knots from it. You laid your ear flat to his toned chest. "You'll have to get the rest next time." His hand faltered and then tightened, pushing you into him. You could hear his heart pick up speed.

"Y/n-"

"Don't." You interrupted him. It was sharper than you intended, but you thought you had the right to it. "Don't say a word."

He went silent, resuming his grooming of your locks.

"Tell me we'll see each other again. Even if it's for a moment. Just once more. I don't want this to be it." His hands flattened on your back as he held you.

"I promise." He murmured. "We'll see each other again. But by then you'll hate me."

You didn't argue. Somehow you knew.

"For now, I love you." You pulled yourself to him, kissing his mouth with sweetness. You whispered it, over and over. Like a promise. Like a prayer. You said until your voice was hoarse, curled up on your side as his body surrounded you. You fell asleep with it on your tongue.

And you woke up to an empty bed.

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spicycreativity · 3 years ago

Text

Intertwined - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Content Warnings: It's a hanahaki fic, so. Mild body horror, blood, respiratory illness. (Starts at Ch 3 and gets worse from there).

Characters: All

Pairing: Moceit

Additional Notes: This one was supposed to be Darker and Longer, but turns out I'm not in the headspace to write angst atm, so it ends up moving p fast. Swaps between Janus and Patton's POVs. Post-PoF, light angst. Not whump. They both get hanahaki, but there is absolutely no version of Moceit in my mind where Janus isn't the one who falls first. My AO3 username is WizatdGlick.

Summary: The story of how Janus and Patton find each other at rock bottom and fall in love anyway.

A gentle knock on Janus' door drew him out of his thoughts. He donned a mask of triumph as he rose to open it, straightening his hat as he went. It couldn't be Remus; Remus never knocked so softly, which meant that Janus had to perform. He slid into the role with difficulty, struggling to find the edges of this gloating persona when all he felt was numb and tired and lost.

It was Patton at the door, and Janus felt everything slip, and Patton's eyes lit up with recognition, and all of Janus' resolve fell away in the face of that beseeching gaze.

"Come for another debate?" Janus asked in a low voice, making no effort to hide his ironical smile.

Patton smiled too, though he dropped it a moment too soon. Janus got the distinct impression that Patton was also far too wrung-out to put on any kind of act tonight. "Just came to check on you."

It would be as natural as breathing for Janus to draw back, place his fingertips delicately to his chest, widen his eyes. ' Check on me?' he would say, all faux-innocence, ' Please, Patton, I'm not a child. I don't need your pity.'

But he didn't.

Here was Patton, reaching out, and hadn't that been what Janus had wanted all along? That tiny, fervent flame that he hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge, that smallest ember of hope that someone might just give him what he was convinced he had to take.

The seconds stretched out until the silence verged on awkward, and Janus' pride stood up to do what his cunning would not: "I'm fine." He was fine, strangely. Not happy, as he perhaps should have been, but nothing hurt.

Patton's brow furrowed. "Am I supposed to believe that?" he asked gently.

Something warm and soft and dangerous bloomed in Janus' chest at Patton's look of confusion. He had freckles on his nose, scattered like spilled cinnamon: a trait assigned by Thomas’ subconscious. "Patton," Janus said, flicking his gaze upwards to meet Patton's eyes. "Would you like to come in?"

"To your room ?" Patton asked, eyes widening. He looked past Janus' shoulder and Janus fought not to move and block Patton's gaze with his body. He had just invited Patton in; there was no point getting shy now. "Won't that, y'know, do something to me?"

"It's just a matter of self-control," Janus said, hoping to get a smile out of Patton.

Sure enough, Patton did smile. "What color is my shirt?"

Janus said, "True blue," and stepped backwards to let Patton in.

It was a risk to bring someone into his room like this, but he felt unusually clear-headed tonight, calm and strangely secure despite the fact he had just let a known enemy past his defenses, and despite the exhaustion that made every breath feel heavy.

"Warm in here," Patton remarked, looking around.

Janus motioned him over to a set of armchairs. To be seen was to be judged, and he wasn't sure what he would do if Patton found him lacking again . "I have a question for you, Patton."

In the low light, the tear tracks on Patton's cheeks glimmered when he tilted his head inquisitively. "You do?"

Janus nodded, slow and calculated. He was sure he already knew the answer to the question, and preemptive anger bubbled thick and hot in his veins. "Who," he said, unable to keep from glaring, "came to check on you?"

"Well," said Patton, "Ah… They don't-- Everyone's upset right now--"

"And you're not?" Janus demanded. "And don't you dare tell me that you're fine." His emotions were running too hot; he needed to check himself, but seeing Patton make excuses filled him with a passion he'd only ever felt on Thomas' behalf.

"I am--"

"Don't."

"But I have to be," Patton whispered. "I can't-- I know they told me… They said it was okay for me to be sad, but--"

"If you fall apart, there's no one there to pick up the pieces," Janus guessed. "Sure, you can be sad, as long as it doesn't interfere with your role."

"Don't be mad at them," Patton pleaded, and Janus realized with a jolt that he would get into no one's good graces by slinging around insults.

"It's just hard," Janus said plainly, only half-noticing the words coming out of his mouth. He had just become aware of a keen and sickening new desire, borne on the back of a newfound respect for Patton that he had even lasted this long without having some sort of spectacular breakdown. Janus' whole chest ached with it, that and the equally sickening knowledge that he had just become horrifically vulnerable, that he had fallen under a spell he could never hope to break.

He saw it in his mind's eye: he saw himself stand and lean over, take Patton's jaw in his hands, kiss him long and deep and slow. He saw himself lay his body and soul bare before Patton, getting on his knees to forgive Patton all his perceived flaws. He meant well, after all. He only ever meant well, and it wasn't really his fault that those good intentions were capable of morphing into a cruel and deadly weapon.

But he would plunge that weapon straight into Janus' heart before their lips could ever even meet. Janus could see it now, Patton pulling away in confusion and disgust. His tenuous patience would give out then and there, and Janus would have no hope of acceptance ever again. Same for Remus, probably. They would remain Dark Sides forever, damned to be eternal outcasts. All thanks to Janus' pathetic inability to control himself.

"Why do you care so much about…" Patton hesitated for a moment and gave a shallow sigh. "Well, about me?"

And now Janus found himself walking a chasm’s edge. His instinct was to lean hard into the opposite of the truth and insult Patton so deeply that he left and never came back. Eliminate the threat. But that wasn't an option now of all times. No, he had to maintain a friendship with Patton, somehow. He had to keep himself under control. How fun. "You're a part of Thomas," Janus said. He paused.

"So are the others."

"You've earned my respect."

"Oh," said Patton. "Wow, um. Gosh, that's…" His lower lip trembled. "I should go," he said in a broken voice.

Janus surveyed him in silent agony, teetering on the precipice of a lie. With a monumental effort, he pulled himself away from it and opened his arms. "Come here."

The floodgates opened. Patton fell into Janus' lap, already sobbing. Janus held him, all his muscles stiff and awkward. He was much smaller in the mindscape than he was in Thomas’ eyes and it was difficult to support Patton’s much larger frame. A sharp pain flared in Janus’ collarbone where Patton had buried his forehead and his tears were already starting to seep through Janus' clothes. He cringed at himself and the absurdity of the situation, wishing he had some way to make it better. He should have had words for this, all the right words to soothe away Patton's worries and set him right again. But he was so tired.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Patton said through shuddering sobs that dug his forehead harder into Janus' clavicle.

"It's okay," Janus said, concentrating hard on keeping the effects of his room at bay.

"Are you--" Patton sniffled " --sure you're okay?"

A rush of affection melted Janus' heart and he sighed and held Patton closer despite the shooting pain in his collarbone and the ache in his arms. Even in the midst of a post-breakdown breakdown, Patton was self-sacrificing (self- destructive) enough to check in on him. "You don't have a selfish bone in your body, do you?" Janus sighed, lamenting Patton’s bleeding heart. For some reason, this only made Patton cry harder. Janus cast his mind back to the last time Remus was this upset, found nothing, had to speculate. He and Remus and Virgil were self-sufficient, secretive. When it came to personal crises, they weathered them alone and bore the aftermath in stoicism. "Do you want me to play with your hair?"

"I don't know," Patton sobbed into Janus' chest.

Janus sighed and began to run his fingers through Patton's honey-colored hair, grateful that the thick material of his gloves kept their skin from touching. It was better this way, and a good reminder for Janus. He guarded his heart so closely for a reason.

Janus, despite the discomfort from the awkward weight distribution and the clammy feeling of cooled tears on his shirt, was half-asleep in the chair by the time Patton stopped crying.

"Sorry," Patton said, pulling away, and even with snot and tears all over his flushed cheeks, even with his eyes all red and puffy behind his fogged-up glasses and his hair standing up at strange diagonals from Janus' attempts at comfort, he was radiant.

"For having feelings?" Janus asked, gently imaging himself into a new, dry shirt.

"For making them your problem." Patton took his glasses off and began to polish them on the hem of his own shirt.

"Patton, I need you to know this." Janus waited until Patton looked at him before continuing, "I owe you nothing. If I had wanted you to leave, I would have asked you to leave and thought nothing of it."

Patton nodded and went back to polishing his glasses. They were silent for a long moment, during which Janus found himself unable to suppress a series of yawns. It must have been around 4:00 in the morning by this point. They had to have been the only ones awake.

"Hey, Janus," Patton said, finally putting his glasses back on. "You know The Breakfast Club?"

"Yes," Janus said distractedly, trying to figure out where Patton was going with this.

"This wasn't our version of that, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"When tomorrow comes and we're back to, to some sort of normal… You'll still be my friend, right?"

Now here was a situation Janus had never once envisioned for himself. He had pictured winning over Roman, had pictured gaining Thomas' support. Never once had he expected real friendship with any of them, let alone Patton. "Yes," he said, feeling sick at the irony of it. He had been comfortable as Patton's enemy, was now yearning for his kiss… How could he be friends with Patton when he burned like this for Patton's wholehearted affection? Was he really just supposed to endure it?

Patton smiled, so sweet and earnest that Janus had to bite down on his tongue. "Good," he said. "Speaking of, do you wanna have breakfast with me?"

"Not right now, I hope," Janus teased.

"No, no, not right now." Patton muffled a yawn into his sleeve. "I guess I'd better go."

Janus nodded. "See you in the morning?"

"Um," said Patton, who didn't appear to have been listening. "Thank you, Janus. You didn't have to-- Well, thank you."

He sank out without another word.

Janus imagined himself into his pajamas, imagined the lights off and threw himself onto his bed. "Fuck."

Frigid air seeped from the hallway seeped under the crack where Janus' door stopped just short of the carpet. He didn't allow himself to notice, and continued to put his outfit on piece by agonizing piece. The cold air made his joints slow and achy, and he struggled to get the clasps done up. It was just as well that he hadn't put on his gloves yet. He had become quite adept at handling things while wearing them, but for this task, the bulky fabric would only get in the way. After all, just like his singular snake fang, his gloves were for aesthetics, not function.

Finally, he donned his hat and faced the door, forced to confront that fatal truth: He could never have what he wanted. The moment he had achieved his goal of Thomas’ acceptance, the triumph had slipped away in his hands to be replaced with a truly unattainable goal.

Memories from last night, the phantom sensation of Patton in his arms, teased him until he had to sneer at himself. Pathetic. He was acting pathetic. Falling for Patton was strategically inadvisable, even if he couldn’t help it, but actively pursuing him was out of the question. It was all-risk, no reward. Still, his treacherous heart fluttered, teasing him with the thought of Patton’s lips on his own, Patton’s hands on his body, sharing heat, deepening the kiss--

“All risk,” Janus said out loud to himself, “no reward.” A mantra to see him through. He opened his door, his gloved hand slipping a little on the polished brass of his doorknob, and nearly walked straight into Remus as he passed by with an armful of dismembered dolls.

“Well,” said Janus, tilting his head to better examine the pile of plastic limbs and bodies in Remus’ arms, “I won’t ask what you’re up to.” He stifled a yawn behind his hand, visualizing a piping hot cup of coffee. A shudder wrecked his concentration and he frowned. “Are you the reason it’s so cold in here?”

Remus ignored the question, his feverish eyes darting from Janus’ mouth to his hand to his face. “I knew you were up late last night. That’s why I came this way.” He gave a crooked but strangely boyish grin. “I wanted to know where you’d gotten off to. Or who you’d gotten off with. ”

Janus, to his horror, blushed. Fragmented images flashed through his head-- What if he had kissed Patton? And Patton had kissed back? Mask, mask, mask! “I was spreading the Gospel.”

“You were spreading something , though, weren’t you?” Remus shifted the dolls in his arms and held up a masculine torso. “I know I heard Big Daddy’s voice. Play a little game of Patton- Snake , did you?”

Janus swore he could hear porcelain cracking as his heart began to race. “In all seriousness, Remus, we did reach an agreement.”

“Sounds like you reached more than that.” Remus waggled his tongue.

God, he was relentless when he was on the scent of something. Janus hid his face behind his hands, realizing a moment too late that this display of shame would only add fuel to the fire. So he took the only option left and muttered, “Boundaries,” into his palms.

“Oh,” said Remus, leaning back on his heels. “ Oh. Janus, you didn’t .”

“Of course we didn't!” Janus hissed, dropping his hands.

"But you wanted to?"

“How much did you hear yesterday, anyway?”

“Oh, I heard the whole debacle, including that heartwarming little moment at the end,” Remus said, rocking forward onto his toes. “Thanks for putting in a good word for me, by the way.”

They fell into an awkward silence as Janus once again reached for words that simply weren’t there. “I didn’t mean it,” he said finally, cursing himself.

“No?” said Remus. “Not even a teeny tiny little bit?” He poked Janus in the chest with the plastic torso, still clenched in his left hand. “Right here?”

“You,” said Janus, “are just as evil as I am.”

Remus backed off with a grin, leaving Janus in doubt that he had ever even been angry in the first place. “So where are you off to now? Roman’s got this place awfully cold; gonna go warm Patton’s snake?”

“You already made a ‘Patton snake’ joke,” Janus said, slamming another mask onto his face to hide his blush. “But to answer your question, he asked me to join him for breakfast.”

“Aww.” Remus wiped fake tears from his cheeks. “You better not start spending too much time with him or I’m going to get jealous.”

#moceit #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sorry if this shows up in the tag and catfishes the whumpers but i just wanted to say:#i specified that this isnt whump specifically because i DIDNT want to catfish y'all lmao #i just don't have it in me to hurt my babies that bad skhsjshf #anyway no judgement just not what this is #spicywrites #spicywrites intertwined

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cuuno-moved · 4 years ago

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ok so i keep on seeing these angst tiktoks of , like " it's 2058 and the streamer you used to watch died and you don't watch them anymore but it's sad" because i watch an ungodly amount of dream smp tiktok compilations, and honestly, i feel like the saddest part of that is just... the ordinariness of it. you do not leave it behind with any kind of finality. it is a story you tell yourself you will come back to. time is so short, isn't it? everything fades. in time, it is a memory. in more, it is space better used on the future than the past. you do not remember it. you live your life. maybe you are happy. and then you hear the news. you do not quite understand why it means so much to you. you look back (for old times' sake", you say.) there is a goodbye video from years back, if you're lucky. more likely, just things farther and farther apart, with less and less heart, until one day they just stopped. you watch the videos. they don't feel right. like a medal for a race you never finished, heavy around your neck. just like you. the thing with exits is that they can be gentle and understanding, or they can be messy and heartbreaking and jagged as the edges of broken glass. but they are endings. most of the things that will be important in our lives are things we hardly notice leave. you probably will not have talked to your best friend from high school in years when you learn that they have died. but in that moment, you are brought back to the peak of it. to when you loved with all your heart. humans are pretty terrible at perspective. we will love the things we love forever until we won't. the people we love will never die until they do. it is naive, but it is human and it is hope and the feeling that you can love something hard enough to keep the universe from reshaping its own matter a million times. it is a play-dough statue dried and crumbling on a shelf because you could not make yourself change it into something else and it could not stay as what it was.

someday, you will try and play the songs you used to know from now, and you will not be able to find them. it will be an apt unfinished ending to an era that ended long ago.

rose i swear to god

#tw death

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huadie · 4 years ago

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anchor liveblog post.

the curse of prophecy: all of my high tier kins channel tmg.

" somebody’s gonna get hurt / i hope it’s not me / but i suspect it’s going to have to be.

---

episodes 1-3: the general doesn't deserve the sympathy he gets. i'm not excusing a woman who killed happy girls on their wedding days, but i do think he owed her that closure. sending his son just pits the burden onto someone who wasn't involved. he should look his failures and mistakes in the eyes. if you can't count on a god to do that, who can you expect it of? it's disgusting. / i feel so tired and sorry for the girl who died saving a man who hated her and hurt her friend. i don't think kind people should be on the hook for ignorance and spite so willingly. her life for his was an unfair trade. / He's Cute. and wildly unexpectedly gentle considering the whole "demon" thing. / b tells me i'll have kin ptsd about the face disorder, but right now it's just heartbreaking. nobody deserves to live with that kind of fear. nobody deserves to live with that kind of pain. / b also implies someone in heaven is doing it to them for fun and i just want to say right now that i'm going to pull his dick off thru his mouth. that's a tier of evil that should have your blood start boiling inside you in an attempt to disinfect it. that was a child. that was just a scared little boy. not a prop or a toy or a plot device. a child. / i like the baby generals. they are so nineteen but it's nice to see it. i know anime leans on comedy skits a lot, but they can carry it off. they're charming. / heaven looks a bit shit. all of that meditation and betterment and it just makes you a spineless politician with the power to airbend? christ on a bike.

---

episode 4-5: initial reactions. watching him swing between fuck-me eyes and genuine emotional distress at no signal i can see is a lot. he's a good painter. i think i get the gist of where he's coming from but it feels insane to me. the twitch duels were cute. he clearly cares a lot more than he enjoys devilry so it's insane to me that he's that strong. general jr destroys me. imagine being so pompous and negligent you'd give your child your name. has he ever been allowed to be his own person? meow meow etc. the face disease is horrific. he was just a kid. he was so scared and in pain. i like the temple. i like that it's raggedy and messy. maybe it should be over-repaired, so people in need can take from it? it's definitely not very reverant, but. gods should serve their people. quotes all of small gods here etc. they should want to serve their people. they should be happy to see their temples valued below human life. it would be nice to live in a ghibli film forever, and read books and cook warm food and paint.

episodes ???. thoughts said out loud. gods own their people. thousands, one, here and now you are alive. gods are owned by their people. it's a cage. it's the most beautiful cage possible. to feed starving people from your hands. the bread and the fishes cut out of you. to give and give and give, to be asked for things you have never had and give them next. each prayer should strip you to the bone. can you imagine? to be so trusted, so cared for, so beloved, so followed, to have so much given to you freely and happily. a live lived to save others is the only beautiful thing. the only beautiful thing! a god should be owned by each of their believers individually. selfishly and shallowly and demandingly. like a child needs you. the power to put a fish back in the water is a blessing so heavy thinking about being created for it should make you wail. to be - for people, for the birds and the trees and the fish too, but for the people. it should break your heart. you should never let it become monotone. sunlight into wine.

on love: i trust b. i trust b. to love him here like this and love him in this skin and then find him again in a book and on a screen and fall in love with him there too, to watch myself fall in love with him too. nobody has ever earned what he freely gives. i want to give it back. oxygen to dioxide, i want to find all the places he stands and pour it back into him. i want to show him how beautiful he is. to love someone like that is a miracle and i want to pull it apart. i want to make him familiar with me and bored of me, i want him to wake up each morning taking me for granted, i want him to be so safe and secure in his place in my heart that it stops being a gift. that it wears down and falls apart. the velveteen rabbit. i want to hold him in my hands like a bubble that hasn't popped and i want to use him like the doorway to a world where even if i had to hurt and be hurt and fall and learn to grow, i can come home at the end of it. my growth can mean something, my stronger back can bear more weight, my lessons can be shared. i want it to mean something. i want to have faith in myself again. in the resurrected kingdom of his arms i can find it - build it. i can come home. it can have turned to gold while i did not see it. it can have worth, i can have worth, i can bend and not break. i can have a claim on things without losing them, without it cursing them. just him. i'm not greedy, i'm not selfish, so please - just him.

episode 6: there's something that hurts about letting other people see what you'll tolerate. what you'll do. the places in your life where you have pathetic history and where you are attempting to be someone who only existed today grinding against one another. i know he knows. i know it isn't a stolen moment, a chance to decide how i exist to someone before they decide it for me. i sleep beneath that painting and whenever i wake up in the night i feel him pretend that he is asleep. i know. i know. but it could have - it could have been. it could have been a lie that i got to play with. a tiny self indulgence. aren't you tired of stars? aren't you tired of being the tree that cannot bend in a storm? of holding yourself down? everyone else does it so easily. everyone else lets go. everyone else knows how. if i can't learn then i want to pretend. i want to be unwanted, and - and meet people. by chance, just chance, and like them and have them like me. no promises i made before i learned i couldn't keep them. just... something smaller. i talked about multiverse theory. how it isn't in the coin flip, but the atoms of the coin. how in one dot you can know everything. every grain of sand in a desert. i cannot survive existing with people thinking of me. not well and not poorly. i want to disappear into it. maybe nobody else is obligated to finish the work. maybe their contributions are a blessing. but i can't... learn how to let it go. it's all i have left in me that i recognize, somedays, as it gathers dust and makes me sick to breathe around. what am i if i am not that? i want to know. i'm scared to know. i will never be allowed to find out.

on being loved: god. it is too much. i don't hate it. it doesn't disgust me. but i feel like a plate being washed in every inch of the sea before i am allowed to see dry land again. i feel like i won't survive it if i look at it because it is a mosque decorated in mirrors, because it is mathematically perfect, because it holds the tiny miracles of angles and existence and light on par with the miracles of human heart and existence, because to make at all is to change the world for the first time, because i do not want to see what it reflects. i do not want to see it. i would be better if it lied to itself, if it was delusional and selfish and obsessed with smoke tricks. if it saw silk and paint and stopped looking. i don't want to know what i look like with my hair down, with my face clean, with my feet dirty, with my hands raw - i don't want to see what it sees to know that it loves there too. i don't want to follow it. i don't know how to make it stop. how could i - how could anyone be held accountable for this? to this? to prayers and plans and a kindness that changes the world in every grain of sand it has and again the next second, how could anything be worth this? and if it could - it couldn't be me. not a collection of stupid wishes and failures and betrayals-by-failure. not me with my hair down. silk could be worth this.

on being loved now that it isn't the middle of the night, and my body isn't betraying us both, and i can remember that there are an infinite number of steps between 0 and 1: but really, it's just ink. just paper. if it's - if he. if it's everything. if it's everything. then it can be one thing. it can be this thing. it can be the blindness. it can be me with my own hands over my own eyes like a shutterbox pretending i don't know how to see myself and admit that the pea beneath my mattress only hurts me - that it's small, to him, that it isn't sharp, that it's a phantom limb i can't stop being tormented by and only ever that. can that be enough to start? can i let it? it's atoms again. grains of sand. if he can love this, he can love everything. if i can see this, the rest falls away. there are more universes where we are kissing than every atom from the start to the end of time. that's how it works. i'm going in circles. you don't mind, do you? i'm writing this for you. you're the only person reading this. i don't know why i'm being impersonal about you when i'm being possessive about me. it won't protect me. it won't make it less terrifying to think of, and it won't make it less painful for you to read. i know you're already mad at yourself for being too much. for making me think that it's too much. you're kind to me like that, even when things are my fault. but if we can sit here together, and i can know that you know i can't imagine being loved, and that that - that moment, that dot, me unable to count to the place where numbers end - is something you love too. if i can just see this one moment, and not doubt it or question it or be afraid of it. it can be enough. because you know how hard i'm working to get to even this first step. you know how hard i'm working. you know how scared i am. you know it isn't you. you'll wait for me, with me, and you won't hate me for it. you promised.

on being forgiven: i don't know how to do it for myself. i don't know how to blame people for what they do to me unless it's the most extreme circumstance. i forgive too much that shouldn't be and hold ignorance and spite against others long past when it's fair. i handwave any scar someone gave me while they were suffering and never let go of what they do to others. i don't know what makes it different when it's me. i guess i know how to forgive myself for being scared and lost and for making bad decisions under the influence of... whatever... but not lazy cruelty. not letting something bad happen because i felt like it. all i do now is watch. all i do is let things slide past me again and again and again and do nothing to help and it can't matter that my heart breaks about it when theirs don't if none of us get up, and i remind myself that small steps do more than a single leap that uses me up but it's so hard to believe that here and now in the world where i could die if i tried again and harder still to comprehend in a world where 800 years of lives were made and suffered through and lost and i did nothing that matters to help. maybe all of the horrible backstory parts you're so scared of me seeing will be ones where i could do something, where i could climb up and let everyone take a raw bite out of me and go without starving for just one day, and then this won't cut me up inside like i swallowed a hedgehog. some days i am the hedgehog. trapped inside me, unable to stop being something that cuts to have there, unable to get away. i don't know how you can forgive me. i don't even know if you know what i need forgiving for. if i apologize for saving your life - for coming back to you again and again and again and being so selfish and. i don't know. for being me, while you try to love me, instead of being the person i can't forgive myself for not being, who deserves to be loved by you like this. but you'll forgive me. how do you do it? how do you stand it? i'm jealous of you. of how easy your heart warms up. of how kind you are.

kosmi 1-6 rewatch: i dislike pei su less now that i can see him as a person with a horrific job and less as a vehicle for the lies i know pei ming told about every woman he ever used and threw away. "i burned the scroll and won the war on my own" yeah right. gotta get that out first before i start collecting my thoughts. um.

one: the ascention, the earthquakes, (all that fuss for a scrap god. you told me the order it went in, when i asked, and i still think it's funny in a way that validates what i've been saying for something only the most in-need ask for help with to rattle the bells from warlord's palaces. they aren't ignorable. more than - more than anything else, anything before, i can be proud of this. i can be proud of myself for this.) i hate the way people look at you like you're infected with something because they can't play pretend that their inaction isn't malice any more. the bets and jokes and sneers. what have you done, lately? what help have you given? what good are you? and then there's me: starting as ever in unfixable debt, anchoring desperately to simple kindnesses, too tired to do more than smile. it's not worth it. it's never worth it. (being loved and losing it is worse than never knowing. being able to love yourself and losing it is worse than that.) the way that heaven sits unfixable and unchanging and incompetent. i'm proud of them for making something of their futures. i am. i don't begrudge them anything. i trust their character and i trust them to try to do the right thing for the people. i'm glad they didn't fight hua cheng. the kids are sweet. they're little carbon copies of their generals. it's sweet. it's kind. i like how... okay, they're mean and short tempered and fight like cats in a bag, but it's just the way you are at that age. it's not personal. it's easier to stand. i know there's gender coding tm in the novel, but i hate man-in-a-dress gags that point out that the man looks bad in a dress. i thought it was fine.

one point five: ok. i'll talk about it. the butterflies on the dress, the gentle music, the way our colours matched, the way your hand felt in mine. the sound of rain. i didn't know people could be so gentle. i didn't know they knew how. i think it was better for my health, before, when i assumed the best i ever saw was the best people were capable of. worse for me, though, to believe that. i'd forgotten what it was like to see myself in someone else's eyes as welcome.

zero point five: flashback sequence goes here. of course i remember what it was like to be loved, and work towards a clear goal that helped people. of course i remember what it was like to have a home that loved me back. he looked so scared as he fell. he looked terrified. i don't... i'm not good. at hating people. when i know everyone is driven to where they arrive in some degree or other. but that - whatever the reason they think they had, it isn't enough. it couldn't ever be enough. i hate seeing the human face disease. i hate how scared they are. how obviously in pain they are. i know they can't have survived. but i wish they could. i would give anything if they could. i would give anything up for it. have i talked about responsibility enough that this isn't a surprise yet? nobody should be that scared. nobody should suffer who hasn't chosen it to protect others. nobody should have to choose it, either, but if heaven has already failed you -

two: i hate that bald man. i hate watching that poor freckled girl throw herself on him again and again to save him just because he's human, while he takes every turn to re-learn hate and jealousy and hurt others. when he talks to his friends he almost humanizes himself, and i hope the time he spends as a crab fixes the rest. i truly do. but god i hate to see it. i hate being unable to do anything, because she chose it, because she knows him more than me, because her heart is kind enough to reach out to him even as it betrays and abandons the people in-need who can only go to her for help. you have to triage need. a life lived with the intent to harm others cannot come before a life lived with the intent to help, or to simply survive. anyway. the concern i get shown whenever i talk about the butterfly ghost is so charming.

three: i hate pei ming. his story is shallow and self-praising, his jilted lover competent and proud before he cured her of that with a kiss. i don't believe she broke her legs. i don't believe he passed over the chance to shortcut his way into glory. am i supposed to believe women just act like that? they just break their own knees for attention? she destroyed herself for him and he can't even pretend to care. not even at the end. not even to lie, and let her move on. so, what? thirteen girls die terrified and alone on the happiest day of their lives (- and we know it was happy for them, we know they went smiling up the path, we know they were excited) because he didn't have the stamnia to apologise to one person he hurt? i hate him. i hate his name, i hate his family, i hate his legacy of butchers, i hate his cowardice in sending pei su to grind out his cover story and then hide his mistakes where he doesn't have to look. i hate him. / i feel. so bad for that boy. he was so scared. do you know how scared you have to be to take scissors to yourself? i do. i have, literally, in the last year, actually. and that was... one cut. to avoid the risk of infection. sleeping on a wound that screams at you? he was a child. he was just a child. i let him down. there's no excuse. he needed reassurance. he needed protecting. i let him down.

four: i like that shrine. i like making it, owning it, doing something meaningful. i think a shrine for scrap should be made of more materials than it needs. i think it should be a place to sleep, always, and a place to eat, and you should be able to strip the roof if you need to. i don't care about what is proper, or respectful. respect the god of scavenger birds by surviving at any cost. by using what is useful. by taking what is free. i can build it again. if i know - if i can believe one good thing about myself, it's that i can build it again. as many times as it takes. i won't wear out. i won't give up. i can build it again. and how lucky, this time, to have help. there are so many things i can't do, even now. i need to learn. i never even thought about it until i saw that door. too long alone in my own head. too many years spent without it feeling worth the effort when a band-aid would hold.

four point five: again, ok, fine. i'll talk about it. you're beautiful. your eyes are like starlight, your smile is the warmest thing i've ever seen, your hands should be buried in an instrument, your painting is beautiful, your laugh is endearing - what do you want from me, here? of course i was looking. it's different to look now with your hand in mine than it was, then, to look just to look. to count threads just to count. to run my fingers through your hair and across your palm just to touch something. of course i knew. who wouldn't know you? who couldn't tell? but then, what was i going to do? know it? say it? ask things? better to be stupid, and naive, and find out what knife is waiting for me when it happens. i'm tired of speeding through the sweet moments to get to the next blade. i'm tired of being pushed from place to place. i'm tired of being alone. wasn't it fun? didn't we have fun? didn't you like talking together and cooking together and waking up in the morning in an empty shrine with the promise of another day to fill it? do i have to scream and shout and be suspicious and accuse you of - what! of holding my hand? of helping me? of being the exact same as everyone in heaven still deigning to look at me and thinking of me only as a tool to an end in a plan that will hurt people who did nothing wrong but pray? what can the harvest hope for if not the care of the reaper man? if it's - it always hurts. it always hurts. if it's going to hurt. why shouldn't it be kind first? why shouldn't i play stupid and keep you close and be usable without a heart left in me to break? why shouldn't i enjoy it for what it is, if it's all a lie? better me than someone who would be hurt by it. you're smart, and easy to talk to, and you're helping. you can't unbuild that door. unsweep the entryway. you can't undo the physical evidence of when you were kind. that's enough. that's all i can ever ask of people.

four point now: yes i know you wouldn't, now, i know you now, i don't need to gamble. i know you'd build a thousand doors. i know there's no trick. i know that it's safe. i know that i could have accused you and screamed and bit you and nothing would have made a difference and you still would have been kind. i know. i promise i know. i just... have to say where it was before. i have to tell you how important that kindness was, and how much i was willing to be kind to my own self to keep it near me. you understand what i mean, right? the tiny unforgivable act of making a mistake that could only hurt me? i know, i know. cocky to assume it would just be me hurt. but - if i was right to hope for nothing, i would make sure of that. i would make sure of it. i would do what i needed to to make sure only i was hurt for my selfishness.

five: i hate that we built a shrine and the next day something like that waltzed in. now we have to clean again. (i said in the stream, how funny it was to run that only survivor scam, how quickly it falls apart if you've ever seen real suffering, if you know what a survival rate is.) the rest i don't remember. i like working as a team. i like how much the kids hate you. they can tell too. i don't know what they see. but they worry about me. why do they worry so much? do their generals have something invested in me? are they just trying to do what they can now, and my caring for them isn't a one-way road? do you look that sketchy?

six: talking about the plot? in a sandstorm? no. you should keep my hat on. you look so sweet and cute and shy in it. i love the way you crumple when you aren't at the wheel, when an interaction happens without your instigation. maybe i'm not the only one bad at taking kindness. maybe i should offer it to you more often. you smell nice. like hot clay and silk. it's subtle. is that a ghost king thing, or is it just you? i like it. i can't imagine what i smell like. i hope... lillies and cotton. something soft. i'll ask you one day. i'm not surprised you were the most solid thing in a storm. i won't be surprised if you keep being that. i should have let you catch me. i should have dragged you with me. are you immune to it? could you stop it? would you pretend to be as useless and helpless as i am? i want to keep putting you in situations in disguise just to see what you do. it's fun! it probably shouldn't be, and i'm sure i'm setting myself up for a public shriving the more it becomes obvious who you are and how much i depend on you, but. i don't care. if i suffer for it, so what? what difference will that make? what could one more condemnation possibly do?

six point five: i like seeing sqx. i still read that as squeeks. i like seeing squeeks. i like sharing this with teddy. i like knowing that the way we are together can translate to here. i like how kind he is to me, and how funny, and sweet. i want to see him be happy. i want to see him be happy even though i know enough to infer it won't last. i know you love me with the power of a thousand angry wasp queens but it's nice to just sit next to him and joke with him and pretend for a little bit that i got to do this all the time. that i spent all my years drinking honey and rosewater and laughing with him, that things were as kind and easy as they're allowed to be. it's cute when i say he has a moral code and he gets offended. it's cute when i say he's a bitch and he gets offended. i like the way it makes all three of us laugh. i like seeing a place in my heaven where you could be. i don't want you to give up what you built. you built it because you had to. but when i'm sitting with my head on his shoulder, it's a window to that place where heaven exists to help people, where none of us ever had to learn what misery really was.

what power obliges from you: action. movement, always. there is no down time, no sleep, no rest, no running. if you seek people out to rule them - and that is what ascention is, seeking to rule, to tie your survival to your treatment of them - then you cannot do it with force and with ignorance and with the desire to coast. like. i'm not stupid. i know men do. for centuries and centuries with no repercussions, until the king on the rope for his people is as far related to the man who razed their lands as i am, (but inheriting evil is a choice too). i know how easy it is to punish and hurt and demand. how easy it is to hold people for ransom. but that isn't... that isn't power. that isn't kinghood or godhood or divine right. it's worthless. it's the other end of a sword. it kills you both to use. there's no light left in the world, no wonder, no chance to be saved by others so long as you are the thing that keeps you both drowning. you should wake up in the middle of the night for them without being asked. you should bleed for them without being asked. you should be ready to die for them without them ever knowing. even at their worst. at their most entitled, afraid, undignified, ignorant - if they are those things, the blame falls on you. if you are voted in democratically or born to the monarchy and not hanged in the streets it is the same either way: the people have chosen, they are asking you for something, and if you live in their gold and silk and sing their songs instead of smashing your own head in with a rock then you have agreed to the terms. why would anyone be unwilling to do that? afraid to do that? if you can do even a little bit more than someone else they are owed half of the excess. you cannot live in the world alone. you must not live in the world alone. ask the people above you to bleed for you and the people below you for nothing. there is no hierarchy beyond "i can help you" and "please help me" and there is no meaning beyond it either. every day it is hard to remember this but you have to, both parts, without losing either. why wouldn't anyone want this? what else is there to strive for but to better help others, to be someone with an abundance to share, to be used like that for the survival of everyone. isn't that happiness? to be as connected to everyone around you as a river is? to give water and fruit and blessings and promises and safety and shelter? you can seek power without understanding that it is only deeper service, but you will never do anything worthwhile with it. the gold will rot with your corpse. we find immortality in one another, and the celebration of giving more.

???: i saw a video of someone opening their back gate onto a meadow of the same single flower. it was beautiful. that's what it feels like when i catch you looking at me. we could grow flowers, couldn't we? we could plan a garden? i don't want to see myself fall and fail twice at least, or fight a war, without something kind at the end. i want you to tell me there's a way to still be like this - repairing doors, eating small meals, sleeping in warm air - after all of that is done. i want to build something selfish and self-sufficient together. i know we already are. in the things we talk about the jokes we make at my own expense whenever further plot implies at me. and in how excited i was to find out that the word for butterfly was this one. but i want to make things with our hands again.

episode 7: well. i'm glad it was me.

episode 7 (a day later): i'm still glad it was me. i'm proud of the kids for how brave they are, proud of that general for saving lives every time - and god, it was so funny sitting there in a circle of contempt for him, touching a gravestone people had hand cut and hauled up the mountain and carefully ingraved with their thanks, thinking about how loved and how much gratitude he must have died surrounded by. thank you for making them treat it with respect. thank you. he did his best. i'm almost jealous of it. imagine how nice it would be to help people, and have them see that you helped them, and be happy about it, and think kindly of you. i'm glad that you understood how important his actions were. i feel less alone when you're beside me on matters like that. anyway - i'm glad it was me. you're so bad at letting people care for you. i can tell you've been alone with only yourself to depend on for a long time. but your heart is so soft, you know? you don't even know it. you deserve to be protected. to be with people who want to protect you. it doesn't matter if you could have caught it in time, or survived a bite if you didn't - you should be able to think of yourself as precious to others. to me. i don't want to see you hurt. i don't ever want to take your hard-won strengths for granted. on the last day of earth, i want to move between you and danger as quickly and without apology as i did then. you're so easy to care for. do you know? and i'll be okay. i know you blame yourself for it because you said, because you're never gentle with yourself the way you are with me. but if you hadn't been there, i'm sure i would have stepped between someone else and that bite. i'm sure i would have forgotten again to grab the stinger i was just warning everyone about. you know what would change? if you hadn't been there, if you'd been a bit faster with your own defense, "if" "if" "if" - ? i wouldn't know there was a cure. i wouldn't know where to look for it, or be able to depend on someone helping me find it. that's the difference you made by being there. that's the only influence you had on me that day. you keep giving me the chance to survive my own mistakes. thank you. i can't promise we won't end up here again. i can't promise i won't keep trying to protect you. all i can do is hope that you know i don't mean it as a slight on your capabilities (it isn't! i just care about you. even the strongest man alive should be loved by people who want to shield him from danger) and that you don't get tired of me being so reckless.

#anchor.

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sjfisherman · 6 years ago

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Thinking long and hard about what you might choose to erase, you stand there lost in thought. The gentle humming of the Alien's spaceship echoing out across the vast valley before you, the wind gently blowing your hair as you stand on the cliff edge.

Maybe this is the lucky break you had given up on, maybe this is what you were ment to become in life. An indestructible warrior fighting to end a war you know nothing about, fought by aliens you didn't know existed until you came up to your favourite thinking spot.

"How long will I be gone for?" You ask.

You feel it in your heart more then hear a reply, but the answer is somewhat comforting. You won't be coming back.

"Can I choose anything? Like, anything? Even something I don't own, like money or... gold?"

Without nodding or speaking in any way, the Alien turns from you and faces out into the night, looking across the valley of trees and stars resting above.

With a single arm, it sweeps slowly across the silent view, giving you the feeling that indeed, anything, can be used for becoming their warrior.

Pondering on what could be erased to give the most power, you consider the evil in the world, the horrors, pain, suffering. Things with heavy significance and power that would do the world good by being removed.

But one thought gently steps out in front of the others. A thought that lead you up to your favourite thinking spot this late at night. The same thought that made you leave that letter back home.

What significance and power could you have? Someone who feels they lost everything, who decided this was the last night of their life. Knowing they wouldn't see the sun rise again after it set.

"I came up here to find peace. To remember those who loved me but who I feel I have now lost. I've ruined my life, wasted it away through fear and regret. I was so scared about life that I let it slip away from me.

"If I choose to erase my self, will that do anything? I have no significance, no power. Tomorrow I was going to be forgotten about and the world would continue without me. Is my life worth anything?"

The mask it wears gives no indication of what the Alien must have been thinking when you say this, but stepping forward it raises a slim hand, and gently touches your head.

It's touch is like a tingling sensation, like static electricity building up. The creature steps back after a couple of seconds, still looking at you, but begins to walk away towards it's ship.

Alarmed, you start after it;

"Wait, what did you do? Are you taking me? Do I have to choose something worth more?"

Stopping where it was, it turns and faces you. Silent as the breeze, it holds out it's hand almost as an offering or gesture towards you.

You begin to feel something again, but this time as words in your mind;

"You have more value than any creature I have met. Rather than take what isn't yours to gain glory and power, you wish to give your self to end your own suffering and dispair.

"I can tell you this, I've have looked at your future; what is coming towards you in your life. I see a better place for you then if you were to leave here.

"I see hope, joy, life. There are things that you do not know of yet, but these are more important than you could ever know. There are people you haven't met yet, who's lives you will change forever.

"This place needs you, for you have such great meaning and much to still bring, that to take it away would be to steal one of life's most precious gifts to the world."

Standing in shock is all you can do upon hearing this within your mind. You came here tonight to end this, to finish a life that you felt had no significance, no meaning. A life that would be better off having not existed. Unbeknownst to you, you would find Aliens looking for someone to become their powerful champion and fight for them. Odd how things turn out.

"No, we will not take you with us. Because your greatest battle, and your purpose, is right here where you are. You will not find what you are looking for with us. Instead, you must find it within your self.

"Our battle is one of an eternal struggle who's origin has been lost to the ages. While yes we do look for a champion to fight for us, and choose something worth while to erase for use as power, there are some beings with power too great even for us to be able to control."

Still in disbelief, you feel a lump form in your throat. What power or meaning could you possibly have? What purpose could be so great for your life that you will be better off staying in your current struggle, rather then dropping everything and running?

Watching through teary eyes, the spacecraft gently takes off and vanishes into the night sky. Deciding maybe today wasn't your last day, you head back to your car, and drive back home in the dark.

60 years on, that night is still what you consider to be the most important day of your life. Without it, you wouldn't have returned home to find your parents desperately looking for you, your friends wouldn't have been able to hug you and be there for you when you tell them what you were going to do. Your future partner would never have been able to say "I do" whilst looking in your eyes, your grandkids wouldn't have waved goodbye as they headed off for their first day of school.

If not for that fateful night, when you thought your world was going to end, and you had given up hope of things ever getting better, you wouldn't have tried one more time. You didn't give up, you learned of the power within your self, the significance of your life, finally finding the peace you had been looking for.

Don't give up. Your life is worth so much more then you will ever know.

<Post Script> I know I deviated from the actual story prompt, but I felt as I wrote that maybe this story is a better one to write. Hope it helps someone out there standing on their own cliff edge, not knowing what amazing things are headed for them.

An alien offers you a pact: You choose one thing to erase from all existence, forever, and they will take all the power and significance of that one thing to transform you into a hopefully-indestructible warrior. In return, you have to fight for them in a war that has lasted since the beginning of time. Unbeknownst to you, someone else is being offered the same pact by an enemy faction…

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