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alrightberries · 4 years ago

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dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

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#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagine #shingeki no kyojin x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin imagine #snk imagine #writing

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

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Georgia Peach

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer POV)

Summary: Spencer sees Reader eating a peach and goes a little crazy.

A/N: this was a long time coming- ive been writing this oneshot for forever and I finally finished it! The original prompt is from @imagining-in-the-margins and I also incorporated a request for a pearl necklace from @sunlight-moonrise This fic was also written for @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff so I could give them some gender neutral smut! Most of my fluff is gender neutral but until now I hadn’t dived into writing gender neutral smut. I’ll definitely be writing more in the future- I like writing stuff that is as inclusive as possible! There shouldn’t be any mistakes in terms of pronouns- I had a ton of people look at it, but if there is please message me!If you live in Georgia don’t forget to vote in the Georgia state runoff elections!

Warnings: Sub!Spencer, Topping from the bottom, Very slight food play, Face Fucking, Pearl necklace, Pubic sex (sorta), Unprotected sex

Main Masterlist Word count: 2.9k

I was pretty sure I was going to explode just from looking at Y/N. They weren’t doing anything that was infuriating, annoying, or even anything that most would consider sexual in nature. They had decided that a peach brought in by one of the Georgia detectives was the best way to relieve their parched mouth caused by the blistering heat. The mundane act of eating a peach combined with the deep v neck that adorned their figure was apparently enough to make my slacks uncomfortably tight.

Get it together Spencer.

My inner voice was slapping me upside the head repeatedly, trying in vain to break me out of the daydream I had found myself immersed in. I swept the sweat off of my brow while continuing to unabashedly stare at Y/N. I knew that I needed to draw my eyes away from Y/N and focus on the case file that was sitting on my lap. But, just as I was about to tear my eyes away from them they took a large bite of the delicate skin of the white peach causing juice to dribble down their chin.

I’m screwed.

Subtly was not a strong suit of mine. That became painfully obvious when my eyes widened to the max in an attempt to see every detail of the erotic picture I was painting in my mind. The picture became clearer in my mind as another bite was taken out of the supple fruit. The juice escaped their mouth again, however this time a new path was taken when the liquid fell past their chin. The drop of nectar slid down past the juncture of their collarbones, falling perfectly down the point of the v on their shirt, almost as if it was carefully planned and executed. My mind wandered further than I thought possible when images flashed before my eyes of Y/N covered in something different, but similarly sticky. I was so transfixed at the sight that I didn’t notice the coy smile being flashed my way from across the room.

“You alright Dr. Reid?” I could hear the coquettish voice but it sounded like it was 1000 miles away. Everything had become muffled, the only sound I could clearly hear was the thrumming of my heart beat in my ears. I gulped hard, trying and failing to distance myself from my thoughts.

A loud snap in front of my face from the culprit of my dirty thoughts cleared my mind just enough to refocus on the person in front of me. The visage of Y/N still had me in a haze of lust that I couldn’t shake but, I did find some strength within myself to respond, “Y-yeah I’m alright Y/N just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nnn-Nothing, don’t worry about it.” My tone had risen to a high pitch and that along with my stuttering instantly gave away that something was brewing in my head. And, Y/N was good at reading me, they’d always been able to pick out how I felt in a few sentences or less. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d picked up how turned on I was right away.

Yeah, I’m totally screwed.

It was now so silent you could hear a pin drop. I tried to slow down my breathing that had picked up some minutes ago due to the mounting tension in my trousers. Sadly, despite my efforts I could not calm down, my trousers still felt way too tight and now everything felt hot. My face was probably bright red right now from the burning heat coursing through my veins, which would just end up being another signal to Y/N that something was amiss.

I tugged at the edge of my collar trying another way to reduce tension in my body as now the skinny tie I wore felt too tight on my neck. Immediately my mind jumped away to- I wish their hand was on my neck.

During my efforts to ease the tension in my body I must have failed to notice the fact that Y/N was still staring at me. A shudder was sent down my spine when I finally peaked my eyes up from the hands that held the peach to their eyes which felt like they were boring into my thoughts and reading everything.

I wanted to crawl into a hole and never leave. There was no doubt in my mind Y/N had sensed my arousal by now and I’m pretty sure I looked even brighter than a cherry as I started to stumble out an apology. I couldn’t even get one full word out before they had set down the offending fruit and made their way over to me. The chair that I had been sitting in was a swivel chair which Y/N took full advantage of by spinning me around to face them. Their chest was bent over to come down to my sitting form but instead of focusing where their face was my eyes were firmly fixated again on the sliver of skin still glistening with the juice from the peach.

I just wanted to lick it off.

My mind had again been so lost in lust that I didn’t notice that they were now so close to me that I could feel their breath mixing with my own and all my mind was focused on was tasting the sweet nectar that I knew still sat on their tongue. Like a man possessed I tried to lean forward hungrily at Y/N to relieve the undeniable but silent tension we had created. However, suddenly my arm was being pulled out of the conference room by them leading me down the path to the archive room. The city we were stationed in for the case was definitely behind technologically, so much so that they still kept all their files on paper. The old files from cold or closed cases were then schlepped into this forgotten archive room that I was being led to like a lost puppy by Y/N.

I stumbled in after Y/N into the archive room that was pitch black. They dropped their hold on my hand as soon as the door shut behind me making me grope around in the dark looking for some guidance. I heard the distinctive click and their skin was then illuminated by the glow of the singular lightbulb that hung in the center of the small room that Y/N turned on.

“Do you want this Spencer?” They said while strutting over slowly to me, I apprehend the offer of being able to back out but it was an offer I would definitely not be taking. As soon as my head nodded in agreement their mouth was on mine in the most blissful kiss I had ever had the pleasure of taking part in.

The taste of our tongues intermingling was overwhelmingly peach as I was finally able to get a taste of Y/N. Their movements were much more calculated compared to my sloppy desperate attempt to control the kiss. With practiced ease they dominated and I willfully surrendered to whatever Y/N wanted me to do to them. A shudder came into my bones as Y/N pressed me up into the nearest walland then untucked my shirt to run teasing little circles with their left hand over my hip bones.

The kiss was cut way too short in my opinion as they released my lips and then teasingly put their thumb into my mouth. I swirled my lips around their thumb with an intense pout, I tried to look as pitiful as possible, trying to coax them to stay right there with me. Unfortunately they pulled away from me altogether and then sauntered over to where the short filing cabinets were sat in the room, making my pout deepen further then I thought possible .

“Aww- don’t pout you’ll get what you want.” They said before leaving me, the mocking tone in their voice only making me pout harder. Any complaint I had died in my throat when they pushed their pants and underwear down swiftly. They obviously had a better understanding of the fact that this tryst had to go quickly- and hopefully quietly. The closest filing cabinet to Y/N then became a prop for them to balance so they could bend over seductively. And with a simple crook of their finger I was over behind them ready to service them the best I could. My pants undone and pulled down enough to pull my cock out, jerking myself slightly so I was fully hard and ready to wrap them around me.

Wait. Was this really happening?

I questioned myself as I pushed into them from behind slowly wanting to savor every moment I had with Y/N wrapped around me and- also to also convince myself that this wasn’t a wild figment of my imagination. However, my long drawn out thrust was cut short by Y/N pushing their hips back against me taking me all the way down to the hilt. As soon as I was fully sheathed inside of them I started to rock my hips into theirs with little whimpers falling from my lips. If I had been in a different state of mind, one that wasn’t desperately trying to seek release, I would have probably flushed red in embarrassment at the noises I was making.

“Oh! Good Boy, Spencer.” They groaned out as I picked up the pace, my hands then briefly left their hips to pull them back so their back was flush against mine. The change in angle of my thrusts seemingly made Y/N’s pleasure skyrocket, the praises that they had been giving out to me being muddled down into moans that they muffled with their hand. I could tell their release was close when they let their head drop backwards into the crook of my neck and began to meet my thrusts vigorously.

A deep guttural groan came out of my chest as Y/N wound their other arm around behind them to tug on my hair as they came to their release. Pure bliss fell across Y/N’s face along with a lazy smile while they rode out the waves of their release. I kept rocking my hips forward to prolong their pleasure but my own release was beginning to brew within me.

Y/N reached behind to rest their hands on top of mine, they had been gripping into the sides of their hips roughly enough that there were sure to be bruises. They had me pull out, I almost thought they weren’t going to let me finish and began to beg with a long drawn out whine. Y/N flashed me another one of their devilish smirks, no doubt in response to my whimpers. Another pathetic beg slipped past my lips before my mind went completely blank as soon as they dropped to their knees.

“Fuck- Spencer I want you to fuck my face.” A sharp and sudden groan tore through me at their words, I swear Y/N was going to be the death of me. I bobbed my head up and down nodding as quick as I could, probably a little too eagerly but, I couldn’t find it within myself to care. “Like I said- you’ll get what you want.”

Y/N then spit in their hand and started to jerk me off slightly- I could honestly cum like this and be completely satisfied. But, then they moved forward and licked up the length of my shaft before slightly sucking on my tip.

The feeling of their mouth just enveloping my tip made me feel like I had died and gone to heaven.

Holy shit this was really happening.

A choked moan started to fall from my mouth before I quickly tried to stifle it by biting into my fist. My other hand was manipulated by Y/N to rest at the back of their head, a nonverbal queue to let me know I could start doing what they wanted and fuck their face.

The thrusts I started off with were quite soft and shallow, even though they had requested that I do this to them I still never wanted to hurt them.

I almost pulled them off of me when I heard a soft gagging as the tip of my dick hit the back of their throat, but they held their own throat down on me making a high pitched whine that didn’t sound like it could come from me came falling from my lips.

After getting the chance to fuck Y/N and now their mouth was around me, I was going to finish embarrassingly quickly. My thrusts started to falter, I could feel my release in the base of my spine, threatening to spill at any moment.

“W-where can I-” I tried to stutter out before finishing, though I failed miserably, my approaching orgasm stifling the words.

Luckily, Y/N understood perfectly and pulled off of me to answer, “I want you to cum on me my chest, face, neck- wherever you want.” A deep seated groan rumbled through my chest at their words while they jerked my length. Y/N worked kisses up my thighs bringing me teetering on the edge about to fall into a pool of euphoria. When they pressed a kiss to the tip of my cock I fell into my orgasm and became blinded by the pleasure. I was fortunately still able to keep my eyes open to see Y/N get covered with the fruits of their labor. It was a filthy sight that made my eyes widen and my pupils blow wider then they had ever been before.

A few moments passed as we both caught our breath, each for different reasons. My gaze was still fixated on how my release had fallen over Y/N. Specifically I fixated on the spot where some had fallen down their chest right down where the v of their shirt had been before- right where the juice had slid down.

“Well I should’ve thought this through more… I don’t have anything to clean myself up.” Y/N gasped out in giggles breaking out of the dominant role that they had fallen into earlier which broke me out of the daze I had been in. I looked at them with endearment, I loved every facet of Y/N’s personality.

“I-I’ll be right back I’ll find something.” I stuttered out while basically stumbling back into my clothes. Before tripping out of the room to try and locate some tissues I did my best to make myself appear presentable again, taming my curls, smoothing out my shirt, and tucking it back into my slacks.

“You forgot something.” Y/N called out to me just as I was about to scurry out. Still naked and unclean, they held my belt up by one finger and had a teasing little smile on their face that was nothing but trouble. I walked up and quickly snatched the belt back and began to loop them through my slacks. My head was tilted down, suddenly growing shy at the sight of Y/N even though I had been the one to make them look so depraved in the first place.

“Now come on Spencer, stop being so shy. You weren’t shy 2 minutes ago.” The way they bit their lip at the end of the teasing remark made me want to get down on my knees and worship them. Sadly, work was calling both of our names pulling us out of our own little world that we had created in this dark, small- and slightly dusty archive room.

I gained back a little bit of my lost confidence and moved forward to envelop Y/N in a kiss, one that was much softer than our previous ones. The taste of the kiss still felt like a drop of golden sun from the peaches, albeit tainted with something a little more salty now.

“You taste good.” I said with a shy but knowing smirk before biting my lip. “You look good too but- you also look like trouble.”

“Yes, but you quite like trouble” They remarked in amusement before shoving me closer to the door, “Go on now, I can't stay naked covered in your cum for the rest of the day.”

“It would be a pretty sight though.” I said cheekily, slipping out of the room quickly to avoid one of their shoes being thrown at me in fake annoyance. As I left the room to hunt down something to clean Y/N up so we could go about the rest of our work day I came to a conclusion.

I quite enjoy trouble- and peaches.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fanfic #matthew gray gubler smut

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Sorry to be annoying but its been a worm in my brain about what's going to happen to the nauseous villain. Whats going to be their reaction with the villains? Are they going to just insist that they want to go home and the villains won't understand that they want to go to the facility they were trained into nauseousness in? Again sorry for being annoying!

Sorry this took so long! I tried a little bit of a new storytelling device in here-- a frame story. I really hope you enjoy! This series is so so fun, and so very whumpy.

Continued from here, first part can be found here.

CW//Emetophobia, restraints, sedation, insults and swearing, mentions of poisoning, muzzles

“They’re sleeping.”

Doctor’s tone was quiet enough to nearly be described as a whisper, words barely audible above the background noise of the base’s medical wing. Based simply upon their facial expression, it seemed as though they, too, would very much like to be asleep as well-- lines of fatigue were carved deep under their eyes, showing that they’d been awake for far, far too long.

The bandage wrapped tightly about their forearm displayed an entirely different issue, but it seemed to be one that they were far too exhausted to pay much mind to.

“They’re sleeping?” Supervillain echoed. Fatigue crept, too, at their bones, yet it was not an exhaustion wrought by work. Rather, it had been brought on by worry.

“Mhm.” The doctor spoke with a nod. “For now.”

“They’re... They’re okay, then?”

“They’re...” They bit their lower lip. “They’ve calmed down.”

“Are they themself again?” Supervillain’s voice turned to the epitome of eagerness, almost childish in their excitement. “Are they acting- They’re acting normal?”

A moment of tense, sorrowful silence.

“No.” Doctor shook their head after a long pause. “No, they aren’t. I’m sorry. We had to sedate them.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.” They repeated. “They were getting worse.”

“It’s okay. I trust your judgement. You did what you had to.” The supervillain murmured in a low voice. “Can I see them? Is... Is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

Supervillain couldn’t ignore the way that sickness threatened to boil within their chest at the words. They could see them. They could see their friend, their ward, their kid. And, now that they were asleep, they couldn’t be terrified.

They couldn’t be terrified of their own friend. Not while they were unconscious.

There was a horribly sorrowful air to the way that Doctor moved, turning back towards the hospital room door, as though they were leading their boss to a morgue. The knob clicked as it was turned, and the room beyond was unveiled.

Villain was sleeping. At long last, their eyes were closed-- the slightest peace visible there, even as it was buried beneath tension and twitching eyelids.

And, yet, the remnants of their terror could be seen clear as day. The restraints made sure of that. There was almost more leather, metal, and fabric upon their body than there was skin.

The muzzle was what drew their attention the quickest. A contraption of black mesh, held in place by leather straps-- straps that danced in tandem with those holding an oversized pair of headphones to their skull. Similar lines of leather criss-crossed the rest of their body in an elaborate pattern, holding down their wrists, their ankles, their midsection, their limbs, and even their head, eliminating all by the slightest of movements. Odd, leather pieces had been fastened over their hands: Mitt cuffs, keeping their fingers curled and hands useless.

A particularly odd restraint had been placed upon their upper arm and wrist-- a sort of flat, plastic, white-stained board, with straps to hold their wrist and elbow in place. Between the straps, an IV line ran, fastened down with all manner of surgical tape.

“I’m sorry.” It seemed as though Doctor couldn’t stop themself from repeating the phrase. “I’m so sorry. I know they’re- They’re our friend. I didn’t want to have to tie them down like this...”

Supervillain understood. They did, really, even as they felt as though their heartstrings were being played with a violin’s bow. Villain was their friend, they saw them as almost their child, in some ways, even as they would never admit to. They had once been the kindest, the youngest among them, and now...

“I trust your judgement.” They spoke, voice nearly quivering with a whimper. “I know you would only do what you have to.”

Doctor nodded somberly.

“They... They were really scared. We don’t know what was wrong with them. We still don’t.”

“Are you they going to be okay?” Supervillain couldn’t help themself from wandering nearer to the bedside. Staring down at their friend, shackled like a wild beast. “They look...” They trailed off.

“We’re doing everything we can.” Of course they were, but would it be enough? “We don’t know what’s wrong. I’m really sorry.”

“You did what you had to.” They truly wished that the medic would cease their apologies. They had only helped. They had spent so long in their own quarters, worrying and pacing until they wore through their socks.

“Do you know what happened? Before we arrived? No one has had a clear story.”

“Well...”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“They’re going to be scared.” Supervillain’s voice was marked by the slightest of nervous prickles as they moved around their vehicle, from driver’s seat to rear doors. It was a van of considerable size and white bulk. They had taken it for a reason, had intended for Villain to ride in the back, since the beginning. For their own safety. So they wouldn’t be seen. As it had turned out, however, there was another benefit to that fact.

So it seemed, every villain in the base had gathered in the underground garage. Some of them, they noted, didn’t even live within its walls-- someone had invited friends for this occasion. They had specifically been told not to do that.

But, they were here, now, and there was little to be done about that fact. A crowd of twenty-five, bustling with excitement like grade schoolers.

“Everybody back up!” The supervillain called, order ringing out in concrete walls. With just how uncommon their use of commands was, those they spoke to followed their words in an instant, spreading out into a sort of semi-circle formation. “Villain is terrified, right now. Give them space. They’re going right to the medical wing.”

Words in a half-dozen languages buzzed through the gathered crowd.

“Do you get that? Are you guys going to be chill?”

Twenty-five pairs of eyes shot to them, and twenty-five heads nodded.

“Okay. Try to- Just try not to scare them, okay? Please.”

With a nervous gait, Supervillain turned towards their vehicle. Why were they so frightened? This was their friend, after all. Their teammate. They weren’t dangerous-- of course they weren’t, even though the bar holding the van’s rear doors closed may have indicated otherwise to some. It was only for safety reasons, that was all.

They knocked on the doors once, then twice, then slowly, ever so slowly, slid the bar away.

From the back of the van, Villain erupted, as though a wild animal. Had they been waiting at the doors? Struggling at them? Fighting? Certainly they had been, or there would have been no way that they could have leapt with such speed.

The villain crashed to the ground, onto their knees. In an instant, every single person under Supervillain’s orders immediately violated everything they had told them.

‘Swarming’ was the only verb that would be accurate to what occurred in that moment. Nearly every single member of the crowd rushed forth. Some kept at least a foot or two of distance, while more than one crashed right into their toppled-over comrade.

“Villain!”

“You’re okay!”

“I missed you so much!”

“What happened?”

“Where were you?”

“What did they do to you?”

“Are you alright?”

All the concerns, the joys, and the cries raised in volume until they could be described only as a cacophony, a cluster of noise.

The voices were broken only by a scream. A pained scream, and a flash of red. Villain moved nigh-impossibly quickly, teeth gripping around the arm of one who had once been their friend. They tore, leaving great, bloody marks in their wake, as they reared back their head to scream:

“You fucking pieces of shit! Scum! I hate you all! Get away from me, get away from me! I’ll kill you all, I hate-”

Their tirade was ceased only as their body heaved forward, a dribble of bile exploding from their lips, dripping to the floor.

In an instant, the excitement of the scene was gone. The heaving continued, dry gagging spitting out less and less green each time Villain’s body was wracked. By the end, they could only expel air.

When at last they ceased, once more they struck out, teeth hardly missing the neck of another target who seemed to have been selected at random.

“Hold them down. Hold them down!” The cry came from someone in the crowd, someone Supervillain couldn’t identify in their panic. Yet, it was echoed, rippling through those who seemed as though they had been stricken by an odd sort of grief.

“Hold them down!”

And such was done. Four villains moved to hold their hands against Villain’s back, keeping them against the floor, even as they writhed and spat like a beast.

It was then that the medical team arrived. It was then that Supervillain watched their friend, their ward, dragged away, all the while spitting their name as though it was an obscenity.

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“We thought they were sick.” Doctor admitted with a bowed head. “Their behavior seemed consistent with delirium, or some kind of hallucinogen. Between vomiting and confused behavior...”

“Did you find it?” Somehow, the words brought a burgeoning hope to Supervillain’s chest, replacing, in some capacity, the dread that their own story had brought on. “The drug? The- The poison? Or is it a disease? A fever?”

The silence that hung between the two was heavier than lead. At last, the doctor shook their head.

“We don’t know what’s wrong. We did everything we could. The symptoms were consistent with poisoning, and there was no time to test for that, so we acted as though it was.”

“Did you ask them?”

“We did but... They seemed a lot more intent on insulting us than answering any questions.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. We pumped their stomach, and flushed it with charcoal, just for good measure. But... It didn’t help.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that if it was a poison, it wasn’t one that was ingested by mouth.”

“But it was a poison?”

“We don’t know that. I’m sorry. A certain time after ingestion, it’s hard to tell. We- We drew some blood. It tested negative for all common narcotics and poisons, but it could be something less common. It’s in the lab, now.”

“When will we know? A few hours?”

“A few weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“I’m sorry. It’s slow, I’m so sorry. Until then...”

“What?”

“Until then we’ll manage them, as best as we can. It was like a game of cat and mouse, Supervillain. I’m really sorry. We had to muzzle them. They bit me.” The doctor raised a hand, showing off the bandage they now wore.

“But what if they wanted to talk?”

“It’s only mesh. Stops biting, but not talking. Then, they tried to scratch at us, so we cuffed them. That made them scratch at themself, so, the mitts.”

“And you had to strap them down?”

“When we put in the IV, yes. There was no other way. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just... Weird.”

“To see them tied up like this?”

“Yeah.”

“It is for me, too. I know. But it’s not them.” Doctor looked up, meeting the eyes of their commander. “You need to remember that, yeah? We all do. It’s not really Villain. Whatever is doing this to them, it’s not them.”

“I know. I- I just need to convince myself that that’s true.” Supervillain straightened themself, standing up taller. “What do you recommend? For their care going forward?”

The doctor seemed to sense the change in professionalism, and assumed a similar stance.

“We’ll continue to look into what’s causing their sickness. Until we can find a source, I’m advising nothing ingested by mouth, except for moderate amounts of water.”

“But- What if they get hungry?” And there went all that posturing, gone in an instant. “Won’t they get hungry?”

“We’re already giving them fluids and nutrients by IV. They’ll have all they need to survive.”

“But what if they get hungry?”

“We can give appetite suppressants if needed.” Doctor conceded. “Alongside fluids, I’m advising a constant drip of anti-nausea medication. With how much they were vomiting, choking is a real risk.”

“Okay. Granted, for both. What about... You said they were sedated?”

“That’s your choice, Sir. We sedated them in order to take samples. It’s less distressing for them, to take blood and the like while they’re asleep. The current dosage should wear off in four or so hours, giving them at least some sleep.”

“They need it.”

“They do. They may be unable to fall asleep at night on their own, and we may need to use sedatives to allow them to rest. As for during the day... That’s up to you.”

“What are my options?”

“We can forgo sedation altogether. It isn’t necessary medically, especially now that they have an IV placed. But in that case, they’re likely to be aggressive, and I can’t guarantee that they won’t present harm to themself or to others.

Or, we can provide a small, consistent level of sedative through an IV drip. Enough to keep them calm, and hopefully to quell any aggression. But that may also cause them some distress.”

“I don’t want to sedate them.” Supervillain admitted, after a terribly long pause. “No sedatives. Please.”

“Okay.”

They moved to the bedside, gripping the bedrails with their hands until their knuckles turned white. They were crying, oh, god, they were crying in front of their own medical staff.

“Villain.” They whispered. “Villain, I’m so, so sorry.”

And, in their sleep, Villain begun to dry heave.

#nausea villain #i need to find a tag for this #villain whumpee #whumpblr #supervillain caretaker #doctor caretaker #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whump community #whump words #hero x villain #hero villain whump

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iamshwee · 4 years ago

Text

SHADOW WORK: The Ultimate Guide

I. Why Focusing Only on the Light is a Form of Escapism

For most of my life, I’ve grown up firmly believing that the only thing worthy of guiding me was “light” and “love.” Whether through the family environment I was raised in, or the cultural myths I was brought up clinging to, I once believed that all you really needed to do in life to be happy was to focus on everything beautiful, positive and spiritually “righteous.” I’m sure you were raised believing a similar story as well. It’s a sort of “Recipe for Well-Being.”

But a few years ago, after battling ongoing mental health issues, I realized something shocking:

I was wrong.

Not just wrong, but completely and utterly off the mark. Focusing only on “love and light” will not heal your wounds on a deep level. In fact, I’ve learned through a lot of heavy inner work, that not only is focusing solely on “holiness” in life one side of the equation, but it is actually a form of spiritually bypassing your deeper, darker problems that, let me assure you, almost definitely exist.

It is very easy and comfortable to focus only on the light side of life. So many people in today’s world follow this path. And while it might provide some temporary emotional support, it doesn’t reach to the depths of your being: it doesn’t transform you at a core level. Instead, it leaves you superficially hanging onto warm and fuzzy platitudes which sound nice, but don’t enact any real change.

What DOES touch the very depths of your being, however, is exploring your Shadow.

II. What is the Human Shadow?

In short, the human shadow is our dark side; our lost and forgotten disowned self.

Your shadow is the place within you that contains all of your secrets, repressed feelings, primitive impulses, and parts deemed “unacceptable,” shameful, “sinful” or even “evil.”

This dark place lurking within your unconscious mind also contains suppressed and rejected emotions such as rage, jealousy, hatred, greed, deceitfulness, and selfishness.

So where did the Shadow Self idea originate? The concept was originally coined and explored by Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, Carl Jung. In Jung’s own words:

“Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is.”

When the human Shadow is shunned, it tends to undermine and sabotage our lives. Addictions, low self-esteem, mental illness, chronic illnesses, and various neuroses are all attributed to the Shadow Self. When our Shadows are suppressed or repressed in the unconscious long enough, they can even overtake our entire lives and causes psychosis or extreme forms of behavior like cheating on one’s partner or physically harming others. Intoxicants such as alcohol and drugs also have a tendency to unleash the Shadow.

Thankfully, there is a way to explore the Shadow and prevent it from devouring our existence, and that is called Shadow Work.

III. What is Shadow Work?

Shadow work is the process of exploring your inner darkness or “Shadow Self.” As mentioned previously, your Shadow Self is part of your unconscious mind and contains everything you feel ashamed of thinking and feeling, as well as every impulse, repressed idea, desire, fear, and perversion that for one reason or another, you have “locked away” consciously or unconsciously. Often this is done as a way of keeping yourself tame, likable, and “civilized” in the eyes of others.

Shadow work is the attempt to uncover everything that we have hidden and every part of us that has been disowned and rejected within our Shadow Selves.

Why? Because without revealing to ourselves what we have hidden, we remain burdened with problems such as anger, guilt, shame, disgust, and grief.

All throughout the history of mankind Shadow Work has played a powerful yet mysterious and occult role in helping us discover what is causing us mental illness, physical dis-ease and even insanity resulting in crimes of all kinds.

Traditionally, Shadow Work fell in the realm of the Shamans, or medicine people, as well as the priests and priestesses of the archaic periods of history. These days, Shadow Work falls more commonly in the realms of psychotherapy, with psychologists, psychiatrists, spiritual guides, and therapists.

IV. Do We All Have a Shadow Self?

Yes, we ALL have a Shadow Self.

As uncomfortable as it may sound, there is a dark side within every human being. Why is this the case? The reason why all human beings have a shadow is due to the way we were raised as human beings, often referred to as our ‘conditioning.’

“But I’m a good person! I don’t have a ‘shadow’ side,” you might be thinking. Well, the reality is that yes, you might be a good person. In fact, you might be the most generous, loving, and selfless person in the entire world. You might feed the hungry, save puppies, and donate half of your salary to the poor. But that doesn’t exclude you from having a Shadow.

There are no exceptions here.

The nature of being human is to possess both a light and a dark side, and we need to embrace that.

Sometimes, when people hear that they have a Shadow side (or when it is pointed out), there is a lot of denial. We have been taught to perceive ourselves in a very two-dimensional and limited way. We have been taught that only criminals, murderers, and thieves have a Shadow side.

This black and white thinking is one of the major causes of our suffering.

If the thought of having a Shadow side disturbs you, take a moment to consider whether you have developed an idealized self.

Signs of an idealized self include attitudes such as:

· “I’m not like those people, I’m better.”

· “I have never strayed.”

· “God is proud of me.”

· “Criminals and wrongdoers aren’t human.”

· “Everyone sees how good I am (even so, I have to remind them).”

· “I’m a role model.”

· “I should be validated and applauded for my good deeds.”

· “I don’t have bad thoughts, so why do others?”

Such perceptions about oneself are unrealistic, unhealthy, and largely delusional. The only way to find inner peace, happiness, authentic love, self-fulfillment, and Illumination is to explore our Shadow.

V. How is Our Shadow Side Formed?

Your Shadow side is formed in childhood and is both (a) a product of natural ego development, and (b) a product of conditioning or socialization. Socialization is the process of learning to behave in a way that is acceptable to society.

When we are born, we are are all full of potential, with the ability to survive and develop in a variety of ways. As time goes on, we learn more and more to become a certain type of person. Slowly, due to our circumstances and preferences, we begin to adopt certain character traits and reject others. For example, if we are born into a family that shows little interpersonal warmth, we will develop personality traits that make us self-sufficient and perhaps standoffish or mind-oriented. If we are born into a family that rewards compliance and shuns rebellion, we will learn that being submissive works, and thus adopt that as part of our ego structure.

As authors and Jungian therapists, Steve Price and David Haynes write:

“But, as we develop our ego-personality, we also do something else at the same time. What has happened to all those parts of our original potential that we didn’t develop? They won’t just cease to exist: they will still be there, as potential or as partly developed, then rejected, personality attributes, and they will live on in the unconscious as an alternative to the waking ego. So, by the very act of creating a specifically delineated ego-personality, we have also created its opposite in the unconscious. This is the shadow. Everyone has one.”

As we can see, developing the Shadow Self is a natural part of development.

But you also formed an alter ego due to social conditioning, i.e. your parents, family members, teachers, friends, and society at large all contributed to your Shadow.

How?

Well here’s the thing: polite society operates under certain rules. In other words, certain behaviors and characteristics are approved of, while others are shunned. Take anger for example. Anger is an emotion that is commonly punished while growing up. Throwing tantrums, swearing, and destroying things was frowned upon by our parents and teachers. Therefore, many of us learned that expressing anger was not “OK.” Instead of being taught healthy ways to express our anger, we were punished sometimes physically (with smacks or being grounded), and often emotionally (withdrawal of love and affection).

There are countless behaviors, emotions, and beliefs that are rejected in society, and thus, are rejected by ourselves. In order to fit in, be accepted, approved, and loved, we learned to act a certain way. We adopted a role that would ensure our mental, emotional, and physical survival. But at the same time, wearing a mask has consequences. What happened to all the authentic, wild, socially taboo, or challenging parts of ourselves? They were trapped in the Shadow.

What happens as we grow up?

Through time, we learn to both enjoy, and despise, our socially-approved egos because, on the one hand, they make us feel good and “lovable,” but on the other hand, they feel phony and inhibited.

Therapist Steve Wolf has a perfect analogy that describes this process:

“Each of us is like Dorian Gray. We seek to present a beautiful, innocent face to the world; a kind, courteous demeanor; a youthful, intelligent image. And so, unknowingly but inevitably, we push away those qualities that do not fit the image, that does not enhance our self-esteem and make us stand proud but, instead, bring us shame and make us feel small. We shove into the dark cavern of the unconscious those feelings that make us uneasy — hatred, rage, jealousy, greed, competition, lust, shame — and those behaviors that are deemed wrong by the culture — addiction, laziness, aggression, dependency — thereby creating what could be called shadow content. Like Dorian’s painting, these qualities ultimately take on a life of their own, forming an invisible twin that lives just behind our life, or just beside it …”

But while the Shadow Self may be portrayed as our “evil twin,” it is not entirely full of “bad” stuff. There is actually gold to be found within the Shadow.

VI. What is the Golden Shadow?

Jung once states that “the shadow is ninety percent pure gold.” What this means is that there are many beautiful gifts offered to us by our Shadow side if we take the time to look. For example, so much of our creative potential is submerged within our darkness because we were taught when little to reject it.

Not everything within our Shadow is doom and gloom. In fact, the Shadow contains some of our most powerful gifts and talents, such as our artistic, sexual, competitive, innovative, and even intuitive aptitudes.

The ‘Golden Shadow’ also presents us with the opportunity for tremendous psychological and spiritual growth. By doing Shadow Work, we learn that every single emotion and wound that we possess has a gift to share with us. Even the most obnoxious, “ugly,” or shameful parts of ourselves provide a path back to Oneness. Such is the power of the Shadow – it is both a terrifying journey, but is ultimately a path to Enlightenment or Illumination. Every spiritual path needs Shadow Work to prevent the issues from happening that we’ll explore next.

VII. What Happens When You Reject Your Shadow?

When shadow-work is neglected, the soul feels dry, brittle, like an empty vessel. — S. Wolf

Rejecting, suppressing, denying, or disowning your Shadow, whether consciously or unconsciously, is a dangerous thing. The thing about the Shadow Self is that it seeks to be known. It yearns to be understood, explored, and integrated. It craves to be held in awareness. The longer the Shadow stays buried and locked in its jail cell deep within the unconscious, the more it will find opportunities to make you aware of its existence.

Both religion and modern spirituality tend to focus on the “love and light” aspects of spiritual growth to their own doom.

This over-emphasis on the fluffy, transcendental, and feel-good elements of a spiritual awakening results in shallowness and phobia of whatever is too real, earthy, or dark.

Spiritually bypassing one’s inner darkness results in a whole range of serious issues. Some of the most common and reoccurring Shadow issues that appear in the spiritual/religious community include pedophilia among priests, financial manipulation of followers among gurus, and of course, megalomania, narcissism, and God complexes among spiritual teachers.

Other issues that arise when we reject our Shadow side can include:

· Hypocrisy (believing and supporting one thing, but doing the other)

· Lies and self-deceit (both towards oneself and others)

· Uncontrollable bursts of rage/anger

· Emotional and mental manipulation of others

· Greed and addictions

· Phobias and obsessive compulsions

· Racist, sexist, homophobic, and other offensive behavior

· Intense anxiety

· Chronic psychosomatic illness

· Depression (which can turn into suicidal tendencies)

· Sexual perversion

· Narcissistically inflated ego

· Chaotic relationships with others

· Self-loathing

· Self-absorption

· Self-sabotage

… and many others. This is by no means a comprehensive list (and there are likely many other issues out there). As we’ll learn next, one of the greatest ways we reject our Shadow is through psychological projection.

VIII. The Shadow and Projection (a Dangerous Mix)

One of the biggest forms of Shadow rejection is something called projection.

Projection is a term that refers to seeing things in others that are actually within ourselves.

When we pair projection and the Shadow Self together, we have a dangerous mix. Why? Because as psychotherapist Robert A. Johnson writes:

“We generally seek to punish that which reminds us most uncomfortable about the part of ourselves that we have not come to terms with, and we often ‘see’ these disowned qualities in the world around us.”

There are many different ways we ‘punish’ those who are mirrors of our Shadow qualities. We may criticize, reject, hate, dehumanize, or even in extreme cases, physically or psychologically seek to destroy them (think of countries who go at war with the “enemies”). None of us are innocent in this area. We have ALL projected parts of our rejected self onto others. In fact, Shadow projection is a major cause of relationship dysfunction and break down.

If we are seeking to bring peace, love, and meaning to our lives, we absolutely MUST reclaim these projections. Through Shadow Work, we can explore exactly what we have disowned.

IX. Twelve Benefits of Shadow Work

Firstly, I want to say that I have the highest respect for Shadow Work. It is the single most important path I’ve taken to uncover my core wounds, core beliefs, traumas, and projections. I have also observed how Shadow Work has helped to create profound clarity, understanding, harmony, acceptance, release, and inner peace in the lives of others. It is truly deep work that makes changes on the Soul level targeting the very roots of our issues, not just the superficial symptoms.

There is SO much to be gained from making Shadow Work a part of your life, and daily routine. Here are some of the most commonly experienced benefits:

1. Deeper love and acceptance of yourself

2. Better relationships with others, including your partner and children

3. More confidence to be your authentic self

4. More mental, emotional, and spiritual clarity

5. Increased compassion/understanding for others = who you dislike

6. Enhanced creativity

7. Discovery of hidden gifts and talents

8. Deepened understanding of your passions and ultimate life purpose

9. Improved physical and mental health

10. More courage to face the unknown and truly live life

11. Access to your Soul or Higher Self

12. A feeling of Wholeness

It’s important to remember that there are no quick fixes in Shadow Work, so these life-changing benefits don’t just happen overnight. But with persistence, they will eventually emerge and bless your life.

X. Seven Tips for Approaching Shadow Work

Before you begin Shadow Work, you need to assess whether you’re ready to embark on this journey. Not everyone is prepared for this deep work, and that’s fine. We’re all at different stages. So pay attention to the following questions and try to answer them honestly:

· Have you practiced self-love yet?

o If not, Shadow Work will be too overwhelming for you. I have starred this bullet point because it is essential for you to consider. Shadow Work should not be attempted by those who have poor self-worth or struggle with self-loathing. In other words: if you struggle with severely low self-esteem, please do not attempt Shadow Work. I emphatically warn you against doing it. Why? If you struggle with extremely poor self-worth, exploring your Shadow will likely make you feel ten times worse about yourself. Before you walk this path, you absolutely must establish a strong and healthy self-image. No, you don’t have to think you’re God’s gift to the world, but having average self-worth is important. Try taking this self-esteem test to explore whether you’re ready (but first, don’t forget to finish this article!).

· Are you prepared to make time?

o Shadow Work is not a lukewarm practice. You are either all in or all out. Yes, it is important to take a break from it from time to time. But Shadow Work requires dedication, self-discipline, and persistence. Are you willing to intentionally carve out time each day to dedicate to it? Even just ten minutes a day is a good start.

· Are you looking to be validated or to find the truth?

o As you probably know by now, Shadow Work isn’t about making you feel special. It isn’t like typical spiritual paths that are focused on the feel-good. No, Shadow Work can be brutal and extremely confronting. This is a path for truth seekers, not those who are seeking to be validated.

· Seek to enter a calm and neutral space.

o It is important to try and relax when doing Shadow Work. Stress and judgmental or critical attitudes will inhibit the process. So please try to incorporate a calming meditation or mindfulness technique into whatever you do.

· Understand that you are not your thoughts.

o You need to realize that you are not your thoughts for Shadow Work to be healing and liberating. Only from your calm and quiet Center (also known as your Soul) can you truly be aware of your Shadow aspects. By holding them in awareness, you will see them clearly for what they are, and realize that they ultimately don’t define you; they are simply rising and falling mental phenomena.

· Practice self-compassion.

o It is of paramount importance to incorporate compassion and self-acceptance into your Shadow Work practice. Without showing love and understanding to yourself, it is easy for Shadow Work to backfire and make you feel terrible. So focus on generating self-love and compassion, and you will be able to release any shame and embrace your humanity.

· Record everything you find.

o Keep a written journal or personal diary in which you write down, or draw, your discoveries. Recording your dreams, observations, and analysis will help you to learn and grow more effectively. You’ll also be able to keep track of your process and make important connections.

XI. How to Practice Shadow Work

There are many Shadow Work techniques and exercises out there. In this guide, I will provide a few to help you start off. I’ll also share a few examples from my own life:

1. Pay attention to your emotional reactions

In this practice, you’ll learn that what you give power to has power over you. Let me explain:

One Shadow Work practice I enjoy a great deal is paying attention to everything that shocks, disturbs, and secretly thrills me. Essentially, this practice is about finding out what I’ve given the power to in my life unconsciously, because: what we place importance in – whether good or bad – says a lot about us.

The reality is that what we react to, or what makes us angry and distressed, reveals extremely important information to us about ourselves.

For example, by following where my “demons” have taken me – whether in social media, family circles, workspaces, and public places – I have discovered two important things about myself. The first one is that I’m a control freak; I hate feeling vulnerable, powerless and weak . . . it quite simply scares the living hell out of me. How did I discover this? Through my intense dislike of witnessing rape scenes in movies and TV shows, my negative reaction to novel experiences (e.g. roller coaster rides, public speaking, etc.), as well as my discomfort surrounding sharing information about my life with others in conversations. Also, by following where my “demons” have guided me I’ve discovered that I’m being burdened by an exasperating guilt complex that I developed through my religious upbringing. Apart of me wants to feel unworthy because that is what I’ve developed a habit of feeling since childhood (e.g. “You’re a sinner,” “It’s your fault Jesus was crucified”), and therefore, that is what I secretly feel comfortable with feeling: unworthy. So my mind nit-picks anything I might have done “wrong,” and I’m left with the feeling of being “bad” – which I’m used to, but nevertheless, this is destructive for my well-being.

Thanks to this practice, I have welcomed more compassion, mindfulness, and forgiveness into my life.

Paying attention to your emotional reactions can help you to discover exactly how your core wounds are affecting you on a daily basis.

How to Pay Attention to Your Emotional Reactions

To effectively pay attention to your emotional reactions (I call it “following the trail of your inner demons”), you first need to cultivate:

1. Self-awareness

Without being conscious of what you’re doing, thinking, feeling, and saying, you won’t progress very far.

If, however, you are fairly certain that you’re self-aware (or enough to start the process), you will then need to:

2. Adopt an open mindset

You will need to have the courage and willingness to observe EVERYTHING uncomfortable you place importance in, and ask “why?” What do I mean by the phrase “placing importance in”? By this, I mean that, whatever riles, shocks, infuriates, disturbs and terrifies you, you must pay attention to. Closely.

Likely, you will discover patterns constantly emerging in your life. For example, you might be outraged or embarrassed every time sex appears in a TV show or movie you like (possibly revealing sexual repression or mistaken beliefs about sex that you’ve adopted throughout life). Or you might be terrified of seeing death or dead people (possibly revealing your resistance to the nature of life or childhood trauma). Or you might be disgusted by alternative political, sexual, and spiritual lifestyles (possibly revealing your hidden desire to do the same).

There are so many possibilities out there, and I encourage you to go slowly, take your time, and one by one pick through what you place importance in.

“But I DON’T place importance in gross, bad or disturbing things in life, how could I? I don’t care for them!” you might be asking.

Well, think for a moment. If you didn’t place so much importance on what makes you angry, disgusted or upset . . . why would you be reacting to it so much? The moment you emotionally react to something is the moment you have given that thing power over you. Only that which doesn’t stir up emotions in us is not important to us.

See what you respond to and listen to what your Shadow is trying to teach you.

2. Artistically Express Your Shadow Self

Art is the highest form of self-expression and is also a great way to allow your Shadow to manifest itself. Psychologists often use art therapy as a way to help patients explore their inner selves.

Start by allowing yourself to feel (or drawing on any existing) dark emotions. Choose an art medium that calls to you such as pen and pencil, watercolor, crayon, acrylic paint, scrapbooking, sculpting, etc. and draw what you feel. You don’t need to consider yourself an ‘artist’ to benefit from this activity. You don’t even need to plan what you’ll create. Just let your hands, pen, pencil, or paintbrush do the talking. The more spontaneous, the better. Artistic expression can reveal a lot about your obscure darker half. Psychologist Carl Jung (who conceptualized the Shadow Self idea) was even famous for using mandalas in his therapy sessions.

3. Start a Project

The act of creation can be intensely frustrating and can give birth to some of your darker elements such as impatience, anger, blood-thirsty competitiveness, and self-doubt. At the same time, starting a project also allows you to experience feelings of fulfillment and joy.

If you don’t already have a personal project that you’re undertaking (such as building something, writing a book, composing music, mastering a new skill), find something you would love to start doing. Using self-awareness and self-exploration during the process of creation, you will be able to reap deeper insights into your darkness. Ask yourself constantly, “What am I feeling and why?” Notice the strong emotions that arise during the act of creation, both good and bad. You will likely be surprised by what you find!

For example, as a person who considers myself non-competitive, that assumption has been challenged by the act of writing this blog. Thanks to this project, the Shadow within me of ruthless competitiveness has shown its face, allowing me to understand myself more deeply.

4. Write a Story or Keep a Shadow Journal

Goethe’s story Faust is, in my opinion, one of the best works featuring the meeting of an ego and his Shadow Self. His story details the life of a Professor who becomes so separated and overwhelmed by his Shadow that he comes to the verge of suicide, only to realize that the redemption of the ego is solely possible if the Shadow is redeemed at the same time.

Write a story where you project your Shadow elements onto the characters – this is a great way to learn more about your inner darkness. If stories aren’t your thing, keeping a journal or diary every day can shine a light on the darker elements of your nature. Reading through your dark thoughts and emotions can help you to recover the balance you need in life by accepting both light and dark emotions within you.

5. Explore Your Shadow Archetypes

We have several Shadow varieties, also called Shadow Archetypes. These archetypes are sometimes defined as:

· The Sorcerer/Alchemist

· The Dictator

· The Victim

· The Shadow Witch

· The Addict

· The Idiot

· The Trickster

· The Destroyer

· The Slave

· The Shadow Mother

· The Hag

· The Hermit

However, I have my own Shadow Archetype classification, which I will include below.

13 Shadow Archetypes

Here are my thirteen classifications which are based on my own self-observations and analysis of others:

1. The Egotistical Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: arrogance, egocentricity, pompousness, inconsiderateness, self-indulgence, narcissism, excessive pride.

2. The Neurotic Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: paranoia, obsessiveness, suspiciousness, finicky, demanding, compulsive behavior.

3. The Untrustworthy Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: secretive, impulsive, frivolous, irresponsible, deceitful, unreliable.

4. The Emotionally Unstable Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: moody, melodramatic, weepy, overemotional, impulsive, changeable.

5. The Controlling Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: suspicious, jealous, possessive, bossy, obsessive.

6. The Cynical Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: negative, overcritical, patronizing, resentful, cantankerous.

7. The Wrathful Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: ruthless, vengeful, bitchy, quick-tempered, quarrelsome.

8. The Rigid Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: uptight, intolerant, racist, sexist, ableist, homophobic, obstinate, uncompromising, inflexible, narrow-minded.

9. The Glib Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: superficial, cunning, inconsistent, sly, crafty.

10. The Cold Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: emotionally detached, distant, indifferent, uncaring, unexcited.

11. The Perverted Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: masochistic, lewd, sadistic, vulgar, libidinous.

12. The Cowardly Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: weak-willed, passive, timid, fearful.

13. The Immature Shadow

This Shadow Archetype displays the following characteristics: puerile, childish, illogical, simpleminded, vacuous.

Keep in mind that the above Shadow Archetypes are by no means exhaustive. I’m sure that there are many others out there which I have missed. But you are free to use this breakdown to help you explore your own Shadows. You’re also welcome to add to this list or create your own Shadow Archetypes, which I highly encourage. For example, you might possess a judgmental and dogmatic Shadow who you call “The Nun,” or a sexually deviant Shadow who you call “The Deviant.” Play around with some words and labels, and see what suits your Shadows the best.

6. Have an Inner Conversation

Also known as “Inner Dialogue,” or as Carl Jung phrased it, “Active Imagination,” having a conversation with your Shadow is an easy way to learn from it.

I understand if you might feel a twinge of skepticism towards this practice right now. After all, we are taught that “only crazy people talk to themselves.” But inner dialogue is regularly used in psychotherapy as a way to help people communicate with the various subpersonalities that they have – and we all possess various faces and sides of our ego.

One easy way to practice inner dialogue is to sit in a quiet place, close your eyes, and tune into the present moment. Then, think of a question you would like to ask your Shadow, and silently speak it within your mind. Wait a few moments and see if you ‘hear’ or ‘see’ an answer. Record anything that arises and reflect on it. It is even possible to carry on a conversation with your Shadow using this method. Just ensure that you have an open mindset. In other words, don’t try to control what is being said, just let it flow naturally. You will likely be surprised by the answers you receive!

Visualization is another helpful way of engaging in inner dialogue. I recommend bringing to mind images of dark forests, caves, holes in the ground, or the ocean as these all represent the unconscious mind. Always ensure that you enter and exit your visualization in the same manner, e.g. if you are walking down a path, make sure you walk back up the path. Or if you open a particular door, make sure you open the same door when returning back to normal consciousness. This practice will help to draw you effortlessly in and out of visualizations.

7. Use the Mirror Technique

As we have learned, projection is a technique of the Shadow that helps us to avoid what we have disowned. However, we don’t only project the deeper and darker aspects of ourselves onto others, we also project our light and positive attributes as well. For example, a person may be attracted to another who displays fierce self-assertiveness, not realizing that this quality is what they long to reunite with inside themselves. Another common example (this time negative) is judgmentalism. How many times have you heard someone say “he/she is so judgmental!” Ironically, the very person saying this doesn’t realize that calling another person ‘judgmental’ is actually pronouncing a judgment against them and revealing their own judgmental nature.

The Mirror Technique is the process of uncovering our projections. To practice this technique, we must adopt a mindful and honest approach towards the world: we need to be prepared to own that which we have disowned! Being radically truthful with ourselves can be difficult, so it does require practice. But essentially, we must adopt the mindset that other people are our mirrors. We must understand that those around us serve as the perfect canvas onto which we project all of our unconscious desires and fears.

Start this practice by examining your thoughts and feelings about those you come in contact with. Pay attention to moments when you’re emotionally triggered and ask yourself “am I projecting anything?” Remember: it is also possible to project our own qualities onto another person who really does possess the qualities. Psychologists sometimes refer to this as “projecting onto reality.” For example, we might project our rage onto another person who is, in fact, a rage-filled person. Or we might project our jealousy onto another who genuinely is jealous.

Ask yourself, “What is mine, what is theirs, and what is both of ours?” Not every triggering situation reveals a projection, but they more than often do. Also, look for things you love and adore about others, and uncover the hidden projections there.

The Mirror Technique will help you to shed a lot of light onto Shadow qualities that you have rejected, suppressed, repressed, or disowned. On a side note, you might also like to read about a similar practice called mirror work which helps you to come face-to-face with your own denied aspects.

XII. Shadow Work Q&A

Here are some commonly asked questions about shadow work:

What is shadow work?

Shadow work is the psychological and spiritual practice of exploring our dark side or the ‘shadowy’ part of our nature. We all possess a place within us that contains our secrets, repressed feelings, shameful memories, impulses, and parts that are deemed “unacceptable” and “ugly.” This is our dark side or shadow self – and it is often symbolized as a monster, devil, or ferocious wild animal.

How to do shadow work?

There are many ways to practice shadow work. Some of the most powerful and effective techniques include journaling, artistically expressing your dark side (also known as art therapy), using a mirror to connect with this part of you (mirror work), guided meditations, exploring your projections, and examining your shadow archetypes.

What is the spiritual shadow?

There is light and darkness within all areas of life, and spirituality is not exempt. The spiritual shadow is what occurs when we fall into the traps of spiritual materialism – a phenomenon where we use spirituality to boost our egos and become arrogant, self-absorbed, and even narcissistic.

XIII. Shadow Self -Test

https://lonerwolf.com/shadow-self-test/

As passionate proponents of Shadow Work, we have created a free Shadow Self test on this website for you to take. Like any test, take it with a grain of salt and use your own analysis to ultimately determine how ‘dominant’ your Shadow is in your life. Please remember that tests online cannot be 100% accurate, so see it as a fun self-discovery tool. And note: those who receive a “small Shadow Self” answer still need to do Shadow Work. No person is exempt. ;)

XIV. Own Your Shadow and You Will Own Your Life

If you are looking for some serious, authentic and long-lived healing in your life, Shadow Work is the perfect way to experience profound inner transformation. Remember that what you internalize is almost always externalized in one form or another.

Own your shadow and you will own your life.

Here are some final inspiring words:

“The secret is out: all of us, no exceptions, have qualities we won’t let anyone see, including ourselves – our Shadow. If we face up to our dark side, our life can be energized. If not, there is the devil to pay. This is one of life’s most urgent projects. — Larry Dossey (Healing Words)”

“If we don’t change, we don’t grow. If we don’t grow, we are not really living. Growth demands a temporary surrender of security.” — Gail Sheehy

“Who has not at one time or another felt a sourness, wrath, selfishness, envy and pride, which he could not tell what to do with, or how to bear, rising up in him without his consent, casting a blackness over all his thoughts … It is exceeding good and beneficial to us to discover this dark, disordered fire of our soul; because when rightly known and rightly dealt with, it can as well be made the foundation of heaven as it is of hell. — William Law”

“To confront a person with his own shadow is to show him his own light. — Carl Jung”

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dear-yandere · 4 years ago

Text

— oyasumi dazai.

ada! osamu dazai x reader.

cw: yandere, romanticization of suicide and death, nihilism, depersonalization, implied death, themes of regret and grief.

wc: 1985.

disclaimer: the following content does not depict a healthy relationship, please read the warnings carefully. by click the read more button, you are giving your consent to read this content.

“isn’t it lovely, all alone?”

he dreams of death.

the stench of iron and the sight of bones is nothing new, but he dreams of death like one would dream of the future. he supposes he is nobody, because no one ever dreams of their own passing (not willingly). people are pushed to that point, betrayed and hurt and put through enough suffering that life no longer seems worth living. whether life is or isn’t worth the effort lays with them, dazai reckons, but the urge to reason death from life has never crossed his mind. to him, to live is to suffer — that is, suffering is inevitable. within the same vein, it must mean that to live is to make the best of that suffering, but what is life if you’d never asked to be born?

the question is foreign and familiar all the same — bittersweet on his tongue, a plague on his mind. his life has always been filled with nothing. the smile of loving parents was a sight he’s unfamiliar with. in comparison to the misfortunes of many others, his parents were saints; and, in comparison to the fortunes of others, they were demons. and yet, that laid the problem. they have a role in this world, a calling, a purpose. but dazai… he is nothing. nothing but a black stain on this white earth. from the day he took his first breath, death has been both friend and foe, a tease and a reprieve for a boy who’d never wished to breathe life.

but, where death comes easy to others, it is nothing short of a luxury for him. it does not welcome him with open arms, nor does it even look his way. suicide after suicide attempt and yet he is still alive. and he has to wonder, is life a gift — as everyone claims it is — or a curse? and why? why was he gifted, why was he cursed? the distinction makes no difference to him, but why must it be him? was he brought into this world for a purpose? for some sort of greater good, or evil? or do the gods simply enjoy the frailty of human life and the suffering it comes with?

of all the people in this wretched world, why is he alive?

ii.

from his first breath, he begun to blacken. his heart is not his own, has never been his own (it beats for someone who is, and never will be, him.) his body holds nothing but muscle and blood and sinew, a vessel he’s been forced into without second thought. he’s never thought of it as anything more. not a temple nor a burden, just… some thing. something that is not his. something that isn’t meant to be his, as if he’s an outsider looking in through the hollows of his eyes.

humanity was always something unbeknownst to him, something he could never quite get a grasp of. the thoughts of others could never quite fit into the process of his mind, its recesses far too unaccustomed to how others should or shouldn’t feel. their expressions are unreadable at all times, a fault that has led to bullying and alienation. he never shed a tear; loneliness is to be expected when you have nowhere to fit in. he is pure black. he may as well be invisible to the human eye, no different than an ant that passersby would carelessly step on without thought. he is no different from anyone else, because he is worse.

had he sold his happiness to the devil in a past life? is life his punishment, or is this how dull it’s meant to be?

cynical — a word used to describe him all too often, but it’s never been dear to dazai’s heart. words, in fact, have never been able to describe him, not in a way he ever found fitting. what does it mean to be cynical? what does it mean to be human? what does it mean to be alive, to have a beating heart, to have feelings? twenty-one years on this earth and he’s never once found an answer.

life, it seems, is something not meant for the likes of him.

and yet, suicide never got him anywhere. whether it be the fault of dumb luck or his own ineptitude, dazai could never die. it’s laughable, how even though his heart beats without his own will, he cannot make it stop. as if some cruel god reveled in how much torture it is for him to live a life he did not ask for. every noose left him choking for air but never took his life. every gun shot blanked or missed his brain entirely. every stab and cut never hit his arteries, never allowed him the luxury of bleeding out. like water in a vase, waiting until the surface tension is broken by a slight drop and starts to overflow — dazai spent his days in hopes of when his own heart would overflow and spill.

life was given to him, and life will not be taken by his own hands.

iii.

he dreams of death so often, his only nightmare is awaking the next day.

he will only ever just be… him. forever living, forever beating and breathing — the thought of experiencing life like others do is something out of a children’s book, to him. to strive for goals, to be torn apart by failures, to get up after being knocked down again and again. he understands it in theory, the process of living, but to put any further meaning on his or anyone else’s existence seems beyond the furthest reaches of his mind.

nothing makes sense.

“i never understood the fuss over weddings, going so far as to plan one’s entire life around it.” he says one day, eyes locked on the black coffee in his hands. darkness always did make him feel at home. “funerals are much more exciting. i’ve planned mine already.” a smile twitches onto his face, one of genuine happiness and excitement. death is like a dear friend, one he feuds with often, and yet one he adores all the same.

but those aren’t words most would say. weddings are a day of joy, but to him, they can only bring grief, one unlike the kind funerals bring to others. the happiest day of his life will be the day he dies, and yet…

he finds himself wanting to marry you.

you, as beautiful as ever, crack a knowing smile and play his words off, shooing them from the air like a pesky insect. the coffee in your hands is almost pure white by this point; drowned in creams and syrups and sugars. he wonders if it’s a reflection of your heart or your soul. “but osamu, i’ve already planned our wedding. you wouldn’t die before we got married, would you?”

he smiles. it’s a reflection of your soul.

he wouldn’t dream of it.

iv.

there’s a reason for everything, or so he’s heard. a mantra mostly uttered by religious heretics, and yet the sentiment was enough to get him thinking; is there a reason he cannot die? is there a reason he’s doomed to live, until whatever entity that tortures him grows bored of his plights? is there a reason he’s alive?

you’re nothing new, nothing he hasn’t seen time and time again. but, he knew: you are his reason. he is a person that someone like you should never get close to. the sentiment is ingrained in his very being, to stay away from you. he knows already: that he will only taint you, corrupt you, drag you down to rock bottom with him. and, if there is a place lower than here, it would surely be hell.

you deserve better than that. you deserve better than him.

“if i were to ever unforgivably hurt you, promise me this.” his heart tugs uselessly, his mind already made up. “if i ever hurt you very, very deeply, please kill me at once.”

he places your hands at his neck and presses. your fingers don’t curl around the flesh like he wants them to, and he knows then that he will never deserve you. you are too good for him, too good to him; your heart is too white and his blackness will only taint it. but darkness cannot be without light. just as the pitch black can overtake the white, the white can overtake the pitch black. life is not solely black and white, he’s come to learn. to be born and to live is to tread through life in a series of greys. there is no good nor evil, only humanity. but, if he were to describe himself, he would surely be black.

“you’ll promise me this, right?”

you hesitate to answer. he caresses you gently, like his mother used to do for him. a means to quell and comfort others, he’s learned, and yet his heart still feels nothing but blackness. he’s never understood why you feel so hurt when he speaks of death so casually — his death is his and his alone, after all. no one would be affected, not for long. memories fade and hearts heal; he is but a stain on life, and no one would miss him.

“right, belladonna?” he prompts. “please say yes. to die by your hands would be my greatest joy. even more so if you were to join me in death, but i could never ask that of you…” he laughs at his desperation, knowing you’d never agree to a premature death like he. you have so much to live for, and he…

he was born to die.

“i promise, osamu.”

you haunt him like a ghost.

he still dreams of death, because a world without you is one he no longer wants to live in. but you would want that for him. you know of his infatuation with the throes of death and yet you want the very thing he detests; for him to live. funny thing, life is. like an idiot ghost, he’d lived wandering through life without any direction. without purpose, dreams and ambitions never held any real meaning to him, not like they seemed to do for other people. the only thing that came close was… you.

he wants to hide like the coward he is. run away, start over again. forget this ever happened, forget he ever met you.

forget he ever tasted love.

it occurs to him that this must be that feeling of ‘regret’ he so often hears. and he’s reminded of odasaku, the only living being that had come close to eliciting some semblance of genuine emotion from dazai. the closest thing he could call to a true friend, dead. and, the closest thing he could call to a lover, gone. life isn’t meant for cowards like him.

but he lives. death has cursed him with the act of living; perhaps that’s a fate worse than death. he has spent all his life resisting the desire to end it, and he regrets never once succeeding. because now he has to live; to live with his own regrets and failures, all the things he said and didn’t say, all the things he did and shouldn’t have done.

he didn’t get to say ‘i love you’.

your tombstone is pristine and he wonders if death is just the same; clean. free of sin, free of burden. what a beautiful thought, one he’s begun to believe doesn’t truly exist. beauty is wasted on him and even death does not hear his pleas. because to seek beauty is human. to be played and toyed with is human.

and to break and destroy, is also human.

death is preferable to losing you. it laughed in his face when it came to claim you, took you away from him forever. to someplace far, far away — to someplace he can never belong.

he misses you. he wonders if you miss him too.

#yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai osamu #yandere osamu dazai #yandere osamu dazai xreader #yandere bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #tw death #tw suicidal ideation #tw suicide mention #tw suicide attempts #tw depersonalization

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superfrumpkin · 4 years ago

Text

WORTH IT.

Read it on AO3

You always knew this day would come. In fact, you knew you had many of them ahead of you. And yet, when your necklace starts glowing, you feel the dread creeping up, the fear of finding out who's turn it was.

As if she could hear you, Pike's broken voice comes through in your mind: "Kiki, it's Grog. Please, come to Whitestone".

As quickly as you could, you let your father know, open up a portal, and you're out of the Sun Tree. Vex'ahlia, tears in her eyes, and Percy, holding her by the shoulders, are waiting for you there.

You hug them both tight, and you head to Sarenrae's temple, where Pike and Scanlan are standing beside a lifeless Grog.

He looks peaceful. His hulking form isn't menacing with his eyes closed, and his mouth so relaxed. It was time.

You let a few tears fall, hold the gnomes, and you have a small service for the goliath.

You then head to a tavern and drink his beloved ale in his honor, reminiscing of all the good times.

"To Grog Strongjaw, Grand Poobah de Doink of All This and That" a slightly drunk Percy shouts "a great fighter and an even greater friend!"

"To Grog!" You all cheer.

Just as the day begun, it comes to a close. You're all tipsy, and teary eyed. You say your goodbyes and head back to Zephrah, your heart a little heavy.

You carve a space for a cup of ale next to the shrine to the Raven Queen, and head to sleep.

A few years go by, you visit Whitestone from time to time, get to see all the De Rolos grow up, share a knowing smirk with Percy when Cassandra finally introduces her girlfriend to all of you.

You participate to all the great events, the weddings, the births, the tearful final goodbyes to your allies.

Allura introduces you and the Tal'Dorei council to a group of colorful individuals from Wildemount, called the Mighty Nein (but there's eight of them? No one says it but you all think it), who apparently had saved the World and managed to let it go undetected.

You recognize them from your mother's stories, they are the ones who brought her back to you.

You thank them profusely, and you catch the redhead wizard blush as the white haired drow next to him smiles and rubs his shoulder, and stifle laughter knowingly when you see the dark skinned woman, the pale and tall one who was holding her hand and the blue tiefling all looking at Vex with their mouth open. The yellow clad halfling smacks them subtly as their half orc friend politely smiles at all of you.

It's funny, you knew the feeling of being caught staring at Vex'ahlia very well.

You see Percy grow a beard that makes him look older and cheer loudly alongside Vesper when with an excited "Auntie Keyleth, look!" she druidcrafts a snowdrop in her hands.

A few years later, as you're tending to the needs of your people, the necklace pulsates again. You have a suspicion this time, and your heart clenches.

Coming out of the Sun Tree once again, you can see the whole atmosphere is somber. Black flags with the Whitestone crest glowing gold wave in the breeze, falling from the Castle's large windows.

You lean against the Tree that's become like a friend to you.

"Hey, Keyleth. It's quite the sad day. I can feel the grief of the whole city in my roots."

Tears fall and you ask what you already know.

"It's Percy,isn't it?"

"It is. You might want to go to Lady Vex. I know she might need you."

You find them once again, gathered in the temple. The De Rolos are surrounding their mother, who's sobbing loudly. You'd seen her this broken only once before, for her brother.

Only this time, it was your brother, laying limp and quiet, with Pike performing the last rites.

You see Taryon held by Lawrence in the large crowd, but you make a beeline to Vex.

"Mom, aunt Keyleth is here," Vesper whispers.

Trinket is next to her of course, whining in pain too.

Vex'ahlia opens her bloodshot eyes, looks at you briefly and runs into your arms.

You feel her pain, all of it. You try to convey everything you can in that hug.

I'm here. I know. I feel it too. I've felt it too. She holds you like you're the last thing keeping her standing. And you hold her like she held you many years before.

Drinks are had, words and stories are shared. You decide to stay at the Castle one more night, you let Korrin know through Pike.

Everything goes quiet. In the dead of night, you hear a knock at the door of your guest room. You already know who's going to be on the other side, and yet when you open it and the dim candles show a shattered Vex'ahlia, her cheeks wet with tears, her eyes sunken with exhaustion, your heart aches.

"Keyleth..." she says with a barely audible whisper.

No more words are needed. You let her fall into your arms, and hold her through the night, let her sob in your arms until she passes out.

Eventually, you fall asleep too.

Vex gives you the raven skull you made for him before you leave, and you make sure to place it next to the mug of ale, with a pocket watch.

Years keep passing by, you see Vesper's magic thrive and see the proud look in her mother's eyes. You know you must share that same look. You see her become every bit of the leader Percy was, with her mother's wits and her father's strong willpower.

Eventually you have to go to Deastock and say goodbye to Taryon, that's another hard hit on Vex. He was her best friend.

This time you carve the logo of his Brigade in what has become the Vox Machina tree in Zephrah.

You and Vex grow closer. She reminds you of him in so many ways, and yet she's so different. A few wrinkles are starting to appear near her eyes, but as you keep observing her, she's never been more beautiful.

Many things start to become usual occurrences, like you visiting the Castle, and her coming to Zephrah with the help of her daughter.

Everytime you see each other, it seems like the pieces start falling back together.

One day, as regular as any other, you're watching the sun setting on your tribe and you catch her looking at you intensely.

"You're so beautiful, darling."

You're taken aback. She doesn't give you time to reply. Without even being able to register it, her mouth is on yours, and her hand is in your hair.

You'd lie if you said you hadn't ever dreamed of this.

Suddenly, she stops, touching her lips in shock "Keyleth, I'm so-" this time you cut her off, shaking your head and catching her sorry with your mouth.

You're not sorry. You're glad she did that. You would have never had the guts to make the first move. And Gods, her lips are so soft, her hands tangle in your hair and you don't know what to do, but bask in the comfort her body pressed against yours gives you.

She must be feeling something similar, cause her breath becomes shallow as she whispers "Key" in between kisses.

That night you make love and it's sweet, and calm and slow, nothing like you thought Vex would be. You both needed this so bad, you know you've loved her for a long time and if only an ounce of her felt the same, you'd be happy with it.

Waking up next to her is nothing short of magical. She's peacefully sleeping, her dark, naked back warmly lit by the sunrise creeping in. You softly brush your fingers along her spine, and her eyelids flutter to reveal warm hazel irises, looking at you with a small smile. Your breath catches.

"I love you," you whisper, unable to keep it in anymore.

Her smile widens. She kisses you and your heart races fast when she says "I love you too, Keyleth," brushing your noses together.

You feel happier than you've been in a long time.

Life goes on between Zephrah and Whitestone, you both have responsibilities you can't run from.

You say your last goodbyes to Allura, and shortly after Kima, who are buried together as they always asked.

Once Vesper is ready to take the helms of Whitestone, Vex decides that it's maybe time to leave, not without hesitation.

"Mom, go. I get it,okay? We will visit all the time, you won't even have time to miss us".

Vex gives her a teary laugh, kisses her forehead, and with an "I'm so proud of you" she comes to Zephrah with you.

Korrin and Vilya treat her like their own, and you look at her in adoration when she tells you they're like the parents she always wanted.

Vesper keeps her promise, and the De Rolos come visit all the time. You don't catch when Percy IV, their youngest, calls you mama, but Vex does and maybe sheds one little happy tear.

Zephrah is always buzzing with life, thriving under Keyleth's leadership, and Vex's advice.

Their necklaces glow once more, and they know it's time to say goodbye to Scanlan this time.

Kaylie plays a sorrowful piece in honor of her father, as you and Vex hold Pike. They both know what it's like to lose a soulmate.

As always you gather in the tavern and share stories of Scanlan the bard.

"He died as he lived," Kaylie raises her cup "hard and fast!"

You all share a teary laugh and get drunk as you say goodbye to another friend.

You show Vex the Vox Machina tree for the first time in years, as you carve a space for a miniature shawm.

She holds you as you both look at the Raven Queen's shrine.

"I hope they're all together," Vex whispers. "I hope he doesn't hate me for this," she chuckles and kisses your cheek.

Just as she says that, as if out of nowhere, a large raven lands between you two on Vex's shoulder. It nuzzles her.

"I guess you have your answer," you smile and scratch the top of the raven's head. It leans in your hand.

Life goes on, the kids aren't kids anymore, Vesper leads Whitestone fiercely, you say goodbye to Gilmore a couple of years after Allura and Kima, but you have each other to lean on.

One day, Vex feels too tired to get out of bed and Trinket lets out a long groan.

You quickly message Pike, who comes to Zephrah with the children.

She does a quick scan of her body and confirms what you already know.

There's nothing wrong with your Vex, nature is claiming her. It's time to say goodbye.

A sob wracks your body, you knew it was coming. You saw the wrinkles getting more prominent and her hair going gray with the passing of years, but it still hurt to know.

You can never be ready.

You let the kids say their goodbyes, not wanting to intrude on such an intimate moment.

When your turn comes you try to be strong, but your heart is in too much pain.

She lays a hand on your now wet cheek, and strokes it with her thumb, wiping away some tears. "Kiki..." her flebile whisper is full of love.

"I don't know if I can do this without you,too".

"Of course you can. You're strong, and caring, and kind. Your people rely on you. You don't need me to succeed. I will always love you, Key. I will always be with you. Far, but never gone, remember?"

You kiss her hand.

"I love you. You're every bit as beautiful as the day I first met you."

You lean over her to kiss her lips, and with a smile, she lets out her last breath.

You can't help but hold onto her a little longer.

Trinket plops down next to you and lays his head on Vex's stomach, breathing heavily.

You know he must be close as well.

You clutch his fur, as he breathes one last time, too.

All the kids and Pike kneel down to hold you, and together, you mourn the loss of Lady Vex'ahlia.

You take her blue feathers, tie them on your staff, with the black ones you had from Vax.

In the tree, you leave the tip of an arrow, and one of the pink bows you and Vax once put on the bear.

The De Rolos go back to Whitestone, Pike spends some days with you.

It will take a long time to heal, but you have plenty of that.

You'll outlive them all, it's your tragic destiny, you signed up for it. It doesn't hurt any less.

Pike is of course the next one to go, the worshippers of the Everlight all gather to say goodbye to her Champion, you look around and see just how many lives Pike's kindness had touched. It's beautiful.

Your tree has another spot, with the symbol of Sarenrae and a miniature mace.

You carve one last spot on the tree, that you know won't be filled for many years still.

You leave instructions for your antlers to placed there.

You're thankful to have your parents by your side, as the days blur together.

Eventually you feel happiness again, when Vesper brings her firstborn to you and you get to see new life blossom in every corner of your tribe, the Ashari growing and leaning on you, the love on your mother's face and the pride on your father's.

Years, and years, and years pass but you never forget them, not once, not for a second.

Vax'ildan, with his smirk and his daggers, and his wings that held you in safety. Your first love. Forever and ever and always.

Vex'ahlia, matching smirk on softer lips, the best of hagglers, witty and beautiful and quick with her arrows. The lover you got to keep. The lover that got you through.

Percival, your very best friend, your brother and partner in crime, a quick draw, the smartest of you. A loving husband and father, a fierce leader.

Grog, big and strong with a heart of gold, with his smile and fun in fights and taverns, his gentle hands with small creatures. Not the smartest, but still one who thought you so much.

Scanlan, the embodiment of fun and laughter, always ready to pick everyone up and help out, cheering and inspiring with his voice and his charm.

Pike, the kindest of spirits, her heart bigger than her small frame could ever contain, sweet and loving like a mother to all.

Taryon, flamboyant and fun, with his desire to be accepted and his mind full of ideas, always accompanied by his thousands versions of Doty, faithful companion.

Trinket, friend of Vox Machina, her Vex's best friend, as much of a member as everyone else.

You never forget any of them. You feared it would happen after meeting Sprigg, it felt like looking in a mirror of your future.

But you keep them in your heart until you're old and gray, tell your stories to your tribe, make sure they are spread across the world so that Vox Machina may never be forgotten.

As you close your eyes for the last time, you dream of them and hope that the Raven Queen will be kind enough to let you see them once more.

On the other side, what you see surprises you. It's them, all of them. Vax, with his wings spread, in the middle, smiling bright. Vex is next to him, looking like the day you met. None of them is old and gray. Percy's hair is even black, rid of the stress and weight of the world.

Pike's hair is black as well, like the day you first called her to help you with Grog.

Everyone looks young, and happy. You feel yourself crying. As you look down, you notice your hair are long and flowing, a fierce red.

"You did so well, princess." Vex'ahlia winks at you, and you suddenly feel surrounded by all your family's arms.

You smile in the cuddle pile, think back to your adventures, and realize that everything was worth it, after all.

#vox machina #vexleth #i made some people cry on twitter and thought #eh why not do it on tumblr too #vex'ahlia #keyleth #critical role #cr fic #vm fic

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punkbirb · 3 years ago

Text

my thoughts on shining pearl

no worries, theres no spoilers

wow. ive never been driven to write anything about pokemon before. i’ve been playing my whole life, and I’ve played every mainline game, including remakes- except for black and white 2.

shining pearl has made pokemon FUN again. it has stayed so true to the original, and I so deeply appreciate that. all the small quirks of the game that I remember so fondly have made me fall in love all over again- to the point im willing to go through the trouble of getting the pokemon ive had since i was 8 off of the old ds games and onto my switch. I love the fact that this game doesnt hold your hand. It took over a year after the release of sword and shield for me to give it a try. Sword and shield- while cool in concept- were so heavily disappointing for me. the wild area was a really neat thing that I enjoyed, but it made it....too easy. it was too overwhelmingly big and just gave you any and every pokemon for no work at all. there was no reward in running up to a glaceon just standing there, waiting to be caught. I found it needless to do anything in that game because if I wanted a dusknoir all I had to do was find it roaming around the same spot it always is. forget trading and special items for evolution! it defeated the purpose for me. and items....my goodness the fact that game just gives you infinite gold nuggets and evolution stones and other items made the careful selection of focusing on developing a handful of pokemon redundant. it’s as if the focus was mostly on giving you free money for the overly expensive clothing choices rather than making it a special feature that you had to make careful decisions for. i feel like sw/sh had a lot of potential, but just lost focus on what the game was supposed to be about.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the fact nintendo brought over the ability for your pokemon to follow behind you from heart gold/soul silver. I think i’ve been quietly begging for years to see this. I’d always adored that feature and wondered why it wasn’t more common. All the small details, like the polishing of the badges and playing music notes on them, contests, to the stickers on the ball capsules, berry planting, to the mining and secret bases, to the poffin making- even the fact that the pokemart isn’t crammed into the pokecenter all struck high chords for me. call it nostalgia, but the way it’s kept true to the original form with a few little new tweaks here and there (like the underground caverns that minimize the concept of the wild area from Sword/Shield, and the minimal focus on the wardrobe changes) is exciting. What would really solidify the deal for me is if they brought back the little item in ss/hg that turned the music into the original 8bit tracks (I know that pearl/diamond wasn’t 8bit, but hearing the original tracks would be so cool).

I do appreciate the fairly new-ish-but-not-really concept of the visual aids and battle mechanics of friendship with your pokemon carrying over into s.pearl. it’s been over a decade since i’ve played the original D/P (wow, makes me feel old), so I don’t quite remember what generation this became a mechanic. however, I feel like somehow this game kept specifically all the things I like about pokemon just for me. while i do remember using maybe 2 or 3 specific pokeapps on the watch feature, i’d forgotten how convenient it could be. I’m excited to see if any new ones have been added. Speaking of, the addition of the HM one (which I dont recall, forgive me if it isn’t new)- I so greatly appreciate that A) gym badges are required to use certain ones and B) I don’t have to waste a move slot or use a HM-designated pokemon to use HMs. I feel like requiring badges to progress with HM usage keeps true to the original pokemon journey- which is what I look for in these games. I appreciate the small backtracking aspect here and there after an HM is obtained. It urges deeper exploration and reminds you that you might not be able to progress in one particular area just yet- but don’t forget about it and some nifty rewards will be found if you come back. certain points in the game- like how to obtain a spiritomb from a certain ruin (I think)- i’m fondly remembering that “hey eventually I’ll get this pokemon here” but I don’t exactly remember how- so it’s a nice challenge that brings back that journey aspect. maybe it’s an unfair edge in terms of experience since i already know where to go and mostly what to do- but slowly recalling little bits of forgotten information are, again, making it fun, and making me really love the work that went into remastering this game. the little hint box on the menu is a nice touch for someone who is forgetful like me. Nice to open up the game after I’d been away and not have to think about “wait, what am I doing here again?” It isn’t so direct that it’s just a statement telling you specifically what to do- but rather “explore X city!”

sometimes it takes me awhile to warm up to new mechanics, such as dynamax or the mega evolutions in x and y. while I understand there needs to be some way to keep pokemon fresh and exciting- it can be a bit much sometimes. it’s honestly a nice change of pace to nix that in s.pearl (at least, so far- im only just leaving veilstone city). It’s a lot less to keep up with, and honestly they never really did much for me to start with. maybe I’m just too stuck on older gameplay. I do think they’re very neat mechanics, and have made stories interesting (since they’re usually used as plot devices). while I always thought it should’ve been an option to turn off the “super effective/not very effective/etc” tags under the moves, I suppose I wasn’t surprised to see it in s.pearl. When that mechanic was first introduced I thought it kinda took away the point of learning move types- but this isn’t really a gripe. It can definitely be a lot to keep track of- and I still even forget the whole ghost-dark-psychic type efficiency wheel. I think a lot of trainers (especially those who are new to pokemon) appreciate it.

even the battle initiations are a nice little nod to the original games. it was cool to recognize the static image of a trainer in their original battle pose for them to then burst into the 3d movement we’ve come to appreciate. the backgrounds are beautiful and feel more realistic (not literally of course) to the area you’re battling in. I wasn’t the biggest fan of the big-headed chibi overworld view, but seeing the fully rendered battle animations made me think that it’s a sort of modern take on the old, original style of the pixel sprites. definitely warmed me up to the cutesy-ness of it all.

I feel there is a huge swarm of trainers everywhere- which has been kinda annoying, but then again I probably got used to the lack of them in shield. I’d forgotten about the VS Seeker- which is definitely a nice item for when I need to grind later. I’ll admit, Roark defeated me twice before I could beat him. I honestly liked the challenge of it. It was nice knowing that i’d have to either train, train, train, or go catch a machop to use against him rather than just being handed a badge for defeating his team in 3 moves. I’d chosen chimchar, and with his lack of defense, one little fighting-type move alone wasn’t enough to defeat a team of 3 rock-types. It was wonderful to see such an early-on test of type and team efficiency!

being gifted a jirachi from a random NPC early on in the game was a nice shock to me. Not sure if that was part of the pre-order gift yet, but it was definitely a hook!

overall so far this game is not just nostalgic, but somehow very refreshing. I’m definitely looking forward to Arceus in January, and s.pearl has given me revived hope for the series. I enjoy the challenge of the game again- and I love that everything just isn’t thrown at you all at once. You have to explore and you have to work for most rewards. The selection of pokemon in grass isn’t overwhelming- it’s nicely paced, making you take on that original style of hand-picking a team that’ll best suit your needs for the moment rather than just having a plethora of variety at any given time that don’t really give you much challenge for facing the next gym.

I love this game!

#pokemon #shining pearl #brilliant diamond #j

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poptod · 4 years ago

Text

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 4 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: He needs to listen. He needs to understand.

Notes: i havent been able to write recently bc ive been spending a lot of time with my boytoy but hes off being a firefighter rn so ive just been nonstop writing and drawing. its ridiculous. i finished pt 3 and 4 in like three days. WC: 5.5k

There were less paintings in Thebes. White marble walls and pillars reigned supreme, a stark contrast from the colorful streets of Memphis. You decided not to bring it up, or at least not at the moment you realized it, as in that moment you were face to face with the mayor of Thebes. He was shaking Ahkmenrah's hand, a polite smile on his lips.

"It's good to see you again, Piye," Ahk said. You had to stop and go over the sentence again to make sure you heard it right. Piye wasn't on the same boat as yours, and wouldn't arrive for another day.

"As it is you, my King," the mayor replied.

A trail of servants, soldiers, and slaves passed both behind and in front of you, lugging the offerings to specific temples, and the royal belongings behind the Pharaoh. Haji was put to the use, as unfortunate as it was, and you couldn't help but apologize when he was asked to haul a massive reed basket full of dried dates.

"It's alright," he said, huffing with effort. "I've done this before. Not usually uphill, though."

"Sorry," you said again, wincing at the way sweat beaded on his forehead.

The massive block of shade casted by the royal house's overhang was a relief for those carrying items, and for Ahk as well, as this was his home-away-from-home. Images of Ahkmenrah remained painted across the walls, the only color in the crystal city. The Nile flowed steadily beside the house, short fences leading to a plentiful garden through which the water came, and date trees that grew taller than any building.

The mayor, who you slowly realized was also named Piye, left your group there with a bid for a good evening. Along with that, he invited the Pharaoh and you––his pet––to dinner with him and his family. You weren't sure how enjoyable that would be, but either way the decision was out of your hands.

Following Ahkmenrah, you found yourselves in a large room with a domed ceiling, tall arches framed by red curtains. Outside, trees rustled in the gentle wind with no hint of society. You silently cheered––it was better, you believed, to have a view of the land, rather than of the city.

"Tomorrow I shall take you on a true tour of the city," Ahk said, coming up behind you till his breath fell sudden on your shoulder. You jumped slightly, but arms around your waist stilled you, pulling you into an unfortunately familiar warmth. "How does that sound?"

You said nothing, staring into the silent night.

"We can go through the markets," he suggested, shifting so he held you tighter. "If you want for anything, I will give it to you. I'm sure you've gone through many markets unable to afford anything, so now's a chance to make up for some of that."

"... thank you," you said, very nearly whispered, as hesitance seized you fiercely. Giving into his words––you said you'd never do that. He was not threatening you in any way, so why would you try to please him?

"Are you tired yet?" He asked.

"Not especially," you said, voice still strained.

"How does a game of Senet sound, then?"

"I've... never heard of it," you said honestly, glancing to the side as your fingers fiddled with each other.

"Really? I think you'll quite like it. It's a game of wits and chance. Are you interested?"

You paused before saying, "sure."

He grinned, leaving you alone in the moonlit room as he raced to the servants bringing in his personal belongings. While you waited, you stared out the massive, pale arches, bright as the moon in the perfectly clear sky. Barely a breeze passed by, leaving the warm, humid climate to cling to your skin, slowing your breath as peace reached you. Thebes was nice––just not the city. The countryside was beautiful, and Ahkmenrah's home here was beautiful.

It was not hard for a room to be better than your previous room, tied up in the middle of inescapable stone walls, still you took special care to appreciate the freedom here. Yes, there was a large drop between the pristine upper floor and the ground, but that hardly mattered to you. By your reckoning, you could milk Ahkmenrah's affection for you. If he truly would not let you go, you might as well make the most of it, and earn whatever you longed for in your poorer life.

Steps echoing in the empty hall grew closer, leading to the creaking hinges of the large, wooden doors behind you. You turned, coming to see the Pharaoh grinning like a dope, entirely uncharacteristic for his royal attire.

"I brought my board from home, but I've got one here as well. Made of crystal and ivory, actually, but I don't like it as much as my wooden one," he said, rambling as he set the board down on the carpeted floor.

The board was presented as a tiny, rectangular table with black and red squares for the pieces to move on. Dark wood legs held up the board, within which was contained a drawer filled with the pieces, numbering two pairs of five. One style was a long pillar with a head on top, and the other was a round-base pyramid.

Over the course of the next couple minutes, Ahkmenrah explained the rules to you, how the pieces moved forward, and that whoever got all their pieces off first won. The basics were gone over, but you soon started without much knowledge on how to play. He taught as you went along, and soon you were truly playing, concentrated deeply on your strategy and how to win. There were a few different tactics you could try to slow down Ahk or speed yourself up, but as you grew engrossed in the game, you hardly noticed the smile spreading across the Pharaoh's face.

"You might actually beat me," he said as you took another one of his pieces, sending it back five paces.

"What, you didn't think I was smart enough at first?" You said with an almost sly grin.

"No, I – actually," he paused, "yes. Sorry. I might've underestimated you."

"Don't worry," you said, handing the dice to him. "You're not the first."

"Really?"

"I ran into this stand at one point. It was a man who took your coin and hid it under one of three cups, switched them all up, and asked you where the coins were. If you got it right, you were paid in double, and if you got it wrong, he took your money."

"Basic deal."

"Yes. I came as a young child, a stranger to the city. He thought I'd be easy prey, so he did his trick, but I noticed he was dropping the coins off the edge of the table and into his lap. So I pick-pocketed him for all the money he took from people."

"That... doesn't sound like he underestimated your smarts so much as underestimating your conniving."

"Perhaps so," you said, moving another one of your pieces to steal one of his, sending it back by three. "But for me, the two go hand in hand."

"I can see," he chuckled, his blush visible even in the moonlight.

After a long time spent finishing the game, as the last move off the board had to be an exact number, you won mostly by chance. Still you cheered, grinning satisfied as Ahk held his head low in failure. He chuckled though, his shoulders shaking with the silent laughter, bringing you great gratification.

"Where did you learn these tactics?"

"Ever been to Nubia?"

"A couple times," he said, looking to the side as he attempted to recall it. "My father was rather cruel to them, so I try not to visit too much. They don't really like the royal family."

"Understandably so," you said with crossed arms, watching him deftly pick up the pieces and cram them back in the drawer. "They memorized your father's military movements, and I assumed you learned your own tactics from him. Applying that to the fact that you're more passive aggressive than actually aggressive, I decided you'd probably be more on defensive, creating strong barriers instead of stealing my pieces."

"... Wow."

"You're also less likely to overcome my pieces because you're trying to gain my favor."

"Okay, I don't need an in depth analysis of my childhood and psyche," he said, holding his hand up but still laughing.

"You asked," you reminded him.

"I did. And I'd like to hear more, when I'm conscious enough to actually understand it," he said as he set away the board. He returned quickly to you, pulling you into a tight hug, before promptly releasing you with a kiss to your neck.

"Tired?"

"Mhm," he hummed, hand trailing down to tangle in yours.

Once affirmed of your presence, he led you along the barren, white floor, your reflections standing beneath you with chests pressed together. The plush of linen sheets and pillows caught you when he pushed you, and soon your body was cradled by the bed and overshadowed by the Pharaoh above you. Crownless, barren of cape or gold, and caught enraptured in your eyes.

As he loomed above you, seemingly caught in his adoration for you, you noted with much confusion that you were breathing normally. Your heart raced horribly in your chest, that still remained a constant sickness. Yet your muscles relaxed, sleepiness seeping into your bones, hypnotized by his loving gaze.

"You're cute," he said with a sudden, wide smile. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you put your hands on his face, pushing him away. He just laughed, falling over onto his back.

"Go to sleep," you told him, lying down on your side.

"Very well. But in the morning," he leaned over your turned shoulder, kissing your cheek, "be ready to be out in public with me."

His arms once more wrapped tight around your middle, tugging you into his heat as he tucked you under his chin. You had several questions, both concerning his statement and other things, but you decided to wait until tomorrow. Tears were budding in your eyes from your incessant yawning, and sleep was a blink away.

You dreamed of a lake that night––laced with lily pads, blue and purple petals sprouting from green buds. Inside each pocket full of pollen, a sun glowed and illuminated your searching fingers. A black stone sky towered above you, dark and cold with wind, creating a deep contrast between it and the warm water.

You awoke to a different stone sky, shaped in the same dome. This one was made of white quartz, carved delicately, and lit by the strength of the sun. Recognition came to you instantaneously, and you recalled the trip to Thebes and the game from the night before. The only difference was the absence of heat, of pressure on your waist, breath on your neck. Sitting up, you realized you were alone in the room. How rare a chance––unsupervised, with massive windows beside you that you could easily climb out of.

Before you could even think of how to act in the presence of such opportunity, the doors slowly opened, revealing Ahk with a tray in his hand. You furrowed your brow. Couldn't he have asked one of his servants to get that? Or in the very least, open the door for him.

"I have never claimed to be a chef. I want you to know that before you eat this," he said, which was a very alarming thing to be told before being presented a meal.

"Ummm..."

"That sounded bad. Let me restart. I am not a very good cook, but I did what I could."

"Why can't the chefs cook?"

"I'm not asking anyone to work during the Opet festival," he said with a frown, before calling out, "Naguib?!"

"Yeah?" He called back, footsteps soon nearing.

"What about him?" You asked.

"Oh, he's not here for work," Ahk said in a bright tone, looking over his shoulder to see Naguib entering the room.

"I'm just here to make sure he doesn't burn down the house," Naguib chuckled, leaning on the door frame.

"Yes, and thank you for that. Come here," Ahk said, motioning the servant either. He dutifully obeyed, and Ahk pulled out a small pouch, handing it to him. "Have fun."

"Thank you, sir," Naguib said, bowing to the King before ducking out.

"Funny little man, that," Ahk said once he was sure Naguib was out of sight.

"How so?" You asked, mildly amused at their antics.

"He's the only one who can switch readily between free time and work time. Not many people have that switch, you know," he said, turning back to you.

"Do you?"

"I like to think so. What do you think?" He raised himself to tower above you, his expression suddenly falling into a shadowed cold. "Can I put on the face of a King?"

That cocky bastard knew the answer perfectly well. A man so aware of his own emotions, of the way he carried himself, would obviously know about this aspect of himself. Many go their whole lives without ever cracking into who they truly are; but not the Pharaoh. He knew every crevice of himself, and he used it to his advantage. Every weakness hidden. Every strength glorified.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, a cocky smirk on his face as you emerged from your thoughts.

You frowned.

"Oh, don't pout now, pet," he cooed as his finger trailed down the side of your face. "Let's see how breakfast turned out, hmm?"

He soothed and gained your vice attention at once with that little motion, that little motion he'd used a number of times before. Like himself, he had taken it upon himself to know you, to understand why you reacted in certain ways just as much as how you reacted. His expression gave little of that information away, so instead you turned to the tray and scanned its' contents.

You first noticed the wooden bowl of dates, set off in the corner of the platter beside two slats of seared meat. In the middle of it all was the largest plate, upon which he had placed an array of stirfry vegetables, garnished with an anise flower. Two cups were set to the side, filled with a faintly yellow tea. You reached for that first, as you had no idea what it was, and curiosity was always your main concern.

"What is this?" You asked, scanning the drink thoroughly.

"Blue lotus tea. Couldn't find any stores of beer, and I wanted to show you the flower. It's quite helpful in a number of things, medicinally... and recreationally," he said, biting at his bottom lip as he took the other glass.

"So... a drug," you said, raising a single brow.

"You could say that," he said as he took a sip, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Why don't I trust you?"

"Because I'm untrustworthy," he said, winking.

In the end you did end up drinking the tea, and the honey stirred within the warm water had you finishing the entire cup. Along with that, the two of you ate the various dishes Ahk had made with the help of Naguib, finding most of them––in the very least––edible. The meat was definitely burnt, and the stirfry was a little heavy on the anise. Overall, not bad––you probably shouldn’t expect more than that from a Pharaoh who had been handfed all his life.

He dressed himself once all was said and done concerning breakfast, twirling in the mirror to scan every inch of his outfit. There was no effort within it to conceal his identity as Pharaoh––in fact, it was enlarged, prominent and obvious on every golden brace and silk thread imbued within it. A regal, tall crown made of gold and bearing a poised cobra ended it all off, concealing the soft brown curls atop his head.

A few questions remained on the tip of your tongue, waiting for your brain to decide it was the right time to ask. After a little while of holding back, you decided that the 'right' moment would never come, and asked your question forthwith.

"Why are we here again?" You asked, thoughtlessly rubbing the sheets between your thumb and forefinger.

"The Opet festival," he answered, preening his cape. "It's an event that celebrates the strength of the Pharaoh. It'll be my first... since my father gave up the throne. We pray and make offerings to Amun, and the commonfolk are welcomed to ask their own prayers upon Amun's statue. Perhaps you've noticed it?"

Ah. That would explain the 11 foot tall statue made of gold.

"We'll be celebrating wealth for a little while, but in a week we take the barge to Luxor, where we shall enter the temple of Amun, and hopefully converse with the Gods. Amun, specifically."

"Yeah, I gathered that much. So all that food... it's offerings for this God?"

"Some of it, yes. Everyone brings their own offerings, and as I am a man of plenty, I brought plenty of offerings. It is also our duty as the government and protector of the people to replenish my citizens' energy, and so much of that food is actually for those who travel days and weeks to pray at Amun's feet. You, and the worshippers of Amun, will be well-looked after," he said, taking your hands softly in his and coercing you to your feet.

"Is that how it's always been?"

"As long as I remember. It wavers with cruel leaders... but never really vanishes. Our magic is as important as night and day, essential as fruitful trees, and as entwined with our lives as water. It is hard to break the worship engrained in generations."

While he spoke, he began to undress you, pulling at the buttons and knots until the fabric fell from you. Off your shoulders, off your hips, down your arms, until the white linen pooled on the marble floor. Soon you stood naked before him, but he kept his eyes on yours. Never strayed from your given attention.

"I know you don't adhere to our religion. I want you to know I don't mind. I would not force you into anything, especially not something as controversially widespread as religion," he said, cocking his chin upwards with a smile.

He took your hand again and led you out of the room. Chill breeze brushed by your naked stomach, sending shivers down the sensitive skin so readily bared. Once you reached the main entrance room, he let go of your hand, kneeling to dig into one of the massive bags packed before the trip. Most of them had been dumped in the front room, as the servants and soldiers were tired and ready for sleep the night before.

You attempted to look over his shoulder, an endeavor that was fruitless as it was needless. Soon he found what he was looking for, and he turned to you, presenting it in his open arms.

"Your clothes. From before. I had them washed and packed," he said, handing them to you.

Everything was there. Your long, red vest coat, your skirt with the panel tied into the waist, your buttoned shirt with the collar raised high onto your neck. Things you didn't genuinely expect to see again, and certainly not in the same shape as before.

"Thank you," you murmured, brow furrowed as you flipped through the layers. Without haste you pulled on the skirt, settling into your stolen shirt and the long coat over it. The only thing missing was your weapon––a staff with two spikes hammered into the end. Not the greatest weapon, but it served you well.

"New places can make me nervous, and personally it helps when I have something familiar with me. So I understand why you wanted them back."

"Yes, it's... good to be back in my clothes. Your style is a little much for me," you confessed, remembering the dress with no coverage of your chest except the straps holding the skirt up. A skirt that was see through.

"That's alright. I'm confused by yours as well."

If you were told anything by the various Egyptians you'd met in your travels, it was that Egypt was hot. Always sunny. Always humid. As you looked upwards, wide eyes meeting the grey sky, you nearly jumped. It had been a while since you'd seen a fully overcast sky, where clouds blocked out the sun and the horizons.

"Hmm," Ahk hummed as the two of you left the tiny palace, his hand encasing yours.

"Is it usually like this here?" You asked, looking up to Ahk. To your surprise, you had to squint, the sun still shining bright, white light through the fog.

"No," he said, beginning to walk down the steps, and taking you with. "Actually, it's usually a tad warmer than Memphis. No problem. I'm sure it'll clear out before the ceremony. We've got a week, after all."

He took you into the unfamiliar streets, through graffitied walls until stone turned to marble, great pillars surrounding a massive circle market. Stalls of various types spiraled down into the middle, where a towering obelisk overlooked all trade. Indecipherable hieroglyphs lined each side, though the base of the black stone remained invisible, hidden behind wooden stalls.

Once you entered the center, you noted brick beneath your feet, black stones running into a spiral in the midst of the white bricks. If you followed the path of the black stones, you would find yourself in the center of the market. As tantalizing as that exploration sounded, your hand was firmly set in Ahk's palm, and he had different plans.

You must've passed by a dozen carts before he finally stopped, halting you before a wooden stand showcasing a number of scarves. Each held a sheerness so intricate that you could see straight through it. The seller noticed your amazement, an amazement that had to be common, as he knew exactly what had caught your attention.

"These are made out of silk from China. Wonderful seamstresses they have, there. So thin you may draw the whole shawl through a common ring," the seller said, thumbing through a couple before pulling a blood red scarf out from beneath the stack.

He pulled a ring off his finger, and with great care, threaded the whole scarf through it. Before you could even react to the performance, Ahk was pulling a handful of coins out of his purse and setting them on the counter. The seller grinned, thanked him for the purchase, and just like that the interaction was complete. Ahk took your hand once more and led you away, continuing through the outer ring of the market.

"Beautiful color, isn't it?" He said, watching the way it wrinkled and fell in his hand. You made to nod, but paused as his arms drew over your head, placing the scarf over your shoulders.

"This is yours," you tried to say, but he shushed you, tutting sweetly.

"It's yours. And it looks fantastic on you," he said with a smile, pulling your entwined hands to his lips, where he kissed the back of your hand.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying your best not to say anything. That's how this day would go––he would buy you anything you looked at, flaunt his wealth in your face, utterly spoiling you in front of a whole city. Already your face felt as though it were aflame, nervous eyes set fiercely on the ground in front of you.

Along the way, Ahk stopped at a few jewelry carts, where he bought you an array of golden bracelets, faience necklaces, and ivory rings. It wasn't long till there was barely any room left for new gifts, though you suspected that was his plan.

"Here," he said, pausing your stride with a hand on your chest. "One of my friends here in Thebes runs a bakery. He makes the best tiger rolls I've ever had."

Must be good considering how much of them he's had, you thought dully. As usual, you kept your thought to yourself, and followed Ahk inside without complaint.

You were no longer scared of Ahk, you realized, watching him greet his friend with a gusto you rarely ever saw. He was just... irritating. Annoyingly sweet, painfully perceptive, and desperate to earn your favor. The things he dragged you along to do with him were the worst––markets too crowded for your tastes, too rich and uptight for your liking, or boats that you clearly stated you were uncomfortable being on.

The only good part was that outside, he didn't pay as much attention to you. While sitting around in the palace, his hands wandered you constantly, eyes set unmoving upon your body. He memorized those curves, the dips, the intricate veins, and the way you moved in those long hours. Outside, he was preoccupied with other stimulus and left you mostly alone.

Bitterness settled on your tongue. Your old routine was entirely lost, cast to the wind by the Pharaoh's greedy hands. The routine you loved, that kept you sane, and more importantly, kept you moving.

"Do you want anything, Amoke?" Ahk asked, leaning in to speak more intimately. You, of course, shied away, but was mostly stopped by Ahk's hand on your upper arm.

"Um... no. I'm not very hungry," you mumbled, and though he paused to glare suspiciously at you, he relented.

"Alright," he said, kissing your forehead before rushing back to the counter.

With a bag of tiger rolls in hand you left, Ahk continuing to pull you along just as before. This time he did take you down the spiral, and as you passed each stall, you realized it was a conglomeration of different cultures; an amalgamation of the western world. Art from Mali caught your eye. You had gone through there a few times, and the style of their statues had always intrigued you.

The Pharaoh noted your interest, and paused to take you there. He let you decide what you wanted, payed for it in full, and complimented your taste.

"You have a good eye," he had said, "for the divine."

"The divine?" you repeated, looking down at the statue. The form of a plush woman lay in your hands, smooth stone showcasing wide hips, large breasts, and a tiny head.

"A woman, a mortal who creates life, is as close to Gods as we will ever be," he said, looking over your shoulder to scan the figure as well.

The crowd had yet to notice the golden fabric of a Pharaoh, but the singular citizens who did notice were shellshocked, and hadn't the right mind to react at all. Dumbfoundedness gave way the closer you got to the center of the market, and by the time the black pyre casted you entirely in shadow, people were bowing at the King's feet, murmuring astounded praise as he passed by.

You looked up to gauge Ahk's mindset, finding something that terrified you more than it should have; he was smiling. Self-satisfied, pride puffing out his chest, silently declaring their praise to be a necessity.

A man intoxicated by his own fumes is dangerous––you knew that all too well, and fear began to seep back into your image of him, sending mold that tore down your irritation and replaced it with nauseous anxiety. His hand holding yours was now an anchor that sank you into a bottomless sea, instead of the earlier annoyance.

The combination of your own growing panic and the increasingly loud and desperate voices of the crowd sent you into overdrive. Hands reached up from bowed heads to touch the face of Ahkmenrah, to feel his grace and holiness overtake their bodies. Prayers surrounded you, and with the Pharaoh preoccupied, you fell to the ground and crawled out of the mass of the black land's people.

Once free from the writhing confines, you left the market sniffling, headed for somewhere lonelier. You hated to rely on others to heal you, but for a moment you longed for Haji. He had been kind to you. He would understand. Ahkmenrah didn't, and he never would––you swore this to yourself, your back sliding down the graffitied wall of someone's home.

Hiding your face in your hands, you pressed your knees to your chest, and curled up tight. No one would bother you; you looked like a homeless person, after all.

"Amoke?" Came a soft voice from above you.

You didn't move.

"Let's get home," Ahk murmured, his hands slowly moving up your arms till he gracefully pulled you to your feet.

Your eyes, once hidden and blurred, now opened to the grey light of today.

Ahk had no clothes on.

That was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was that he was smiling apologetically at you, nervous tics appearing as he chewed on his lip.

"Why are you naked?" You asked in a pathetically weak voice.

"Well, um... it was a little hard to leave the crowd, so I removed all my identifiers. They'll probably steal my clothes, so, um.. hopefully Naguib packed my other nice outfit," he said, beginning the walk back home. You followed quickly behind, still going over his bare skin.

"You could've left your underwear on, you know," you said.

"Oh." He paused. "The thought hadn't occurred to me."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted as you trudged up the little hill. By the time you reached the doors of the tiny palace, the silence had stretched uncomfortably between you, and you were eager to hide away.

Ahk pulled the door open for you and said, "I'm sorry, by the way," before following after you and shutting the door behind him. The click of metal echoed in the empty, marble house, bouncing off the bare walls.

"For what?" You asked, unable to face him as your voice cracked.

"Bringing you to the market while I'm all dressed up. I knew I would get a lot of attention, but I didn't know how it would affect you," he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your head into his chest to hug you.

For a moment you were comforted, until you very abruptly realized that he was still naked. At that point you wriggled out of his grasp, though your plan backfired a little, as the moment you drew away your eyes scanned the entirety of him, from his feet to his head, and he ardently noticed your interest. Your panic had absorbed you so entirely that you hardly felt your cheeks burning with a bright red blush.

"I'll... go put some clothes on," he said with a smile, shaking his head.

He left you alone in the big, empty drawing room, occupied by a vacant kitchen on the far side of the house, and three bags of luggage laid haphazardly in the middle. Your steps that took you deeper into the walls echoed around you, causing you to move slow and careful.

Eventually you explored the whole of the room, finding a small door to the right of the entrance, one that led into a long pathway. The chill wind snuck through the thick hedges as you padded down the stone walkway, lines of sand between the rocks sticking to the bottom of your feet. Through the thin walls, you glimpsed a sliver of a garden, the sight of a white fountain bringing the sound of rushing water to you.

The fountain, alabaster centerpiece of the small garden, flowed with crystal clear water that pooled on the ground in such depth that lilies had sprouted from the bottom. Green pads floated on the cool water, and the blue lotus flowers were all closed up in the sun's absence. The trail that had led you there continued within it, circling the fountain, and ultimately leading to a small, sandstone gazebo.

You sat on the gazebo's step, elbow on your knee as you leaned your cheek on the palm of your hand. Here the wind was not as harsh, only occasionally brushing against your hair, though the cold had yet to cease. It was a good explanation for the silent garden, barren of animal life. No, this was a haven of silence, of loneliness, and of plants. Beautiful, quiet plants.

As many things as there were on your mind, there was nothing truly in your head. Abstract ideas and emotions relating to your position, to your relationship with Ahkmenrah, to the tired nerves burnt out from your earlier panic.

"It's a bit cold," Ahk murmured in his low voice, placing a blanket over your hunched shoulders.

You whirled around to see Ahkmenrah standing above you, fully clothed. With a slight huff he sat down beside you, settling onto the hard step, his thigh pressed to yours.

"I hate my life," you mumbled, falling and landing on Ahk. You could feel the way he tensed, how his breath caught in his throat at the given contact.

"I –"

"And it's all your fault," you said, face still hidden in his shoulder.

"... I know."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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suwya · 4 years ago

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3

A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!

Chapter 6 . .

Be not inhospitable to strangers,

lest they be angels in disguise.

(W. B. Yeats)

When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.

He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.

Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.

“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.

Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”

“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”

“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.

“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”

“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.

“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”

“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”

“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”

“No problem.”

While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.

“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.

“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.

Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”

Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”

“A while.” Another elusive answer.

He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”

“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”

“And Emma?”

“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”

After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.

He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.

Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.

~·~·~·~

Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.

During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”

“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”

The boy greeted him with a wide grin.

Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”

“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.

“I see. And why are you…?”

Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.

“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.

“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”

The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”

The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”

“Why boring?”

Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.

“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”

Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.

~·~·~·~

Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.

All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.

But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.

So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.

David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.

Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”

She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.

“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.

“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”

“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.

The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”

After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.

She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.

Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”

“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.

Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.

Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.

“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.

At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”

~·~·~·~

Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.

Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.

He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.

“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.

She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.

Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.

“And she for you, I take it?”

Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.

“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.

Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”

The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.

“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”

~·~·~·~

The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.

After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.

Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”

Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.

Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.

But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.

Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.

“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”

The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”

“Thank you, mate.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.

“May I help?” Henry barged in.

A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.

“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.

“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.

Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”

The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.

“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”

“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.

“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.

Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”

~·~·~·~

If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.

There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.

Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.

On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.

And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.

Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.

Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.

Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?” She purred.

Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.

Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.

“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.

Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.

“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.

~·~·~·~

Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”

He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”

He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.

In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.

He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.

Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.

“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”

She didn’t answer.

Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.

She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”

She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe #science fiction #space au #my writing

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neokids · 4 years ago

Text

Fortune's Fool: Act IV

Introduction

Cast

Act I

Act II

Act III

Act V

Act IV

Tw: Lots of blood, character death, violence, murder, guns, knives, weapons, foul language, self-inflicted wounds, suicide, overall graphic content

“I don’t see anything.”

Jeno decided to further poke at whatever he was looking at. They were currently on the boardwalk near Han river, where the very first gruesome incident had occurred.

“Shut up and keep looking.”

They had yet to find anything suspicious, or anything “monster” related, the dock just seemed normal to them. No signs of tragedy even. They had been wandering around the docks for hours now, and the two were getting bored. Jeno, however, persisted.

“Ya Jeno. Jeno-ya. Jeno Lee–”

“For fuck’s sake what?! What is it Jaemin? If you don’t stop, I will not hesitate to throw you in this river right now.”

Jeno turned around to see a crouching Jaemin, obviously wanting to go home. If they weren’t at the docks right now going on a search, Jaemin would sure be enjoying painting whatever it was on his mind. Jeno couldn’t go home without anything to present his father, he could already imagine the look on his face, disappointed yet again. Earlier this morning, Lord Lee had met Jeno just before he left. He gripped Jeno’s shoulder while muttering the words: “Don’t let me down, son.”

To a passerby, the scene was normal, just a father and son having a conversation, but Lord Lee had actually gripped Jeno’s shoulder a little bit too hard, causing a red and almost bruised grip mark to form. Thinking about it made him touch his shoulder again. The word son actually felt more like a threat to him, rather than a word of affection.

He was too lost in thought only to be brought back by the sound of Jaemin groaning,

“You know you volunteered to go with us, right? You were even so excited to go on what you call a ‘mystery hunt’” Jeno said, causing Jaemin to look up at him.

“That was because I thought this case would be interesting, we’ve been here for hours looking for nothing! This is starting to feel like a game of hide-and-seek where everyone was already inside while the person was still counting to a 100,” Jaemin huffed as he stood up, now maintaining eye contact with Jeno.

“All too familiar with that situation, are we?” Haechan decided to butt in their conversation after hearing what Jaemin had said causing Jeno to barely hold back his laughter.

Back when they were kids, all the Lee children decided to play hide and seek, with Jaemin being the person to find them. They agreed upon this since he wasn’t a Lee, so he should be it. Jaemin started to count to ten, only to hear Haechan scream that he should repeat it and count to 100, and so he did. What Jaemin didn’t know was that Haechan had silently told everyone to go back inside to their respective rooms, and only show up until it was time for dinner. Let’s just say that Jaemin spent the whole night crying because he was so stupid, he even refused to eat dinner, he was so sure that he would be met with Haechan’s teasing nonstop. That is until a very thoughtful Jeno had brought food up to his room, and apologized on Haechan’s behalf.

“Shut up before I throw you into this river.” Jaemin said, challenging Haechan only for the latter to just shrug and continue his search.

“Christ it reeks in here.” Jaemin further complained, “At least it smells like rotten fish, not like rotten bodies.” Jeno countered. Jaemin stopped in his tracks to look at his best friend, “Is there a difference?”

“Jeno,” Haechan called and waved for him to come closer,

“What? Did you find something?” Jeno immediately went to his cousin’s direction.

“Of course not.” With that, Jeno smacked his cousin right on the head.

“Look, I don’t think there are any more places we could search. I mean we searched this place top to bottom already, I don’t think we missed anything.” Haechan said, looking up at his cousin.

Well technically, even if they did manage to find something, what would they do with it? There was no one to question, no one to blame, no suspects to interrogate, this was a tragedy caused by the victims themselves. The people who had died were the only suspects.

“People say that there was another attack here last night.” Haechan added as he stood up, Jeno tearing his gaze away from the waters of Han river and back to his cousin.

“Well then that’s great!” Jaemin exclaimed quite too enthusiastically. This only caused the Lee cousins to look at him as if he was the craziest man alive. Jaemin on the other hand, had just realized what he had said, he didn’t mean it that way.

“I mean– the new location, not the attack… Sorry ‘bout that. Let’s move along to the new crime scene shall we?” Jaemin finally exclaimed, fully ready to get going. He was already making his way towards the alleged crime scene when he was pulled back by Jeno.

“We can’t, it happened in Viper territory.” This only caused Jaemin and Haechan to look at each other then back at Jeno.

“And how did you know exactly where it had happened?” Jaemin asked, crossing his arms, Haechan just eyed him suspiciously, “My father had sent me to obtain any information they had regarding the very first attack. The second attack happened in the Poculum, a man suddenly collapsed and… well you know what happens next.”

“Well? Was any information obtained?” Haechan asked, his turn to cross his arms. Jeno only shook his head no. “She said they knew nothing.” A moment had passed in confused silence,

“She? She knew nothing?” Haechan echoed, Jaemin tilting his head rather very confused. “Who’s this ‘she’ we’re talking about?” Jaemin decided to also question Jeno. Jeno looked at the two of them, only to turn his gaze towards the murky waters of Han river. “Yeji Hwang,” He answered rather quietly. The two could only blink at Jeno, then suddenly a loud bang could be heard all throughout the dock, Haechan had accidentally knocked over the crates he was leaning on.

“Yeji?!” Haechan exclaimed,

“Yeji is back?!” Jaemin decided to add as well.

Jeno could only keep his gaze on the water. A sudden sharpness towards his chest, made its way to his head. The feeling did not go away no matter how hard he tried, hearing her name out loud definitely did not help. It hurt to even say her name.

Actually, not too far from here is where he had first met her. They were both still just kids, hoping to get away from their respective households. Jeno had decided to take a break from riding his bike to stop and sit by the Han river. Back then, it was much more clean and much more fresh. A very shocking contrast to the polluted and dirty water now. It was funny how the water, just like them, turned darker and darker over time. It was a symbol of how unclean and impure the water was, just like them. As time went on, the more bad things they had done. Causing their souls to get tainted. If people were all born with pure white souls, theirs would have been pitch black by now. Dark as the water in Han river.

Yeji just so happened to lose her balance right in front of him, cliche they know. Thankfully, a very sweet Jeno had helped her get back up. Ever since that day, they would meet everyday to just play and bike around. They were not Lees nor Hwangs, but simply just kids who played.

“Yeah, she is.” Jeno confirmed as his fists were balled against his sides. He let out a shaky breath as he stood up.

He had heard rumors of what Yeji had done, all the lives she took, crimes committed causing the people of Seoul to become terrified of the heiress. He had hoped that maybe those were just rumors, nothing but lies to scare enemies away, but when they confronted each other last night and had looked each other in the eyes, he knew that they were all true.

She was a killer, a criminal, violent, callous, and ruthless– that is what she was now.

He felt sorry for her, he didn’t want to, but he did. He couldn’t help the fact that the Yeji he knew way back was slowly disappearing now. If not, had completely disappeared. It didn’t settle nicely to him knowing that he was the cause of the sudden change of heart in her. In those 4 years she was gone, Jeno had still dreamed about her. In those 4 years, who couldn’t help but miss her. Her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her everything.

But he does not regret what he has done.

“What in the animal planet is this?” Haechan said as he crouched down to pick up the crates he had previously knocked over, only to find mysterious looking objects scattered on the floor.

At first glance, the mysterious objects looked like scattered peppercorns on the ground, maybe a merchant had unfortunately dropped their spices and refused to clean the mess up. But at further inspection, the so-called “peppercorns” had tiny legs and with dysmorphic bodies the size of an infant’s fingernail. It was pitch black and shiny as well. Haechan, realizing what he was holding were in fact, dead insects, had instantly dropped the insects on the floor with a loud yelp. The insects fell on the floor similar to how grains of rice were if they had been dropped.

Hearing Haechan suddenly yelp in disgust immediately alerted Jeno and Jaemin to head toward his way. When they reached the sight, all three were silent. The mysterious insects scattered on the ground were nothing like what they had seen before.

“Are those… dead flies?” Jaemin asked, unsure of himself.

“How are those dead flies when they can’t even fly? They don’t have wings,” Jeno said while he pointed to the closest insect near him. “Jaem check the other crates and Haechan give me your bag.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Jeno only glared at him as he extended his arm out in order for Haechan to give him his bag. “But I just got this and it’s limited edition and I had to search–”

“Haechan,” Jeno warned, “Give me your bag.”

With a disgusted look on Haechan’s face, he gave Jeno his bag. He watched as his cousin scooped a handful of the insects and put them all in his bag. “Why couldn’t you just put them in your pockets for Christ’s sake.” Haechan complained as he was given his bag full of unidentified insects, “They would get squished obviously. Plus my pants are new.” Jeno said, giving Haechan a playful wink,this only caused Haechan’s eye to twitch.

“There’s nothing here,” Jaemin said as he was carefully putting the crates back in place, the two Lees were already making their way towards Jaemin when they heard voices of merchants coming their way. There was no sight of any Neo-owned fishing boat, that only meant they were in the vicinity of the Vipers.

“Perfect timing, might I add.” Haechan said as he looked at a panicking Jeno and Jaemin, and before the two could react, Haechan already gave them both a rough push. Soon enough, all three of them were quickly submerged in the polluted water of the Han river. They swam underneath the boardwalk in hopes of not getting seen by the incoming merchants. They heard distant voices quickly fading out in the background. As soon as the coast was clear, Jaemin grabbed a fistful of Haechan’s hair and submerged his head in the water.

“Ya! You didn’t have to push me! We could have just opted to hide behind the boats stupid-ass.” Jaemin said, as he released Haechan. “They were walking towards the boats smart-ass.” Haechan retorted as he splashed water towards Jaemin’s direction. While the two were arguing back and forth on what they should and should not have done, Jeno was busy scanning the whole area. Suddenly, a floating shoe had caught his attention. Leaving the two behind, Jeno swiftly swam to the said object. Upon further inspection, the shoe was what he thought it was.

“Oy!” He quickly called out, causing the two to stop and turn their attention to him. “Do you know who this belonged to?” The other two tilted their heads. “A stingy man who decided to take a swim here in Han river who managed to forget his shoe?” Jaemin asked sarcastically.

Haechan could no longer stand any more of their current situation so he started to swim towards the land while the two were quick to follow suit. As soon as they were back on their feet, Jeno called for the attention of the two.

“This belonged to the man who clawed himself to death last night, the man who died in the Poculum.” He grabbed Haechan’s bag as he started to walk away fast. “This means that the man was here too. Let’s go, we need to take this to Doyoung and Kun.”

“Can’t we at least change into some dry clothes?” Haechan said as he squeezed his polo shirt. Jeno only turned back and rolled his eyes, “You’ll be dry by the time you get–”

“Oy,” Jaemin suddenly interrupted, he suddenly narrowed his eyes at the water they were previously submerged in. “Did.. did you see that?”

When the two looked at the water, all they saw were their silly reflections staring back at them. They looked at Jaemin as if he was a mad man, but when they saw the look of confusion and disbelief on his face, something told them that Jaemin wasn’t trying to be funny.

“Are you trying to be funny right now, Jaem?” Haechan asked, quite annoyed causing Jaemin to look back at them. There was something on his dead-serious face that caused an uneasy feeling to settle in their guts. “Never..never mind. I thought I saw eyes in the water, holy shit I need to lay off drinking too much espressos.” He said, scrubbing his eyes.

“Where?” Jeno asked as he scooted towards Jaemin. “In the water, but it could have been just my imagination,” Jaemin said as he looked at Jeno.

“But why would you imagine eyes in the water?” Jeno asked as he grabbed Jaemin, a sign to get going.

“You’ve heard the whispers right?” Haechan asked, only causing the three of them to halt, yet again.

“A monster.”

Only then, when said out loud, did Jeno realize how unbelievable it was. A monster? Running loose in the city? Only for it to jump in the river? In broad daylight? Jasmine was right, it did remind him of all the scary stories he would tell her when they were younger. Jeno then beckoned his friends to start moving.

“You can’t seriously believe that, can you?” Jeno asked Haechan, picking up his pace.

“Hey you never know, you know? For all I care this madness could have been from the river or something like that.” Haechan said as he tried to match Jeno’s awfully fast pace. “Whatever, let’s just keep moving.”

By the time they arrived back near the Neo mansion, they had already been completely dried. Jeno had stopped abruptly in front of their lab, panting trying to catch his breath. This caused Haechan to accidentally topple and collide with Jeno. Jaemin in the meanwhile, lost his balance and was now holding on to Jeno’s arm like a lost child.

“Sorry, tripped on this.” Jaemin said as he regained his balance. It was a flyer from the rovers, aka the people who didn’t side with neither the Vipers nor the Neos. It had this written in big bold red letters: SAVE YOURSELVES FROM THE MADNESS, GET VACCINATED!

“Give me that,” Jeno demanded as he snatched the flyer from Jaemin, he quickly folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket. “Come on, they should be closing up by now.”

As they entered the building, no Neo employee bothered to tell them off. No one should be entering the lab at this hour, especially now since they were all excited to head home. But of course, Jeno Lee was above all laws, he was the Neo heir after all. The only reason these employees were even getting some sort of pay was because of him.

“Doyoung? Kun? Are you still here?” Jeno asked as they reached the second floor of the lab. The second floor was for the more trusted scientists such as Doyoung and Kun. They were the ones responsible for making powerful weapons that could bomb a whole house down.

“Up here!” A voice had exclaimed, Jeno immediately following the said voice in a quick motion. Jaemin and Haechan were already on the verge of collapsing, but they still followed him.

Upon their arrival, Kun could only furrow his brows. It was usually only just Jasmine or Jeno, he didn’t expect for other people to arrive. Nonetheless, guessing they were with Jeno, they were of high ranks as well.

“What brings you here today hmm?” Kun asked as he set down the tablecloth he had just used to wipe his counter. His part of the lab was much more organized and clean than what was presented downstairs. He and Doyoung would always fight on who had a cleaner workspace, only for Jasmine to mess both up. “If you’re here for the cartel, we’re not yet quite finished with that.”

Jeno could only wince. Of course Kun had assumed that Jeno was there to follow up on the drugs, what else could he be there for? Just before Kun could answer, his attention was already on Haechan and Jaemin, but more of the latter.

“Ah, Jaemin Na, at your service.” Jaemin said as he extended a hand, Kun had paused since he wasn’t used to none-Lees visiting, but he still accepted. He then turned his attention to Haechan.

“What?” Haechan asked, did he expect him to introduce himself? But he was a Lee, was he not? Surely he knew me, Haechan thought. Jaemin nudged Haechan by the rib causing him to extend his hand as well. “Lee. Haechan Lee.” Kun only stared at him for a second before bursting into a fit of laughter. The three boys looked at each other, then looked at Kun. “I know.”

Haechan’s brow never twitched higher, causing Jaemin to laugh as well.

“We’re not here to nag you about the cartel, we need your opinion.” Jeno said as he set down his cousin’s bag, causing Haechan to grimace since he remembered what Jeno had placed inside. Jaemin also had a look of disgust on his face since they could hear the dead insects rattle inside.

“My opinion? Opinion on what?” Kun asked, a tad bit perplexed. “On this.”

Jeno dumped out all the contents inside the bag causing the insects to scatter all over Kun’s table. With no hesitation, Kun started poking and touching the insects, no sanitary measures whatsoever. This caused Jaemin to silently gag, and for Haechan to step back. “What is this exactly?” He asked, picking an insect up causing Haechan to further step back.

“We found them at the crime scene, where the first attack had happened.” Kun only looked at the insect closer. “So is this what you think may have caused the madness?”

Jeno, Jaemin, and Haechan could only look at each other.

You never know, you know? The words from his cousin suddenly echoed in Jeno’s head.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell us.” Jeno admitted, “It was the only evidence present anyways,”

“Or maybe a monster from the Han river had resurrected and decided to start this contagion.” Kun looked at Jaemin in a very, very, bored way. “Stop talking.” Haechan whispered to Jaemin, making him immediately shut up.

“That’s...interesting.” Kun suddenly said. The three thought that he was referring to Jaemin’s suggestion, turns out, he was referring to the insects.

“What’s interesting?” Jeno asked coming closer, beckoning Jaemin and Haechan to do so as well. Haechan had to shove Jaemin since he did not want anything to do with those mysterious looking peppercorns.

“I’ll show you.” Kun grabbed a lighter and lit one on fire. When the insect he had lit on fire started moving, so did the others left on the table. For a mere moment there, they thought that the insects were still alive. But when Kun put out the fire, the insect had stopped, and so did the ones on the table. “Whatever this thing is, it’s definitely not acting alone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeno had asked, hoping that he had not.

“It follows something. Whatever that something commands.”

Oh this was definitely not a work of nature.

#jeno mafia au #jeno smut #jeno angst #jeno fluff #jeno x yeji #nct jeno #dreamzy #nct mafia au #jeno mafia #jaemin mafia #yeji mafia #yeji itzy #yeji soft packs #nct dream mafia #aespa mafia

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professional-benaddict · 5 years ago

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Tony is a cop and he’s doing a drug raid, tony watches as druggies get arrested but when he sees one cop go to far with arresting a little! Peter by manhandling him and hitting him he takes matters into his own hands and takes the 19 year old boy in with medic Stephen.

tHank you for the brilliant prompt omg I know I said I wouldn't do prompts before my exam is over with but I just couldn't stop myself sksk I wrote this all in one sitting

part two here

Cop Tony, paramedic Stephen, 18+ Little Peter, Littles are known verse, police raids, SWAT teams, drug dealing, guns and violence, illegal drug use, referenced forced drug use, bad trip, whump, angst, comfort, 1.7k

It’s so odd, the feelings he has right before a raid. There’s electricity in the air, and yet it is peaceful and quiet. It is three in the morning, after all. Tony can hear his blood rush in his ear with each beat of his heart. It resembles how noises sound underwater, muffled and distant. And yet, he is as calm as ever, and breathes quietly as he looks at the office window. That’s their main target. They know that a week before, a large quantity of cocaine was smuggled in and brought to this exact location. A mule had told them, and so that was all the evidence they needed to start planning a raid.

Every step has been calculated carefully beforehand. No one takes a step without it being planned. The bullet proof vest pinches Tony in his left armpit, but he can’t reach out to adjust it. He tries to roll his shoulder, and it worsens the pinch before it eases off. His eyes never dart away from the dark office window.

Further down the street, a vehicle approaches. The headlights are turned off, and they are rolling in as quietly as possible, so that the element of surprise is not ruined. If it is, it could mean serious trouble. Suddenly, the danger of it all hits Tony, which it sometimes does when they are all anxiously anticipating the clear to go. His chest feels a bit tighter again, and it’s not due to the bullet proof vest, although it felt a bit small when Tony put it on. Glancing over to see who had arrived, Tony squints his eyes to try and make out who exits the vehicle. All the nerves ease off when Tony recognises Stephen. The two of them have become roommates quite recently. It’s cheaper to share, Tony had insisted. He is definitely not lonely, but he hopes Stephen is.

Stephen is a paramedic, and an excellent one. Considering their work and how it often clashes when responding to calls, Tony has become familiar with the paramedic long before even meeting him in person. But, on one call Tony had finally decided to introduce himself properly. Stephen had apologised for how sweaty his hand was, and blamed the latex gloves for it and Tony was charmed. Somehow, Tony had brought up that he was looking for someone to share an apartment with, only because it is cheaper, and to his surprise, Stephen had said the same. They have been living together for a month, and already Tony feels more at ease knowing Stephen is present, if things were to go terribly wrong.

“Stark, eyes on the target!” Fury whispers harshly into Tony’s earpiece, and officer shifts his gaze back to the office window. He does not bother apologising to his superior team leader, since that would just make more noise.

Then, the action starts. It is like a play. Everyone has their role, and Nick Fury directs the show beautifully. Doors are kicked in, windows are shattered and the different teams enter the building perfectly on cue. The armed SWAT team members go first, and secure the building like terrifying angels. There are no gunshots fired, luckily, but there is plenty of shouting and yelling. Mostly, it is the SWAT team ordering the ones occupying the building to get down and keep their hands behind their heads.

Then, it’s Tony turns and the rest of the police officers to make the actual arrests when the SWAT team has secured the place. Wouldn’t it be nice if Stephen saw him bringing out a handcuffed drug dealer? Tony half smirks at the idea and snaps the cuffs onto three different drug deals. The scene is surprisingly calm, despite the fact that one of the dealers seems to be crying. Judging by the smell, he also shit himself in pure fear.

Raised voices and whimpering cries makes Tony turn his attention to the hallway. The cries get louder, and the officer feels his gut twist at the vulnerable tone. Could that be a child? Or a Little? There was no information about there potentially being Littles or children involved in the briefing.

“Take them outside.” Tony says to the SWAT team member by his side, gesturing to the handcuffed dealers, then makes a few quick strides to get to the hallway. There, he sees another SWAT team member manhandling a Little up against the wall. The boy is clearly a Little with his smaller body combined with a post puberty shape. Even if he is not a child, that is no way to treat a Little.

“Hey, back off! He’s a Little, can’t you tell?” Tony calls out and shoves the SWAT guy back and away from the boy. With the SWAT guy no longer holding him up against the wall, the boy collapses to the floor with a choked off sob.

“He was resisting and disobeying orders.” The SWAT guy explains, his eyes hard as he looks at Tony. In the all black and well-protected SWAT gear, the only thing you can see is his blue eyes and pale eyebrows. If Tony wasn’t feeling the contempt between the police force and SWAT team before, he definitely feels it now.

“He’s a Little.” Tony emphasises. “Of course he is disobeying when you’re towering over him like that.” The police officer points out and the SWAT guy scoffs behind his black mask.

“And that’s why you could never be one of us.” He accuses, and then walks away.

Tony wants to be offended, and wants to memorise the SWAT guy as best as he can to later call him out in front of Nick Fury, but another loud sob by his feet distracts him. Crouching down to the Little, Tony gently turns him on his back. Immediately, Tony is drawn to the boy’s honey brown eyes. They look soft, and innocent, and remind him of the sweetness of brown sugar, or caramelised sugar. But, then his attention is drawn to just how wide the boy’s pupils are, and how the vessels in the whites of his eyes are bulging and looking angry red. Cocaine eyes.

Tapping his earpiece, Tony speaks quickly to Fury.

“Get Strange in here.”

“We didn’t hear a gunshot-“

“No, there’s a Little here. He’s taken or been given crack.”

After Tony says that, it sparks a lot more action and the paramedics are lead inside with some of the SWAT team, considering the drug dealers have not all been escorted out yet. Next to him, Stephen has his work partner, Christine, and they both drop their first aid bags on the floor before crouching down to the floor by the still crying Little. It seems like he is having a bad trip.

“Hey.” Stephen greets to Tony. The officer smiles back shortly before stepping back to let the paramedics work. “Hi, there, sweetheart. My name is Stephen, and this is my friend Christine. What’s your name?”

“P-Peter…”

“Peter? That’s such a pretty name.” Stephen compliments and slips on a pair of powder blue gloves that Christine passes over to him. “Now, Peter, can you tell me what you’ve taken?”

“I… dunno… don’t feel good…”

“I know, bud, and we’ll help you. But, we need to know what you took, so we can give you the right medicine.”

“They… said it was- was snow. Was… white and- powdery. Don’t like it when they sti-stick it in…” The boy stutters out bravely.

“Cocaine.” Stephen says quietly to Christine, who nods and starts readying an IV to insert into the back of the boy’s hand. Then, he turns to Peter again with a smile. “You’re so brave for telling us, thank you. Now, can you tell me how you feel? Are you hurting, sweetie?”

Stephen’s sweet and caring tone is not enough to better the burning rage Tony feels inside when he thinks of what the boy said. Did they force him to use cocaine? To keep him with them? Just how addicted is he? What role does he have in this sick household?

All this and more questions rush through Tony’s mind at a hundred miles an hour, or even faster. It takes two repetitions from Fury for Tony to actually hear him, and move onto his next task. He knows the Little while be in safe hands with Stephen and Christine.

Half an hour later, the show is just about over. Or at least the exciting part of it. The investigation itself will start later in the morning, but for now everyone is pleased with the outcome of the raid. The drug dealers have all been arrested and driven to kept in custody and the SWAT team is packing up as well. Stood out in the yard of the building, Tony sees Stephen and Christine transporting the Little out of the main door on a gurney. He is not just laying on the gurney, but actually strapped in with straps going over his torso. Peter also has an oxygen mask on his face, and seems to be unconscious. Tony jogs over.

“What took so long?”

“He had a seizure, but it was less that two minutes. I think he got a really bad high.” Stephen says where he is pushing the top of the gurney towards the ambulance.

“Can I come with?” Tony asks, before he thinks better of it.

“Stark, you’re supposed to be here, right?” Stephen asks, but his tone isn’t rude. Just pointing out what Tony seems oblivious to at the moment.

“Yeah, right…” The officer sighs, but still keeps walking alongside Stephen. When they reach the ambulance, he helps the two paramedics with loading in their unconscious patient. Once the gurney is secure, Stephen climbs into the back. Christine heads to the drivers seat, and starts the engine. They do not have that much time, so Tony doesn’t hold them back. “I’ll see you at the apartment, I guess.”

Stephen gives him a smile and nod before closing the double doors. A few seconds later, Christine starts the sirens and they drive away into the night, illuminating the streets in red as they go. Once the ambulance is out of sight, Tony heads to Fury with a request.

“Sir? I’d like to take the Little’s statement.”

#my prompts #my fics #little!peter #starker #ironspider #starkerstrange #ironstrange #strangespider #spiderstrange #tony stark x peter parker #tony stark x stephen strange #peter parker x stephen strange #peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange #ask

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davidmann95 · 4 years ago

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Thoughts (if any) on DC's April 2021 solicitations?

Let’s take ‘em in order! I should be able to muster up a comment on just about everything one way or another.

Green Lantern #1: Oh this is gonna be bad. Heard only the worst about Thorne’s Future State: Green Lantern, and I assume Jo Mullein’s DCU debut will be wasted here to either function as some kind of ridiculous ‘popularity contest’ with Teen Lantern for who gets the bigger push, or as a way to put TL over with a few “good work kid, you got a future” comments. Also, and granted I don’t know how Morrison will end or this will begin, is the New Guardians angle being immediately dropped?

Robin #1: Dope suit, art, and premise, but it’s Williamson so I don’t care.

Batman: The Dark Knight #1: I’ll read this and I expect to like it, but between this being Kubert’s first big Batman project since Master Race, the ‘old but not quite retirement age yet’ angle, and the title, I’m concerned the shock ending here is that it’s actually a stealth DKR prequel.

The Next Batman: Second Son #1: So they really are committing here, though weird that this kinda makes Ridley’s Future State book basically a longform teaser for this. And I’ll get it as it comes out since it turns out this won’t be in that John Ridley’s Batman collection after all - sorry Dustin Nguyen, I love your stuff but I won’t buy an entire trade of material I otherwise already own just for one new story by you.

The Batman & Scooby Doo Mysteries #1: I got that whole great-looking Scooby Doo Team-Up run by Fisch for free on Comixology, I should read that sometime and see if this’ll be worth getting too as well, because it sounds like a hoot.

Challenge of the Super Sons #1: Glad people who want it are getting it, I do not care.

RWBY/Justice League #1: WILL BE GETTING A POST ALL ITS OWN

Action Comics #1030: His powers waning definitely won’t help the standard pre-run fuming by a lot of Superman fandom, but it’s an interesting pairing with PKJ apparently doing mainly cosmic Superman adventures so I’m curious where he’ll go with it. That it’s particularly cited as being tied to Death Metal might validate my suspicion that the new ‘everyone remembers their entire mainstream publishing histories’ thing will play into Johnson’s description of Clark really feeling his age at the start of the run. And Janin on covers even before he gets in on the book proper! And that Midnighter description!

Superman #30: This sounds like where Johnson’s gonna start with that worldbuilding he touted, and I’m curious; definitely reads in this instance like him shoving Clark and Jon into some swords-and-sorcery-esque territory he’s familiar with.

American Vampire 1976 #7: Not reading, don’t care.

Batman #107: I assume ‘the events at Arkham Asylum’ are the ‘A-Day’ ominously brought up in Future State solicits. Tynion Batman, Jimenez as the regular artist now, whatever the Unsanity Collective is, all entirely my shit. More importantly than any of that though, GHOSTMAKER BACKUPS. And drawn by Ricardo Lopez Ortiz, artist on Steve Orlando’s excellent The Pull! Dope!

Batman: Black & White #5: Any other issue and ‘Jamal Campbell doing a life story of Nightwing’ would probably be the highlight, but in case you somehow hadn’t heard Gillen/McKelvie are making their DC debut on a Batman vs. Riddler story here, absolutely wild.

Batman: Urban Legends #2: Even more excited for this now that I’m onboard for the Grifter and Outsiders stuff given how much those features pleasantly surprised me in Future State.

Batman/Superman #17: Injecting it isn’t enough anymore, I need to be on some kind of constant IV drip with this book. I was wondering whether it’d take the premise to further generational riffs or follow a history of mass-media Supermen and Batmen, but instead it’s veering off in a direction I never could have guessed and I couldn’t be more excited.

Batman vs. Ra’s Al Ghul #6: NOTHING CAN STOP THE ADAMSVERSE. NONE MAY DARE TRY.

Batman/Catwoman #5: Wondering how this Harley involvement plays in - I don’t imagine it’s quite what it seems given how King’s written her before. And love that Joker by Mann on the cover, major Clown at Midnight vibes.

Catwoman #30: No reason to assume this run won’t continue to rule.

Crime Syndicate #2: Dammit, I don’t think this book is going to be good, but I’m kinda tempted.

Detective Comics #1035: Wouldn’t be psyched, but Dark Detective was another pleasant surprise so I’ll give this a chance.

The Dreaming: Waking Hours #9: Again, not reading.

Far Sector #11: Sucks a little knowing we’ll never see that little ‘Young Animal’ label in the corner again after this wraps. At least it’s going out on its highest note.

The Flash #769: In a vacuum this would sound dope but I have less than no faith in this, and goddamn that’s a terrible cover.

Harley Quinn #2: I’m sure it’ll be fine, no interest.

The Joker #2: I wanna believe Tynion will be able to make this work, he keeps talking like he has more freedom on this than he has some other books, but everything about this reads like the price he has to pay for relative post-Joker War freedom on Batman.

Justice League #60: It’s Bendis/Marquez on Justice League, lots of people will complain but I’ll mostly dig it. More interested in Ram V briefly getting to write the main crew in the JLD backup.

Man-Bat #3: I’d ask why this exists - and as a matter of fact I still do - but checking out some of DC’s digital-first output recently I see Dave Wielgosz has something on the ball, so maybe he’ll be able to make this work? Perhaps I’ll check it out in trade someday if worth-of-mouth is on its side.

Nightwing #79: I maintain, this is gonna be huge. And clever move to make for how to justify Nightwing keeping up his standard way of business after Bruce loses most of his money.

Rorschach #7: A comic I will purchase and let’s continue leaving it at that.

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? #109: DC’s highest-numbered comic (that hasn’t gone through an interim renumbering), astonishing. Not getting it myself, but respect.

Sensational Wonder Woman #2: Can’t say this sounds like my thing.

Suicide Squad #2: I’ve been swayed into checking out the Future State debut, but that’d have to really blow me away for me to follow into the main book.

Superman: Red & Blue #2: Sadly if unsurprisingly DC’s clearly not stacking this with AAA attention-grabbing names in the same way as this latest version of Batman: Black & White, but there do seem to be some interesting names from outside the usual big two roster here. And the main and Bolland cover may disappoint but holy cow that David Choe variant.

The Swamp Thing #2: I have no doubt it’ll be incredible but time and again I learn I simply don’t have it in me to care about Swamp Thing regardless of the objective quality of the effort put into him.

Sweet Tooth: The Return #6: Another one I’m not interested in.

Titans Academy #2: Oh lord so this is where they stuck Billy Batson.

Truth & Justice #3: I continue to have no idea what if anything the unifying idea of this anthology is supposed to be.

Wonder Woman #771: Wonder Woman as troubleshooter for mythological mishaps isn’t a permanently sustainable or desirable status quo but I’m down for it for as long as it lasts if it’s any good (though that Immortal Wonder Woman preview...concerned me, in spite of Jen Bartel’s jaw-dropping art).

So that’s 19-23 out of 37 I’ll be getting - if DC’s standard for success with Infinite Frontier is the proportion of their line people will be checking out, I guess it’s winning with me.

#DC Comics #DC: Infinite Frontier #Opinion

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tipsycad147 · 4 years ago

Text

Using Magical Poppets and Dolls

You're the only one who can decide what's ethically acceptable for you. Michelle Constantini/Getty Images

By Patti Wigington

Updated January 05, 2019

The magical poppet is one of the most commonly used implements in sympathetic magic, which follows along on the theory that “like creates like.” Although TV shows and movies typically show poppets as the stereotypical "voodoo doll," poppets have been around for a long time, and used in a number of different cultures and religious belief systems. There are many ways to create a poppet, and they can be used to harm or to heal; if you create a poppet of a person, anything done to the poppet will affect the person it represents. Bear in mind that some magical traditions discourage the use of poppets. If you're not sure whether or not it's okay for you to use poppet magic, you may want to check with someone in your tradition.

A poppet is usually made from cloth or fabric, but you can also make one from clay, wax, wood, or just about any other material. You can fill your poppet with herbs, stones, bits of wood, paper, or anything else that suits your needs. In addition to magical items, it's a good idea to include some cotton or polyfill as stuffing material.

Once the poppet is created, you'll need to connect it to the person it represents, which is typically done by using a magical link of some sort. Remember, the poppet is a useful magical tool, and can be used in a variety of workings. Use it for healing, to banish harmful people from your life, to bring abundance your way — the choices are practically limitless.

Poppet History

Fetish dolls on sale at a market in Togo. Danita Delimont/Getty Images

When most people think of a poppet, they automatically think of the Voodoo doll, thanks to this item's negative portrayal in movies and on television. However, the use of dolls in sympathetic magic goes back several millennia. Back in the days of ancient Egypt, the enemies of Ramses III (who were numerous, and included some of his harem women and at least one high-ranking official) used wax images of the Pharaoh, to bring about his death. Let's look at some of the historical uses of poppets in spellwork.

Greek Kolossi

It wasn't uncommon for the Greeks to use sympathetic magic in workings related to love or war. Christopher Faraone, Professor of Classical Languages and Literatures at the University of Chicago, is one of the foremost authorities on Greek magic today, and says that Greek poppets called Kolossoi were sometimes used to restrain a ghost or even a dangerous deity, or to bind two lovers together. In Idyll 2, The Witch (Pharmakeutria), written about 200 b.c.e., the tragedian Theocritus refers to melting and burning wax dolls. He relates the tale of Simaetha, rejected by Delphis, attempts to get her lover back with magic.

The Princess Who Played with Dolls

Wax dolls certainly weren't limited to the ancient classical world. The one-time Princess of Wales, Caroline of Brunswick, was married to the man who later became King George IV, and evidently couldn't stand him. She spent many hours forming wax dolls of her husband and jabbing them with pins. Although there's no concrete evidence as to what this may have done to George, when Caroline ran off to Italy with her young lover, George didn't object. The royal couple remained married but lived separately until Caroline’s death in 1821, according to Witchcraft and Evidence in Early Modern England by Malcolm Gaskill.

West African Fetish Magic

West African slaves brought with them a doll called a fetish when they were forced to leave their homes and come to the American colonies. In this case, the doll is not so much representative of an individual, but is in fact possessed by spirits connected to the doll’s owner. A fetish contains significant power and is typically worn or carried by its owner as a talisman. During America's Colonial period, slave owners were allowed to kill any slave found with a fetish in his possession.

American Hoodoo and Folk Magic

In American Hoodoo and folk magic, the use of poppets as a magical tool became popular following the Civil War. There is some dispute as to whether the dolls are used at all in Haiti, which is the home of Vodoun religion, and a few sources disagree on whether the use of poppets is truly a Vodoun practice or not. However, the Voodoo Museum of New Orleans does stock a variety of dolls in their gift shop.

Regardless of how you make your poppet — out of cloth, a chunk of meat, or a glob of wax, remember that poppets have a long tradition behind them, and that tradition is influenced by the magical practices of a wide range of cultures. Treat your poppets well, and they will do the same for you!

Make Your Own Poppet

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A poppet can be as simple or as elaborate as you like — it all depends on how much time and effort you want to put into it. You can construct one out of just about any material — cloth, clay, wood, wax. Use your imagination! In some magical traditions, it's believed that the more work you put into it, and the more complex it is, the stronger your link will be to your goal. Because a poppet is a device for sympathetic magic, all of its components will be symbols of what it is you hope to achieve.

You can do your poppet-making as part of the working itself, or it can be made ahead of time so you can use the poppet later on. Which method you choose is really up to you.

Remember, your poppet represents a person, so figure out before you begin who it symbolizes. Is it you? A friend who's asked you for help? An un-named lover you want to bring into your life? A gossip you want to shut up? The possibilities are endless, but just like in any spell working, you'll need to set a goal before you begin. It keeps you from having to deal with "do-overs" later. These instructions are for a basic poppet construction, using fabric. Feel free to modify your design as you need to.

Selecting Your Fabric

There are no real rules when it comes to choosing your material, but it's not a bad idea to select fabric based on your goal. If you're doing a money spell, use a piece of green or gold cloth. If you're looking at healing, perhaps something in a soft blue or silver would be best. Check out fabric stores around the holidays, and you can find all kinds of neat patterns.

Valentine's Day designs are perfect for matters of the heart, and there are plenty of prints with dollar signs, coins, stars and moons, and other fun designs.

Another option is to use fabric that links the poppet to the person it represents. Doing a healing spell for a friend? Ask the person for an old t-shirt. If you're trying to draw love into your life, consider using a scrap from that sexy lingerie you wore last night. If you just can't find the right material, use a plain muslin or white felt. Here are a few ideas for designs and colors for poppet magic.

Animals: Brown or green fabrics, patterns with cats or dogs, anything pet-related

Banishing: Black fabric, designs such as swords or wands, dragons or fire

Creativity: Orange or yellow fabric, prints of suns or other fire symbols

Healing: Silver, white or blue, with designs of clouds or other air symbols

Love: Pink or red material, designs like hearts, roses or other flowers, Cupids

Money: Silver, gold or green fabric, or designs of dollar bills or coins, cups or earthy symbols

Protection: Red or white material, with patterns of shields, keys or locks, fences, mistletoe

When it comes to types of fabric, use what's easiest for you to work with. Cotton prints are easy to sew, but if you've never used a needle and thread before, you might want to try something stiffer like felt — it comes in every color you can imagine, and will hold its shape as you sew. If you're an experienced sewer, use anything you like.

A poppet represents a person, so ideally it should look (sort of) like a person. Give it a head, two arms, two legs, a torso. You can make your own outline or you can use the ultimate poppet pattern — a gingerbread man. If you're doing a spell for an animal — such as a healing spell for a sick pet — make the poppet shape accordingly. Your poppet doesn't have to be huge, but it should be big enough that you can stuff it with your ingredients later.

Take two pieces of your fabric, and place them right side together on a flat surface. Place the pattern on top, pin it in place, and cut it out. Leave a little room around the edges for a seam allowance — usually a 3/8" margin is good. Remove the pattern, and there are your two poppet shapes. Time to start sewing!

If you've never sewn anything by hand before, don't panic. It's not hard, but it does require some patience. You could always use a sewing machine if you're pressed for time, but most experienced poppet-makers agree that it's worth the effort to do it by hand. Pin the two pieces of material with the right sides together, and stitch around the edges. Leave an opening somewhere, wide enough to stick a couple of fingers in. Turn the poppet inside out, and begin stuffing.

Personalize Your Poppet

Fill your poppet with something soft, like polyfill or cotton balls. Old pantyhose work nicely too. Work the stuffing all the way into the nooks and crannies of the arms and legs, and then fill the torso and head.

This is where you'll place your spell components — herbs, stones, whatever. In some magical traditions, something from the person represented goes inside the poppet. This is alternately referred to as a taglock or a magical link — it can be bits of hair, nail clippings, body fluids, a business card, or even a photograph. Once everything is inside, sew the poppet completely shut.

The more you can customize your poppet, the better. Even if you've placed a magical link, or taglock, inside, you'll want to decorate the outside too. Draw or paint or sew a face onto your doll. Add yard or string for hair. Dress your poppet in something that looks like the person's clothing. Copy any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing features onto the poppet as well. Add magical or astrological symbols if you like. While you're doing this, tell the poppet who it represents. You can say something along the lines of, "I have made you, and you are Jane Jones."

Your poppet can be used for any number of things—love, money, protection, healing, to get a job. Anything you can imagine, you can make a poppet to bring it about. Simply figure out your goal and the means to achieve it. The only limits on poppet construction are your own creativity and imagination.

6 Easy Poppet Projects

Make protective poppets for each member of your family with modeling clay. amanaimagesRF/Getty Images

Not sure what sort of poppets to create, or how you can use them in a practical application? Try one of these six easy ideas for making and using your own poppets.

1. To Get a Job You've Applied For

Material: satin, green or gold or silver

Herbs: clover, chamomile, ginger, cinnamon

Gemstones: snowflake obsidian or sodalite

Create a poppet to represent yourself. As you make it, focus on the positive attributes that you possess which will make you appealing to a potential employer. Another option is to create the poppet in the image of the employer (include business cards or letterhead inside, if you can get them) and tell the employer poppet why you're the best person for the job.

2. To Protect Your Family

Material: Modeling clay

Herbs: Basil, patchouli, coffee

Gemstones: Hematite, amethyst, black onyx.

Create poppets that represent each member of the family, blending herbs and stones into the clay. Put them in a safe place in your home, such as near your hearth, and utilize magical shielding or cast a circle of protection around them. This is actually a fun project you can get your kids involved in as well — let them each make their own poppet person!

3. To Heal a Sick Person

Material: White cotton or unbleached muslin

Herbs: Lemon balm, feverfew, ivy, and pine.

Gemstones: Bloodstone, turquoise

When you make this poppet, be sure to indicate what you are trying to heal, whether it's a case of tennis elbow, a chronic infection, or even a broken heart. Focus all of your energy on the ailment in question.

4. To Bring Love Into Your Life

Material: Red or pink silk or cotton

Herbs: Rose petals, parsley, and peppermint

Gemstones: Barite, jade, rose quartz

Make a poppet to represent the object of your affection — remember that in some magical traditions it is frowned upon to make a specific person the target of your working. If you are simply trying to attract love to yourself, but you don’t have a specific person in mind, focus on all the desirable qualities you want to see in a potential lover.

5. Silencing a Gossip

Material: Ground beef or other squishy meat

Herbs: Horseradish, pepper, rue, yarrow, valerian

Shape the meat and herbs into a person, and create a "meat puppet" in the same way you'd make a fabric one. As you make the doll, tell it that it's time to be silent, and tell no more gossipy stories. Remind it that people who can't say nice things shouldn't say anything at all. Dispose of the doll by either burning it on your grill and burying it someplace far away, feeding it to your dog, or leaving it out in the sun to rot.

6. Emergency Poppet on the Fly

Material: Aluminum foil

Perhaps something has come up in a hurry, and you feel it needs immediate magical attention. Use a piece of aluminum foil to whip together a quickie poppet — shape it into the figure of a person. Fill with any magical components that might be handy — bits of wood, dirt, grass, even a name scribbled on a piece of paper — and personalize the poppet.

Need additional poppetry ideas? Try making a magical gingerbread poppet, or put together a portable poppets kit to keep in your magical arsenal!

https://www.learnreligions.com/what-are-magical-poppets-4072783

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tearsofgrace · 5 years ago

Text

Don’t Forget Me, I Beg

read on archive!

Cas

“Cas?! Thank god, you’re awake. Look, the doctors said you wouldn’t remember anything… but I figured, well, since you’re an angel, ya know?”

Cas blinked and looked around him, trying to get his bearings. He had an IV connected to his arm, and a heart rate monitor taped to his finger. There was a slight stinging on his chest, but besides that he felt fine. Then he froze. What had the man said? Angel?

“Yeah, of course,” he muttered, looking into those earnest green eyes.

Looking back on it, he would have no idea why he said it. Why he lied. Why he pretended to know what was going on when he knew a total of three things about himself. That his name was Castiel (seriously, what kind of a name was that?), that he was in Longmont, Colorado, and that he was in love with a man named Dean Winchester.

He had no idea where Longmont was in relation to anything else, and he had no idea where to find this Dean Winchester. But his mind clung to those facts desperately, trying to block out the swirling confusion that threatened to overwhelm him.

“So, your grace blocked whatever spell that was?” Cas nodded and busied himself counting the freckles on the man’s face. He had a lot of them.

“You scared us, man. You were out for four days. They said you were in a coma, and you probably wouldn’t wake up. But Sam and I figured that your grace would heal you faster.”

There was that word again, grace. Every time he heard it something inside him seemed to glow, to buzz with a fiery heat.

“I’m sure you need your rest. I’ll go find Sam. He was finishing up the hunt.” The man looked him up and down one more time then walked from the room.

A hunt. Okay, so he’d been hurt in a hunting accident. Though that didn’t seem right. He didn’t feel like a hunter. And what was that about a spell anyway? And had the guy seriously called him an angel?

Angel must be a nickname. Or maybe it was his last name. He wasn’t sure if he had one.

A nurse walked in and smiled warmly at him.

“Mr. Dougherty said you remember. That’s really good news, Simon. We should be able to get you out of here in just a few days.”

“My name is Castiel,” he said automatically, squinting at her.

She nodded with a smile and glanced pointedly at the IV drip connected to his arm. Great. So she thought he was delusional.

Which really, might be better for him. He had no idea why he’d pretended to remember--what had she said?--Mr. Dougherty. But now that he had, it seemed he would need to play the part.

“I need to find Dean Winchester,” Cas said as the nurse turned to leave the room.

“I’m sorry, but I only know the two men that brought you in.”

“Did I have a phone?” She shook her head and glanced quickly at her clipboard, clearly anxious to get back to her rounds.

“What happened? I only remember leaving the house and then it all goes black.” He wasn’t sure if he even had a house. But it seemed like a plausible story, and he needed at least a few answers.

“You were in a hunting accident. They said you hit your head, but we can’t find any bruises. To tell you the truth, Simon, you have us puzzled. The cuts on your chest… well, it’s not important now. You’re doing okay, and that’s what’s important.” She smiled again, tight and close-lipped, and then hurried from the room.

Cas ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. He needed to find Dean. Dean would help him. He shifted in the bed and lifted the collar of the loose hospital gown. He nearly cried out when his eyes found his chest.

Pure white light was shining through the deep, blood red cuts. They were meticulous, almost like they were forming some symbol. And they were disappearing. Where the light touched, the skin knit back together and left light pink scar tissue.

Cas watched mutely, then dropped the hospital gown and leaned back in his bed. His tired eyes found the IV and he shook his head slowly. He wasn’t thinking right, and he didn’t know what he had seen.

He needed to find Dean.

Cas ripped the IV roughly from his arm and pulled the heart rate monitor from his finger. Then he stumbled to his feet, surprised when he didn’t feel woozy. In his experience (as far as he knew it to be), coma patients generally were very disoriented when they woke up. And he’d only been awake for an hour and thirty-six minutes. Cas frowned at the number--it was oddly specific--but shrugged it off and walked to the cabinet in the corner of the room.

He found a trenchcoat and a wrinkled suit and started dressing under his gown.

Then he slid the thin fabric over his head and looked at his chest. The barest outline of a scar remained, and he closed his eyes, determined to ignore it. It must have been an old scar anyway. An old scar he was turning into something more than it needed to be.

His fingers struggled on the buttons of his shirt, and he guessed he didn’t get dressed in a suit often. After he’d shrugged the trenchcoat over his shoulders, he turned to the window. His reflection was faintly visible, and he looked right. He felt like himself again, whoever that was.

With detached interest, he noted that his hair was black and his eyes were blue. Not what he would have guessed, but that didn’t matter. He smoothed his hair carefully, trying to stop it from sticking up at odd angles, but it didn’t work so he gave up. Something in his pocket hit against his hip and he pulled out an old flip phone.

He quickly flipped it open and opened the contacts. There were only six. Sam, Bobby, Rowena, 666 (that had to be a joke), Jack and Dean. His breath quickened as he clicked on the name, finger hovering over the call button.

But he didn’t click it. When he’d woken up, he told himself he knew three things about his life. That had been a lie. He remembered four. His name was Castiel, he was in Longmont, Colorado, he loved Dean Winchester, and Dean Winchester did not love him back.

So he didn’t call, but he figured a text wouldn’t hurt. His fingers felt unpracticed on the keys, but he managed to type, Where should I meet you?

He frowned at the message. It didn’t make sense, really. Not if Dean had no idea where he was. Then he clicked send anyway.

For a minute, he stood staring at the dirty window with his reflection faintly visible on the dirty glass. Then he walked from the room, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention before leaving the hospital. He pulled his phone from his pocket again and clicked on the notification.

We’ll pick you up at the hospital. Sam killed the witch, so we’re leaving town.

Witch. Alright. That was normal.

Dean

“He remembers, Sam.” His brother stood and shrugged, gathering the last of their things from the room.

“Really? Because that witch seemed pretty sure he didn’t. She cast a spell designed for angels, Dean.” Dean frowned and threw the room key on the table, leading the way to the car.

“That’s weird. I thought she didn’t know what Cas was. And it’s the same spell she cast on all the other vics, right? They were all human.”

“Right, they were. But she got wind we were in town and used a different one that would work on him. She told me herself, right before I killed her.” Dean rolled his eyes and got in the car.

“So you believe her? You were about to kill her, Sammy. She was just trying to freak you out.”

Sam snorted but stayed silent.

They got to the hospital a few minutes later, and Cas was standing outside, back in his trenchcoat and suit. Dean couldn’t help but smile a little. The angel looked so lost. The nurses had probably given him a bitch of a time.

When the car pulled up to the curb, the angel stood there, just looking at the street. Dean sighed and rolled down his window.

“Hey, Cas. We kinda need to roll, what’s the hold up?”

“Dougherty?” His voice was a little higher than normal, more like Jimmy Novak’s had been. Dean frowned but raised his eyebrows.

“Dude, that’s the name on the insurance. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I have to wait for-- I can’t go with you.” His stomach was starting to sink and he took a deep breath.

“See, Dean? I told you.” He was tempted to tell Sam to shut up, but Cas spoke first.

“Dean? Wait, Dean Winchester?”

“Yeah, that’s me. You really don’t remember anything, huh?” Cas was staring at him like he was back from the dead. Well, back from the dead again.

“If you remember me, or at least my name, get in the car. We’re here to help, okay? I promise.” The angel gulped, his eyes never leaving Dean’s. Then he nodded and got in the backseat.

Dean drove away from the hospital with the pedal almost flat against the floor, hands gripping the wheel. Cas didn’t remember anything. Didn’t even know who he was.

“Call her.”

“Calm down, Dean. I’m working on it.” Sam dialed slowly and raised the phone to his ear, holding up a finger for silence.

“Hey, Rowena… yeah, I know we’re sorry about that… listen, we need your help.” Dean glanced at him, ignoring the road.

“Put her on speaker.” Sam rolled his eyes but lowered the phone.

“Rowena, you have to help us fix Cas.”

“Dean, always with the pleasantries. I wish I could say it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Cut the crap, Rowena.” Her sigh blew through the speakers, and her accent managed to seep into it.

“Fine. What seems to be the trouble with the angel?” Cas perked up in the back seat and leaned forward.

“A witch. Some sort of memory spell.”

“That worked on an angel?” She sounded mildly impressed. If she’d been in the car, Dean might have strangled her.

“I’ll come to you, boys. I know of two spells that could do this, and the cure is very different for the both. Although, I must admit I hope it’s the second of the two.” Dean pulled the phone from Sam’s hand and held it to his mouth.

“Why? What’s the second?”

“Now now, Dean. We mustn’t spoil the surprise. Now where are you?” Dean opened his mouth to spit something back at her but Sam grabbed the phone.

“Mead, Colorado.”

“I’ll be there in two hours. Bye, boys.” Sam hung up before Dean could take the phone again and Dean rolled his eyes, slamming a palm into the wheel.

“I’m… an angel?” Cas’ voice had started to drop in register, and he was sounding more like himself.

“Yeah. One of God’s finest. Well, not really. But you’re one of the not-dick angels, so that’s good.” When Cas didn’t answer he looked in the rearview mirror. The angel was staring out the window with a thoughtful look on his face.

They pulled into the nearest motel and waited in tense silence for Rowena to get there. Dean didn’t really see a point in trying to explain to Cas who he was. He meant too much. To him, to the world.

Everytime he looked at the angel, he found him staring. He would look away as soon as he saw Dean’s eyes on him, but by the fourth time Dean stopped trying to convince himself he was imagining things.

He couldn’t place the emotion on Cas’ face, but it was far different than how he looked at Sam. And it hadn’t been Sam’s name he knew.

Dean was almost glad when Rowena knocked on the door.

“Hello, boys.” The minute the words left her mouth, he decided he wasn’t glad. She was a pain in the ass.

When Dean didn’t reply, she sighed and walked over to Cas.

“I drop everything for you bloody Winchesters and when I get here, I’m greeted with cold silence. Are you sure Cassie wants his memories back?” Sam stood up and took her bag, setting it on the bed.

“Thanks for coming, Rowena.” She sighed again, more dramatically if that was possible, and put a hand on Cas’ head.

Her laughter rang through the room and she took her hand back, folding over.

“What?” Dean growled.

“It’s a very interesting spell, one I’ve only used once myself. It’s designed for fallen angels. Well, angel’s who’ve fallen.” Dean squinted at her and instinctively reached a hand to the gun in his waistband, so she hurried to go on.

“Fallen in love, that is. It leaves the angel with the memory of the name of the one they’ve fallen for, and a few other details. The best part,” she laughed again and then went on, wiping her eyes, “Is that it can only be undone by a kiss from that person.”

“A fucking true love’s kiss. Are you fucking kidding me?” She raised her eyebrows but laughed again.

“Well, this shouldn’t be too hard for you, boys. I would be on my way, but I’m afraid I’ll have to stay for this.”

“Whatever, we’ll just find the girl and get her here,” Dean said, the blood in his veins running cold. Cas was in love with someone. That didn’t bother him at all.

He could feel heat rising in his cheeks and he tried desperately to calm down. Rowena was laughing again.

“Oh, you poor, sweet thing.” She turned to Cas, who was watching the whole exchange with wide eyes.

“It’s okay, Castiel. You can say who it is. He won’t be mad I promise.” She said it softly, especially for a witch, but Cas still stared back at her with wide eyes before dropping his gaze. Dean looked over at Sam, his heart pounding. His brother seemed to be hiding a smile, and not very successfully.

Then he looked back to Cas. The angel’s eyes were fixed on the floor and his ears were tinted pink. Dean could see his shoulders rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths, like he was trying to calm down.

“It won’t matter,” the angel finally said.

“Cas, he feels the same,” Sam said, crossing the room to stand next to Rowena.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean glanced between the two of them, trying to read their faces. Besides laughter, he found nothing.

“I know he doesn’t. I can’t remember why I know. Or anything else about who I am. I know that though.” Sam nodded slowly and looked at Rowena, who was staring at Cas with an incredulous smirk.

“Okay, this has been fun, but I really need to get going. I left a very… interesting party for this. Cas, say the name. You want to remember who you are, don’t you?” He nodded and looked up, finally meeting Dean’s eyes.

“I’m in love with Dean Winchester.” Dean froze. At least his face wasn’t bright red anymore. It was now white as a sheet. He ran a hand nervously through his hair and looked at Sam and Rowena. They weren’t laughing anymore.

Then he walked to Cas and cupped his face gently, pulling him up so they were chest to chest.

He looked scared, but Dean didn’t blame him. He had no idea who he was, just one name and the knowledge that he wasn’t loved back. At least Dean could do something about it. He ran a thumb over the angel’s cheek down to his lip, grazing it softly.

Then he gently threaded his hand into the angel’s hair and pulled him into a kiss. Their lips met gently, barely touching, and then he pulled back.

The angel’s eyes glowed white, and then widened.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Cas.”

“You didn’t have to--” Dean pulled his hand from his hair and set it gently on the angel’s waist, pressing their bodies together. Sam cleared his throat and Dean raised his middle finger, smiling as he pressed his forehead into Cas’. Sam sighed (Dean could almost hear the eye roll) and quickly left the room, followed closely by Rowena.

“I love you too, Cas.” The angel smiled softly and leaned in for another kiss.

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