#as part of the same soul network

[iamthescalesofjustice]

had a locked tomb dream in which one of gideons lowkey-only-bc-she-glosses-over-it-in-her-narration powers was teleportation as in she fucking kept teleporting and didnt seem to notice or think it was weird and when people called her on it she was like ‘yeah its called flash-stepping i read about it in some ancient-ass comic books i dug up in a back corner of the library on the ninth’ and everyone is like ‘???’ bc she says its not a necromantic technique bc everyone who did in it the ‘comic books’ (only the sixth know what manga is) she read was a warrior and most of them used swords so clearly its a secret advanced cav technique. and, she says, its not like it uses any spooky necro stuff, its ‘just a matter of honing yourself until you can move really fast’ so it might look like ‘teleportation’ to all of them but clearly that just shows that she got really good at it and is better than all of their fancy smancy ‘properly trained’ cavs. anyway, it turns out that using flashstep as the framework is the only reason why its been short line-of-sight bursts for her until now, once the penny drops she can straight up pop between planets. also she at one point mentions how ‘the wind’ roars really loudly in her ears while doing it and it turns out thats the sounds of the feral river ghosts bc she is, and i cannot stress this enough, constantly taking brief dips into the river. 

[helslastangel]

Sun & Moon Observations ‧₊˚❀‧˚.

Original individual posts combined into one. Based on personal interpretation. If it doesn't apply, LET IT FLY.

Aries Sun

When your self-esteem is low, you get into competition with others. Their accomplishments feel like personal attacks even though you know they're not. You wish you could feel secure in just "being" rather than only after achieving something.

Lady Gaga has Sun in Aries

Angelina Jolie has Moon in Aries

Aries Moon

You compete with yourself when your self-esteem is low. It's hard for you to see the true value of all the things you've done before, even though it's obvious to everyone else. You wish you could motivate yourself more by what others are doing rather than feeling unsatisfied with all your own wins.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Taurus Sun

When feeling unaccomplished, you seek to accumulate wealth and opportunities for others, extending yourself outward to support those within your network. You often wish others would look out for you in the same way though.

Adele has Sun in Taurus

Danai Gurira has Moon in Taurus

Taurus Moon

You seek opportunities and resources for yourself when feeling unaccomplished, drawing inspiration and support from those in your community and network. You wish to reach a place where you feel successful enough to do the same for others.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Gemini Sun

When feeling bored, you seek out new places and people, moving on from those you've seen and heard everything about before. Sometimes you wish you didn't have to be the one to do all the searching, and that others would find you from time to time.

Marilyn Monroe had Sun in Gemini

Rachel McAdams has Moon in Gemini

Gemini Moon

You try to escape your own mind when feeling bored, leaning on others to entertain and distract you from yourself. You often wish you could find your own persona as interesting as you do others, and might slightly envy people who seem to be perfectly happy and content to spend days or weeks in their own company, entirely in their heads.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Cancer Sun

When feeling unsafe, you reach out to loved ones and try to protect and nurture them, while wishing to be protected and cared for yourself.

Missy Elliot has Sun in Cancer

Mariah Carey has Moon in Cancer

Cancer Moon

You turn inwards to protect yourself when feeling unsafe, nurturing your own emotions while wishing you could still be there for others.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Leo Sun

When feeling insecure, you go out and try to make others laugh and feel happy, though you wish someone would entertain and cheer you up too.

Halle Berry has Sun in Leo

Queen Latifah has Moon in Leo

Leo Moon

You stay in and entertain yourself when feeling insecure, feeding your soul though wishing you could still make others smile at the same time.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Virgo Sun

When feeling useless, you try to be helpful and supportive to others, improving their lives where you can. But you wish someone would help you sometimes too.

Zendaya has Sun in Virgo

Angela Bassett has Moon in Virgo

Virgo Moon

You turn inward and focus on your growth when feeling useless, learning more to improve your life. But you wish you could be more helpful to others.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Libra Sun

To feel at peace, you play the referee for others and try to mend the troubles between them. Though sometimes you wish that someone would check in and offer to help you resolve the wars going on in your own life and mind.

Cardi B has Sun in Libra

Anne Hathaway has Moon in Libra

Libra Moon

You play the referee in your own mind when you need to feel at peace, sorting through your thoughts to come to a resolution. Though you wish that you had the capacity to look out for yourself and still be the #1 mediator for others.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Scorpio Sun

When you feel like you need a change, you seek to learn more about others, uncovering their hidden sides and deepest feelings. Part of you wishes others found you as interesting as you find them.

Tracee Ellis Ross has Sun in Scorpio

Mila Kunis has Moon in Scorpio

Scorpio Moon

You dig deeper into your own mind when you need a change, seeking to discover the parts of yourself that you haven't gotten to know yet. Part of you wishes you could find others more interesting than your own thoughts.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Sagittarius Sun

You retreat from friends and loved ones when feeling confined, seeking to spend time alone but wishing you knew how to stick around for others through overwhelming emotions.

Zoë Kravitz has Sun in Sagittarius

Zoe Saldana has Moon in Sagittarius

Sagittarius Moon

When feeling confined, you retreat from yourself and seek out the company of others, though you wish it was easy for you to sit with yourself and process your emotions.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Capricorn Sun

When feeling unstable, you shut others out and focus inward; preferring to simply go it alone and not bother or inconvenience everyone. Part of you wishes others would see past this façade and stay by your side anyway.

Ryan Destiny has Sun in Capricorn

Lena Headey has Moon in Capricorn

Capricorn Moon

You shut yourself out wheh feeling unstable, focusing on everyone else and their needs instead. Part of you wishes you could be free and let it all hang out like everyone else, without being abandoned for it.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Aquarius Sun

When you feel restless, you go out and seek to reinvent others, whether by transforming the way they look and express themselves, or by reforming the way they think. Secretly, you wish someone would bring fresh perspectives to you.

Megan Thee Stallion has Sun in Aquarius

Billie Eilish has Moon in Aquarius

Aquarius Moon

You reinvent yourself whenever you feel restless, disappearing for a while and returning with a whole new look, philosophy, or general approach toward life. Secretly, you wish you could inject new perspectives into those who need them.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Pisces Sun

When you're hurting, you reach out to others and try to heal their wounds, preferring to focus on helping others than trying to help yourself. Secretly, you wish someone would come along to heal you.

Rihanna has Sun in Pisces

Audrey Hepburn has Moon in Pisces

Pisces Moon

You focus on your healing when you feel hurt, preferring to shut others out so your soul can rest and recover without repeated interrupting. Secretly, you wish you could hold space for both yourself and everyone else.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚

↤ go back to the masterlist

[arenee1999]

This renewal fight isn't just about Our Flag Means Death. The cancellation is part of a broader problem that has multiple arms.

Original content is being canceled, shelved and pushed to the shadows while remakes, reboots and endless sequels that can be milked well past their expiration date take precedence.

Lgbtqia+ and diverse content is being canceled, shelved and sidelined in favor of more of the same homogenized stories that have been being done for 100+ years.

Shows that have absurdly high ratings are being canceled. If a show that was being considered a flagship show for the network, that had the highest ratings for 14 weeks, that has a 94% rating on Rotten Tomatoes with a 95% Audience Score, is being canceled what hope does any other show have?

Streaming services and Networks are doing a 180° on they type of content they're interested in. Just a handful of years ago they started pulling away from the long season shows that could be endlessly renewed in favor of short contained stories that could be told in 1-4 seassons with 6-14 episodes per season. Creators have given them those stories but are still having to fight tooth and nail to get the renewals that should have been a foregone conclusion because these are the exact type of shows that were asked for. And audiences were more willing to take chances on these shows because with such a tightly wrapped story with an ending decided on before it started there's no reason we shouldn't be getting the whole story. No reason for premature cancellations when the number of seasons needed to tell the entire story was part of the original pitch that the network agreed to. No need to cancel it unless it actually does have atrocious viewership numbers. But now, these stories that were specifically asked for by the networks, that have ratings well above what's needed to justify keeping it on the air, are being canceled or shelved in favor of going back to the idea of endless seasons and spin offs and reboots of tired franchises.

You want to keep getting good, original stories that aren't just endless reboots and sequels of a once good idea that's lost it's soul? Join the email & letter writing campaign to MAX and other streamers and networks. Tell them you are interested in seeing more original content. Diverse content, lgbtqia+ content. Help save OFMD and in the process save your own favorite shows. No, one letter, one signature can't change anything. But thousands can. Be one of the thousands.

@renewasacrew

[rose-maidenn]

Pac : Let's get insights on your purpose for the next 5 months !

nov-dec-jan-feb-mar

using safe passage tarot from "Agatha all along"

Pile 1-2-3

Hey guys hope you're doing well , chose the Pile that calls to you intuitively, know that I'm not gonna sugarcoat things because I want your best . Hope you enjoy this

For more see masterlist and paid readings

Pile 1 :

You are represented by the king of wands a very charismatic person , you attract people who are looking for growth and you are someone who always wins in all fields you exactly know where to play the cards right to win . Alternatively for the other part of the group king of wands can mean someone who's nose is kind of everywhere they're at too many different things not giving one thing the change to reach the full potential.

What's missing is an ending !!! Ending to certain things relationships, people , in order to reach something new you have to let the old things go which is something you have to learn . You need stronger boundaries , more self worth and less attachment issues .

The lessons you have learnt is represented by the queen of wands it is about social settings I feel like you're someone who easily becomes friends with everyone and that's a good networking skill. You could also be someone who is very creative and starts at everything their heart calls for .

Your path ahead is represented by death , it calls for an ending ending of doubts , bad thought patters , old beliefs and relationships let shit go and see what happens .

Your Obstacles is represented by chariot I feel in this case it's about you staying in the same zone and resisting change it's like an ouroburos moving but in the wrong places and wrong circles , cut the string , your comfort zone is killing you honey

O of wands in this case is like don't wait around for anyone not even about being ready yourself just do what you need to do end the things that you need to you can't drag this anymore dear, this could also be about drug addiction or addiction in general .

Your destination is magician yay ! You know how if you just let shit go the magic happens so will it happen for you. Just let it go let people be , only work for yourself, give yourself all, heal and you will know you're powerful, you don't need a guru you're the star itself.

Thank you for reading, if you liked this and would like personal insights or a longer read to book click here .

Pile 2 :

You are represented by four of cups , you are someone who wants what they want and won't settle for anything. I sense a stern energy . Alternatively you might be someone who is extremely bored these days and just wants to lay .

What is missing is justice , you need to work hard rn for your dreams , but in the write direction I won't say you never worked hard but somehow in the wrong way , you might have a retrograde Saturn. You need to find what can do justice to yourself as you owe yourself everything and you are worth everything.

The path behind is represented by page of wands , your reading is like you were a very enthusiastic person once but now you have lost the zing for life . You have a great influx of ideas why don't you use them dear.

Path ahead is represented by the empress , clearly you are to start working on these ideas start the creative project take the leap. Focus on letting your creativity flow , your intuition knows , your soul knows.

The Obstacles is represented by eight of coins is that you need to learn dedication and working on something even if it takes time be it studying , art or relationships you are called to enjoy the journey and not just the victory.

Represented by ace of wands in this case I think you should avoid working on something new until you finish the old , you need to give one thing commitment and mastery then you will reach your destination

Represented by the king of cups. Mature and passionate about what they do . This infact represents a chance that you might become the best at what you wanna do . You might become a professor a teacher or a guide to people if you choose to follow this path .

Thank you for reading, if you liked this and would like personal insights or a longer read to book click here .

Pile 3 :

You are represented by six of coins a very beautiful earthy loving energy of gratitude and kindness , you give without thinking anything part of why you are blessed with more .

Ten of swords is what is missing in my deck it's literally a person cutting off a hand honey someone is using you , the awareness and discernment on who deserves your time money and energy is the thing that is missing .

You have learnt that people will be who they are despite giving your all so why don't you apply that in new relationships keep the knowledge but also use it . Alternatively this could be about relationship and someone leaving you in the past who was toxic.

The path ahead is represented by the fool , you're in the start of a new journey you have endless possibilities you can now leap into new and have faith that universe will do the best for you.

Your Obstacles are represented by death , you're ruminating on a past relationship too much which is making you work extra even for the bare minimum you have to work to stay in your queen energy don't do too much it's not worth it .

You must overcome the queen of wands I think this is a toxic person who was in your life you said you stupid shit that didn't align with you and now you have taken their words literally , recognize who this is maybe a family member a friend or a youtuber guru idk they have flowery energy but they're unhealed

Your destination is represented by the two of cups yay a union this can be the union of your logic and intuition. Masculine and feminine energie or a new relationship:) all in all an energy of balance and love .

Thank you for reading, if you liked this and would like personal insights or a longer read to book click here .

[ckret2]

(I said earlier I had a fic excerpt about DEATH LAWYER AXOLOTL, here it is.)

The god hopefully turned to the time giant—

She shook her head, expression flat. "Nope. I'm a civil engineer, not a hostage negotiator."

—and then turned to the Axolotl. "You. You know how to talk to mortals like this triangle that's taken over Dimension Zero, don't you? Isn't he like the omnicidal monsters you represent every day?"

The Axolotl looked nervously at the wormhole into Dimension Zero. He could see blue fire and hear wails of pain on the other side. "Ah," he said.

####

Biologically there was really no such thing as a god, in the same way that botanically there is really no such thing as a vegetable. Tomatoes are fruits; spinach is a leaf; carrots are roots; broccoli is an unfinished flower. The word "vegetable" just indicates the cultural role a plant performs in the kitchen.

The word "god" indicated the cultural role an entity performed in cosmology: a god was anything that exerted enough power that mortals felt driven to worship it.

Different beings so honored with the title "god" handled it in different ways. For the Axolotl's part, he thought it was a useful designation to help with networking, but mostly it was a pain that meant he was put up on a pedestal for doing his job.

The Axolotl was a god of justice. Not the god of justice, but one. He held dominion over an abstract concept; over millions and billions of years, his words and decisions slowly, inexorably altered the idea of "justice" on a multiversal scale. Mercy, retribution, punishment, rehabilitation, equity, equality, fairness, and righteousness were like multicolored clays he could twist, squish, sculpt, and blend at his leisure, permanently altering what those ideas meant to the mortals they affected.

Which was to say: he was a lawyer.

He was also known as a god of rebirth. Which was to say: he specialized in afterlife law. Before going into law he'd only been a psychopomp, but after having to escort too many despairing souls to afterlives he felt were too severe for their sins, he'd decided he wanted a say in where he took his souls. Now he helped clients get their charges reduced so they were eligible for a higher-tier reincarnation, or got their purgatorial sentences reduced, or—on rare occasions—even helped them avoid damnation. (Although he didn't take many damnation cases. He didn't always win—and those ones were too depressing to lose.)

And lately, he'd been developing a reputation.

For the past few centuries, he'd been working on a damnation case. He was defending a supervillain who'd built a weapon that could slice open the fabric of spacetime—a crime against reality—and bisect planets in its wake. He'd died inside the jurisdiction of an afterlife that had legalized eternal damnation. Case law had long since established that the dead had to be sent either to the afterlife system of their native jurisdiction or an alternate afterlife system of their choice in order to be judged, provided that the proper afterlife accepted their transfer request.

But if this villain had been extradited to his home world, the heaviest sentence he could have faced was a thousand years purgatory, with an option for early reincarnation for good behavior after a hundred years. So the jurisdiction he'd died in had summoned up some bureaucratic red tape to dismiss his native afterlife's extradition request, and he'd been sentenced where he'd died. They'd wanted to establish via case law that the dead who had committed crimes against reality could be damned in whichever jurisdiction they happened to die in, and hoped they could get away with it just for lack of anyone protesting the move. After all, everyone involved much preferred that a mortal wicked enough to obliterate multiple populated planets and trillions of lives receive eternal punishment.

Everyone involved except the Axolotl. 

Taking this case hadn't made him many friends. He didn't care; he had his principles. Let an interplanetary supervillain be dragged away to a foreign afterlife just so that he can be forced into damnation, and next it'll be a planetary dictator; let a dictator be dragged away, and next it'll be a murderer; and next it'll be a burglar; and next it'll be a jaywalker that a psychopomp has a personal grudge against. If the Axolotl could establish that even the most undeserving mortal imaginable, a criminal against reality, still deserved the right to be sentenced in the afterlife of his choice, then he could establish that everyone less evil deserved the same right.

If he had anything to say about it, in two or three trillion years he'd see eternal punishment outlawed completely; but untilthen, he was not going to sit idly by and let this flagrant abuse of interdimensional law become the new meaning of justice! He would get that supervillain out of eternal damnation, personally escort him to his native afterlife, and see him reincarnated on his own home world—and mark his words, he would rain so much bureaucratic hell on the judges and psychopomps that had let this abuse of justice take place that no god would dare keep a soul from its rightful afterlife ever again, or he wasn't the Axolotl!

All of which was to say:

Yes, unfortunately. This triangle was like the omnicidal monsters he represented every day.

And so he was appointed hostage negotiator.

####

(And that's why a trillion years later he's the guy helping Bill submit an insanity plea so that he can go to Theraprism rather than get the permadeath penalty.)

[marsupials-of-mars]

I have a theory. It's a lot of speculation, but an interesting thought:

Euclidea was a hivemind. Or, at least part of it.

This is my main "evidence." The line "One of the few conciousnesses" and referring to the lonely humans as "you" somewhat implies that he himself is or was part of a hivemind consciousness. Like, for example, a fungal spore network.

With what we know of Euclidea (strict adherence to rules, valuing uniformity, fearing non-uniformity), it wouldn't be a surprise.

What constitutes as a "hivemind" here is vague, and if it is the case with Euclidea, it doesn't mean that all of the Euclideans were the same person with the same shared knowledge.

It may be more of an extrasensory connectedness, uniform patterns of thought, a general understanding of what others are experiencing/feeling, physically or mentally. This aligns with some of Bills powers: reading minds, possessing multiple corpses all using his own voice, seeing through many eyes (not necessarily simultaneously, but as "peepholes")

If we follow this idea, it makes the Euclideans seem less like fascists and more like people looking out for their community. So averse to a reality-breaking mutation because it posed a threat to the minds of anyone connected to bill.

Maybe, rather than forcing baby bill to be medicated just to make him normal, his parents were doing what they thought was best not just for their child, but for their people.

(^ I'll admit some of these screenshots are more "thematic" than "evidence")

Maybe it was so easy for Bill to destroy his whole dimension much by accident because all he had to do was stop taking his meds, and let this mutation which nobody else was physiologically able to handle into the minds of those people.

He felt so stifled that he made the conscious decision to endanger people; it wasn't fully an accident, nor was it fully violent in intent. But his choices directly resulted in the massacre.

All this to say, this concept is mostly just more fuel for angst. Bill not only destroyed friends and family, but pieces of himself. His blue flames and red anger aren't just influences or genetics from his parents, because his parents weren't just parents; They were pieces of himself.

He was alone in the universe, but it was worse than that. He was alone, truly alone with his thoughts, without knowing how to even process what "his" thoughts were, or what "alone" really meant.

He blacks out when he recalls the day he tried to fuse everyone into his own individual perspective, because the memories missing are the memories of countless dying people.

He's an idea. Not a soul, not a conciousness, because the soul was shared among his whole race of people.

Maybe this could be why he's so desperate for attention, belonging, friends, and family: He's desperately trying to fill in the gaps of his own consciousness.

And, it could explain why he's so, so very bad at it: Because he can't conceptualize the desires of individuals. They should all want what he wants, think like he does, that's how it's supposed to be when you love someone!

Your family is an extension of yourself, so why wouldn't they want to make you happy? If you're happy, everyone is happy!

He's a handful of selfish thoughts that persisted after the soul they belonged to was destroyed.

Now don't come at me with your conspiracy pants on and tell me how little evidence I have and how unsubstantiated and speculative all this is, I KNOOOWW but I'm having fun and playiiingg!!

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ I AM THE KNIFE WHICH WILL SLAUGHTER HEAVEN ( part ii. )

IT IS YOUR PART TO KILL ME , MINE TO DIE WITHOUT FLINCHING.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ alhaitham ･ cyno ･ scaramouche. genshin impact. cw : violence ( non-graphic/descriptive ). angst. everyone is fighting, sometimes it's a little sad, sometimes there are 'but we could have been something' vibes ٩(ఠ益ఠ)۶. title cr : heiner müller. quote cr : epictetus. repost. tagging @pixelcafe-network ଓ.°・・・ part i.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

"you've caused more trouble than you're worth. what did you expect would happen?"

a moment's notice : the swift approach of the acting grand sage, a collision of bodies, and the failed escape from his grasp as you both come crashing to the floor, books and documents scattered about as result of havoc. the back of your head makes contact with cold tile and you lose your senses ; it is suddenly hard to breathe, your chest rising and falling with vicious violence, and you are not sure if it is from the fall or the way alhaitham presses his weight on top of you in means of apprehension.

you blink once, twice, eyes wide and veins surging with an adrenaline unfathomable, let out a breathy laugh at his slipping facade of apathy. there's an unfamiliar rage, a quiet anger, one you almost desire to see more of yet despise all the same.

of course he knew all along. who would he be, after all, if he could not detect a spy sent to infiltrate the akademiya and bring turmoil to sumeru itself?

this is not a betrayal, alhaitham thinks, but there is a cruel brutality that makes itself known in the way the knife digs into your flesh. this is not a betrayal, he reminds himself, because betrayals are meant to hurt.

you expect him to rid of you with ease, press the blade just a little bit further. you expect this painful sensation, but you do not expect that strange flicker of reluctance -- of something else that you do not want to deem as grief, because that would mean something you do not wish to consider. but it disappears as quickly as it appeared, gone, replaced with utmost desolation.

"go ahead." the words are hard to speak, but you smile nonetheless, watch his humanity seep through everything he has ever preserved in the act of living. "one of us has to survive this, don't we, alhaitham?"

❀ ﾟ. ༄ cyno

judgement day is never meant to be a beautiful thing, the granting of punishment a harsh and merciless being. cyno wears the role of the general proudly, a gentle heart turned stone when the trials of treachery fall before him. he does not bear the responsibility of deeming another as deceitful, leaving the akademiya to such matters, but this --

there is a ringing in his ears, a desperate beating in his chest, frightened.

he does not know what to make of this.

you stand in front of him, disheveled, crimson smeared across your skin. there is an uncertainty that hides beneath the sanguine as trembling hands rise in sign of surrender, muscles aching in protest from endless battles against cyno.

you do not know if any of this is right. you do not know if you are right or wrong; you do not know if he is right or wrong. you wish it could be that easy, see the world of knowledge in black and white.

you are unsure what to make of this. you are unsure if you're regretful, if you're sorry for your actions, but you know that you are sorry to him. you don't dare to speak of such apologies, know they have no place in the long friendship you have shattered and broken and ripped apart.

you have a job to do and so does he. how you wish you could have done it together, just as you did in the golden days where you were young and naive, oblivious to opposing ideals in a world where the worst was not the breaking of one's heart and soul.

"please tell me, general," and somehow, it stings to hear that and not his name and the tenderness that accompanies it, "what judgement will you pass upon me?"

there is a weariness in your voice, an admittance of defeat, because you do not think you can endure any more of this, and maybe you do not regret this, the surrendering of yourself for the sake of another. no, you will not regret this, you think, so you swallow hard, erase the fear in your heart in preparation for the end.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ scaramouche

"dearest balladeer," the title slips from your tongue, drips with venom and all things hideous, "you've betrayed us, haven't you? run off with your little treasure, gone against tsaritsa and everything you've ever known. wouldn't it be a better fate, granting your loyalties to her rather than falling by my hand?"

you tilt your head, observe the sword you wield with childlike innocence. in the reflection there is your delighted gaze, a semblance of the gnawing insanity the delusion has given as blessing.

"betrayal?" there is a hatred born from the depths of despair that resides in sharp tones, brings forewarning of the suffering you will endure, "what do you know of betrayal?"

you force a smile that doesn't quite meet your eyes and he notices this. how dangerous and daring his words are ; your hand aches, grasp on the weapon so tight that you almost feel it could shatter in all your fury. you do not think about the past or who you once were before you took on the glory of a harbinger.

no, you do not think about the past or who you once were because it matters not, yet there is something so damaging in his response that the memories surface if just for a moment -- just a moment, you think, but already that is too much.

it doesn't matter. you do not come in warning nor to retrieve a harbinger lost in his own greed. your intentions were to kill him from the start, bring forth the finale to one deserving of it all.

"you never fail to impress me, scaramouche." your words are filled with amusement, but there is nothing on your visage, a terrifying blankness : no anger, no lingering madness. "not only are you selfish in your wants, but you are selfish in the desire to be known as the only one who has suffered."

you raise your weapon at him, tilt your head up in gesture that he does the same. you bore of this nonsense.

"come, balladeer. i'll grant you the kindest ending, erase you from an existence you never deserved."

[hwaightme]

Feel alive

(masterlist) (taglist)

🌑 pairing: strictland!seonghwa x gn!singer!reader 🌑 genre: fluff, angst, dystopian, sci-fi, noir, music, lovers to enemies to lovers 🌑 summary: after escaping the confines of prestige academy you find yourself singing at 'morpheus' - an underground bar and club for strictland outcasts. except this reality, too, crumbles before you. your fate is again in the hands of the same man, and you are forced to ask yourself: what does it mean to 'feel alive'? 🌑 wordcount: 9.5k total 🌑 warnings/tags: semi-edited, authoritarian regime (strictland/z/universe z), lore-inspired, guns/gunshots, implied attack on club, implied violence, crime, alcohol/drinking, implied organised criminal networks, discussions about death/murder/execution, nihilism/existentialism, 'bout as dark as the diary entries, long lost lovers, starcrossed, hope, blue bird, jazz, uprisings 🌑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🌑 a/n: noir hwa, ateez synthwave song quartet, and lore ponderings. hope you enjoyed <3 any notes, reblogs, comments, asks are always welcome! much love!

The lights dimmed, and it was as if the jazz bar never existed in the first place. The worn seats occupied by drunks who liked to pretend they had taste, sofas in the far corner reserved for big shots and well-established scum with pretty young accessories on either arm, the bar that sold everything under the rays of the dying sun and evil moon, it all disappeared with the dawn of the spotlight falling upon your alluring silhouette. A simple, yet elegant sleek black dress with a hint of shimmer that graced your curves seemed to shine in the glimmering illumination. The delicate silver accessories were stars in the hypnotising sky, the allure of an unreachable universe becoming overwhelming as your hands glided over the length of the microphone to find purchase on the stand. The music, starting from a low rumble, was an echo of the abyss surrounding you, manifested only at the softest inhale. After what could have been the drums and trumpet, or could have been the heavens announcing the beautiful singer’s presence finished their spontaneous introduction, Seonghwa had the pleasure of forgetting his purpose, at least for as long as the song lasted. He could drift into a sultry paradise, seduced by what had to be a siren’s call, and regard the customers of the Morpheus bar with something less than loathing.

As soon as he cleared the last of the russet coloured drink he had ordered in one gulp and set the glass down on the bar, shutting his eyes momentarily to focus on the warmth of the alcohol running down his throat, Seonghwa found the fingers of his right hand softly drumming out the song in accompaniment, each digit hitting one note, another, again and again. Back in the day, it had not been often that his visits to the bar occurred at the same time as the one and only Y/N’s performances, but when they did, he swore he could see the smog clear and tomorrow become a certainty. The music consumed him whole and even though he knew down to the second when the magic would be extinguished, a part of him still retained the hope that the spell would never be broken. Not when the only encore he could guarantee for himself was another torturous raid on an establishment such as this one, or another feverish witch hunt for those who had regained their ability to feel and to think freely. All in the name of a faceless leader who even Seonghwa himself had only met a handful of times despite being in a high ranking position of Guardian Inspector - above the standard white-clad machines, above the so-called officials clad in military uniform, he was in charge of ‘keeping civil hands clean’. At what cost? Perhaps his own emotions were the price.

The dark-haired man caught himself wondering how many people in this bar could enjoy themselves to the fullest. How many of these poor unfortunate souls that succumbed to the rush for easy money and easy love were true followers of hedonism, and were spending their days in an enviable bliss? Biting his lower lip, Seonghwa regarded his surroundings with a subtle scorn. He was well aware that he was to blame for it all too; The regime, to retain the ultimate, unwavering control over the citizens, even those who wholeheartedly believed they were well-hidden from the authoritarian judgement, was a supplier of one of the many pleasures after all - toying with people's weakness before the formidable seven sins only to lead them into full submission. The Strictland government, despite propagating ‘human emotion being a disease’ had anything anyone could ever desire, and Seonghwa was one of the many agents to guarantee long term partnerships, addiction to the illusion of a better life, and most importantly, stability and security for the people who had taken him in all that time ago when no one else would, and had given him a chance. 

While he was the bringer of demise, the counter of profits drenched in crushing dread and the hand of twisted and subjective justice, at the same time, Seonghwa believed that it gave him all the more right to judge the society he was a part of. After all, he was not the one being fooled. Inevitably, his glimmering orbs settled back on the singer’s gently swaying form as they broke into the chorus, and nearly shuddered as your gaze, from languid, half-lidded but oh so appealing eyes, met his, only for a split second but it was as if hellfire itself embraced him and greeted him like an old lover. Each lyric - a personal address as you moved along at a sensual pace, the song smoother than the most expensive silk. He smirked to himself as he caught his ponderings accelerating uncontrollably, attempting to squash them under a sober, calculating fist. You were no fool either. An entertainer, measuring out each attack like a venomous serpent, not threatened, seeking fun in the reveal of vulnerability of your listeners - each one believed that you existed for them and them alone, and in the hypnotic state added bill after bill to their already hefty tips in the hopes that at least some would reach you, and you would give them that beautiful smile, maybe something more. Truly, a shame that the owner of Morpheus owed the regime a lot more than all the tips, so-called donations and what, compared to the rest of the money, was "honest" earnings all combined. The Captain of the Inspectors in charge of this little project had gotten a little too nice as of late, at least that was what Seonghwa had concluded, but it was not him who was going to pay for it, naturally.

Twisting his head, Seonghwa took note of the familiar faces that appeared at the entrance to Morpheus to join the rest of the Inspectors that were posing as regular customers, cleverly dispersed among the filth that reeked of dependence. Of course, dependence on what the regime was selling. There was no other way about it. Nodding the two men a curt hello, Seonghwa let his eyes trace back a swift path to the magnificent performance. He paid attention to how your dainty earrings glinted even in the lowered light, and how, with every subtle movement, he could see the gorgeous dress tighten just a little around your body. You were so out of place in this scene, an angel in the darkest pits of hell, a little bird struggling against the wiring of a cage, curling inwards, growing smaller until the last flutter of the wings. As he was caught up in admiring your beautiful style, grace, and listening to your sweet, warm tone, one of the two newcomers, a fellow brother in governmental salvation to Seonghwa, tapped him lightly on the shoulder and occupied the seat beside him.

“As flashy as ever, Woo. Might as well tattoo ‘trouble’ on your forehead,” he motioned towards his not so inconspicuous suit that made him look more like a mafioso rather than an average joe. Seonghwa had to admit, however, that the outfit looked too damn good on him, but this was going to be just one of those things he was to take to his grave. The man did not need his ego fed any more than what the ladies he finds as company for the less busy nights not hounded by the lower ranking Guardians provide.

“I’d carve a pretty smile on that face. Not even a hello?”

“Hi San,” Seonghwa deadpanned, looking past his friend who he noted had tied his hair into a low ponytail, and right at the other half of his duo. Wooyoung and San, two peas in a pod, and probably the last people one would ever wish to see if they were in trouble with any of the Inspectors.

“Aren’t you mean today… what, pretty star over there didn’t give you attention?” Wooyoung retorted with a smirk creeping onto his lips. With a raise of an eyebrow and a shake of the head, Seonghwa dismissed any thoughts of peace that he had been imagining, settling back to regular business.

Rolling his shoulders back, he let the scene come and envelop him. It was no coincidence that so many of the Inspectors had gathered, especially with Wooyoung and San now closing in the arrivals. It did not take a genius to guess that Captain had changed his terms, and this was no longer going to be an ordinary shakeout for money or customary information gathering from the owner of Morpheus. The owner had stalled for far too long, had strayed from ‘good practices’ of a loyal rat, and it was time to set an example for others. Disease was the human emotion, and this bar was a breeding ground for thought crime, was it not?. Lowly, lonely creatures who gathered here were all examples of where society had gone astray from the perfect vision Z had put forward, at least… most were. Those who had forgotten the meaning of feeling despite having regained the ability, those, to Seonghwa, were the true vermin. He regarded the few gathered who were most definitely not meant to be part of this story. A middle aged, haggard man with flushed cheeks and what had to be his fifth glass of the cheapest liquor on the menu. Some bigshot from another town who he recalled some of the Inspectors in charge of patrolling the area identifying this morning - no ties, no money, just a lot of ambition that was to amount to nothing. A few lowlives here and there who were faceless, in shades of grey. All not meant to be here, and yet by some stroke of fate, here they were to remain. Finally, he drifted back to the main act, still at the centre of the stage, the sole luminance among the tainted - those who had no hope in making Seonghwa feel anything but numbness. You were the only one working here. Earning your meagre pay - he had discreetly checked the bar’s balance books when the old man behind the counter was too distracted to care for a person of his kind strolling into his office that was concealed in a dark corridor. It was shameful how you were still in this far less than grand establishment, sharing your angelic vocals, despite obviously not having any compensation nor appreciation of your efforts. Perhaps the moments on stage were the only time when you felt alive; the thought would not leave Seonghwa. After much investigation playing pretend, he was confident in his conclusion: you had not changed.

You were on the tattered poster plastered up outside - the one and only, shows every Friday night. Perceive and behold the spectacular ethereal being as you sang songs that spun threads out of a spectator’s very soul, blood trickling from the cracks in their shattered form turning to gold. You sang their… his pain, promised him his glory, soothed and comforted him. Seonghwa was well aware that you were the sole reason that he had shifted his visits to Morpheus to this particular day of the week and monitored the illegal location so closely, otherwise, your face would never grace his corrupt, bleak vision. You did not deserve to go with the rest. When breaking free, one was not supposed to fall into another trap, and yet, here you were. You were not meant to be here, littering the ground that you stood on as the last of the gunpowder would settle on your perfect skin, your long, alluring eyelashes. The onyx-haired man felt a shift within himself as he mused the outcome of the unspoken plans - by the way in which Wooyoung leaned back onto the counter, a grin dancing on his features and by the way San was acting particularly kindhearted to the lonely staff who was rushing about, struggling to keep up with the visitors’ habits, he knew that tonight, they were not planning on hearing any cries for mercy. They were here to complete a mission for a higher purpose. And that mission was far from the sweet music which he had loved his whole life, and finally found again.

“They’re not supposed to be here.” he mumbled, his voice obscured by yours, echoing across and elevating to a sensual culmination.

“Aren’t we all? We’ve got to do what we’ve got to do. Think of them as a sculpture or something if it makes things easier,” Wooyoung took out a rolled up bill to put between his lips - a habit that he had formed after a few too many hits on the back of his head by San, an interesting approach to make a man quit smoking. He called it ‘smoking capitalism’, earning quite a few chuckles from the Inspectors, Seonghwa included. 

“So say someone’s going to scope the ring to clean it up a bit, would you let them hit our favourite auntie?” he asked, referring to the friendly cleaner who was probably the only one in the entire city who did not bat an eye at the violent matches that Wooyoung managed under the wraps for the regime, instead cooing over the fighters he brokered for and giving the men an extra helping of her home-cooked delicacies. In many ways, she was a mother figure for the Guardian Inspectors, despite her being at risk, every day, of being taken to the Red Humans should one of them be in a ‘different kind of mood’ on an arbitrary morning.

“Definitely not. But this singer. Who are they to you?”

“A pawn.”

“A pawn?”

“Mhm. I can pawn them in for rewards.”

“Suppose they are pretty enough, if that’s what you’re thinking of…”

“Goodness, take the pimp out of the bordello but can’t take the bordello out of the pimp. That business was shut a while back for you, no?” with a groan, Seonghwa retaliated at Wooyoung’s rather out of pocket suggestions. Over the many years of serving Z in not so ethical ways, the man had tried on a few too many hats and seen a few too many hats to retain even a sliver of compassion towards anyone except those closest. It was understandable. Odd, but understandable.

“Kidding. But for real though, what’s the use?” Wooyoung bit down on the bill softly, gaze following San who had moved towards a couple of underlings that had gathered in a booth off to the side, towards the far corner of the bar. Clearly, he was checking if they had read the room.

“Say, isn’t it Captain’s niece’s birthday soon? We don’t exactly have a musical act to hand since…” Seonghwa trailed off, knowing that Wooyoung knew what incident he was referring to, involving an accusatory phrase, a short temper and a very professional shot from a sniper rifle from the boss’s office window into the temple of a figure that was storming away from one of the many Inspector accommodations. Another one to fertilise the soil with.

“Smart. I’ll give it to ya. If you sort the business out before showtime, pretty thing’s all yours.” Wooyoung responded, patting his side where, underneath his shirt, Seonghwa knew was a holstered pistol. Pushing himself away from the counter he stood up, adjusting his long, leather coat and glove. It was not that he had a particular preference, but ever since entering the new life upon being pardoned for feeling, a life where he had to say found a home, he could not help but wish to always look just that little bit more put together, even if only to appear loyal. 

“Cheers. I’ll get them a nice candle-lit dinner to soften them up and then inform Cap’,” sounding purposefully sarcastic, Seonghwa mumbled under his nose, well aware that this was not a method that had ever been in use. One glower and curt phrase had always been enough - the rest was simply the heart’s doing masked by odd humour. 

“Awh, look at you, how sweet and lovely. What a darling,” Wooyoung teased, sending Seonghwa a wink. The music was fading away, the last notes landing on his ears, marking every moment.

“One more word and you’ll be the main course.” with his index finger he poked the centre of his fellow Inspector’s chest in threat, maintaining a cold expression.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to be roasting out here tonight, so make it hot with pretty thing.”

“Filth,” the taller man spat, knowing that attempting to counter his friend was nearly impossible - out of all the people he knew only Captain could fully round him in, and even then Wooyoung had a smile on his face, much to Seonghwa’s confusion.

“It’s not me who is with the heart eyes.”

“I just saw an opportunity,” playing with the leather piece that buttoned up to protect his neck, he eyed you, waiting for you to finish. Unknown to you, you did not have much time left before your very life would be placed on a scale and thoughtlessly pushed to lose against the weight of usual Strictland business. Such was the violent, catastrophic illusion of order, such was the structure that had been Seonghwa’s twisted saving grace. He was going to be doing you a favour by taking you away, won’t he? Either way, you would be out of work, and he was helping you with a little job search from one of the highest payers - chivalrous and kind hearted, that was who he was. How else could the Inspectors form any partnerships and feast on forbidden fruit otherwise? Who was he kidding - a soul like you was not meant for a life like this. But he had to try. He needed time to think. 

“Sure. Sure. An opportunity to grab the gorgeous star for yourself.”

“Oh shut up will you?” snapping, Seonghwa were desperately trying to cut the conversation short, seeing the window for him to make a beeline for the edge of the stage, towards which you promptly setting off after finishing your set, and receiving a dismal lack of applause - what else would he expect from the crowd gathered in Morpheus? Especially when the stench of iron and the final judgement was mere minutes away from materialising.

“You know that’s not my style.”

“Yeah, yeah. Be good. Hope you did not block my mustang,” throwing one last comment behind him, the solemn man was off, only barely catching Wooyoung’s half-hearted response.

“Have I ever…” 

The mission was simple. Since he was dismissed from the less than pleasant task of wiping out the bar, considering that two more senior Inspectors had made their appearance and were clearly more in the know of what was brewing, Seonghwa had only a couple of minutes before all freedom would cease to exist. And then, no heaven could bestow mercy upon neither him, nor the beauty he had come here to save for no logical reason, instead relying on some hazy version of hope and nostalgia. He had parked his ink black ride around the block - out of sight for unwanted eyes, and perfectly positioned for getaways just like this. If you could catch the Inspector’s drift, that was. One could only pray that the dazzler on stage was just as dazzling when it came to reading between the lines. He had perhaps even less than the estimated time to explain himself before Wooyoung and San would call the owner over to get the real evening show started. Time was ticking along with the skyrocketing pace of his heart as he stopped you on your tracks with a slightly outstretched leg, only to move forward and cast a shadow over you.

It was difficult to remain level-headed when, even at such proximity, in the normally less than flattering lighting, you were nothing short of a deity. Something out of fairy tales, stories of royalty or angels in kingdoms far far away, those that were not supposed to exist. But here was one, staring right into his eyes with your beautiful expressive orbs, as deep as the history that Seonghwa had raced here to try and reignite. A universe in your irises, an all-consuming black hole in your pupils, beckoning Seonghwa, leading him into a stupor before he stuffed his hands into his pockets, bringing himself out of the momentary trance by force. Time was not on his side, and he knew that it would never be unless he kept on running.

“Lovely song, that was.”

“Indeed. ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ is one of my favourites. Did you enjoy the performance?” Your speaking voice was different, of course, but nonetheless struck that stunning familiar chord within Seonghwa, one that should never see the light of day if he were to remain how he had to be. It was terrifying, how he was ready to let go of his resurrected image as an Inspector for a chance to turn the past into the present. 

You were polite. The features of your alluring face were hinting at a genuine interest, an appreciation of every movement, every breath you were taking. Though, in Seonghwa’s own line of work, particularly in the stage of undercover investigation, this was simply the usual. Show a smile, bat the eyelashes, make business, disappear. Genuine interest was an artform, but even if you were indeed expressing it in the way with which he was familiar, it felt so natural that he almost wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe this daydream who had come to change the colours of his occasional Fridays, his hunts for those straying from what Z had deemed ‘right’, leaving glimmers of memory to last him through the weeks when he had to be numb to life itself until he could come and see you again. It did not mean much to you, most likely. You were strangers in your respective new lives, and had Captain not made the decision to teach the owner of Morpheus a lethal lesson, you would have remained that way. Drifting together for a few hours, remaining distant, and drifting apart again. A forever flowing story that was to rekindle a starcrossed ‘once upon a time’ but never have that sought after resolution. A dream that reminded Seonghwa of why his unlikely survival was a blessing. As your eyes revealed a hopefulness, a plea for praise, Seonghwa gave you a soft smile.

“Of course.”

“I look forward to seeing you, you know.”

“O-oh?” Seonghwa could barely contain his surprise, the previously cool demeanour cracking into a raised eyebrow. Could you remember?

“Yes! You always sit at the bar, second stool from the left. And order… what is it… a brandy, right?”

He would be lying if he were to say he was not surprised by your suddenly chipper attitude. Almost like you were a kid who entered a candy shop for the first time to see all of your favourite treats, you excitedly revealed to Seonghwa your observations. While it was endearing to see, the shuffling behind him, along with the idea that he was not the only one intently observing left the Inspector with a sense of unease, nearly throwing him off from the initial goal that motivated him to brave talking to you in the first place.

“In…deed?”

The singer, who was previously an astounding yet distant figure captivating all who cared to look even once, rapidly transitioned into someone who he almost found endearing, the keeper of far too many qualities that cemented the rightness of his decision. You were not meant to be here, he repeated to himself. Mutters around the bar were getting louder, and as the rest of the musicians filed out of the main hall and crammed into a tiny room off to the side, in Seonghwa’s peripherals he noted San’s steady, seemingly innocent amble between the scuffed round tables and equally unpleasantly antique chairs.

“You are the only one who listens, so, how could I not notice? Actually, I wanted to talk to you properly, or at least say thank you but didn’t want to impose.”

As much as he wanted to sink into the warmth of your words and allow you to recognise him on your own accord, the rippling commotion that was finally rearing its ugly head spurred him on and struck his heart with an icy, calculating mace. He had a minute tops, knowing Wooyoung’s love for never counting down to zero before beginning.

“Well, let’s talk. Outside,” The black-clad man tried to walk off, aiming for the dark corridor at the end of which was the fire exit, but when you did not move, rolled his eyes.

“I was thinking I could buy you a drink-”

“Cute. Another time though,” seeing the tinge of disappointment in your gaze was new, and entirely unexpected, but gave Seonghwa plenty of leeway to sway you into following him, “since you watched me enough, I bet you can guess who I am. Or, what I do for work. Right?” 

A steely glare, leaving nothing open to interpretation. For additional evidence, he demonstratively adjusted his coat, loosening the belt he had tied around his waist to reveal a leather holster, discreet, gun always within reach. Attentive to detail as ever, you took note of the inconspicuous design of the pistol before he let it disappear once again under the fabric - in this city, there were few who had access to any form of weaponry, the items being so highly regulated by the government that it was nearly impossible to purchase or get licensing. Your mind began to list off options; Seonghwa clearly was neither a standard Android Guardian due to the lack of mandatory uniform, nor a scruffy criminal whom you had gotten used to over the time that had passed, nor part of the police force, nor a Class 2 Prestige Academy student. It only left an answer that shook you to the core. Of course, it was not that you did not hold the assumption in your heart. As a matter of fact, you had previously assumed that you were used to greeting people from different walks of life, all gathered in the same place, at the same time for what you wanted to believe was a ‘good time’. That was what drove you to live the life that you were living. Exist in this space, despite your pay and your security almost always not being enough, but you would give even that up if that meant you could keep your freedom.

Seonghwa was effortlessly graceful, determined in every step and gesture, not a single movement wasted. In a sense, it was as if he had purposefully learned and memorised the most efficient adjustments of the body, letting himself metamorphose into a lithe, agile animal. It was terrific, and terrifying, how at any moment he could pounce, and you would never know when until it was too late. For this hint of a reason, you decided to follow the man’s unspoken command, only whispering an airy inquiry after the other musicians, which he coldly dismissed:

“You need a better band anyways.”

---

The gravity of the situation only began to settle in when the biting breeze outside of the stuffy bar hit you, seeking opportunity to tousle your locks. The strands that had managed to fall over your face were trembling, the only sign revealing your suppressed distress as the last of Morpheus's dusk-like illumination was shut from your vision with a confident slam. Your eyes widened as you watched the Inspector, or in other words, your personal grim reaper, flip a lock on the door - previously thought to be inaccessible to anyone except the owner, done so masterfully as though he were the one who had installed it in the first place. An exit, a saving grace for innocents inside, turned into a dead end - more symbolic than one would ever initially assume. He trailed up the length of his arm stopping for a moment at the material that covered his shoulder, listening to leather hit leather. Seonghwa could only find calculated resolve within himself. This was the usual for him, and that after weighing all the options, he had logically come to the conclusion that the demise of the people inside was indeed the most attractive option.

As you heard the first shot resound inside of Morpheus, you shuddered, but did not dare stop following the man in the trench coat as he strode on ahead, hands remaining in his pockets. To any onlooker it would seem that he was relaxed as ever, out for a late night walk in a neighbourhood he knew better than he knew himself. Breath in, breath out; you were trying to remind yourself of the simple act, focusing harder than you had ever done during your performances. Imagining your diaphragm stretching, letting the lungs take in as much air as possible and-

Another shot. Breath knocked from you, balance off kilter, you desperately wanted to run. Anywhere. Maybe you should have stayed, not picked up on the subtle offer of your life being spared. In that way you would not have to live with the guilt of not having said anything to your fellow bandmates, not having said thank you to the owner for… what was there to thank anyone for? Out of habit, you lifted a hand to brush over your ear, echoes of the time when you had first felt emotion rippling across your body, making you shiver. You were all fools misled by hope for a brighter tomorrow in a world that was permanently overcast. Where did this running lead you? Where did your wistful song guide you? Back into the arms of the apocalypse - broad-shouldered with hair the colour of ink, the last thing you would see before disappearing for good. At least you should thank your former so-called colleagues for the information about the common demise. Tears welled up in your eyes as you obeyed the lean man’s orders and practically toppled into the black vehicle parked by the Morpheus, a lonesome yelp masked by the gunfire and indecipherable orders. 

You had no idea where he was taking you, and you did not dare ask. The man reminded you of all you had been trained to avoid in your new life, a threat, a weapon, a soldier. His gloved right hand remained resting beside the gearshift, while his left coldly gripped the steering wheel. Not a single one of his muscles appeared to be relaxed, and not a single movement had a semblance to anything natural. An automaton in the driver’s seat, you wanted to feel comforted by the idea that you were the only one truly human in the car, for the idea that someone as brutal as a Guardian Inspector could be conscious or decisive was too strong of an agony. 

At the same time, in the moments where the Inspector turned his head to check the surroundings, you noted something familiar. He dashed past the blue, purple and aquamarine signs that lined the streets of the district you had learned to love, himself turning into a painting. Be it in the angles that formulated his stern face, or in the elegance that he was unable to conceal, the past crawled out of a long-forgotten cavern in your psyche and gnawed at your nerves, just out of reach of realisation. Perhaps in another time, you had known him. Perhaps in one of the banned art pieces, you had seen him. At the same time, this could not be the first Guardian Inspector you had encountered - they were all similar enough in demeanour, so what was another face? Equally as entitled, above the law. Above a runaway like you. You were vermin. The enemy. A traitor to the Academy, to Strictland, to Z himself. Or so you were told. The only thing that could be different about this Inspector, was that he could be your last.

A sharp stabbing sensation spread from your temples and what had to be through your skull, jabbing into bone and into the cerebellum. Nauseous, you shut your eyes and clutched your head in a futile attempt to seek some form of relief. The car roared, and a sudden stench of rubber and concrete penetrated through every crevice, choking your senses and making you taste the acrid pollution. One turn, another, your organs were being jolted back and forth as the monstrous engine urged on by none other than the embodiment of oblivion dragged the car across eternal misery of long-abandoned districts.

“Oh goodness…” a feeble whisper left your lips. You reached out to grab hold of the door handle, peering at the grooves to find at least something to focus on. His vision was swimming in your eyes, etchings of your surroundings morphing into repressed memories. 

A boy marching beside you to class, head held at the angle commanded to all academy students. A young man, dressed in all white with black locks parted in the middle. A solemn stare, unreadable, though not fully blank as it should be. But at the same time, how could you, another student of Prestige, detect that something was not quite right? Since when could you feel? You lifted your head cautiously to try peeking at the Inspector again, but he was frozen. Only the abrupt tightening of his gloved hand around the steering wheel and a determined turn reminded you that he was not quite an automaton. 

“I must be dreaming…” you blinked away a teary blur, and clenched onto your dress for the remainder of the journey, feverishly recounting whatever lyrics you could. Your little safe haven, your precious prayers to the arts - truth which you had discovered after abandoning everything you could have been.

Your hand moved on instinct to the side of your head, feeling for what once had been the hub of your consciousness. A chip that made you feel right at home, heartless, but with a purpose. Forty years of education, an eternity to serve something greater than you; clear goals, a mission for your generation and many that would come after you. Hand in hand, you were soldiers of a catastrophically closed-minded society; at the time, however, you could not be ‘happier’. Or rather, more numb. Because you did not know of negative nor positive, you could not experience either, and so remained in a stable equilibrium, just as the superpower of this forlorn land had instructed. Disease was the human emotion. You were ‘healthy’. Until that boy appeared in your life, and revealed himself to you.

Bright-eyed, hopeful, excited. So unlike anyone. And against better judgement, you let the inklings of curiosity drip over your heart, and the beginnings of affection take flight. Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, a smile brighter than the sun, a soothing mellifluous voice, vowing to you that you could build another life together. A life much more beautiful than one constructed with deception and hollow propaganda. What could a little tap of a breaker do to you? Apparently, it could change your destiny. 

As you massaged your temples, you locked gazes with the man in front of you, but met the boy from your past in the mirror. That same worry, knotted eyebrows, concern and care so evident you could touch it if your fingers grazed his cheek. You could not move, even when he turned back to the road, and continued to stare at the rear view mirror in the hopes of seeing your daydream again. You had to be wrong. This had to be you hallucinating. You must be just… afraid. Out of your mind. And so you were recalling one of the few times when you thought the world could do you no harm. 

“Get out,” a command. As cold as steel. The engine was still roaring in your ears, despite the surroundings having gone dead silent.

A click. The doors unlocked. You could run if you wanted to. Though you were fully aware that the action would shorten your lifespan to a mere few seconds. You remained seated, gaze falling onto your lap, and listened to the painful succession of sounds that led the man to open your door, and roughly grab your upper arm.

“I said, get out,” you followed him like a rag doll, knowing that any attempts to resist would put you into even more danger. At the same time, even though the Inspector was obviously attempting to instil terror and a twisted respect for him, he could not face you. Consciously he made an effort to barely raise his lashes, thus keeping his scrutiny concealed. Reading through his hesitation was easy enough.

He could not keep his hand on you for a second longer after you stood up straight, darting away as though you were an open flame. The man cleared his throat and locked the car, before gesturing towards an abandoned building that loomed over the gravelly opening where you had completed your journey. Comically, it reminded you of Prestige, even though the latter was of much larger proportions and possessed a more unique shape. Perhaps it was the fact that this block, what used to be an apartment building, was crumbling, made you think of the academy’s inner workings. Rotting away. The cogs in the machine tearing each other apart.

This might be your end or your beginning, you were not sure which one. With an astounding loyalty, you let yourself be guided into the long-forgotten cement fortress, up exposed stairs with metal railings, past walls left bare, illuminated by an exposed moonlight, laying down a carpet of silver. It was oddly easy to think that life was beautiful when it was likely going to be taken away from you. The walk was silent, and the longer it lasted, the more at peace you felt. The odd step rang out and echoed like the gunshots you had heard, so surreal that you could barely believe it. It must have been a joke. Fireworks, or someone just being a little boisterous. Morpheus had seen so many colours of Z’s regime, it could not disappear now… oh who were you kidding. It was done for. You little version of an escape. Your space to feel.

As you made sneaky glances at the Inspector to your right, who not so ceremoniously had loosened his coat’s belt once more to have easy access to his gun, you could not help but think of the boy. You had followed his advice, made a run for it while he had been taken away by the Red Humans. Two youngsters who betrayed the regime. But who was truly free? The one who had been exterminated, or the one who had to live in fear, but at least felt the ruthless emotion?

The enigmatic man slowed down, and so did you. He made a turn, so did you, acting as his shadow. You were certain that you were probably breathing at the same rate. An empty hallway, lined with equally empty rooms and destroyed apartments. From a humble abode to rubble, you could see the horrific vistas of the district, and the drop to the cold ground below. No wall, no security, no certainty. It was only you and your fate in the form of a man who seemed to possess too much of a likeness to the keeper of your fragile adoration.

The Inspector walked in front and turned to face you. You froze, burning under his scrutiny. Eyes like scalding cold ice, assessing you, condemning you. Your best listener, now listening to your terrified heart. For what could be the last time, you felt alive. As the man reached into his pocket, you prepared for the worst, however, he only motioned with his head for you to follow him. Confused, you obeyed, finding yourself in a more secluded corner of the floor, one which had remotely retained the appearance of an actual room. Stuck in the same few seconds, there were no further commands from the Inspector, causing your mind to wander, and lips to move on their own accord:

“I should not be here.”

“Neither should I,” he deadpanned, though his choice of words was unsettling. Wasn’t he on a mission?

“I should be dead,” you persisted.

“I should have more blood on my hands.”

A pause. You were in shock, pointlessly clinging onto your own upper arms, stuck in a false embrace. Like prey that had been cornered, you were beyond the point of trusting survival instincts. You simply wanted for the interaction, or dare you say, interrogation, to be over, so you could be given away to the Red Humans, to whatever the afterlife had to offer, in peace. If you were to be melted, then so be it. If your departure were to be short and sweet, so be it. But a little question in your head still remained, a persistent worm which you decided to unleash given your hopeless circumstances:

“Then why-”

“It is pointless to ask when there is no answer,” the man answered coldly, not sparing you a glance as he picked at a filthy off-white tulle which covered a blown out window - now just a frame, with his gloved hand, glaring at the pitiful greyness outside the abandoned building before wiping the hand off with a handkerchief produced out of the pocket into which he had stuffed his hand.

A few steps separated you, but you knew better than to try and make a run for it – the man was armed, and you assumed that the gun you spotted was not the only weapon in his arsenal. He was menacing, unpredictable, and very dangerous. Alongside that, as much as you hated to admit, but the Inspectors were nothing short of extraordinary when it came to their expertise and training. Unlike Android Guardians, they were the leading forces, capable of high-risk decision making and unparalleled critical thinking. If you were to try to describe them, you always ended up thinking of chess. That was what they were playing whenever they were out in the field.

In fact, it was for this exact reason that you were concerned about this Inspector’s behaviour – it was out of line. Inefficient. Sub-optimal. You wondered if this was a new strategy or there was a higher plan; there were so many possibilities that your head could start spinning. You dug your fingers into rapidly cooling flesh, waking yourself up from the distressed rumination. What was the Inspector going to do to you? You had followed his demands so far, and weren’t putting up a fight - what more could he want?

He was unreadable. Gestures unpredictable, expression stoic, he regarded you with an air of superiority characteristic of people from his class. Serpent-like and calculating eyes, regal nose, facial structure reminiscent of a statue, plush perfectly shaped lips – all were a nod to his upbringing, you bet. He did not feel real. Reminiscent of automatons that the regime sometimes used in place of regular Guardians during high-volume riots, he was what one would call the ‘ideal specimen’. Down to the strand of wavy hair that fell on his face, he was a beautiful painting of your worst nightmare. Life had been unkind to you, you decided. It only showed you something prettier than the night lights when it was the last thing you would see.

The man stepped towards you, and your eyelids slammed shut automatically. You did not wish to see your death. The sound of leather against leather, the tied coat belt, the creaking of ancient rotten wood planks under lacquered ankle boots. He must be getting ready to end you. Were you too high profile to be lying with the other bodies in the club? Were you more dangerous in the Inspector’s view, being a singer, or as one could say a ‘spreader’ of inappropriate entertainment. Was this treason? Terrorism? You were not sure – the sentence changed more than the weather. But were you an enemy? With confidence, you had to answer with a Yes. Having escaped the regime, and according to those who had helped you regain some parts of your past self, having had a part in the uprising within Prestige Academy, you were the worst kind of citizen of Strictland. Disobedient, unchanging, and influential. You were waiting for the cocking of a pistol, for cool metal to hit your head, and for the world to go even darker as you collapsed on to the floorboards. The man had to be taking out his gun. He must have taken you away from the raid to be particularly ruthless. A sadist? Maybe. You had no time to judge.

You felt the fabric of your shimmering dress under your fingertips, and imagined you were preparing for a show of a lifetime. You counted your inhales and exhales like you would do before a performance, and conjured an audience in your mind. More rustling, another step. He, that boy, no, young man, was in the audience. Still in the Prestige Academy uniform, but the chip was long gone. He was giving you an encouraging smile eager to hear what you had achieved in your time away from the academy. Leather caressed your hand and you flinched, comforted only by how cautious the action was. Hand turned to raise your palm to the omniscient skies, your illusions combined with reality - what was Seonghwa to give to you?

Funny, how in critical moments, the mind could give you what you had longed to forget. Seonghwa. His name tasted sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. A fine wine, dizzying, addictive. A handsome, talented student who had the future ahead of him, only to throw it away for the taste of something more ‘real’ in his eyes. Something cold was being pressed into your palm, reminiscent of a large bullet or a device your fingers could remember before your mind. Your eyes shot open and were met with a dream and a nightmare. Finally, it hit you. Behind the Inspector’s facade, a mask crafted by years of experience and brutality, was the same boy, who, just like now, pressed a breaker into your palm.

“Wake up.”

Your gaze fell to the intricate metal handiwork, spotting the carving of an ‘A’ contained in a circle right at the base. The taste of anarchy, an uprising, revolution, a hope for something better flowing through a tragic story you two had written. At last, it had a resolution, and you were more than content with who was holding the lethal pen. You stared at the breaker. The very thing that brought you out of an eternal somnolence, submission to a regime. You had woken up then, and never could sleep.

“Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer… the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune…” you lifted your head once more, staring into Seonghwa’s softened eyes. He had matured, his features having become siren-like, dangerous, seductive. Befitting his character. You smiled sadly, “...or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing end them?” He remained quiet, as if he was the one waiting for you to decide your own destiny, “Shakespeare. Hamlet. Ever read it? Or do they not let you?”

“I-” he cleared his throat, concealing a pang of nervousness, “I am familiar with his work.”

“Mm, isn’t that a criminal offence?”

“What is?”

“Reading work exploring human emotion… sounds like treason to me.”

“Reading does not imply sympathising.”

“But you do.”

Again, a heavy pause. Seonghwa rocked from one foot to another one time, another - an old habit? Or an attempt to convince you that he was at least a fraction the same?

“I… I do not,” before you could scowl, he continued, “‘Cowards die many times before their deaths. The valiant never taste of death but once’. I am more partial to this way of thinking.”

“Ah, the irony of it all.”

Your hand formed a fist around the device, and you kept on searching for fragments of the man you loved inside of the new Seonghwa before you. In flashes, you spotted glimmers of gold, feeble hints for something that could be concealed in the depths of his soul. 

“So, are you going to make me a valiant person?”

“What?” 

“Wasn’t that what you were supposed to be doing?” feeling a little more brave, you taunted him, wishing to see what his limit was. Whether he was lying to you just to set you at ease and make his job easier. So he could see one final sense of betrayal in your pupils.

“We are already dead, Y/N.”

---

Music. A universal language. The biggest risk for a community that someone wanted to silence. So you hummed one song after another, head leaning against Seonghwa’s shoulder as you sat on the concrete floor, in the corner of the room that was barely holding itself together. Bathed in silver light, you shared with him the luxury of reminiscing, mourned what had been lost only to have the feeling be replaced by a budding desire to wish upon anything at all.

Seonghwa might have lied to many of the Inspectors, and was in danger of facing a fate worse than extermination, but at least he did not lie to you. And because he did not lie to you, you were here; you were real. He could have the pleasure of having you beside him, wrapped up in his leather coat; your dress was not exactly ‘inhospitable conditions’ material, as pretty and befitting as it was. You were refusing to let go of the breaker as though it was the tether to a more sunny past, not that Seonghwa would ever dare pry it out of your hands. So long as you could keep singing for him forever. Even when music were to cease existing, and when the sky would fall down, he would still hear your voice. How many times had he visited Morpheus in secret, outside of his official inspections and scouting missions? How quickly had he transferred into a field role just for the chance to find you? How had he managed to remain alive even though his sentence had been supposedly set in stone, and he was still feeling? With each question, the answer grew blurrier and blurrier, until it no longer existed. Perhaps this was a manifestation of destiny. You were supposed to meet again after so much turmoil, so you did. Curious.

“What song do you like?” your voice, sleepy, serene, cut through his ruminations. Seonghwa looked down and to his side, meeting a gentle gaze. 

“What song do you want to sing?”

“Mm, no that’s not an answer,” you snaked your hands around his arm and pulled him closer. 

“But I like everything you sing. Because you sing it.”

“Sweet, but I’m at a loss.”

“Then let’s be quiet. Together. For as long as we can.”

“There’s not too long left, is there?”

Your question was rhetorical. Both you and Seonghwa were aware of it. Time in Strictland was not governed by the individual but by an unforgiving system. A person, or perhaps a symbol, holding the clock with an iron grip and making the hands fly faster and faster until a second was an impossible measure. Involuntarily, he sighed, causing wisps of steam to escape his lips and rise to the exposed armature of the floor above. With cooling temperatures came the cooling heart, and it was difficult to tell what it was that you loved. What was it that made you feel alive?

“You know, they gave me a choice,” Seonghwa began. There was no reason why he should be telling you about what had happened to him, but the sombre atmosphere seemed to bode well for a confession. You did not interrupt, choosing to remain passive, resigned, “either die for what I believe in, or admit I was wrong.”

“Funny how they gave you a choice,” the infamous ‘they’. The Guardians, the regime, the enemy. Now turned into a friend. Interesting how life changed.

“Definitely was not what I expected.”

“You sure they didn’t say ‘sike’ at any point and you just got lucky?”

“I don’t think they can miss,” a simple, but sharp fact. You bit your lower lip, “...anyways. You can probably guess what I chose to do. The only caveat is that I admitted I was wrong… for a different thing.”

“Do tell.”

“I was wrong for putting you in danger, Y/N.”

“Nothing we could do about that. We were two fools in love.”

Seonghwa detangled himself from you, only to grasp your free hand in his, place the other on your thigh and meet you face to face. Misty-eyed, his rationality was growing frantic, and you knew that at any moment he could snap, and only the clearing night knew what would happen then.

“But I was the one to jolt you out of a peaceful existence. I was selfish-” After years of doubting himself, sinking into a destructive illusion where he would march alongside others like a machine, he was breathing. Much to his regret, it was a sensation far too sweet and heavenly, worth every revolution and rebellion.

“I don’t regret it.”

“...What?”

“I would put this thing to my head time and time again if I had to,” you raised the breaker to eye level, attempting to get at least a smile or a chuckle out of Seonghwa. Much to your dismay, it did the opposite. You would be lying if you were to proclaim you were euphoric. 

“I- I’m… Y/N I’m so sorry…” you shook your head and pulled him in, until his exhales and inhales were tickling your neck. Hunched over you like a black-clad shield, Seonghwa was unmoving. Eyes darting down, you spotted that he had taken the pistol out of the holster, and upon a second glance to where he had been sitting, you noted its lonely presence, tucked away with debris and gravel.

“You are alive. And clearly still care enough to remember me. That’s your apology. And your punishment,” in a soothing gesture, you ran your fingers through his hair, cautiously at first, then turning your ministrations continuous, measured out when Seonghwa sat back down on the concrete, only this time nuzzled into you. 

“Sorry…” he forced out, choking up.

The moon counted down the time while lazily passing over the building. You were at a crossroads. In haste, Seonghwa had told you of the opportunity to serve the Guardian Inspectors, being a private entertainer of sorts, but he knew you would refuse. Fast. Becoming one’s own enemy was the one thing you would not follow Seonghwa into doing. And that is why he admired you. You were strong. You were truly alive. A bird soaring in the skies in spite of the risks of being hunted, being shot. Simply for the feeling of the wind under your wings, to be closer to the stars and to sing your song loud and clear, every note a celestial blessing. 

“Blue bird…”

“Hm?”

“I think I have an idea… if you are willing to go into hiding, that is.”

“Planning uprisings are we?”

“Oh they’ve been long in the works, my love. It is part of my job to close my eyes when necessary, and when convenient.”

“Are you about to be wrong again?”

“Maybe. Or very, very right. Depends on how the song sounds to you.”

---

Walking down the corridors of the headquarters, hands behind his back and appearance pristine, Seonghwa was nothing short of a model Inspector. Low ranking employees cowered before him and bowed, while his immediate colleague Wooyoung smirked, attempting to hook any information out. 

“So… where'd the pretty star go?”

Silently, Seonghwa handed him a slip recording the disposal of an ‘unnamed entity’.

“ Oh… well that’s harsh. What did they do, reject you?”

“Apparently once gone so far astray, one cannot be changed. I had to do what was best for the regime.”

“Such an example for others. Wow. Almost too good to be true, Park. Well, I’ll be reporting that the extermination and cleanup of Morpheus was successful.”

“You do that.”

While Wooyoung turned the corner, Seonghwa continued to walk straight down the metal corridor, eyes locked onto the very end. Morpheus was no longer, indeed. But your song was still ringing in his ears, and no doubt, there would be a time when it would resound over the many speakers planted all across Strictland.

Blue skies smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies do I see

Bluebirds singing a song

Nothing but bluebirds all day long

Never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly

Blue days, all of them gone

Nothing but blue skies from now on

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[sewerpalette]

Little rant I might make a video out of:

Edit: disclaimer I wrote this directly after waking up so it’s very awkwardly paced and hard to read I’m so sorry.

AL-AN is not a good person, now I’ll start this off with saying that I looove his character, especially before the rewrite and this certainly isn’t an attack on anyone, just something I’d like to point out because I think the shift of perspective between both games is fascinating.

If anyone remembers the subnautica fandom before Below zero was even remotely announced, there were certain opinions flying around, people believed the architects to be the grand villain(s) in the bigger picture of the game lore for just how messed up they were, they literally hated those guys for being at fault of the sea emperors suffering and there were even theories going around that they made the kharaa to wipe out all other life around them- but it had went wrong.

But now it’s not like that anymore, no AL‘s previous actions are completely ignored because he showed some remorse for being responsible for the deaths of 7 architects specifically, together with messing up before pretty much an audience of billions, it must’ve been embarrassing- but when he apologizes he specifically only mentions the other architects, because he isn’t sorry for the other things he’s done, clearly. I mean dissecting a fetus is one thing, especially with their goal in mind, DISPLAYING it is another, like that’s just purposely gruesome. Together with all the other dissected experimented on animals in the shelves just hung up like prizes (I know the concept itself is not inhumane, but in this case it just wasn’t necessary.) also research specimen THETA anyone? Yeah we know it didn’t die because of the facility collapsing because there’s no injury displayed on its bones that would suggest that, and that part of the facilities insides also didn’t collapse, they just left it there until it either succumbed to the virus or starved to death, same with the sea emperor but they survived, kept alive by unfinished business for the next couple thousand years. Not to mention who the fuck comes up with a quarantine program that includes semi sentient killer machines and a giant gun made to shoot anything down from atmosphere, there were so many better solutions, I get the warper thing, I mean kill anything that’s infected makes sense, but the gun?? Literally why, if they send a signal through the network that this planet is diseased nobody is going to go there (we know that at that point humans weren’t advanced enough to travel space and they knew that so for who was that even for??) it was completely unnecessary to create a giant weapon in wich even more destructive weapons are stored wich let me get into that real quick because there’s also some implied stuff there, appearently AL was so desperate to get rid of his mistake that he attempted to blow up a doomsday device?? (Which would’ve destroyed most of the solar system in an instant.) In the entry it says it malfunctioned so they must’ve tried to use it, and even if they didn’t why would they have it on them anyways? Including all the other weapons. Also let’s talk about the architects in the little sanctuaries in the first game, it’s implied they stored multiple souls in like one of them, literally cramped up all their data whilst AL stored himself in a big ass sanctuary like idk man that’s kind of an asshole move. And those were just the first game events! (And there’s probably even more there.)

In BZ he can’t really do anything except for talk to robin because he doesn’t have a physical form, so there’s less to go off here but even then it didn’t seem like there were other sanctuaries in BZ for the other architects. and sure, you could make the arguement that architects don’t feel at all connected to their physical forms, wich is true, but don’t you think seeing a dead architects body, an architect from his team, a colleague, would illicit some kind of emotion from him beyond “great, now fetch me their skin.” (/j) even if he doesn’t see the attachment to the vessel, if it’s all that’s left from that time and from the crew, there would still be projected attachment onto it realistically. Also he was smart enough to hide himself from alterra because he guessed they didn’t have good intentions- scraping himself off the grid both physically and on any radars they had (presumably with hallucinations), but wasn’t smart enough to distract the critters running around infront of the sanctuary to idk get the help he needed with the failing sanctuary from the mercury, marg, or the alterrans that genuinely wanted to help instead of being eaten by sharks right infront of it.

Like man I love you but that’s just messed up.

And we know he knows he messed up, that’s why he’s so gloomy and does attempt to apologize at the end but like??? He said he wanted to make amends to his people showing that he still doesn’t care about everybody else he hurt, only those he deems as important, not the over 150 people that died on the aurora or the mercury or the degasi or the sunbeam or the research specimens or even the alterrans he’s indirectly caused death to, it is all his fault but he doesn’t see these people as important because he feels they are below him - sure you could make the arguement that he didn’t know about the ships that crashed, fair point. But seemingly he did if he could sense that alterra was there without even seeing alterrans in the first place, especially because Ryley has made contact with the thermal plant and other architect tech before, so he’d definitely know- especially based on the data robin has of the missing sunbeam and aurora incident on her PDA wich he has canonically said he read through.

And I’ll say it again I love AL, next to Bart he’s probably my favorite subnautica character in the whole game series, but I don’t like the portrayel of him suddenly being completely redeemed or being an inherently good person, he still doesn’t understand empathy or morals (you can be a good person without having those, don’t get me wrong.) and acts like a total idiot whilst victimizing himself, like yes, the other architects on the mission died and it’s his fault, they weren’t stored to keep him company and that’s his fault; neither did they like him, wich is very fair in my opinion. He can’t pull all this crap, disobey orders and get everybody killed and then pull the “but I’m sad about it so that erases everything I’ve done” like oh my god. I like him, but I would also like more content showing all this.

Sorry this was a very long kinda pointless rant and I don’t have any images because my phone which has like a whole folder of these is at home and we’re still stuck in England so it’ll have to do without for now.

TLDR: I want more morally dubious AL please and also he killed a fetus (well pretty much borderline newborn at that point) so he’s going into the fictional child murderer category for me.

[daisyvisions]

Unspoken Words (Pt. 1)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: best friend!Sangyeon x afab!reader x enemy!Hyunjae

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Summary: If someone were to tell you that you'd be in a fake relationship with the person you despise the most just to make your best friend jealous, you would've laughed in their face. But here you are... caught up in this exact situation.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 4.2K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: (18+, minors DNI), fake dating, mutual pining, angst, jealousy, lots of suggestive themes such as: mention of a handjob and orgasm, groping, and fondling with breasts. Mentions of alcohol. Some cursing, lots of kissing and making out, eventual smut in part two. One use of the pet name “baby”. Implied sex and loss of virginity. Lots of time skipping. Let me know if I missed anything! Proofread twice.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: And just in the nick of time I’ve managed to write out my Secret Santa exchange gift. This one’s for you baby girl @winterchimez / @midnightfantasiez. You nearly sniffed out that it was me writing for you so I had to deviate and lie to you for a moment so sorry about that huhu anyway! A true blessing that you happen to be my recipient because we both love sangmil. A two-part mini series because I just love to keep you on your toes 😈 Hope you enjoy this gift! Thank you so much for your friendship and all the fun moments shared! Special shoutout to @momhwa-agenda / @aimeecarreros for being my accomplice hehe. Finally a sangmil fic has made its debut on the blog!

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network: @deoboyznet

You never should’ve gone to this stupid spring dance.

The thought in your mind repeating like a broken record as you try to hug yourself from the cold air outside the gymnasium. Tears running down your face as you stare off into the ground trying not to remember the reason why you suddenly ran out of the venue to begin with.

It wasn’t always like this. You were once very content with how things were going on in your life.

With the semester almost ending and all your mid-term grades just enough to pass, you couldn’t wait to celebrate surviving your last year of college with this one magical night. Especially with your best friend Sangyeon by your side.

Right… best friend.

The same best friend that had been ignoring you for the last two months or so (not that you were counting of course). Your mind races as you try to figure out for the nth time what even started this whole issue between you two.

All you could think back to was the beginning of his odd behavior, which started the week after your birthday. At first you thought Sangyeon was just busy with extracurriculars, which was often the case since he was part of numerous clubs and volunteer work.

But then things started to feel off as soon as he would ignore your calls, take too long to reply to texts, hearing from other friends he was just at home when he told you he was “fully booked” to hang out. It was like he was trying to come up with every excuse in the book just to not see your face.

Was he trying to hide something from you perhaps? That idea immediately disappeared as soon as you accidentally overheard his conversation with Haknyeon that one time you were all hanging out at Eric’s apartment.

“What?! You’re not gonna ask her to the spring dance?” You hear Haknyeon’s surprised tone.

“Of course not.” Sangyeon scoffs. “Why would I want to bring her? We’re just friends after all.”

You felt a sudden pang in your heart. Tears threatening to fall down as Sangyeon’s words bore deep holes within your soul. After everything you’ve been through together, this is how he thinks of you?

It shouldn’t have been that deep honestly, but with him ignoring you for the past couple of weeks and remembering the promise you made with each other to go together to the spring dance? It really fucking hurt you. Especially when you and Sangyeon had been by each other’s side since you first met three years ago at your freshman orientation. Instantly hitting it off like two peas in a pod and the rest was history.

Somewhere down the line, you knew you had some sort of feelings for him. Who wouldn’t?

With a smile that can cure any bad feeling you had, how he always took care of you first, the lingering hugs before you had to part ways at the end of the day, the way he would remember even the most insignificant details of a story you were rambling about, and made sure to always message you good night and good morning… He was the dream guy for you.

And even if you had moments wherein you thought he might’ve felt the same way, you didn’t want to sacrifice the strong bond you had with him over a stupid little crush. You just settled with the idea of just staying in the friend zone and not dare to cross any lines with him. Burying any what could’ves and everything else in-between.

Maybe that’s why Sangyeon distancing himself from you hurt more than it should’ve honestly.

So when you were seated at your table during the dance and saw Sangyeon entering the room with his date wrapping her arm around his, you felt massive sting in your chest.

That should’ve been you. It should've been you spending this night with him instead of whoever was currently by his side.

You thought you could go through the night just by avoiding your gaze their table, but the way Sangyeon smiled at his date and at everyone else like nothing was wrong, but his face slightly faltering as he quickly glanced your way, you just had to get out of there before things went downhill.

Your teeth were chattering from the cold air breezing against your exposed skin, nose sniffling and hands wiping whatever tears were leaving marks on your face. Suddenly, a pair of shoes enter your line of vision while your eyes were still glued to the ground.

“You shouldn’t be out here, it’s freezing.” The familiar voice tells you.

As soon as you look up, you find Hyunjae staring down at you. One of his eyebrows slightly raised as he wonders what has gotten you into this depressed state on a special night like this.

“Laugh it up Hyunjae, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? To see me cry?” You look up at him for a moment with your tear-stained face before looking back down at your feet.

Before you could even continue feeling sorry for yourself, Hyunjae sighs and squats down, his face now at the same level as yours. You feel his fingers lift your chin and gently tap the tears away from your cheeks with his handkerchief. Your eyes widen as he leans in closer, making sure not to ruin your makeup in the process.

“W-what are you doing?” you stutter.

“Pretty girls like you shouldn’t be crying.” He nonchalantly replies.

You’re too stunned to speak at his comment. As far as you know, Hyunjae has been nothing but a pain in your ass ever since he accidentally bumped into you in the hallway causing your diorama to break into tiny pieces as it fell to the ground.

Since then, you wrote him off as your sworn enemy. Always finding ways to annoy the hell out of you and get you to react to his antics, making side comments to one another, and his constant teasing that made you want to rip your hair off.

So no, never in your wildest dreams would you hear such a comment coming out of Hyunjae’s mouth.

“Hello?” Hyunjae waves his hand in front of you.

“What?” You shook your head as you were too distracted from hearing the question he had asked you.

“I said, do you wanna get out of here or what?” He sighs as he lends his hand out for you to grab. You hesitate at first. In any normal situation, you would never even let Hyunjae get as close as he did just now, let alone go somewhere with him.

But what the hell… Anywhere is better than here.

“So… who’s the lucky guy that has you bawling your eyes out? It’s obviously not me.” Hyunjae smirks. You had found yourself seated by the bar, eating french fries as you waited for your drinks to arrive.

“It’s uh- It’s a little complicated.” You try to avoid his eyes.

“Trouble in paradise?” Hyunjae pops a fry into his mouth waiting for your answer. Your eyes widen at his suggestion, knowing who he was referring to.

“What? No! I mean- We were never together if that’s what you’re thinking.” You sigh before carefully explaining to him the whole situation you were currently in with Sangyeon. Hyunjae intently looks into your eyes as you tell your side of the story.

“Huh…” Hyunjae takes a sip of his beer.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” You look at him as he drinks, trying to not to dwell too much at the way his neck looks flexed under the dim light.

“You’re really impatient you know that?” He chuckles before taking another sip. “I was about to tell you an idea I just thought of.”

“Yeah? Let’s hear it then.” You take a sip of your cocktail this time.

“What if you make him jealous? Like really jealous.” Hyunjae suggests.

“Pass. First of all, I don’t think he likes me that way. And second, who the hell would he even be jealous of? Sangyeon hardly gets jealous by anything.” You squint at him. What a silly idea.

“No c’mon. Trust me, he’ll be jealous alright. Especially when it comes to you.” He eyes you up and down subtly.

“What does that even me-” Before you could even finish your sentence you spot behind Hyunjae a group of students dressed in formal attire entering the bar. And like a moth to a flame, you immediately spot Sangyeon and his date amongst the group.

Hyunjae turns around to see what had been the cause of your panic, his eyes immediately spotting Sangyeon from a distance as well. And as soon as Sangyeon had a puzzled look on his face he knew that Sangyeon had spotted the two of you by the bar, wondering what the hell were you doing with Hyunjae of all people.

You hop off the bar stool, attempting to run away like you did during the dance, but you suddenly feel a hand gently grab you by the arm and pull you back before you could even make a run for it.

“C’mere.” Hyunjae asks.

“Wha-”

“Just follow my lead.” He whispers in your ear.

And before you know it, you feel Hyunjae lips pressed against yours. His hands cupping your face before sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. It takes a moment for your brain to process what’s going on, but your body responds faster by wrapping your arms around Hyunjae’s neck and deepening the kiss.

The way his lips perfectly mold against yours, how soft they feel as his hands squeeze your waist. The little groan he lets out as you slip your tongue inside his mouth, tasting the beer he had drank as your fingers run through his hair.

You nearly moan with how he slowly but expertly moves his mouth against yours. As if he’s taking to memory what your lips feel like in case this moment would never happen again. Both you and Hyunjae nearly forget you’re practically sucking each other’s faces off in public, which was surprising considering the nature of your relationship with one another.

No one could even tell the two of you despised the other as you held each other like lovers.

None of you see it, but the way Sangyeon looks at both of you right now is as if he wants to throw daggers at Hyunjae from across the room. Witnessing the both of you passionately kissing each other makes his stomach churn, a feeling he has never felt before. So many questions run in his head as he continues to watch from afar.

Before he even tries to take a step towards your direction, he sees you both pull away from one another. Hyunjae whispering something in your ear as you look too stunned to speak before taking out his wallet, pulling out cash and settling it on the table before whisking you away out of the bar.

Sangyeon really should’ve brought you to the spring dance like he promised… because not only does he feel like an asshole, but a jealous one at that.

The car ride on the way to your house was incredibly silent, as if what had happened between you and Hyunjae was just your imagination. Except it wasn’t. You could still feel his lips lingering on yours as you try to lean your head against the window and looking at anything passing by.

You’re broken from your trance as you hear Hyunjae’s door closing and his figure making its way to your side of the car. He lends out his hand for you to grab once again, helping you get out of the car and walk you to the front of your apartment.

“So… I’ll see you around?” Hyunjae smiles awkwardly says as he puts both his hands in his pockets.

“Hyunjae, wait-” You grab his elbow as he’s about to turn around.

“Hm?” He raises one eyebrow.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but-” You huff in-between, “let’s go with your plan.” You watch the little mischievous smirk appear on Hyunjae’s lips.

“If you just wanted to make out some more you could’ve just asked.” He teases. You’re about to slap him on the arm but he catches your hand and holds it tight.

“I’m kidding! Just… Let me know when and what time we can talk about it more alright?” He squeezes your hand gently. You don’t know why but a tiny little butterfly flutters in your stomach as you feel Hyunjae’s thumb subconsciously stroke the back of your hand.

“Okay… Thank you by the way for tonight-” you tiptoe a bit to hold Hyunjae’s cheek and leave a light peck on his lips. He’s caught off guard by your action, almost leaning forward some more to continue kissing you but you pull away quick enough before he does.

“Y-yeah, sure. Anytime.” Thank god it’s night time he thinks, otherwise you would've easily spotted the redness flaring in his ears and made fun of him for it.

“Call me okay?” He squeezes your hand once more before letting go and walking back to his car. You watch him drive off before heading up to your apartment, leaning against the front door and letting out one big sigh of relief.

“What the hell did I get myself into?”

“If you really want this to work, we have to set a few ground rules.” Hyunjae he pulls out a pen and paper from his bag, immediately writing down a numbered list for you both to fill out.

“Rule one- if one of us wants to stop this thing at any given moment, the contract will end.” Hyunjae says as he writes it down.

“Hmm.. what about rule two- if any of us catch some sort of feelings for one another, the contract is immediately terminated” You add. Hyunjae scoffs at the idea.

“Catch feelings? Seriously?” He looks up at you with a smirk. “Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me this whole time?” He continues to tease.

“I’m serious! It’s only gonna get complicated for us to execute this plan if feelings are involved. Haven’t you seen the movies?” You ask him.

“Fine, you have a point.” He writes down your suggestion earlier.

“Okay, rule three- kisses are a must if you want this thing to work.” He looks at you in the eyes. “And other things couples do.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Fine, but nothing beyond second base please?” You scrunch your face at the thought.

“Oh?” Hyunjae looks at you with a few twinkles in his eyes. “So does that mean I get to play with your-”

“NO! Not that. Like y’know, just waist touching and maybe the occasional touch of the ass. But definitely and absolutely no touching my chest whatsoever.” You point your finger at him. “I'm serious.”

“Alright alright!” Hyunjae raises his hands up in defense. “Anything else you wanna add?”

“Let me see the list again.” You grab the paper from his hands, carefully examining the words written before nodding.

“This looks good. Yeah, I’m fine with this.” You hand the paper back to Hyunjae.

“It’s a deal.” He says as you both shake on it before getting up to part ways.

Before you have a chance to take a step towards where your class is, Hyunjae pulls you into his chest and leaves a kiss on your lips, making you squeal in surprise.

“Sit with me during lunch. We start this today, okay?” Hyunjae reminds you. You nod your head before shyly giving him a kiss on his cheek and walking away to head to your first class of the day.

Sangyeon could not keep his eyes off you during study period. It had been this way every time you happen to be in the same room as him. You looked beautiful as ever of course but he could feel his blood pressure shooting up every time he would be near you.

Ever since that night he saw you kissing Hyunjae almost two weeks ago, it was like the two of you were everywhere.

He hated the way Hyunjae would always whisper something in your ear and you would laugh at whatever he said. Or the way his hand would find purchase on your lower back. And not to mention the way he would brush any loose hair behind your ear before kissing you goodbye.

It should’ve been him. He should've been the one doing all these things to you. He should've been the guy leaving you all those loving kisses, holding you by your waist, reminding you of how beautiful you look every single chance he got.

If only he was honest with you that night.

Sangyeon’s internal monologuing was cut short when he sees you getting up from your seat and patting Hyunjae on the shoulder before making your way between the bookshelves in the library.

As you slowly search for the book you need for your English paper, your shoulder bumps into a semi hard surface. “Oh! I’m so so-” you whisper but stop mid sentence as the familiar scent of cologne hits your nose.

“Hey….” Sangyeon whispers.

“Uh- Hi.” You back away from him a bit as an awkward silence falls between you two.

“How are things going? We haven’t talked in a while.” He fiddles with his own fingers, trying to think of the next words to say to you.

“Good I guess? Just trying to make it through the semester and stay motivated.” You respond.

“Sure looks like it-” Sangyeon mumbles. But you clearly hear him and scoff at his rudeness.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms against your chest.

“Seriously… Hyunjae? Why him?” He loudly whispers. “You’re better than that.”

“Yeah?” You step a little closer to Sangyeon, closing the gap between you two.

“Well where the fuck have you been huh? Where were you when I needed you?” You match the level of his tone.

“You don’t understand-”

“Then explain it to me then Sangyeon! I’m listening.”

He tries to speak but nothing comes out, panicking that this might be the last chance he could get to explain why he’s been so distant.

“I-uh” His eyes look everywhere else except you.

“Nothing? Thought so.” You push past him, making sure to harshly nudge your shoulder against his.

Sangyeon tries to follow you, but as soon as he steps out between the bookshelves he sees you head out of the library while Hyunjae scrambles to grab all your things from the table and chases after you. He sighs out of frustration combing his hair as he mentally curses at himself.

Oh he really fucked things up didn’t he?

“And he had the nerve, THE NERVE to tell me I know better. I can’t believe him!” You pace back and forth in your bedroom as you rant to Hyunjae about the events that took place in the library

“I honestly don’t know if I should feel offended or flattered at his little comment about me.” Hyunjae’s eyes follow you as you continue to move around.

“Think about it this way, at least we know the plan is working. Otherwise he wouldn’t have approached you like that.”

“Maybe? Ugh! Why are men so dumb?” You sigh.

“We think with our dicks that’s why. Well… maybe that’s just me.” He smirks, trying to crack a joke to break the tension. His little joke becomes successful when you look back at him and chuckle.

“Forget about him,” Hyunjae adds. “Tonight we drink to celebrate passing yet another exam and watch movies til we fall asleep or you decide to kick me out. Whichever comes first.”

He pours a full glass of wine for each of you as you plop down beside him and get cozy.

“Fine, but I’m picking the movie okay?” You tell him as you open your laptop and search for your favorite comfort movie.

Hours pass, almost three bottles of wine finished, and the movie long forgotten as you decide to chat with each other about anything and everything instead. It’s been nothing but laughs and mocking each other as you reminisce all the times you pissed each other off and funny stories of one another.

“Oh the look on your face was fucking priceless-” You laugh out loud, trying to catch your breath as you recall one embarrassing moment of Hyunjae.

“Well what the hell was I supposed to do then huh? Tell the professor I was getting a handjob under the table during his class?” His voice raises in defense. “Not my fault she couldn’t resist me.”

“You looked so mortified too holy shit-” You laugh.

“I was nearing a fucking orgasm okay? Then he calls me to the front of the class to write down my answer for the stupid formula. That professor practically edged me!” His cheeks starting to turn even more red as you continue to laugh at him.

“Ow it hurts, wait-” You clutch your stomach from the pain of laughing too much.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see how you like it then-” Hyunjae lunges forward, pulling your arms away to tickle you furiously.

You squeal out his name, trying to push him away while he tackles you. As you try to squirm out of his grip, you don’t even realize the position you’ve gotten yourselves into. Your body caged under his as he grabs your wrists and pins them down at each side of your head.

As the laughter starts to die down, Hyunjae looks down at you with heavy eyelids. You look incredibly pretty under him in this moment, he thinks to himself.

You didn’t even do anything in that moment but it was like he felt so drawn to you. Like you were a siren pulling him in. Your breath hitches as he leans down closer to your face, briefly stopping to search for any sign of consent before fully pressing his lips against yours.

This obviously is not the first time you two have kissed. But for some reason, this kiss felt different than all the other ones. You both kiss each other slowly, lips molding like a perfect dance as his hands let go of your wrist and hold you by your waist instead.

And just like the first time you kissed, you find yourself automatically wrapping your arms around him and running your fingers through his hair, pulling his body closer to yours as kisses travel down from your jaw to the most sensitive part of your neck.

You feel your core blooming in heat as his tongue expertly swirls inside your mouth. How it pulsates for him as you feel his hands go under your shirt, stopping right under your breasts.

You suddenly gasp as his hands start fondling your bra covered chest, gently kneading them as he continues to leave small marks on your sensitive skin with his lips.

A choked moan comes out as you feel his manhood throb against your core, reminding you of the thin layers of clothing, your thin pajama shorts and his sweatpants that stand between you two from crossing any lines.

“Hyunjae, wait-” You try to slowly push him off. His head pulls away to look at your face.

“Oh shit. I’m- fuck sorry no chest stuff-” You see the panic look in his eyes. But before he’s able to pull away, you grab him by the wrists and press his hands deeper into your chest.

A deep groan comes out of his mouth as he squeezes your breasts again, feeling your sensitive buds slowly hardening under your bra.

“No it’s not that. I-” You close your eyes for a moment before swallowing the lump in your throat. You feel your cheeks become warm at what you’re about to confess to him.

"I've never done stuff like this before..." you nervously say.

It takes a few seconds for your words to sink in before Hyunjae looks back at you with widened eyes.

“Oh uh- are you sure? We can stop. We don’t even have to do anything more-” He caresses your cheek.

“The thing is…” You pause to slowly swipe your thumb on his lower lip. “I want to-”

You look up at him with the most innocent looking eyes and Hyunjae swears to himself that he’s never seen anyone look at him the way you do. Like he had hung the moon for you. Hyunjae softly smiles at you before leaning to kiss you once again,

"Then sit tight baby… Because I'm about to rock your world."

(Part 2)

[starillusion13]

PRECIOUS

Pairing: Prince!Seonghwa x f!reader x Prince!Hongjoong

Genre: Royal, Fantasy, Angst, Yandere

Warnings: crying, controlling nature, possessiveness, suggestive themes, using a sleeping potion needle.

W.C: 3.5k

Note: Thanks to the people loving my works and supporting them. I love to read your reviews in my dms so feel free to dm me. Thanks for joining the event.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Request from: @warpedspirit

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @vvshere @yeoobin @tainsan ( I didn’t know which account to tag 🥹)

👑

*under the cut*

The kingdom Halazia was ruled by the king, Zeeth. His first wife who died at a young age has a son named Park Seonghwa and the second wife has a son named Kim Hongjoong. The Title for the sons were after their mother because they didn’t want their fathers title to be given to them as they passionately hated that man.

Two months ago, the king suddenly died of a mysterious fever. Not even the best medic in the kingdom found the cause for the untimely end so this leaves only the younger queen to take over the family proceedings. The situation was very difficult for her to handle and let alone the princes who are not even bothered by their father death.

The elder Prince, Park Seonghwa who has a great physique with light toned skin and always keeping a sword attached to the waist band, the handle is designed with blue and silver crystals which highlights the shining silvery blade more. The prince attires always look the best on him and make it seems like the position pf prince is designated for him. He has the piercing eyes like an eagle as if he can read your soul with a single glance at you which can make you feel exposed even though you are fully covered with materials. His sharpness of eyes is slightly hidden with the black strokes of the bangs falling over his eyes similarly the way the sharpness of the blade is separating through the handle from his hand. Even though having such a strong aura with the sharp facial features his personality is a bit contrasting in usual. He has a sweet voice which can easily lure you into his well-planned trap and his calm and peaceful nature can convince you to speak all your hidden truths to him. Well, that’s the trap where he will attract you with his caring nature and gets to know everything about you which may not be always good.

The younger Prince, Kim Hongjoong whose name can alone scream the dominance over every possible thing. He is born to be a king. He is slightly shorter than the eldest prince but his pointy noise and thick eyebrows and the evil glint in his eyes with the dirty smirk as if he whatever he does or say is the last option for everyone makes everyone else surrounding him feel smaller to him. Don’t ever dare to say him short if you don’t want to die early. He is totally ruthless unlike his brother’s calm personality. But both of them having same interests on something or hating the same thing similarly which make them most powerful. Hongjoong has a folding knife whose heavy metal portion is designed with black crystals totally matching with his dark personality. His only emotions are for his mother and his brother. He does not have to make you believe him because no matter what he will do it with force whenever its possible.

 Likely, the commoners are well aware of their hatred towards the king because they don’t like the rules of the kingdom set by the king. They both can be the most powerful duo among all the neighbouring kingdoms if they get pissed off with something. Most commonly known as The Django Brothers because of this consistent and ruthless personality when together. The king’s death announces Seonghwa as the next ruler of Halazia but his love for his brother made him to come up with a final decision for the kingdom’s future attention.

“I will not be ruling this kingdom alone, I want my brother to be the part of this as well.” Seonghwa sitting elegantly on the throne in a dark blue prince attire looking flawless on the antic throne of the king seems like a perfect protector of Halazia. He is looking around the court hall to scan the faces for any disapproval. Hongjoong standing behind him in a black furry fit which more seems like the enemy or the destroyer of the kingdom and also with the visible smirk on his. He is observing everyone present there while playing with his pocket knife making everyone startled with every opening striking sound.

The head of the general gulped when taking in the look of the younger prince and spoke up, “We all agree with your plans Prince Seonghwa even we are measuring the land to divide the north sector and the south sector equally. The commoners are also happy for the decision on finding two future kings which can lead to betterment of the kingdom as you both can give proper attention to the respective parts rather focusing on vast areas alone.”

“Equal sectors? Do you think we will get jealous of each other huh?” The younger prince spoke and the head of the general is trying to avoid being under his heavy gaze. 

“It is King Seonghwa and King Hongjoong for you all and I want this news to be announced all over the kingdom within evening.” Everyone nodded their head in return not wanting to displease any of the kings.

“Also tell everyone that my little sons are big enough to get married and am searching for beautiful and talented girls who can take care of my sons and teach them right way to behave maybe then these two can become a real human.” The youngest queen chuckled when coming to the middle of the hall.

Everyone feels relaxed with the joke and her playful presence and they all bowed to the queen and smiled towards her.

The two princes groaned on hearing the statement, “Mother, you know the kingdom is enough for having two rulers so there is no need of a woman. We can take care of everything alone.” Hongjoong interjects.

“But you can’t take care of your feelings for love, the loneliness will break you down my son.” She looks at both of them sympathetically.

“We can and we will show you how.” Seonghwa spoke up but with a respectful gesture towards the queen.

The ministers and generals started to leave the hall one by one when the queen made a quick gesture to the business minister to spread her wanting news for marriage.

“Father?….” A sweet honey like voice chirped in from a corner. All the attention turns towards that direction. The two princes are having the confuse look where the queen is grinning towards the new comer. The head general was last to leave when on hearing the voice halted in his step.

“Oh! Look I forgot to tell you who I brought here, General she was waiting at the gate for you and I heard that you don’t talk to your daughter.” The general glared to the girl standing behind the queen but instantly changed his expression to face the royals.

“Your honour, Queen Aeris I would like to apologize in behalf of her but I would like to take my leave here.” General plainly stated.

“This is your daughter?” The youngest prince scanning the girl as if like an animal getting ready to jump on his prey that instance. The girl hesitated in her place under his gaze.

“Y/N?” Seonghwa softly called the girl. The girl and queen both looked at him with big round eyes.

“Ah, finally my son recognized her. So, you should know now why she is here.” The queen clapped her hands happily and went away when a maid whispered something in her ears.

Seonghwa still looking at her when she is just looking around for what to say to him. Hongjoong suddenly spoke up, “Y/N? you mean our Y/N, our precious? My precious?”

Seonghwa nodded in reply which made his brother to show his dirty smirk again. Hongjoong turned towards the general, “So you kept her hidden from us all these days? Why?”

“Joong and Hwa, he is not to blame here. I kept myself away from this place because I need to take care of myself because father- “

“Don’t call me father, You witch, good for nothing. I don’t want your presence in front of my eyes.”

“That’s so ridiculous. Raising your voice in front of us and also on her?” Hongjoong asked the general with a dangerous expressionless look. The general apologized again and the elder prince signalled him to leave the place without wanting to hear anything further from him.

“You both remembered me still?” You are a bit happy and tensed at the same time with their presence.

“How can we forget the one who made our childhood the most bearable and memorable one. The one who respected and also befriended us before knowing us being royals. You are so different Y/N.” Seonghwa smiled for the first time in the whole day. Hongjoong took a quick glance at his brother and added, “You are the precious gem to us. See we decorated our sword and knife according to the colors you stated suite us.” He holds his knife towards you and Seonghwa also retreat his sword from the waist band to show it to you.

“That’s so nice that you still care for our friendship but we should not treat each other like before now because things are different since then. We have grown up and …….I’m engaged to Haechan.”

The two prince ears perked up on hearing the name of a male coming out of your mouth and also the fact that you are engaged. Seonghwa’s smile disappeared for a second but he quickly regained it while facing you but Hongjoong is totally losing his composure.

“Who? Haechan? Who is this person? When did this all happened?” Seonghwa quickly stated acting all normal but is few inches away to just rip this said person’s head off. He took a few steps to stand closer and in front of you. You are slightly shorter than them so you glanced upward with fear in your eyes because you are suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the fact that the person before you is not happy with your statement. Hongjoong’s heavy footsteps echoed inside the empty big hall which stopped just right behind you. You can feel the gaze behind you is burning hole in the back of your head.

Seonghwa putting the loose hair strands behind your ears with a smile which is totally mocking your fear, “We can’t just accept that you are engaged Y/N.”

“Huh? What do you mean you can’t?” You know the three of you can’t be close friends when you are just a commoner with two royals. People would not like this relation among you three.

“Oh precious! We can't lose you again when we just got you after so many years. We did not just wait for you to come back and say that you are going away from us forever.” You are not sure if Seonghwa is hurt with your engagement as he won’t be seeing his friend again or is he referring to something else which you can’t even think can be possible.

You retreat your steps back from his close proximity but to your dismay your back bumped into a hard yet fury chest. You got startled, thin back of your floral old town villager gown is not helping but feeling the furs stinging in your back. You turned your head to at least glance at the person behind you and found he is smirking at you with a lust filled eyes. Your attention was brought back to the front when Seonghwa holds your chin to make eye contact with you and suddenly you felt two palms resting on both of your shoulders. The sudden contact with two males making a chill shiver run down your body. Your eyes searching in the opposite eyes for the emotions to feel because everything is so confusing for you in the moment.

Seonghwa looked down at you smiling and then looked behind you, you can feel they are communicating with each other through eyes which makes you feel outcast between them. The hold on your chin is moved to brushing your cheeks with his long soft fingers when the thumb slowly touched your lower lips and keeping the movement in a slow trans. Your right hand moved up in reflex to take a hold of his wrist.

“What are you doing?” You softly asked him with a fearful expression.

“My Precious…..” Joong whispered breathily in your left ear and his hands falling from your shoulders and sneaking to hug you from behind. His head then resting on your left shoulder. You exhaled a heavy shaky breath and closed your eyes.

“Look at me!” the command from the eldest prince really dominated over the movement of your body for which you immediately looked up at him expecting him to have any dark look but he was looking at you softly.

“Tell me love, do you want to go back to him?”

“Huh? …..To my father? ” your eyebrows creased with the question. Hwa nodded to which you strongly showed your denial by shaking your head.

The prince behind you now asked, “and to him?”

“Who again?”

“Your fiancé?” your fearful expression returned to confused as to why is he asking you this obvious question and the uneasiness making you to wiggle under the two holds which made them to hold you tighter.

“Oh him! Yes of course I would go there …...that’s my home after my father kicked me out.” The answer didn’t help the situation either for your uneasiness. Seonghwa is no more smiling at you but glaring dangerously.

“No you won’t.” Hongjoong stated blankly.

“Why?”

“He is not good. He is no one in your life. The only men you are allowed to have in your life is me and Hwa.” He hugged you tightly and felt his lips kissed your exposed neck lightly. You left out a soft moan for the contact and looking down but quickly looked up.

“What are you saying?” You are now asking to both of them.

“He has said you already love, that only men that is yours is us. You belong to us.”

“I don’t belong to you. Please leave me, I need to go.”

“You think we will let you go now?” Seonghwa smirked at your miserable state under his brother’s hold. His hand on your cheek moved upward to pat your head before going back a few steps to take in your whole look while you were struggling to get away from the back hug. Hongjoong is snuggling in your neck which made your eyes a bit watery. Again, he came closer to you and smashed his lips on you. You tried to move your head to retreat from the kiss but nothing is helping when he holds your face tightly to glare at you for a second and again returned back to kiss you.

In the same time, Hongjoong is giving you butterfly kisses all over neck and over the bit of your shoulders visible. Your hands are restricted by him preventing their movement. Seonghwa’s kiss is rough as if he is a hungry beast who haven’t got his meal for last few weeks. Both of the male stopped their movement. You are weeping quietly while looking down. The lose of their hold didn’t help your weak legs to let you stand still any longer when you suddenly fall on your knees and hid your face in your palms and continued weeping.

Seonghwa felt a wave of guilt within him but quickly brushed it off. Hongjoong came in front of you and knelt down to move your hands blocking your face. Your teary eyes looked at him with hatred and fear. The man didn’t even bother to acknowledge your anger but he assures your fear with a soft kiss on top of your head. His one hand takes a hold of back of your head to push it softly against his chest to stroke you softly in a comforting way. Your hands takes a hold of his furry coat. Fur should be a place of comfort but this fur is like a needle to you.

“Why…… why a-are you d-doing this?” You questioned between your crying.

“Its okay precious, nothing is wrong. We are doing what we should have done way before.”

Seonghwa also mimicked his brother’s expression beside him to stroke your back. You moved back from Joong’s chest to look at them. Both of them are dearly smiling at you.

“We are your kings, love.”

Joong added to his brother, “and You are our Precious.”

“……no”

“Love, there is no other option for you except accepting this.” Hwa is grinning while speaking.

You shake your head side by side while thinking for what to say, “Please…...”

“Please what love?”

“I want to go.”

Hongjoong glared at you before standing up. “Hwa, take her to our room and let me have a talk with them about her and I will ask for you if I need help.”    

 “Sure Joong, we need to tell everyone that they have got their kings and the precious queen.”

Seonghwa tightly holds your wrist to make you stand and starts pulling you to the grand door of the hall to exit, you looked towards the younger prince to see him staring at you dangerously with a smirk “What will you talk to them about?”

Then you tried to wiggle your hand out of the tight grip which is hurting you a bit, “Where are you taking me to? Where is Joong going? What is going on?”

“Oh, don’t worry about him, he will be back soon till then we can enjoy ourselves. He needs to finish a meeting with your father and …..Haechan.”

“No, you don’t have to talk to them. I need to go back to him. Leave me.”

“Shut up. We own you and no one can dare to change it.” Hwa laughed in the end of his reply which is followed by Joong’s laugh.

“You don’t own me, I’m not a property please……” You are about to cry again. Hwa glanced at Joong when he stepped closer to you and suddenly hugged you. You are confused but before contemplating the situation you felt a needle like something pierced the skin near your backside of the neck. Your eyes felt heavy and your weight is leaning towards his body which he gladly took a good hold of it. He caressed your head before lifting you up in a bridal style. Footsteps came near you both and the last thing you heard,

“I need to go now to say goodbye to your father and your fiancé but we can continue everything later Precious.”

“Our Precious.”

(Do you readers need part 2? Spicy or soft?)

Here is the part 2! Out now!

[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 1

series masterlist

pairing: anakin skywalker x f! reader

summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands. 

warnings: minors dni! ageless blogs dni! none this chapter but the series will have eventual smut, canon-level violence and just general warnings. 

a/n: hello hello hello! i’m working on creating more appropriately sized chapters and spacing things out but i’m so excited to work on this series. this series is based on a request from @breatheeagainnnn 

word count: 2.7k 

Anakin Skywalker is lost.

The revelation comes to him when he is lost in the deep waters of his meditation, distanced from the buzzing matter of physical reality as he is swept by the currents of the Force. He drifts without anchor, each surge threatening to submerge him, to overwhelm him if he loses his control.

He seeks to control the Force. The Force seeks to control him. 

And the network of the universe ebbs and flows around him when the truth is drawn from his bones. It’s a presentation of three fragmented parts that unsettle Anakin right down to his soul. 

The first. He is afraid. He is the Chosen One, something he’s heard so much that it has lost its meaning. The Messiah lost the message. 

Bring balance to the Force. Bring balance to the Force. Bring balance to the Force.

He doesn’t know what that means anymore. And if he fails, what then? His fear of falling into the Darkness paradoxically increases the hold that it has on him. 

The second. He pines for what he cannot have. 

Padme Amidala is the breath in his lungs, reviving him with each heartbeat. But she couldn’t love him the way he loves her, telling him as much with just a hint of sadness on her graceful face. She shut him out and without her, he feels weaker. 

The third. Anakin is losing control. Obi-Wan can sense it too, because every training session is overshadowed by a sense of urgency. Every move is sloppier, more dangerous, and even in training, his desire to triumph is clouded by his desperation, as if winning would allow him to truly understand it all. 

And all of this culminates in him realizing that he is lost, without hope and without guidance, and nobody will understand. Obi-Wan could never understand, for he still sees Anakin as the child that he rescued so many years ago. Obi-Wan just doesn’t get him. Master Obi-Wan would do anything for his padawan, truly, but Anakin can’t bear the thought of burdening Obi-Wan with this. Besides, it would only reinforce Obi-Wan’s view that Anakin isn’t ready to be a Jedi Master. 

A knock on the door to his quarters startles him and he scrambles to get up as Master Obi-Wan opens the door. 

“Anakin, there’s someone here to meet us,” Obi-Wan says, frowning. Anakin runs a hand through his hair, sighing as he frantically pieces together an appearance of cool indifference. He’s a Jedi. He can’t feel rattled. The two Knights obscure their faces with their hoods and walk out of Anakin’s quarters. 

Anakin follows Obi-Wan to a room where a single figure stands hidden by a hooded cloak, surrounded by a number of handmaidens each adorning the same pinched, tight-lipped look. 

“Leave us,” a low voice says from under the cloak, and each of the handmaidens file out of the room without sparing even a single glance behind. Anakin reflexively reaches for his lightsaber, but then the figure steps into the beam of light streaming from the window and takes off the hood. And he lays eyes on you for the first time. 

You’re not nearly as beautiful as Padme, nobody is, but still, there’s something so mesmerizing about you. Motes of dust dance in Coruscant sunbeams around your head and it looks like a halo, makes you look holy, and he can’t stop himself from staring. He’s studying the details of your face, scanning, and it’s to a point that he can’t pretend it’s for threats. He almost forgets to breathe when you bow your head to him in respect, and he has to bow back. Anakin’s eyes are still transfixed on you when you begin to speak. 

“Master Kenobi, General Skywalker,” you begin, and the two Jedi push their hoods down. “I come to you in need of assistance. As you are aware, the current Queen of Naboo’s two terms are near their end. But what has been kept secret is that I’ve been chosen as her successor, which will be revealed to the citizens of Naboo in a fortnight.” You take a deep breath and smile weakly as Anakin and Obi-Wan mutter half-hearted congratulations. “What I need is protection.”

“So then why do you require our aid? I’m sure you’re aware that Naboo has its own governmental protective forces, and I’m unsure that they’d take the Jedi Council’s interference in their sovereignty kindly,” Anakin asks. He’s more guarded than he intends to come off, but the question holds still. You don’t appear to be a fool, so there must be more depth to the matter. At his questioning, your eyes flit briefly towards the door before you step closer to the Jedi, toying with the front of your robes as nervousness overtakes you. 

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m much older than the usual elected Queen, and it is not by coincidence,” you murmur. “I did not get here alone. Under the command of Senator Amidala, I’ve spent the past couple years infiltrating the Naboo separatists. They manipulated the selections such that I would become Queen.” At the mention of Padme, Anakin bites back a sigh and forces himself to pay attention to your words. 

“That is very dangerous,” Obi-Wan says, rubbing his hand over his beard. “I assume you’ve been relaying your findings to the Senator thus far?” 

You nod sharply in response. 

“I see. The Council—“ Obi-Wan begins, but you shake your head frantically and grasp him and Anakin by the robes, pulling them closer to you. 

“No. Not the Council. I do not know who I can trust. There are Separatist spies everywhere. My handmaidens, for example, are all Separatist spies who don’t trust me because Padme is my cousin. While I don’t doubt the integrity of the Jedi Masters, I fear putting them in danger if my operative fails, or if word gets out.” You’re frantic but quiet, and constantly checking at the door to see if any of your wardens have overheard your betrayal.

“And yet you trust us,” Anakin rebuts. He doesn’t trust you, not one bit; how could he ever trust a spy? If you’re so willing to lie, even if it is to the Separatists, how can he be sure that you’re not lying to him? 

“Padme told me that I could trust you. She said to give you this,” you say, shoving your hand into your pockets to produce a necklace, which Anakin recognizes immediately. It’s one he knows all too well, as it’s the necklace he’d gifted Padme before he had even joined the Order. And he decides that if nothing else, you are honest about Padme. And that’s all that matters to him. The part of him that still burns for her overtakes him and he knows that he can’t let her down. 

“I’ll do it,” Anakin says. Obi-Wan glances warningly in his direction, but there’s a certain resignation and relief in Obi-Wan’s posture. Anakin hasn’t taken this kind of initiative in a long time, and Obi-Wan was beginning to grow concerned that all hope for the Chosen One was lost. 

“Alright, the matter is,” Obi-Wan pauses mid-sentence, looking at Anakin’s determination, “settled. We will aid you in your transition away from the Separatist group and expose their interference.” 

”You have misunderstood me, Master Kenobi,” you whisper, voice hush with urgency. “I’m so close to finding out the identities, locations, of key leaders. There are Sith Lords that are regularly hologrammed into our meetings. Should I be tasked with something significant as the Queen, Darth Sidious has already alerted me that I will be tasked with the assignment in his presence.” 

Obi-Wan begins to respond to you, but Anakin cuts him off. “If you have a plan, why don’t you tell us already?” He’s frustrated by your impatience. Maybe Obi-Wan was right about politicians. You glance at him, annoyed. 

“I was getting to it, General Skywalker. As I was saying, this mission is imperative and it is essential to the fate of the Republic and thus, the galaxy, that I am not put in harm’s way before I am able to succeed in exposing the identities of key Separatist forces. I cannot trust the guards provided by the Naboo government, as I don’t know who is a Separatist plant. So—“

“So you need our protection to… what? Kill the spies? And how would that work if Naboo has its own protection for you? I highly doubt they’d take the involvement of the Jedi Council kindly,” Anakin says sharply. You nod at his rapid-fire questioning, unfazed. 

“Something like that. I need to make sure that any communications I have and discoveries I have are protected, and if anyone finds out, that they’re eliminated before they can eliminate me. So not necessarily kill the spies, but I need actual protection, and I need someone that I know I can trust. And…” you trail off and step back, toying with the hem of your sleeves as you sigh. 

“What is it, milady?” Obi-Wan asks you gently. You press your hands to your neck and look up at Anakin. 

“The way I see it, there’s two things we can do. General Skywalker, I understand that as a Jedi Knight, you have a padawan yourself. Ahsoka, correct? We could have her—” 

“No,” Anakin interrupts quickly. “Ahsoka’s far too young, and while I believe that she will grow to be a very competent and powerful Jedi, now is not the time to thrust her headfirst into a mission alone.” You nod at the Jedi’s assessment. 

“Of course, General. We’re thus presented with the second plan. I am, as Queen, permitted to have a husband. I’ve been building the identity of a lover in my life, and while there is none, this leaves me room to marry without suspicion in the eyes of the Separatists.” You take another deep breath and look at both Anakin and Obi-Wan, shoulders tensed. “If I marry either you or Anakin, then I’ll be able to have you in my chambers regularly, privately.” 

“And you’re certain it must be us?” Obi-Wan asks. You nod quickly, sharply. 

“I can’t trust anyone but the two of you,” you whisper. Obi-Wan nods at your words, then bows his head. Anakin follows suit. 

“Thank you, milady. We’ll meet you at midnight, in the gardens, to settle the matter.” Obi-Wan and Anakin hide under their robes once more, being even more careful to disguise themselves as you call out loudly for the handmaidens to return. 

~~~

The hours pass quickly, and you soon find yourself in the cover of the night’s darkness. Sleep eludes you tonight, and you are filled with restlessness. Your handmaidens have retired, sleeping outside of your bedchamber to ensure that you don’t leave. But they fortunately didn’t notice the ledge that goes from underneath the bedroom window to the bridge connecting the guest quarters to the Temple. 

The air in the room feels stale and suffocating as you toss and turn, counting down the minutes until your meeting with the Jedi. Your heart thumps torturously in its cage before you abandon your futile attempt to chase sleep. You find yourself at the window, sliding it open quietly as the breeze rushes in to kiss your face. Coruscant is beautiful and silent at this time of night, with only the whispers of distant sounds of the city blowing past you. 

The building ledge meets your bare feet when you slide over the window, and the distance from you to the ground is dizzying. Your palms and feet begin to feel slippery from sweat as your thoughts begin to spiral, fear of falling weakening you. You force yourself to shuffle closer to the bridge, focusing on controlling your movement as you do. 

And yet somehow, it’s all so freeing from this far up. No restrictions, no eyes on you, and all the troubles in the galaxy seem so small at this height. You could fall. Or you could keep going. The fear wasn’t what mattered, what mattered was that you were here and alone and it felt safer than you have felt in years. 

You force yourself to keep moving, ignoring the sweat gathering at the nape of your neck. Once you reach the bridge, you quickly jump onto it and hurry towards the gardens. 

The moons make the night soft with their hazy light. You swear that the temple seems so much more powerful in this light, with fewer Jedi wandering the grounds. They spare you a glance when you run past, your nightgown fluttering behind you. 

General Skywalker is the first thing you notice when you reach the garden, twirling a flower in his hands. It looks almost out of place with him, delicateness contrasting the strength of his hands. You get the feeling that he knows you’re there, despite the quietness of your arrival and the fact that you’ve been almost holding your breath as you watch him.  

“It won’t be a real marriage, you know. I love Padme, and I’ll love her til I die.” Ah, yes. Padme had warned you about this— about the intensity of his affection. Anakin Skywalker is not a man who works in subtleties. You hold back a scoff at his arrogance, choosing instead to clasp your hands in front of your nightgown and nod. 

“I don’t ask for your affection, General. Nor your companionship. I would, however, like for us to be allies.” The light of the planet’s four moons is muted in the garden, distorted by the thick layer of clouds and it makes the moment feel private. But you’ve been a double agent for long enough to know that there are always ears and eyes. You hold your tongue in fear of revealing something that could expose your mission just to get General Skywalker’s favor. 

General Skywalker clenches his jaw and drops the flower, studying you before nodding quietly. The flower is crushed under his boot as he stalks towards you. 

“But-” Your breath catches in your throat as you look into his eyes because he’s… pretty. You hadn’t thought of it before now, but as the moons’ lights fall so gently onto him, he seems ethereal. “But you will have to fake your affection, General. If you are unable to do that, I will respect that, but I’m afraid that would mean that you wouldn’t be suited for this mission.” 

“Padme recommended me for this mission, didn’t she?” General Skywalker asks you quietly, and you bite back a sigh at his obsession but find yourself nodding, albeit hesitantly. “Then the matter is settled, milady.” He leans in towards you, and you are lost in his eyes. 

“The matter is far from settled,” Master Kenobi’s sharp voice cuts through. You step back from Anakin, pressing your hand gently on your collarbone as your heart pounds against your ribcage. Your ears ring with embarrassment at the closeness that the Jedi Master had found you two in. 

“Agreed, Master Kenobi. I propose that General Skywalker join me within a month’s time on the planet. We will rendezvous somewhere we’ll be caught, publicly but also by my handmaidens.” 

“Force their hands,” Master Kenobi says, rubbing his jaw with the pads of his fingers as he thinks through the details of your plan. 

“I take issue with one large part, milady,” General Skywalker objects. He looks irritated, as he mostly has within the short time that you’ve interacted with him. Is this how he is as a lover? If so, no wonder Padme left him. 

Master Kenobi sighs aggravatedly and waves at the General, urging him to continue. “Padawan, I’d like to finish this conversation before the sun rises.” 

“I’ve got the feeling that it’ll do more than raise a few eyebrows if the Queen suddenly gets a new husband, all while one of the Jedi Knights and padawan to one of the greatest masters is… what, on a mission?” 

You smile grimly at his question. 

“There’s an easy answer to that question, General.” General Skywalker narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. “You’ll have to fake your death.” 

[prime-adeptus]

BAD IDEA (FORGET ABOUT IT, FORGET ABOUT ME) – QUANXI X READER

It’s a bad idea. You know it is. Even fucking worse now that you realise that you’re no longer doing this for sexual pleasure. You’re doing it for her affection, even if it only comes with her hand around your throat or between your thighs. Or, the one where you’re not lovers, just strangers, and you’re fine with it. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

CONTENT.⠀NSFW; female reader; friends with benefits, unrequited pining, angst, slight power imbalance (quanxi is mc’s superior), alcohol, mentions of medication, unhealthy relationships, hurt/no comfort, original character deaths, mentions of blood. Canon divergent, but takes place after the events of Part 1. ~6.5k words

NOTES.⠀my first fic of 2024 lets gooo baby HAPPY NEW YURI!!!! this is my contribution to my thank u, next collab :) likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! this is the most self-indulgent I’ve ever written but I hope you enjoy regardless;;

also on ao3 | @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue

You never think twice.

It runs in the family, you think. Your father was an insanely reckless devil hunter, your mother was impulsive even in the worst situations, and your brother did things just for the thrill. It’s ironic that for people with a job that relies on survival instinct, they had none at all. Impulsivity runs in your family, and there will soon come a day when it will get you killed the same way it did with them. That’s fine. Death doesn’t scare you, not anymore. He’ll come bearing his scythe when his time comes, taking your soul to where it needs to be, and you’ll let it happen when it does.

Public Safety wasn’t your first option. Being a professional devil hunter wasn’t, either. You wanted to pursue something less violent, like someone who could help improve a community’s welfare. You wanted kids to grow up better than you did. But with devils roaming the streets and the lack of the ‘strong-hearted,’ it came as no surprise that you had to give up on what you’d initially hoped. You’re still pissed about it years later in your career. The younger you wanted to help the world.

In a way, you got what you wanted. It just wasn’t the way you wanted it to happen.

You think you’re more familiar with firearms and blades than you are with flowers and crayons now. Your hands, once soft and delicate, are now scarred and calloused, stained with the blood of those you had to slay and lose in combat. Your heart, once full of hope and kindness, is now cold as ice. The innocence and joy you used to have were cruelly ripped out of your hands and crushed into pieces you can never put together again.

But you don’t have time to miss who you used to be, nor do you have the time to dream anymore. You have to survive in a world where danger lurks in every corner. You will pass the days instead of living them, letting them hurt you and bury misery deep in your bones, but you will survive, if not by sheer determination or instinct.

The drink you’re having burns your throat. Though you weren’t previously a drinker, having seen how it changed people like it did to your father, there’s nothing else you can turn to. You never liked bars either, yet here you are, sitting all by your lonesome. People change, whether it’s out of their volition or against their will. You don’t know where you fall between those categories.

The longer you stare into space, the more you tune out the world around you. You feel as though you aren’t here, but somewhere else. It’s been happening more often than you’d like—zoning out, feeling like you’re not in control of your body, vulnerable. You’re more annoyed by it than you are concerned. You’re a professional devil hunter, bound to an organisation that could dispose of you without a second thought if you fail them. There is no time for weakness. Your training and years of work have taught you that the hard way.

By the time you come back to your senses, your glass is already empty. A frown tugs at the corners of your lips. You’ve half a mind to order another shot to feel something other than perpetual numbness and exhaustion, but ultimately decide against it. Your tolerance isn’t as high as Kishibe’s is, after all. Who knows what will happen if you bite off more than you can chew? You don’t, and more importantly, you don’t want to deal with the consequences.

With a sigh, you leave the bar. The bells above the door chime as the door opens and exposes you to the winter air. A chill runs down your spine, making you shiver involuntarily. You’ve never been fond of the cold. It’s miserable, it makes you lethargic, and it’s a pain to get through without getting sick. You hate the shitty apartment you live in and the equally shitty radiator that came with it too, but this time around, you actually can’t wait to be home. You suppose there are still some things to look forward to, no matter how mundane they may be.

“Hm. Didn’t expect to see anyone out at this hour.”

You turn to see Quanxi leaning against a wall with a cigarette between her lips and the same deadpan expression you’re used to seeing her wear. Instinctively, you bow your head in greeting, though she makes no move to respond to it. Briefly you realise how you’ve never had a proper conversation with her, only good mornings here and there whenever you happen to cross paths. This is the first time she’s properly acknowledged you as something else other than one of Kishibe’s many juniors he ‘babysits,’ as he would say.

The wind blows the nicotine in your direction, causing you to grimace instinctively. In an attempt to cover it, you clear your throat and reply, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought you didn’t like being out at night.”

“I don’t,” you say with a wry smile. “Why are you out at this hour, Miss Quanxi?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.” With a sigh, she pushes herself off the wall and finds her place by your side. “I’ll walk you home. I’m going in the same direction anyway.”

You have a feeling she’s not going to take no for an answer, so all you do is nod and go along with her. It puts you on edge, being so close to someone you’ve always held in high regard. It’s also strange, in a good way, to be alone with a woman like her. Up until a few moments ago, you didn’t even know she was aware of you at all. You find that you like having her beside you like this. It makes you feel safe, protected, and in a way you can’t pinpoint why, like you belong.

The apartment building looms overhead and stands among electrical lines and small stores. The lightbulb in front of the elevator flickers before it goes out, leaving the hallway too dim for your liking. Anxiety starts to bubble at the pit of your stomach. You don’t know if it’s because of the dark or if it’s because of how close she’s standing to you. As your finger hovers over the button, you glance at her and blurt out, “Would you like to come in?”

She blinks as if she wasn’t expecting you to say that. She probably wasn’t. Heat rises to your cheeks and paints them with shame. You tend to speak before you think, which has both worked in your favour and against it.

(You never learn.)

“It’s cold outside,” you try to reason. “You could come in for tea, warm up for a bit before you go. I’d feel bad if I let you leave without anything.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

Your face burns. You should’ve thought she’d say no. You should’ve thought more. Of course, the Quanxi has no reason to stay and chat with you. She’s not the kind of person to do such a thing. She’s stoic, unapproachable, and–

“But if you insist, I’ll come in,” she says, interrupting you just before your brain is about to go into overdrive. “I could use a break anyway.”

She follows you into the cramped elevator without another word. It’s hard to keep your cool as you’re all too slowly taken up the building. With trembling hands, you unlock the door to your apartment. Your nerves are going haywire for reasons you can’t begin to fathom. You ignore them the best you can.

“Tea? Coffee?” you ask. You like to think you’re pretty good at keeping your composure, but you’re not so confident tonight. It’s fine. You’re being considerate, nothing more, so there’s no need to be so nervous. You’re just being a good host.

“Tea is fine.”

“Alright. Um, have a seat. I’ll be done in a minute.”

She takes off her shoes at the doorway before stepping into the living area, glancing around wordlessly. You hope she doesn’t mind the mess on the coffee table, even if it’s only receipts, newspapers and some blister packs you keep forgetting to throw out. Normal, mundane things. You haven’t had the time or drive to organise your place lately. You wish you did. For anything in general, really.

You’re surprised how stable your hands are this time around as you carry the tray towards where she’s sitting on the couch. She takes the mug with a barely audible thanks and you take your own. The couch isn’t small by any means. It’s old, yes, but it’s more than enough to seat two people. For some reason, it feels like it’s smaller. You’re close enough that your knees brush against each other. You try not to think about how this is the closest you’ve ever physically been to someone in years.

You almost want to scoff at that. It’s never occurred to you (or rather, you prefer not to think about it) how deprived you are of warmth and contact. Every day consists of you passively following a monotonous routine. People like you don’t get the chance to be close to someone, physically and emotionally, not when they can be taken away from you in the blink of an eye. You should be used to it by now.

You don’t think you can ever be.

“Is it okay?” Your voice is soft, hesitant. “It’s not too sweet?”

“It’s fine.”

You don’t know if Quanxi is one for small talk. You highly doubt it, but still, you find yourself chattering away. You talk about almost forgetting your keys in the morning, about how friendly your neighbours are despite their intimidating appearance, about the dog that greets you every morning and every time you come back.

Self-consciousness suddenly threatens to consume you whole when you catch how much you’ve been rambling in your flustered state. You can’t tell if she’s actually listening or if she’s only humming and nodding along so you’d stop eventually. Maybe you should.

The sudden silence makes her look at you curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I, ah, nothing.” You shake your head. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

“You were talking about your last mission,” she offers. You’re almost disappointed that she had been listening to you. “The bodyguard one.”

You didn’t expect that.

“Right… I’m sorry, Miss Quanxi. I didn’t realise how long I’ve been keeping you here. Would you like me to see you out?”

“I don’t mind. You sound interesting.” She places the cup down and leans back against the cushions, getting herself comfortable. You aren’t sure if you should take it as a compliment or something. “And Quanxi is fine. I’m not Kishibe.”

“Of course! I’m sorry, Miss—I mean, Quanxi.”

Names have always been important to you; hers isn’t any different. But as her name rolls off your tongue, you find that you like how it feels. Familiar, like you’ve been saying it for years. In the back of your mind, you wonder if she knows your name—she hasn’t uttered it once since she spotted you outside the bar.

Somehow, that makes you sadder than you should be.

“You live alone?” she asks. Your mind goes blank for a moment. Is she interested in you? No, that can’t be. She’s just making conversation. She probably pities you for the fact that you’re the only one doing the talking.

“I do. Have been since I was seventeen,” you say, cutting off your train of thought before it gets worse. “I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

You don’t realise what you’ve blurted out until Quanxi hums curiously.

Why did you say that? Why do you say anything?

“You don’t?”

“No,” you mumble. You avert your gaze to the side, nervousness taking hold of you once more. “Are you… Interested? In me?”

When you finally look back at her, her face is only inches away from yours. You stare at her wide-eyed. A myriad of emotions swirls deep in your chest as you stutter and stammer, your lips parting then closing like a fish out of water.

“Maybe,” she answers, and the apology you were going to say dies on your tongue.

Your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest with how fast it thumps in the confines of your ribcage. Despite the winter outside, it feels hot—you feel hot, like you’re standing by a burning flame. You think you’ve short-circuited when she gently tilts your head up with her fingers and leans in to kiss you with a softness usually reserved for a lover.

And because you never think twice, you don’t hesitate to comply when she urges you to sit on her lap. Your arms wrap around her neck and it doesn’t take long before the kiss turns more heated, before you start grinding against her. Cold digits trail across your skin and crawl between your thighs, smoothly unbuttoning your trousers to reveal what they’re searching for.

Hesitantly, you pull away to catch your breath. You can hardly understand what’s happening, and maybe you don’t have to, but there’s a deep longing to hear it directly from her.

“Miss Quanxi!” Whatever you’re trying to say gets interrupted with a gasp as her fingers dip past the waistband of your panties. “What are you—”

“Helping you relax,” she replies nonchalantly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how tense you’ve been since we got here.”

You’re not sure you can handle seeing how attentively she’s watching your expressions right now, so you squeeze your eyes shut. It doesn’t help, not when you can feel everything at once, from her heated expression to her sinfully adept fingers.

There’s a voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is wrong, unfair, but when she brushes over a spot that has you shivering against her hand, the thought ebbs away like it was never there at all.

You don’t want her to stop.

Maybe the strange heavy feeling within your chest is just anxiety from not being in a situation like this for a long time. Maybe it’s what your classmates used to call ‘butterflies in your stomach’ because you’re with someone you admire. Reason slips out of your reach with every curl of her fingers against your walls, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you’re reaching the edge. The sight of her doing something to you that only lovers do to each other isn’t helping your case, either.

Her name leaves your lips in a pathetic whine. “Quanxi—”

“Let go,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your cheek, “Let me take care of you.”

Your orgasm washes over you like the sea crashes against the shore, rendering you breathless and teary-eyed from how overwhelming everything feels. She doesn’t relent until you weakly wrap your hand around her wrist in a poor attempt to stop her from breaking you any further. She eventually pulls her hand away and brings her fingers up to your mouth, imperceptibly smiling at how you take them in without question. Seemingly satisfied, she withdraws and lets you slump against her body, tuckered out and boneless.

“Look at you,” she coos, her voice dripping with endearment. She’s probably used to saying these things and getting these reactions, and as bitter as you may feel about it, they have your heart racing nonetheless. You’re not used to praise. In your entire life, you’ve only been satisfactory, yet here she is praising you for doing nothing except surrender yourself to her. You part your lips to speak, only to be interrupted.

“Don’t worry about me.”

It’s almost worrisome how she can tell what’s on your mind so effortlessly. With a huff, you bury your face in the crook of her shoulder. You doubt you can look her in the eye without saying or doing something embarrassing.

“But…” you mumble out.

“I can take care of myself.”

You frown, though you don’t argue with the finality in her tone. Your body gradually relaxes as she runs her fingers up and down the length of your spine. It’s getting difficult to stay awake when you feel so sated, so safe. Eventually, without realising it, your blinking slows down and you start to drift off in her arms, growing blissfully unaware of the world around you.

—

You wake up in your bed dressed in yesterday’s clothes.

Quanxi must’ve carried you here before she left. Your vision slowly adjusts to the change in lighting as you look out the window by your side. It seems that people have already gotten their day started, judging from the cars moving down the road and the dogs barking in response to the disturbance they bring. You’re groggy and your thoughts are unclear, leaving you more wearied than you’d normally be. A dull ache rings in your head, growing stronger when you push yourself out of bed and trudge to the bathroom to freshen up.

Your mind feels like it’s shrouded with fog. You’re beginning to think going to the bar yesterday was a mistake. You tend not to dwell too much on the consequences of what you do, only what satisfies you in that moment. It’s a bad habit you can’t seem to get rid of. But it’s far too early to think—in fact, you’d rather not do it at all—so you clumsily grab the shower valve and let the water wash away yesterday’s events. It takes a couple of tries to find it, but you make it nonetheless. A curse escapes you at the unexpected cold that has you jolting awake against your will. You suppose you did need that rude awakening.

The word ‘mistake’ seems to echo in your mind louder and louder as you struggle to properly button up your shirt with sluggish hands. You’re pretty sure one of your socks is mismatched, but you don’t really have the energy to change them. You glance at the bottle of painkillers in your cabinet. You never quite liked taking these things even if they’re supposed to help you. You didn’t like having ‘too much’ in your system. A bit ironic, considering all the supplements and medication you’ve had in your lifetime.

Bitterly, you take them. You can’t have something so inane affect your efficiency at work.

The headquarters is already busy when you arrive. Camaraderie isn’t a thing here, so the atmosphere already feels stiff and awkward. You suppose it’s reasonable, having gone through a few losses yourself. In a world like this, you simply can’t get attached to anyone. You shouldn’t. After all, they can be ripped out of your hands, ripped apart until the only proof of their existence is their blood stained on your skin. It’s not ‘hating the world’ or ‘being unapproachable;’ it’s a way to protect the other person. In a way, it protects you too.

Your mind reels back to last night now that you’re more awake. The way she held you. The way she just knew your body like the back of her hand. The way she kissed you. Only lovers touch each other like that, your mother used to tell you, but you’re not lovers even if it felt like it. The intimate moments you shared threaten to bring tears to your eyes as they play through your mind again like a film reel. The memory of her lips against your skin, of her holding you as if you were made of porcelain. They’re likely nothing to her, but they’re everything to you.

So how are you meant to brush off something like that so easily? When you’ve never had or let anyone touch you in such a way? What is it about her that had you caving in without a second thought? What is it about her that has your emotions going into overdrive?

The coffee nearly burns your tongue and leaves behind a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. And sure, maybe the coffee wasn’t a good idea either, but what does it matter? All you have to do is work, hopefully stay alive, and come back to a boring life after a long day of saving the city. What happened last night was only a one-time thing. There’s no reason to mull over it again.

You unceremoniously toss the paper cup into the trash. Coffee was not a good idea.

The day, although surprisingly uneventful, is spent writing reports and being in the worst mood you’ve ever been in. Thankfully you didn’t need to talk to anyone, save for Kishibe who dropped by earlier to see if you were still alive.’ It was oddly kind of him to do. You’re more used to him being distant or plain merciless like he was to the chainsaw boy and the blood fiend. It’s nice to have someone look for you, think of you, even if it’s for such a grim reason.

You were tidying up for the day when your coworker approached you with a smile on her face. ‘Do you wanna come get drinks with us?’ she had asked. Seeing as you didn’t have plans for the rest of the evening—you never do—you agreed. A couple of drinks won’t hurt.

It’s not that difficult to spot your colleagues and seniors in the izakaya. It’s hard to miss them, actually, when one of them is excitedly calling your name and waving you over. They’re already drunk. You understand them, you think. You generally dislike feeling inebriated and what comes after, but with the current path you’re on, it’s the only source of comfort you have.

You grimace. You really have become your father.

The table is cluttered with beer cans and unfinished plates of snacks. Kishibe sits silently in the corner. He’s opted to bring his own drink this time around and barely acknowledges you with a glance. There are a couple other seniors you don’t recognise. With a bow that feels more perfunctory than it does respectful, you greet them and quietly slide into the booth.

Quanxi sits across from you, calm and collected like always. She doesn’t say hello to you with the same enthusiasm that her colleagues had, though she does nod and subtly raise her glass at you. Flustered, you blink, you purse your lips, and then finally you get it together and smile at her, the same way one would when seeing an old friend. Sure, that isn’t what she is, she’s just your senior, but you’d rather stay on her good side. You’ve seen how she dealt with that Hirofumi boy when they both came back last year. As attractive as you found it, you also don’t want to end up being someone she regards coldly.

You shake your head. Why are you worrying so much about what she’d think of you? All she did was acknowledge your presence. Luckily, one of your colleagues (someone you recognise, thank god) notices you and starts to ask all about your day. It’s enough to keep you busy. It’s also surprising you aren’t drained yet, considering how much more talkative they are compared to you.

“This is why I’m trying to help you out of your shell!” they playfully chide once you trail off, feeling self-conscious. “We want to get to know you better! Don’t be shy. Come on, tell me. What have you been up to?”

“I’ve been—”

Whatever phrase you were thinking of immediately goes forgotten when you feel someone’s foot brush against your ankle. You’re nearly seized with panic before you make eye contact with Quanxi and realise that it’s her doing. Somehow, it doesn’t do much to calm your racing heart. She seems so nonchalant, casually smoking her cigarette as if she isn’t threatening to make a mess of you with something so simple.

They furrow their eyebrows in concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Sorry,” you reply sheepishly. “I’ve been… well, busy. There’s a lot of backlog I still need to catch up on.”

Quanxi doesn’t do much after that, something you’re thankful for. Perhaps she took pity on you. Tearing your gaze away from her, you turn back to your colleague with a strained smile. You hope they won’t notice how you’ve tensed up and how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“W-What about you?”

It’s even more surprising that you can still speak while feeling so tongue-tied. Your conversation partner starts to chatter away, talking about everything and nothing, which you try your best to stay invested in. It makes for quite a good distraction, and Quanxi doesn’t tease you again until your colleagues begin to leave one by one. Until you’re eventually left alone with her.

You bite the inside of your cheek nervously. Her surprising you earlier could’ve been an accident, so nothing is stopping you from going home. You should go home. It’s not like she wants you to stay, right? She’s probably waiting for you to leave so she can do the same thing. You try to think of a polite way to excuse yourself, but nothing comes to mind and the words are stuck in the back of your throat.

“You’re thinking too much.”

You’re sober. Sober enough to be able to function, but not enough to notice that Quanxi has moved to sit next to you with her hand on your thigh. She leans in close to press a kiss to your neck, an invitation. A promise. You watch as her lithe fingers teasingly skim across your inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to your core. Your eyes remain on her hand, how it feels pressed against you, so warm and perfect—

“Not here,” you breathe, “H-Home.”

The night passes by in a blur. Before you know it, she has you on her bed, your cheeks flushed and your clothes torn from your body. Everything feels warmer, stronger, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re tipsy or if it’s because you’re pent up, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t think of anything, not when she keeps taking your breath away time and time again with every roll of her hips. Moans and broken syllables of her name leave your lips, doused in lust and whatever remaining modesty you have left.

Once isn’t enough for her. Your thighs are trembling as she pushes you into the blankets, keeping a tight grip on your shoulder as the sound of her thighs slapping against yours fills the room. The lewd noises leaving your body make your cheeks burn, and you wonder if she can feel how warm they are against her thighs when she finally lets you return the favour with your tongue. You’re sloppy and unpracticed, you know you are, but when she says your name and tells you that you’re so good for her, your heart soars.

Eager to please, you stay for what feels like an hour before she has you on your back and her fingers inside you once again. She doesn’t stop until you’re a teary-eyed, trembling mess beneath her. She doesn’t stop until your voice is hoarse from how loud you’ve been. Sleep comes easy to you that night; once more, you nestle close to her side and drift off, completely spent. The same way you did last night; only this time, she doesn’t hold you.

She’s gone by the time you wake up, and her taste lingers on your tongue as you leave her apartment feeling satiated but hollow.

—

You don’t know when meeting up with Quanxi just to fuck became a regular thing, but it did.

It’s a bad idea. You know it is. Even fucking worse now that you realise that you’re no longer doing this for sexual pleasure. You’re doing it for her affection, even if it only comes with her hand around your throat or between your thighs. You know it’s a bad idea when you always leave her place feeling used. Emotions have never been your strong suit—you’re not made to think, you’re made to do—but the whirlwind and the paradox have set you a few steps back. From what, you don’t know; all you know is that you can’t move on without her, without something more from her.

It bothers you how you both go back to work and act like you don’t know each other. It bothers you how she doesn’t even notice you when you happen to walk by. It bothers you how she feels so distant even though everything you’ve ever done with her has been things only lovers do. It bothers you how much you feel like you need her to satisfy you in more ways than what she’s currently doing. It’s not meant to be something serious. You’ve known that the moment she kissed you.

A distraction is all you are. A vice, like her drinks and her cigarettes and the other women. Something she has readily available to her, and because it’s Quanxi, you let it happen. You think she’s worth the turmoil in your mind. Why wouldn’t she be? She knows your body like the back of her hand, knows what you like, knows what you need. You’ll grin and bear it, accept the love she gives you on sleepless nights, and come whenever she calls.

Work has been busy enough for the past week or two. You were sent on a mission to somewhere in the south, ordered to exterminate a cluster of fiends and granted temporary leave after one of them managed to give you a nearly fatal wound. You don’t think she even knows that you were at the hospital until you had enough blood in your veins to heal again. It’s fine. Of course it is. She’s as busy as you are, if not more, and she has her own things to worry about.

You haven’t seen her in a while. Not at work, not at the bar you frequent. It harrows and relieves you at the same time because you feel her wherever you go. You walk in crowds hoping that she’ll be among them. You stay out hours after the work day ends hoping that you’ll bump into her. You keep your ears open hoping that you’ll hear something about her, or if you’re lucky enough, hear her calling your name. You don’t know how she’s woven her existence into your life this much, nor do you know what you want from her. But it’s not that necessary to put a stop to something you need, is it?

It’s fine if she doesn’t need you for anything else beyond sex. It’s fine that your love (is it even so?) goes unreciprocated. It’s fine if you feel cold in her embrace, and it’s fine that she’ll never be yours the same way you are hers. If this is a ‘bad idea,’ then you’ll make the most out of it—anything to keep you happy, anything to please her.

As long as she still knows your name, and as long as she still wants you, it’s enough.

It’s a particularly rough day when you leave an abandoned building with blood on your sleeves. You know your job isn’t done yet. There are reports you have to write, some civilians you need to check on, but you’re not confident that you can keep your impatience and anger under control. You’re tired, miserable, and you’re wondering if those pills do help you or if you’ve been lied to again. A cold shower and coffee weren’t enough to wake you this morning. The so-called soothing balm did nothing to heal the ache in your neck, and things went downhill insanely quickly. Today’s mission was the worst one you’ve ever had. You couldn’t save your partner in time. Their life was syphoned out of their body as they cried—no, begged you to help them, and all you could do was watch it happen.

The weight of your sword on your back feels heavier when you think of your failure today. A good craftsman never blames his tools. Can you say the same thing about yourself? Your weapon is an extension of you. The blade hasn’t dulled, but you have. It makes you feel even worse to know that you aren’t competent at the one thing you can do. If you were, you could’ve saved your partner, the one before that, and the others you lost along the way. Their blood will always be on your hands no matter how much you clean them. You’re quite sure there’s still a splatter on your shirt, but you are so, so tired. Stains are the least of your concerns.

The path to the bar is more familiar than it should be. You can barely register the worried and fearful glances people send you as you walk by them, exhausted and dishevelled. Hell, the bartender isn’t even shocked when you take a seat. He’s seen you more times than he can count. Not as many while you’re looking this beat up, though he takes it well enough. Wordlessly, he brings you your regular order. He doesn’t bother you again after that.

The burn barely fazes you anymore. You settle down the glass a bit harder than you should’ve, making you wince. You don’t want another thing to go wrong today. Quite frankly, you just want it all to be over, so you can retire, rest and visit the places you’ve always wanted to go to. Maybe get married, have a family, or adopt a pet. What a normal entails isn’t that known anymore. You’ll take anything at this point.

“Rough day?”

Quanxi leans on her side against the counter, running her gaze up and down your form. It should make you feel embarrassed, what with the current state you’re in, but you don’t think you can even care anymore.

You chuckle humorlessly. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

It doesn’t occur to you until moments later that this is your first time seeing her in weeks. A part of you feels relieved to know that she’s fine, she’s here, and another part of you is in disbelief that she still wants to talk to you despite the state you’re in. You can’t decide whether that’s endearing or pitiable.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You’ve already made several bad decisions, what’s another one going to do? You can drink the whole night, or you can do something that’ll make you feel good and forget for a little while. You cut to the chase, staring down into the glass. “My place or yours?”

She blinks, bewildered, then she speaks up again, “You can come to mine.”

The world doesn’t come back to you until you’re in her apartment again, already out of breath as you try to keep up with her hungry kisses. They’re addicting, borderline overwhelming, but you always crave for more, more, more. Her hands are on your hips and tonight she touches you with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your other trysts. Her touches are featherlight, treating your body like it’s made out of glass, and for some reason unknown to you, it’s more than enough to make you break into tears.

You pull her closer, your arms wrapped around her waist as you sob into her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, only rubs soothing circles on your back and lets you cry your heart out. Conflicting feelings make their way into your heart, holding it tight within its suffocating grasp. You want her to say something, but at the same time, you don’t. You want to ignore everything, have her make you forget, but you also don’t want to.

Then you can finally breathe. Your cries turn into sniffles. Your breathing is shakier than it should be, but it gradually calms down. Her collar is stained with your tears, marked with your vulnerability, your weakness. It’s hard to speak. The silence kills you inside, breaks down every wall you’ve put up around you. You crumble before her, your nails lightly digging into her back as she gently lays you down on the bed. You’re still holding on to her when she tries to get up.

“I’ll get you some water,” she says. You think it’s the softest she’s ever sounded. Your hand lingers on hers for a moment before you reluctantly let her go, too worn out to ask or argue.

When she comes back, she crawls into her side of the bed. No words are shared as you curl up close to her. Her heartbeat steadily lulls you to sleep while she pulls you closer with her hand on your back, tucking your head beneath her chin.

And just like last time and the time before that, you wake up alone.

Your head hurts. Your body aches all over, hurting with the smallest movement, but you manage. Some water spills when you drink, which you haphazardly wipe away with the back of your hand. The clock on the wall tells you that you’re late for work, but you’re far too weary to move. Instead, you nestle deeper into the blankets, blankly staring at the nightstand as the city continues to live without you.

She didn’t leave you a note. Why would she? She’s not your lover; she doesn’t have to tell you anything. There’s a sense of urgency in the back of you should leave too. That there’s a busy day ahead of you, there are people and families you need to get in touch with, and there’s some loose ends that you need to tie up. It will get worse the longer you stall, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to care about it.

You don’t feel anything. You want to feel happy, angry, sad, anything, but you just can’t. Not when you’re on your own and the only company you have is the quiet. You don’t feel anything unless you’re in pain. You don’t feel anything unless you drink until you black out. But with Quanxi, you feel alive. With her, you don’t feel like a machine. You don’t feel like a killer, stained in the blood of those you failed to save. You’re someone she likes, at least enough to keep around for as long as she has. You’re someone she looks for when she needs you.

It’s not love. You know it isn’t. You don’t think she’ll ever love you the same way you love her. You’re not that oblivious to ignore what this truly is—pure unadulterated lust and desire, something to relieve stress whenever it arises. Days ago you cried until you had nothing left because you wanted more. Now, you just ignore it all. If it makes you feel good in the moment, makes you feel like you’re worth something, who are you to deny it?

You know you make bad decisions, ones that lead you to consequences you deal with alone like this one. You don’t care anymore. You never think twice. It’s just how you’ve always been.

You never think twice, but as the bed gets colder, you wonder if it’s about time you did.

[family-blug]

Fgggg

Emergency: Help Evacuate What's Left of My Family From the Gaza War Dear Humanity.🍉🚨🚨

Here is our story - On October 7, our lives changed forever, we witnessed the real tragedy, 45 days we lived in our house surrounding the Al-Shifa hospital Complex with terror and pain every day, new events, and the most heinous crimes were practiced, shooting everywhere, terrifying fire belts that continued for half an hour, the sky lit up red, bombing all the towers and bakeries surrounding us, and all the solar energy on the roofs of the buildings and electricity motors, bombing all the surrounding restaurants and practicing starvation as a weapon, cutting off water, cutting off all types of meat, cutting off communication and communication networks, rising prices. Two days passed and we were unable to obtain potable water, we were drinking polluted water, and after our insistence on not evacuating the house, my family was evacuated from the house under threat and force in the northern Gaza Strip in (Al-Wahda Street opposite Zahran Restaurant), hoping to return soon, but that was not intended. On the same day we left the house, we learned that the house that was once a fortress of hope, is now destroyed and unfit for habitation, but our leaving the house was The real supplication as my room was destroyed, bordered by the living room, which was completely destroyed by the force of the explosion, and all the shrapnel penetrated the walls, where my mother's room, the shrapnel penetrated the ceiling of the room and the missile fell on her bed, where we were with my grandmother hoping that the danger was far away, but we were not spared from the brutality of the occupation. The danger approached two days later, the night when Al-Shifa Hospital was invaded was screaming.

The sounds of bombing were everywhere, causing a loud noise that seemed to penetrate our souls. Each explosion shook the ground like earthquakes, sending waves of fear through our trembling bodies. The air smelled of destruction and blood, making it difficult to breathe. When dawn broke, we saw the destruction around us, and we realized that our home had now become a symbol of loss and despair. We were at my grandmother’s house, hearing the sounds of approaching vehicles and death surrounding us from every direction, telling us, “I am here.” It was a very terrifying night. Flare bombs were everywhere in the city. Everyone was targeted. The occupation was calling all our phones and ordering us to move to the southern part of the Strip, and that we were in a dangerous combat zone. It was sending messages: “You must leave your homes immediately and head south for your safety. You must not return to your homes until further notice, according to the Defense Forces.”

Since that time we left and did not return to our home. Everything was completely destroyed. I was separated from my fiancé and my brothers. My father was killed in this fierce war. Our souls ascended to heaven. I lost everything, all my belongings, my office and my laptop. I left our clothes. The house was destroyed by 80%. The furniture was completely destroyed. My bedroom was destroyed.

In the 3-storey building we had a group of shops for rent that have now been completely destroyed and everything has become ashes and we have no other livelihood

I have no income here, just tell me ، how to live!

Pleas if it is not donation, help me with areblog or like and thank you front the bottom of my heart.🍉

‏Iam Diaa‼️🚨

‏I graduated from the Faculty of Sharia Law at the Islamic University with a Master's degree and now I am a doctoral researcher. I was hoping to complete my doctorate degree which I registered for in Egypt, but I will not be able to complete it yet because of the poor internet network. The price of the crossing ticket is very expensive. I was working in a private company in Al-Galaa, but I lost my job since the beginning of the war because my workplace was destroyed. I also lost the family home and my future home which I have not yet celebrated with my fiancée, Lauren, unfortunately. Now I want to leave to complete my doctorate degree in law. I aspire to do so and I cannot sleep because I dream of completing it.

https://gofund.me/142cc793

‏Please help even if it's $10 it can make a difference and if not just share the post

‏Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #218 )✅️

@90-ghost @sar-soor @sayruq @herecomesthementalmeltdown @words-of-emotion @sar-soor

[alex-thegiraffeboyy]

Chapter 5: A Dreamer and a Haunted person

Bewitched masterlist.

Summary: A little bit of reader's life trying to adapt to everything that has changed in her life. And also a glimpse of what Vi's life was like in Stillwater.

Words: 1.6k

After the whole incident with Jinx you decided it was time to quit your job at the brothel to dedicate yourself to helping your brother build the firelight society.

So that's what you did. You allowed yourself to be a dreamer.

It took quite some time. But little by little you two were able to create a network of trustworthy people who helped you get people off the lanes to give them a better life in the tree.

What started as a dream full of hope between you and Ekko was now taking more shape.

Since the firelights started to succeed in rescuing people from the rails you started to become more and more active and to heal little by little (but never completely) the wounds of everything that had happened in the last 3 years.

Trying to get you to stay in one place was almost impossible (unless you were building a new artifact). If you weren't in the warehouse where you were overseeing supplies you would be in your room creating something new, or on some mission, even playing with the kids in the tree. Sometimes you would help in the communal kitchen preparing food or washing dishes, sometimes you would spend some time at the mural of their loved ones touching it up a bit or adding new faces. It was almost impossible to stay immobile. But that was how you dealt with the trauma. Being in everything so you wouldn't think about it so much.

There are even seasons when you leave the sanctuary for a few weeks or months at a time to track shimmer shipments around town. You usually do part-time jobs in those seasons (anything but going back to Babette, honestly). You sell your tech from time to time, your only rule is to never sell anything that firelights use. Sometimes you even work on commission.

You have become an expert in many things and are always trying to learn a little more (you're a bit of a nerd, to be honest). But if anything, the trauma left you with attachment issues.

You find it hard and no at the same time show affection. The problem is that you never know when the time is right.

With Ekko there is no problem, he is your brother, and you are really afraid of losing the opportunity to show him how much you love him (as it happened with Violet). So sometimes you hug him or spend time with him making updates on skateboards or talking about different situations that the tree society is going through. You try to give him as much affection as you can because you never know when you might lose him.

But if we're talking about affection towards other people... It's complicated.

You are afraid of getting too attached to someone (although you have allowed yourself to do so from time to time to create good friendships). You are afraid of loving someone too intensely only to lose them the next day. So you avoid getting into relationships. Especially romantic ones.

For a few years you tried. You had a few flirtations, flirted with a few girls (you discovered that, in fact, boys weren't really your thing), but you never wanted to go much further than casual.

You also attribute it to your former job at the brothel.

You spent so much time cooped up intimate with so many different people that you didn't want a soul around anymore. At least not in that way. So eventually you stopped relating to people in a sexual and romantic way. You preferred it like that.

But you allow yourself to love your friends enough, despite the fear and anxiety this causes you. Because, again, you never know when the last time you'll see them will be.

But loving the children in the grove? That doesn't cost you. They are such adorable children and have been through so much that they deserve only as much love as you can give them. It makes you wonder what your life would have been like if you had grown up in a place like the one you were helping to create.

It reminds you of those who were once your friends. Who you came to call siblings (except for one, who was always more than that), and what would have become of them if they had grown up here too. That helps you to keep going with this.

For some years you allowed yourself to dream, especially around the time you found Jinx. And you never found any remains to the contrary, so why not?

You allowed yourself to dream that Violet was alive somewhere.

But little by little that hope was getting smaller. Until this moment, 6 years later, you started to lose it. And that also had an effect on her.

Vi was not alive, she repeated herself almost every day, but why did she still have this feeling in her chest? It didn't make sense.

So she tried again. She went back to start meeting people. But she couldn't take the empty, emotionless small talk anymore. Not when she still couldn't get over it.

While this feeling seemed to get smaller every day, it still clung to her (or maybe she was clinging to the feeling). It wasn't the same as it used to be, she knew that much. But she also knew that her grief wasn't over yet, so she decided to give herself a little more time to get over it. She didn't need to do it today, and, feelings for Vi or not, she still didn't feel ready to try to connect with someone. Not after all.

Until one day you decide that you're not going to let anyone or anything continue to consume you like this. Ekko called you crazy a couple of times for the way you executed it, but he knew it was your way of dealing with it. You refused to accept any more flirtations from your peers. You declared yourself totally and completely out of that market. Leaving you in what you had done many years ago; Concentrating solely on the dream (which was becoming more real every day) of the firelights.

But last and not least. You allowed yourself to let go of what you felt for Vi (which is not only love, but also guilt and other things). The memory and the feeling of innocent love would probably always stay there. But the guilt, the anger... You would take it as gasoline to go on with this. To keep on being a dreamer.

So you closed your heart more and more, leaving only a space for Ekko and your closest friends. All so that no one could get through your porcelain heart.

You'd do anything you could to keep going. For children like you once were.

You'd do what you could so no one would kill the dreamer in you.

Prison had not been pleasant with Vi.

Not by a long shot.

At first it was difficult. A 15-year-old girl locked up with, for the most part, adults. It was hard to make a place for herself. And if she thought it was being in hell before, now she would really get a taste.

The beatings were dreadful, years later she realized that she began to endure them until she was 19.

Sometimes, when she was half unconscious after receiving her punishments, she seemed to see you sitting next to her, giving her words of encouragement. Giving her company.

On difficult nights she liked to remember that day on the roof of The Last Drop. The day they made up.

The day you shared your first kiss.

She could still remember the softness of your lips against hers and the warm feeling that accompanied that kiss. It was among her most cherished memories.

But as the haze of the daze began to fade, so did the image of you in front of her. And as much as she loved seeing your face so clearly, Vi didn't want to sleep. If she had learned anything in Stillwater, it was that being vulnerable is your undoing. And Vi's most vulnerable time was while she was sleeping. So for a few weeks she hardly slept at all, she would doze or stay in an alert slumber. Until she discovered that if she got into enough trouble she would be taken to an isolated cell. So she started getting into trouble three or four times a week just so she could get some rest.

The first night she spent in isolation Vi almost cried with relief. She could rest, even if it's only for a few hours. She could allow herself to dream.

That night, in front of the pale moonlight that managed to filter through, after so many others where she was alert, Violet allowed herself to sleep that night.

She remembers dreaming of the life she had before, of her brothers, of Vander and Powder....

She also dreamed about you. Quite a lot.

She never knew if you loved her as much as she loved you....

She tried to hold on to that dream as long as she could until the last moment. But reality always seemed to hit her in the face.

And there, in front of the lightning that was coming through the wall, while the guard was walking to wake everyone up, Violet promised herself that someday she would get out of there and come back to you and Powder. No matter how long it took. She needed to get back to the two of you.

🦋

And 7 years after she arrived, her bedtime routine is holding up pretty well.

She bangs on the wall for a while to keep fit, stretches a couple of times and then lies down on her bed and relaxes for a while. She hears the guards playing cards in the background, so she tries to concentrate on her breathing and imagines what it's like in her sister's and best friend's life these days, it helps her sleep. The hope of someday getting out and sharing some of those lives with both of you.

Until one day her pleas seem to be heard, a girl, an enforcer named Caitlyn, seeks her out for help.

[ardentpoop]

choose a side:

ancient judiciary organization that produces and retains the equivalent of magical nukes and brainwashes its powerful soldiers (who are also the nukes) into carrying out whatever atrocities are deemed necessary to “maintain order” without question. keeps the souls of humans who were lucky enough or crafty enough to tip or rig the scales of judgement in their favor trapped in little cells numbly reliving the same memories until the end of time. the memories and/or the general experience can be manipulated at will and if any of the souls exit their cells they are corralled back inside. and no, jack’s remodel doesn’t make it better.

ancient prison realm that functions primarily as a looming threat to the enemies of this story’s most powerful figures. everyone who ends up there, whether they’re deemed innocent or not, expects to have their humanity tortured out of them. home to legions of soldiers led by various ruthless tyrants.

network of heavily armed multigenerational vigilantes who have dedicated their lives to seeking out and killing anyone in their country whom they determine to be “monstrous.” they are trained to do whatever it takes to “finish the job” and avoid detection by standard cops. they develop specialty bullets and weapons for every common type of supernatural being, and because they consider themselves to be heroes, there is a level of “collateral damage” (victimization of innocents) that they convince each other is a necessary and acceptable part of the role. the psychological cost of maintaining this everyday violence bleeds into their social circles and tends to leave them isolated and angry; taking these feelings out on the people they’re hunting.

patriarchal secret society of arcane knowledge-seekers who can leverage their political power to destroy institutions they disapprove of and have a storied history of capturing and experimenting on beings with supernatural abilities. their goal is to exterminate the supernatural much more strategically and effectively than they believe their comparatively ragtag counterparts the hunters can, with the british chapter of this organization advancing so far as to be able to detect and murder a “monstrous” person within minutes of them setting foot in the country. they hoard their records and their weapons in underground military facilities that aren’t meant to be accessed by outsiders.