#but i still felt that anger and that panic and that intense loneliness

[freakoutgirl]

I do think there’s a tendency to make people feel bad about their “irrational” or “problematic” emotions, and telling people “well that’s something you have to deal with and not blame other people for” 

like... trying to reparent yourself and strengthen your emotional immaturity is WORK, and yes absolutely it’s work that needs to be done, but it’s not going to happen overnight. people will mess up, people will get too emotional to think about their coping mechanisms if they don’t have enough experience with accessing those tools while feeling bad. don’t let people cross your boundaries, but try to extend compassion when you can

[haravath0t]

❀˖° 𝕤𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕤 ❀˖° hatori sohma x sohma!reader

₊ ⊹❀ 𝕤𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: when the curse breaks, his first course of action is to look for you.

₊ ⊹❀ 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔! 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢'𝚛𝚎 𝚊 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚕, 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚕! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞!

𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤: angst, fluff, pining, topic of grief, awkward!hatori and awkward dialogue, hatori getting that ending he deserves

Hatori was taken aback, all his thoughts were put on hold as his focus was redirected to the sudden hole he felt in his heart. 

He hadn’t felt such intense emotions in such a long time, it even took him a few seconds to label what they were. 

Regret, anger, remorse, attachment, loneliness. 

Tears rolled down the doctor’s face, his jaw clenched as the thread between God and Dragon severed. Hatori could only accept the repeating conclusion in mind in this spiral of emotion. Goodbye.

Yet, as Hatori blinked, his gaze back towards the sky, the emptiness seemed to wash away, making way for something else. Hatori felt the warmth of the sun shining on his face, like frozen snow melting due to the first breath of spring. “What comes of snow when it melts?” 

Hatori’s eyes widened, his gaze blurry as his heart tightened in his chest. He couldn’t even breathe. What was a few moments in time felt like an eternity. Hatori felt like his spirit left and came back with a hard-hitting force. It was like a second awakening. When was the last time he felt this warm? When was the last time he felt like this once eternal blizzard would come to an end. The usually collected doctor everyone knew Hatori to be now is akin to a lost boy trying to find something familiar in an unknown world.

Hatori had to make peace with the way things must be after suppressing your memories, telling himself endlessly that those memories of you will remain intact on that snowy day. This was to protect you, your happiness, your future, your freedom. Thus, Hatori was more than willing to support you from afar, to watch you smile rather than spend your days in tears, crying for him. He was okay with the routine he had persisted to abide by, till Tohru came along. He couldn't help but see you in her panic when he transformed in front of her. “Water! Wait, hold on, which kind of water does he need? Freshwater or saltwater?” He could only hear you, see you, remembering the sight of you panicking as you held a flailing seahorse in your arms amongst a pile of clothes. Now that the curse broke, Hatori realizes he is entering a new life entirely, one with a cage, a leash, without snow.

Hatori couldn’t help but let his mind wander along the numerous possibilities that have opened up. He’s certain everyone was with the ones they cherished. He stared back at the picture of you on his desk, tears welling up in his eyes at the thought of liberation. “Could I…” He whispers, almost afraid that someone may reprimand him for such questions. Could I see you again? Can I see you smile once more?

Hatori’s body, as if on impulse, sprints out of his office, swiftly putting on his shoes. It only registers in his mind as soon as the sun greets his face that he is heading towards a destination he’s been aching to go to for so long. He takes familiar turns within the outside of the Sohma estate, his feet being worked in ways Hatori hadn’t had done so in a while. His heart beats wildly in his chest, the very thought of being near you makes him feel nauseous. However, the sound of a squeak stops Hatori in his tracks, his feet halting as his head snaps towards its direction. He almost wishes he hadn’t. 

“Ah, damn,” You mutter, almost wanting to cry out of frustration. You were quite the pathetic sight, at least that’s what some of the clan would say. To Hatori, this was almost on brand for you: standing still in shock as cans and boxes have fallen out of the now torn plastic bag, a whole clutter of items spilling onto the path. Hatori knew the reason too well. She overpacked.

His brow furrows, his bottom lip almost quivering as his once determined steps now creep with trepidation. Should he approach you? Will you welcome his presence, or will you press some distance? Will he be able to speak? Will he be okay with the possibility of this interaction being a one off?  Hatori finds his mind remembering the day he had suppressed your memories, the day the cold snow felt nothing compared to his hand resting on your head. He can’t shake off the sight of you crying, not out of anger towards him, but out of frustration towards yourself. Even till that moment, you were thinking of nothing but him. 

“I’m sorry,” You weeped, your eyes unable to meet his own in utter shame, “It’s my fault for not protecting you.” Hatori remembered how your shaky fingers tried to find his bandaged eye, resting on it, your touch trying to commit it to memory. How it was your fault. It was all your fault. 

Hatori knew you had that narrative sealed in your conscience, and he only kneeled with teary eyes. None of his words could soothe you, relieve you, protect you. Yet, a selfish part of him spared a few more seconds, knowing that this could be the last time he’d be able to touch you, feel you under his fingertips, even if it were to erase the memories of the most beautiful mind he’s ever seen. 

“H-Hatori,” You cried. Whether it was your plea for him to stay longer, to soothe you once more, or to curse him, Hatori didn’t know. All he knew was that he could not bear to associate his Spring with sadness and tears much longer. So, he did it, erasing the memories of those blissful two months. 

The memory alone was enough for Hatori to turn his back to you, feeling as though he was foolish for even attempting to get close to you once again. Yet, the quiet mutterings that are heard from you make his eyes close, making him remember how your voice alone was once proof of the domesticity he had achieved in being with you. How it brought the warmth of Spring to the otherwise barren and unfeeling winter of his life. “Here, allow me,” Hatori blurts out, turning back around to be by your side. He kneels beside you, picking up the rest of your groceries that have fallen out of your bag. 

Your breath couldn’t help but halt, your eyes blinking in disbelief at the sight of the man beside you. “Hatori?” You ask, almost as though you were accidentally conjuring up his visage instead. Yet the sight of his focused gaze on your groceries told you otherwise. Little did you know how the mere utterance of his name was enough to make the family doctor’s heart wrench. 

“You overpacked again,” Hatori grunts, carefully taking the rest of your grocery items in his arms. The sight of his lips curled up at the corners was enough for you to smile. Whether it is out of embarrassment or giddiness, you aren’t too sure yourself. You only knew it was a delight seeing him. 

“Ah, I guess,” You say with a lighthearted laugh, cradling the other half of spilled groceries in your arms. Neither of you were able to get a word out of your mouths, the tension in the air palpable. You knew better than to stay in this awkwardness for a moment longer, so you motion with a tilt of your head towards your arms. “Here, you can place those groceries here, my house is not that far away. I’m sure you’re busy, I think,” You ramble, unsure of how to at least make this conversation flow without it being so awkward. In your point of view, you had confessed to Hatori of your love in the past, and Hatori had gently let you down, saying he was not looking at such commitments at the time. It was not long till you stopped being his assistant, too embarrassed to even be in the same room as him after your strong confession. 

“I’m not busy today,” Hatori reassures you, that smile of his face small yet genuine. It only makes you swoon, just as it had when you were his assistant. “Besides, I believe you won’t be able to carry all of this with a torn bag, let alone in your arms.” It was a sound argument, and it was safe to say it was in alignment of your current interest in mind. 

Hatori now found himself walking side by side with you on the way to your house. He merely asked you what you have been up to, and you’re back to the way you were. Your eyes seemed to be a window to your soul, your emotions on full display as you talk about your recent endeavors. You were always quite the chatterbox, and the mere reminder being right in front of him rather than a memory was more than enough for Hatori. Here you are, running back and forth in the kitchen, Hatori having to watch you as he leaned against the wall. The amount of times where Hatori wanted to cry at the sight of you was enough to make Hatori lose count. You weren’t even noticing how attentive Hatori was being, the way that small smile remained on his face as you rambled. It almost feels like it was one of those days, those days where you beckoned him after work to do domestic things. Be it grocery shopping, making lunch, or taking a walk around the estate, you have always enjoyed living life alongside Hatori. 

How he aches to live like this once more.

“Monstrous, Loathsome, Cursed.” These were the only words Hatori had ever been able to describe himself and the Sohma family. They were untouchable, isolated, and their reliance had been only towards one another within the Zodiac. It was greatly underestimated how often you make Hatori feel so human, how often you remind him of the possibilities he has always had access to. Even with suppressed memories, your infectious glee and your genuine kindness has that same effect. 

“You’re quiet,” You note quietly to Hatori, your gaze one of concern as you put away the last of groceries in your kitchen space. The attention drawn to him makes him snap out of his reverie, the doctor blinking as he processes your words a second longer than needed. “I’m fine,” Hatori grunted, a small nod to you as an attempt to get you off his tail. 

“Are you sure?” “Yes, I’m sure.” “No, Hatori, I mean it. We both know that I chat a lot and-” “Y/N.” “And listen! It’s such a valid complaint! I’ve done a bit of growing up you know and-”

“I just missed you!” Hatori groans, the words charged with frustration at face value, yet to him, it meant more. So much more. Seeing that it stuns you to silence, Hatori couldn’t help but realize he may have been too harsh in his delivery of words. However, the mere fact that he no longer was staring at a picture frame, no longer relying on his mind to conjure your visage, no longer wondering if his memories of you remain outdated…

Hatori Sohma has never felt so alive. 

And so, he takes a quiet inhale and exhale, knowing a chance like this is rare. 

“I just miss you,” Hatori admits, his voice quieter now, one that uncovered his vulnerability, his longing. You were only looking at Hatori in surprise, your lips parted as you remained stuck in place. You have never heard Hatori speak with such conviction, always associating Hatori with logic, reason, level-headedness. Yet here he stands, as if it hurts to breathe, as if the room shrunk ten times smaller. “I know that given what has transpired between us it sounds unlikely, but I quite enjoyed your stories. Forgive me for sounding harsh-” 

“Then have lunch with me,” You blurt out, saying it as though it is the easiest problem to solve. 

It throws Hatori off, leaning forward against the counter to make sure he was hearing you correctly. “What?” “You miss me. I missed you. We catch up over lunch.” 

“You’re being hasty over this. It is not that simple.” “Oh, but it is!” You argue back, the sliver of hope giving you that same courage to push for this, the apparent need of time with one another. Your hopeful smile falters, your jittery behavior returning in the form of twiddling fingers. 

Hatori’s gaze softens seeing it, knowing very well that this was indicative of the possibility of you backing away from the offer. The idea of you doing so shatters Hatori’s heart, reminding him of the times before, where especially with Akito’s harmful words and actions, you did nothing but blame yourself. Hatori never wanted you blaming yourself for something that you wholeheartedly ached for. “I’m sorry,” You say, your tone more distant.

“No, um, I’m sorry,” Hatori grunts out, looking down at his hands. He almost wants to yell at himself for being like a naive teenager who knew nothing of the world. It feels like his years worth of bargaining, denial, and self-reflection were seemingly being thrown away by his own hand. He has to do this, either commit now, or be left wondering for the rest of his life. Hatori has spent too much time wondering and thinking of ‘what if’s. Hatori wants to commit to the former. “It’s just been so long,” Hatori confesses, his shoulders starting to slump in resignation. It felt good as it was terrifying, resigning to the truth. It felt better knowing he was showing this side of him in front of you once more. “It’s been a while since we saw each other. I’ve been wondering how you were, if I am being honest.” Hatori saw the way your eyes seem to light up at his admission, the way you smile in embarrassment. It was infectious, enough to make you smile. He almost melts on the spot seeing how it lights up the world around you both. 

“Then, do you have the time to stay for lunch? Maybe to catch up?” You ask quietly, the smile never leaving your face. Hatori watches you tilt your head to the side in curiosity and hope, your brows raising in anticipation for his answer. Hatori could only let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. Persuasive as always.

“Of course,” Hatori breathes, a relieved smile on his face that mirrors yours upon hearing his words. Hatori sighs, pushing himself off of the wall and heading for the door. You look over at him in confusion, already trailing after him. If there was any force that he’d willingly surrender to, it’s you. The way you allow him room to respond, to choose, to decide. You remind Hatori of his freedom of choice, of his right to choose, his right to see Spring again. Only then does he regain his footing, his confidence, himself.

“Hey! Where are you going? I was going to-” 

“You aren’t making anything,” Hatori replies flatly, slipping on his shoes before opening the door for you. “Let’s go. Lunch is on me.”

[unwelcome-ozian]

I have an important question. can you have built in "mind sets" that change when you're in certain situations?

For details, I recently managed to (mostly??) get away from a cultic group I was raised in but last week the leader returned and we spent a fair bit of time together. But the oddest thing was was that it felt like my entire way of thinking changed? Everything she said felt true, even when thinking back on it it didn't make much sense. It felt like everything I thought of and did without her guidance was inherently wrong and faulty, like I was a trying to see clear through a kaleidoscope.

It took about a week for it to wear off after she left, but during that mindset it felt so much easier to speak and exist around other people. I knew what was expected of me and I knew how to fulfil that expectations, so there wasn't the anxiety and ???? that comes with social interaction (for me at least). BUT that was only when I was talking to/with her.

Now that it's worn off it all feels gross? Like I can still feel the presence of that mindset in my hear criticizing what I'm doing because I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. I finally got my first ever job but it's online and I'm mostly left alone to do things, and I really wish I could go to school to meet people my age but I can't (pandemic made my schooling all online so no meeting people opportunities there). Without her guidance I feel aimless and without purpose, but being stuck in quarantine with her for years really messed me up.

I don't know how to interact with the outside world and knowing how easily I can fall into a mindset of "YES EVERYTHING YOU SAY IS 1000% TRUE AND CORRECT AND YES, YOU ARE THE ONLY REAL PERSON TO EXIST" and more terrifies me. I feel more real in that state, but how can I be more real if I cannot think without influence??

I don't know if you can help but can you please share any insight you have? thank you so much

It takes time to get out of and recover from a cult mindset. This is the reason going no contact when leaving high control groups is recommended.

The recontact can trigger the trauma bond to the leader and the group sometimes leading someone to return.

After exiting a cult, an individual may experience a period of intense and often conflicting emotions. She or he may feel relief to be out of the group, but also may feel grief over the loss of positive elements in the cult, such as friendships, a sense of belonging or the feeling of personal worth generated by the group’s stated ideals or mission. The emotional upheaval of the period is often characterised by “post-cult trauma syndrome”:

spontaneous crying sense of loss depression & suicidal thoughts fear that not obeying the cult’s wishes will result in God’s wrath or loss of salvation alienation from family, friends sense of isolation, loneliness due to being surrounded by people who have no basis for understanding cult life fear of evil spirits taking over one’s life outside the cult scrupulosity, excessive rigidity about rules of minor importance panic disproportionate to one’s circumstances fear of going insane confusion about right and wrong sexual conflicts unwarranted guilt The period of exiting from a cult is usually a traumatic experience and, like any great change in a person’s life, involves passing through stages of accommodation to the change:

Disbelief/denial: “This can’t be happening. It couldn’t have been that bad.” Anger/hostility: “How could they/I be so wrong?” (hate feelings) Self-pity/depression: “Why me? I can’t do this.” Fear/bargaining: “I don’t know if I can live without my group. Maybe I can still associate with it on a limited basis, if I do what they want.” Reassessment: “Maybe I was wrong about the group being so wonderful.” Accommodation/acceptance: “I can move beyond this experience and choose new directions for my life” or… Reinvolvement: “I think I will rejoin the group.”

Passing through these stages is seldom a smooth progression. It is fairly typical to bounce back and forth between different stages. Not everyone achieves the stage of accommodation / acceptance. Some return to cult life. But for those who do not, the following may be experienced for a period of several months:

flashbacks to cult life simplistic black-white thinking sense of unreality suggestibility, ie. automatic obedience responses to trigger-terms of the cult’s loaded language or to innocent suggestions disassociation (spacing out) feeling “out of it” “Stockholm Syndrome”: knee-jerk impulses to defend the cult when it is criticised, even if the cult hurt the person difficulty concentrating incapacity to make decisions hostility reactions, either toward anyone who criticises the cult or toward the cult itself mental confusion low self-esteem dread of running into a current cult-member by mistake loss of a sense of how to carry out simple tasks dread of being cursed or condemned by the cult hang-overs of habitual cult behaviours like chanting difficulty managing time trouble holding down a job Most of these symptoms subside as the victim mainstreams into everyday routines of normal life. In a small number of cases, the symptoms continue.

Oz

This information is a composite list from the following sources: “Coming Out of Cults”, by Margaret Thaler Singer

[mahpaiam]

25 June 2023

I think despite all the transgressions of life, it's taught me how to love indefinitely. But that in itself is a double edged sword, as I've spent all of life trying to figure out how to love less. I have this theory, a small lingering thought in the back of my mind, that if I loved any less it'd be like pulling at a single thread that would rapidly unravel me. The undoing would reveal a bare skeleton and rested inside its ribcage, a very tired, but fervently beating heart.

It's been days since Bernardo has texted me back. I imagine he's somewhere in Thailand, racing on the back of a moped and eyeing girls at a local bar, with my face the furthest thought away from his mind. It's hard to picture him that way when I knew him as the boy that spoke to security in his graduation gown, trying to get my keys back after I foolishly forgot them at the venue. The one who let his hand just graze the skin under my shirt when he kissed but in a tender manner, never sexual. How stupid and kid-like I felt next to him. It almost didn't feel real when I was with him, which is why this more familiar heartbreak that's draped around my shoulders under the summer heat hurts the most. The silence and breakup was an inevitable one.

I woke up crying and unable to breathe the last few weeks, just recapping to myself that it was over. These moments of panic were often followed by hot tears or intense anger. Mostly the latter. But really I'm not angry, just hurt. These fleeting burning emotions were often followed by a blanket of emptiness and loneliness, one that lived in my chest and weighed on my shoulders the rest of the day.

I try my best to process this breakup as quickly and healthily as possible. I don't imagine he's sad at all over me. Just maybe awkward for hurting me. I dance in my room and imagine I'm with him again, or in scenarios where I'm hurting him back, but the adrenaline just fades away and I realize I'm still in my childhood bedroom alone.

All my friends are probably sick of me, I think. They don't answer my texts and I see sometimes they're at a yogurt shop together. I don't let it faze me, I try to take on one pain at a time if I can help it. I'm a stronger girl now, I don't divulge in the memories when they come up and I let myself be sad only appropriately. I'd maybe still answer if he calls but I'm not waiting for it anymore.

[darkimaginarydesires]

Obsession (Part II) ▪︎ Dark!James Potter x Reader

《 harry potter fandom • dark!james potter x reader • marauders era 》

☆ you are responsible for your media consumption. this content has extreme warnings / triggers. this content may make some people uncomfortable. please be safe and take warnings seriously. if you need help or need to talk to someone, i am available for anyone ☆

♡ warnings: noncon/dubcon, sexual obsession, delusional obsession, physical abuse, mentions of death, definitely 18+ ♡

《 summary: when the reader does not reciprocate love for James Potter, he snaps into a complete delusional obsession with her. 》

○ part one: ○

-

James had fallen asleep holding you. You don't know how you managed to get away from him without him waking up, but you did. You ran harder than you'd ever ran before. Partly from fear, but partly because it felt good to feel your heart pound against your chest. It reminded you that you were still alive. You were almost back into the castle when you collapsed onto the stone ground, unable to move your legs any further. Your whole body felt like jello, similarly to your mind, which was in some distant land refusing to return to accept the events that had occurred. You were sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. You were so far gone, you didn't even feel Severus' arms when they wrapped themselves around you and picked you up. You buried your face into his chest as he carried you to the hospital wing.

-

James awoke in a panic, feeling you not in his arms. He looked around, realizing you were long gone. He should have gone to look for you, but he couldn't help but stop to smile at the thought of you. He could still taste you on his tongue, smell your perfume on his clothes, feel the shape of your lips against his, hear your soft moans. He got hard just thinking about the expression you had when he made you come.

"She loves me," he reminded himself.

He stood up, grabbing your bookbag from under the tree before confidently strolling back down to the castle. He made his way to his dormitory, setting your bag down and sitting on his bed. His mind continued to be overwhelmed with the thought of you. He reached into your bookbag, curiosity overcoming him. He pulled out random study books, stopping when he reached the potions one. He flipped it open, a note falling out of the front page. He opened it, seeing it was a note from Snape.

"I know you are upset you got a bad mark on the last quiz. The professor only gave you a bad mark because you're better than them. Seriously, (y/n), you are amazing at potions making. One day, you'll be working as the Potions Master and I'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and we'll be able to give bad marks to all the kids we don't like. Keep your head up. - Severus"

James slammed the book shut and hastily put it back in your book bag. He was furious that someone would talk to his girl like this. He was furious that you would keep a note like this from someone like Snape. He crumpled the note, tossing it into your bag as Sirius, Remus, and Peter came running into the room.

"Where have you been?" Remus asked, clearly stressed.

"Where have you been?" James retorted, his anger from the note translating into his question.

"(Y/N) is in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey won't tell us anything. We've been trying to look for you!" Sirius said.

"Come on!" Remus called out, already making his way out of the room.

James quickly followed them, his mind racing with worry for his girl. What could have possibly happened since he saw her last? He thought to himself as they all quickly made their way to the hospital wing. When they arrived, James saw Snape sitting outside of the room. Anger immediately filled him. He knew he would have killed him if it was his fault (y/n) was hurt. He went to confront him, but Sirius grabbed his shoulders roughly.

"Come on."

They all walked into the room. James saw you curled up in the corner of the room and his heart broke for you. He wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

"(Y/N)? What happened?" Sirius asked.

"No visitors!" Dumbledore yelled.

James looked at you, waiting for you to look back at him, waiting for you to tell the headmaster you wanted him to stay, but you never did. They left the room, the door slamming shut behind them. James thought of you, how you had gone from happy in his arms to the broken girl in the hospital wing. He looked over at Severus, anger immediately engulfing him.

"Snivellus," he called out antagonistically.

He began making his way over to him, but Remus grabbed his arm and held him back.

"Not now, James. Severus is the one who brought her here. He helped her," Remus explained.

"What happened, Snape?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know," Severus responded, his voice showing his irritation.

He clearly did not want to deal with the four idiots. He was more focused on his friend's safety.

"When I found her, she was..." he broke off, having a hard time thinking of the state he had seen his strong friend in. "Someone assaulted her."

James tried to push past his friends to get to Severus, but they held him back.

"Stop!" Sirius yelled. "This is not what she needs right now!"

James ran a hand through his hair, trying to control his anger. Dumbledore opened the door and looked between all of the boys.

"Mr. Snape, you are being requested."

It took everything for James to suppress his anger as Snape stood and entered the hospital wing. The door shut and James mind raced with ideas that only fueled his rage. He remembered how your body felt as you came, he remembered how it felt to slip his cock into you, and then he imagined Snape doing the same things to you. He imagined you moaning his name, kissing his lips. James imagined rushing through the doors and smashing his face then grabbing your face and kissing you. James walked up to the hospital wing door, trying to swing it open, but it wouldn't budge.

"Dumbledore put a charm on it, James. It won't open," Remus explained. "Come on. We'll come back tomorrow."

-

You laid curled up on the bed in the corner of the dark hospital wing, unable to sleep. Severus had left at curfew and you could feel the loneliness echoing off of the room, you wished he could have held you forever. At least in his arms, you felt safe, you felt like someone was looking out for you. You were lost in your thoughts, enslaved by the memories of the night.

The door to the hospital wing slowly creeped open, a sliver of light from the corridor shining through. Adrenaline poured into your system, intensifying every feeling in your body. You reminded yourself of the enchantment Dumbledore had placed over the room. You reminded yourself you were safe.

"Sev?" You called out. "Is that you?"

The door opening widened, but there was no one there. You sat up in the bed, looking intently at the door as if to see if it was truly open or if your mind was deceiving you. You went to stand to close it, but you were stopped in your tracks. You heard footsteps slowly making their way closer towards you. You pushed yourself back on the bed, your back firmly against the headboard. At the foot of your bed, the invisibility cloak slowly lifted, revealing James. You were locked in place, unable to move or scream even though you wanted to.

"Baby, what's wrong?" James asked, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

He moved to sit beside you on the bed. He wasn't touching you, but your skin crawled with the memory of his last touch.

"Get out," you said firmly, somehow finding the strength.

"Get out?" James laughed. "Come on, baby. You know you want me here. Otherwise, how would I have gotten in?"

You never knew confusion was such an intense emotion until that moment. You tried to deny it, but remembered the charm. Did you want him here? Did you want him? Your thoughts were broken by James' hand grabbing your thigh, his thumb gently caressing your skin. You reached for his hand to push it away, but he caught it, bringing it up to his lips. You pulled away aggressively, but James didn't seem to notice.

"Stop, James."

His eyes were focused on your lips as he moved closer to you. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you down onto the bed as he hovered over you. His hand went to your face, cupping it softly. You pushed against his chest, trying to push him off. You could feel his hard on pressing against your stomach.

"James, get off of me! Please, stop!" You screamed.

"Don't do that, baby," he soothed. "I love you. And you love me, you know that."

His hand moved down to your neck as he pressed his lips against yours.

You jolted up in a panic, looking around the empty room frantically. You were out of breath, your throat dry and sore. You pressed the palms of your hands against your forehead, imprudently trying to force the nefarious memories and thoughts from your mind. You spent the rest of the night with your eyes searching the dark, empty room for any sign of movement, paranoid your nightmare would become a reality and you would be forced to relive your worst experience all over again. Somehow, the castle now seemed to be home to many more ghosts.

-

You spent the next week in the hospital wing. Severus brought you all of the classwork you were missing so you were not falling behind. He spent as much time as he could with you, making you feel far less lonely. Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were incredibly patient and understanding of the incident. They came to check on you at least once a day and never pressured you to leave the hospital wing. You knew it was time to return to your usual daily routine, but the idea of being forced to interact with James felt like a nightmare. You laid on the hospital bed, your books and parchment sprawled out as you worked.

“What happened to you?” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, breaking your concentration and causing you to look up from your papers.

Severus walked through the doors with a vibrantly purple and black eye. His hair fell over it, but it was impossible to hide.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “I’m just here to visit (Y/N).” 

Madam Pomfrey allowed him to walk past her, but continued to shake her head as she walked over to her healing potions on the side of the room, scanning through them for the appropriate one.

“What happened to you, Severus?” You asked, sitting up on the bed and immediately reaching your hand out to push his hair behind his ear. “That looks awful!”

“It’s nothing, (Y/N). Would you stop?”

He pushed your hand away as he sat on the bed next to you. 

“Was it them? Tell me, Severus.”

“Why don’t we just focus on you? You’re the one in the hospital wing after all.”

“So are you now, Mr. Snape,” Madam Pomfrey stated. “Sit still and look up.”

Madam Pomfrey applied a thick cream to Severus’ eye. The colors dissipated and the swelling went down until eventually the ailment almost completely disappeared. By the time Madam Pomfrey finished treating Severus, it was time for him to leave for his next class. He grabbed his books and began walking out of the hospital wing.

“Wait-” You called out, surprising even yourself. 

You collected you classwork before standing and making your way over to Severus.

“Are you leaving?” Madam Pomfrey asked, clearly contemplating whether to allow you to go.

“Yes, Madam. Thank you for everything,” You said before turning to a shocked Severus. “They know better than to mess with us when we’re together. Let’s go.”

[rain-bow-donkey]

Catch and Release: Ch 28

Inspired by @starsfic work on “Demon Customs.”

Previous chapter

WARNING: Alcoholism

It’s the middle of the night. After another nightmare, Wukong goes to find Macaque.

“You can not escape destiny Sun Wukong!”

Wukong woke with a start. Springing up from his sleeping position on the tree. Heavy breathing from the intense fear he felt in his nightmare.

The Monkey King had been having nightmares like that ever since the Lunar New Years Festival. With the White Bone Sprit haunting his dreams.

He hopes that MK is handling her well enough on his own. Who knows what plans she has for the kid.

Calming down now, Wukong tried to go back to sleep. Guessing from the dark sky it was still the dead if night. It would be a hours even before the sun rises on the horizon. 

The King snuggled closer to his blanket and tried to focus on the smell of peaches again. Urging himself to sleep. He not for his eyes to snap wide open at a realization.

He is snuggling up in a blanket. He has a fur pelted blanket that he doesn’t remember bringing with him. But he is wrapped up in one right now.

Getting up in a sitting position, Wukong unwrapped himself from the blanket to examine it.

The King recognized it immediately. It was a courting gift Macaque gave to him long ago. Before the journey.

Wukong doesn’t remember the animal Macaque hunted down to make him this, but the king does remember being happy to receive it.

Despite Wukong being fully capable of hunting and killing his own prey, he still appreciated Macaque doing it for him too.

But those days are over now. And Wukong wanted nothing to do with the blanket or Macaque.

Gathering the fur pelted blanket in his arms and jumping down from the tree, Wukong went to hunt down Macaque and throw the stupid blanket at his head!

If the demon thought Wukong would just forget about their fight earlier then the bastard had another thing coming!

Wukong marched into the manor, up the stairs, and straight to Macaque’s room. Kicking the door down as soon as he got to it and fully intended to start yelling at the demon.

But there was no demon to yell at in there. The room was completely empty.

That stopped Wukong in his tracks. That was weird. It’s the dead of night, if Macaque wasn’t here then where could he be.

The thought of the demon monkey leaving the manor because of their fight crossed Wukong’s mind. Fear started to set its way into the King.

No. No, no, no. He can’t leave me here alone again!

Macaque left Wukong alone for a week. And though the Ling hates to admit it, it was killing him. The loneliness. The isolation. Wukong missed having someone else around him.

Even if all they did was argue and fight, having Macaque around was better than not having him around.

Scared and worried, Wukong started to search for Macaque. He spent a good few minutes running around the manor trying to find the shadow monkey.

It wasn’t until the Sage made his way into the kitchen is when he found who he had been looking for.

Macaque was sitting on a small table with his back to Wukong. The king gave a sigh of relief knowing he wasn’t left alone again.

However, the relief soon turned to anger as the King remembered what he organically set out to do when he found the demon.

To anyone else it would seem that the darker haired monkey hadn’t noticed the other monkey in the room yet.

But Wukong knew better.

He’s called the Six Eared Macaque for a reason. Knowing him, the demon probably heard Wukong running around like a headless chicken all throughout the manor looking for him. The bastard probably thought it was funny seeing Wukong panic like that and just sat back and enjoyed the show.

Well, shows over. And Wukong was back to being pissed.

“Did you have fun?” The King demanded to know. Anger clear in his voice. “Because I didn’t.”

Macaque ears perked up. As if just noticing him. And turned to look at Wukong.

The King was about to throw the blanket at his head at that very moment. Not going to let the demon get a jab in. But stopped.

Wukong expected a smirk on the demons face. Ready to tease and mock the King for being afraid to be alone. But instead of a cocky stupid smile, Macaque looked . . . sad? 

His eyes were red and puffy. As if he’d been crying. He looked surprised to see Wukong there in the kitchen with him too. Which was strange to the golden monkey. Macaque should have heard him coming. His ears heard everything.

Wukong scanned the table. Eyes catching the empty wine bottles and it.

Upon seeing them, Wukong anger faded away. Macaque wasn’t much of a drinker. Not from what Wukong remembered at least.

Just when did Macaque pick up this habit of drunk this much? At this late at night?

Lowering the blanket he was about to launch, Wukong made eye contact with Macaque. “How long have you been up for?”

The demon monkey turned away at the question. Going back to his cup and watching it was he swirled the wine around in it. “Not sure to be honest. A few hours?”

“It’s the middle of the night, Macaque.”

“And what?” Macaque set the drink down on the table with a small thud. Turing in his chair to face Wukong again. “Why do you care?”

Wukong didn’t answer. Not sure what to say.

He didn’t need to say anything though. The silence in the room spoke for him. Macaque scoffed and went back to his drink. About to take a sip.

“Just go back to bed. I won’t bother you.”

Before the demon took a swing of his drink, Wukong placed his hand on the rim of the cup. Preventing Macaque from drinking from it.

Pausing in his movement, Macaque looked up at Wukong questioningly. “What are you doing?”

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Not Really There (AHIT oneshot)

Summary :

"If there was a higher being watching him from afar… Then it had to be the cruellest being in the universe. Staring into the pond, Moonjumper’s eyes were fixed on a familiar face, one he had known for a few years now.

Berry."

Moonjumper suffers from the loneliness the Horizon offers him... Until he discovers a new ability, allowing him to appear in the real world. Except... It doesn't go well.

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/31866103

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Hello people, new one shot ! It's one of the birthday gifts I made for @habijob for her AU, @queens-nightmare !

Two others will come after this one, making a three part series of one shots (the series will be called "Loneliness and Helplessness") ! I hope you'll like them ! In any case, I had a lot of fun writing them.

Read the one shot under the "read more" ! Happy reading !

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If there was a higher being watching him from afar… Then it had to be the cruellest being in the universe. Staring into the pond, Moonjumper’s eyes were fixed on a familiar face, one he had known for a few years now.

Berry.

Oh, Moonjumper had had a lot of friends in the course of his existence, but he never forgot them. All of them had different personalities, appearance, humor and, well… Things that made them special in their own way. One of those things was dreams. Every human’s dream was different from one another, and this could be said for all the kids Moonjumper had been bonded to. For some, their dreams were about painting, reading, fighting, playing dolls or hide-and-seek… And, for Berry, it was Space. Of course, just like all the other times, Moonjumper’s outfit had been influenced by his “host”’s dream, making him wear a starry cloak and planet-like bracelets. This wasn’t a bad one, to be fair… He had had worse, he could say that much, so here he was pretty lucky.

Although, in another regard… He wasn’t.

Stuck in this lonely place, the dream being couldn’t do anything but look at the outside world through a window, one he couldn’t open. This was frustrating, no, unbearable. It was like being starched and seeing a bottle of water in the desert… Only to find out that it was impossible to uncork at all.

Today –or, however, he could refer to the passage of time in such an awful, unchanging place-… Yeah, today was one of those times where Moonjumper’s loneliness was at its peak. Being able to see his dear friend outside but not being able to talk to him, to even just being… Seen at all! This was horrible, terrible and extremely cruel.

This wasn’t fair.

Out of frustration, the dream being put both of his hands on the “pond“, his only window showing him the outside world. Pushing with all of his strength, Moonjumper groaned, his frustration growing stronger and stronger as this did nothing at all. The pond was not moving, was not letting him go through. Why did it have to be that way?

-“Come on!” he whined, desperate for contact, any type of contact: “Why can’t I leave?” He pounded on the window, shutting his eyes hard for a moment, still trying to push… But nothing worked. No matter how hard he was trying to get out, no matter how hopeless he was, no matter how unfair this situation was… The pond still remained the same: unmoving… And still locked.

A wave of melancholy hit him at the realization, and he let himself lie down on the pond, his face turned to Berry and all of his other friends he could see outside. Friends… Who could touch him, who could actually talk to him.

Friends he knew existed.

Tears swelled up in his eyes as he couldn’t look away, a mix of negative feelings washing over him. Jealousy, despair, hopelessness, anger, frustration… The more he watched Berry having fun with people who could really be there with them, the more unbearable it became. And yet… Yet, he kept watching, envying these children so, so much.

They were free, they weren’t as lonely as he was… Oh, what he would give to be in their shoes! If only he could leave that hellish place…

-“Just once…” he begged, his voice breaking as he started to cry. He was feeling so miserable…

He closed his eyes again, letting his mask knock on the pond- the closest he would ever get to freedom, surely-. This was torture, just pure torture! Why did he have to go through this? What did he do to deserve such an horrifying fate?!

-“Please…?” he asked softly, knowing fully well that the pond wasn’t sentient in any way, that no one but him could hear his plea… And yet, he couldn’t help but still try. Still, unsurprisingly… Nothing happened. The world remained the exact same, silent and lonely, without any possible exit.

Moonjumper cried for a while, his tears falling onto the window but never going through- just like him. Why did it have to be this way? Why?! This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair!!

Fuelled by a wave of fury, the dream being started to push on the pond once again. He didn’t want to stay here any longer; he wanted to be out, out of this world!! He hated it, loathed it so much! The anger kept growing and growing, getting more intense as seconds passed. He didn’t want this!!

-“JUST… ONCE!” he screamed to the pond, his fingers bending from how much he was pushing on the flat, inert surface. One would have expected this to end in the exact same way than his previous attempts… However, something else happened.

Something… Moonjumper had never experienced before.

An unknown feeling enveloped him and he sensed his consciousness leaving his body. He felt… Empty, in a way, but it didn’t feel so bad, just… Weird. It happened quickly, though for the dream being, it felt like it lasted a few minutes at least. This was… Such a strange sensation and, as soon as he was able to… He opened his eyes, his curiosity washing away his despair and fury. What… What had happened?

A blinding light made it hard for him to distinguish anything for a few seconds. Confusion filled his mind- wait, what? Why, what- what could possibly be producing so much light? There wasn’t anything like that in the Horizon! However, after a moment, the dream being was able to discern colors, shapes… And, soon enough, people.

Real, actual people. Right in front of him. But this wasn’t what stroke Moonjumper the most- no, far from it. His eyes fell on a very familiar face.

His friend’s face, who was looking at him!

-“Berry!” he exclaimed, as his eyes widened from the surprise. Moonjumper was… Out? But… How? What had happened? How had he escaped the Horizon? Still, his attention focused back on the child and his friends, who were all looking at him, something Moonjumper had longed for years. New tears appeared in his eyes, as his wish had come true. Joy and happiness hit him like a wave- finally, finally he was free, he was out, and… His friend was there, looking at him, actually seeing him!

And yet… There was something wrong, very wrong going on.

-“Moon-Moonjumper?! You’re real!” gasped the kid, his eyes fixed on the dream being. But contrary to the latter’s expression, there was no delight on his face, no relief in it. Instead… Instead, there was fear. Berry wasn’t looking at him like he was facing a friend. It seemed like he was staring at a monster.

Just as the realization fell on Moonjumper’s mind, Berry and his friends crawled away from him, terrified expressions visible on their face. Before he was able to say anything, the kids started to run, as if their life depended on it. The dream being was unable to look away, too dumbstruck to move either. Wait, no… No, this wasn’t supposed to go this way, no…!

-“Berry?” he called out to his friend who was no longer there, almost talking to himself instead. His tears of joy gave way to ones of sadness again. A twisted smile appeared on his face as a wave of despair engulfed him again, one that was so, so much stronger than anything he had ever felt before. He had wished to leave his prison so much that he didn’t even expect it to go wrong.

And the look in Berry’s eyes, the way the other stared at him, horrified… This sight was now carved in Moonjumper’s mind, like something he would never, ever forget in his immortal existence.

-“Why are you running…?” his voice broke- and he just couldn’t contain his sorrow anymore. New tears pushed the previous ones, making them roll down his mask, as the dream being held his head tightly between his hands. His cries became louder and louder, misery and melancholy crushing him. He had thought being lonely was awful… But this was nothing compared to this. Compared to having his friend looking at him like a monster, to having his friend running away from him!

Why?! Why did it have to go this way?!

His emotions were getting more and more uncontrollable and, before he noticed it, his presence in the outside world started to get… Rather unstable, strange particles floating around him, their number increasing as seconds passed. His stress was getting so strong that he felt his grip on reality slip for a short moment. It felt just like what he had experienced before, his sense of reality disappearing… Although, it still felt different. His vision turned black, and he started to feel full again, just like he had always been in the past. And, when he opened his eyes… He was back there.

Back in the Horizon, back in this nightmarish place, back in this… Prison.

His eyes widened, and his sobs stopped for a moment as he looked around him, anguish filling him again as he was forced to realize that… He was not outside anymore.

-“No… No, no, no!” he screamed, his distress more than audible. Why, why?! Why was he back here?! He had been free just a minute ago- his eyes glanced back to the pond. Panic and anger grew inside him, and he floated closer to it, pounding his fists on it.

-“Why?!” he yelled, both livid and hopeless: “Why ?!” he repeated.

Why letting him out… Only to have him experience such a terrible rejection, and bring him back here afterwards? How could fate be so cruel to him when all he had wanted to was to interact with a friend! Nothing more!

Why making him suffer like this?! Was his imprisonment not enough?! Was his eternal loneliness not enough?!

Moonjumper let himself sink down, lying on the pond just like before… Though, now, he couldn’t look through it. He just… Couldn’t anymore. All he could see, as he kept his eyes closed, was Berry’s terror. He kept crying, his sobs echoing all around with no one to hear him at all.

Could it be that… He had never really been out there at all…?

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Oh my, someone really is feeling sad over there, now that's a shame :)c I'm sure everything will get better in the next two !!!! ...... :)

[caescloud]

How about some shiggy fluff with a reader that has an emotion reading quirk and she just sees how broken he is and wants to help him and he’s just like ???? What’s this? Human decency? Tomura.exe has stopped working

Anon, I almost leapt out of my chair when I got your ask because not only is your brain huge, you made me think of my oc who has pathokinesis for a quirk! So thank you for an awesome prompt, I’ll do my best to explore this topic! There are some liberties I’m taking so let me know if this is slightly out of the scope of what you wanted the power to be portrayed as, I can adjust it. And I went with two routes for this one, hope that’s alright! Also, spoilers for the content covered up until about chapter 246!

Emotion/Empathy Quirk!Reader x Shigaraki, Fluff Hcs

As someone with a quirk that allows you to literally emphasize with other people, it’s hard to ignore those who are in distress. As a member of the League, you regularly are among companions whose more negative emotions you pick up on. Shigaraki is no exception to this. For all he does to mask his feelings, be it out of repressing his deepest memories or simply not willing to let himself feel the more somber emotions, Shigaraki has his days.

Approaching Shigaraki when you sense this emotional shift in him may play out depending on how close you two are. I feel that either way, he will be wary of someone who can instantly know the extent of what he’s feeling without knowing the context- it’s this perception he has of being “seen” and vulnerable, but not on his own terms. For this reason I wouldn’t recommend opening anything major; start small,  a simple “I noticed you’ve been off, I’m here to listen if you need it.” (The second set of hcs are more fluffy than the first, I swear! )

If you’re not as close yet:

“Your vibes are off my guy” /j 

You likely noticed his mood around when you first met him, the childish glee at the prospect of carrying out villainous schemes, the apathy felt for society, the frustration when things went awry, and this...undercurrent of intensely negative energy.

Your intentions are truly straightforward when you discover him

Had you not had the quirk you had, you likely would have missed the sudden “peak” of distress one night. Shigaraki experienced a rather nasty nightmare that sent him for a bit of an inner spiral. The LOV base was small enough that you could sense him despite being in separate rooms, the feelings of fright and melancholy were too palpable for you to ignore. You could sense when emotional activity subsides when people are asleep but Shigaraki didn’t seem to fall back asleep that night. You had difficulty yourself and made a note to confront him in the morning, when he’d likely be moving around while the others wouldn’t.

Shigaraki is aware of your quirk and how it works; he is the leader who is responsible for knowing key information regarding subordinates. What he didn’t expect, and may have subconsciously hoped you wouldn’t do, is “pry” into him after an episode. 

SO in addition to that plus being in a sour mood that following morning, he may be more snappy and curt when you approach him. He doesn’t feel it’s your business nor something you should be spending energy on. He’s not really in a headspace to discuss what he dreamt about or exactly know how to put it into words; he’d likely tell you to move on because that’s what he’s doing. 

Ball is in your court at this point; sticking around him may not be the best move unless you’re going to be quiet while he soothes his thoughts on his own; having anyone around him may be more of irritation/distraction than a comforting presence. If you do try to get him to keep talking, he’s gonna flat out leave the bar in a bit of a huff to blow off steam. If you leave yourself, best not to do so in a way that makes it seem like you’re mad at him? It’s not that he’s really concerned with how you’re feeling per se, this is more of a long-term behavior. Calmly letting him know you will respect his boundaries and telling him you’ll be around let’s him know that you’re a mature enough individual which is pretty big for him. Even if he doesn’t remark on it then and there; he’s all about those little details when it comes to people. 

Even if at this moment he doesn’t especially appreciate “someone nosing around” in his head, he can’t completely ignore your intentions. You’re not on thin ice, but he’s gonna maintain a bit of a guard around you until there’s more trust solidified. After all, he can’t be scaring off competent allies like you when he needs ‘em this early on. 

If there is trust/a relationship between you two:

You two have a much better rapport with each other this time around. Between fighting alongside each other, going through shared struggles and trials, those rare late-night chats you’ve had, Tomura and you are far closer now than ever before. 

You are a valuable ally of his and someone who he lowered his walls down ever so slightly more for. As mentioned above, the fact you respected his boundaries early on while maintaining your welcoming presence has served you well in this area. If it’s you asking him about his troubles, that’s okay. You’ve seen him at some pretty harsh lows and still stayed by him and everyone. 

Heck, even prior to this, you’ve already begun to notice a change in Tomura and how he’s been acting since the Kamino incident. Showing his face and apparent care for the LOV will also likely factor into him feeling more comfortable around you as well. After losing AFO and Kurogiri, this point stands even stronger. The league is his family, you’re a part of that too of course. But out of everyone, there’s a unique bond between the two of you. 

So when you approach him as a result of the impossible to ignore feelings of turmoil, not that he’s outwardly showing this, you do so with the same, genuine concern you held the first time this happened. This is someone who you’ve gotten to understand hasn’t had much of a break when it comes to basic human kindness in most of his life. And he is also someone you truly care for, no strings attached. (Hard not to when you’ve been exposed to his innermost feelings after all.) 

He’s clearly trying to hold himself together in the aftermath of Kamino; he seems to be clutching desperately onto himself as a way to ground. The loss of AFO and Kurogiri is taking its mental toll and while the others have opted to give him space, you chose to go to him; hopeful of any comfort you could give in order to soothe the ferocious panic and frustration sweeping over his mind.

Once again you offer him your ear, a shoulder, your words if he’d rather listen to someone else talk instead to take his mind off. He doesn’t brush you off this time but also doesn’t say too much. He stares very intensely at you, searching for a trace of judgement or gratuitous pity and finding none. Despite everything, you two fall into a comfortable silence, that hand you’ve placed on his shoulder acting as an anchor.

The next time this happens is after the battle with the MLA

The base you’re in is more lavish, fitted with more space and rooms for it’s members to reside in. However, you’re still able to sense Tomura’s emotions go completely haywire. The intense loneliness, fright, anger, and sadness crash into you and pull you under.

You don’t realize you’re moving until you’re outside his door, softly calling his name, sensing he’s alert and awake now. You almost feel this will play out as it did nearly a year ago until the door slowly creaked open, a single red eye gazing right through you. You’re about to speak when he reaches for you and pulls you in.

Huh. This is the first time he’s literally reached out for you, a fleeting thought. It’s dark and you’re unable to see him, but you feel the slight tremor wracking his frame and grip. You’re thankful it’s as dark as it is because you don’t want him to see your tears; whenever someone is feeling as badly as he is at the moment, your quirk can have the impact of flooding your emotions, especially if your control is not at its peak.

“Tomura, I’m here for you. I’m ready to help, tell me what I can do,” you muster in your most soothing and level voice, masking your outward emotions well. He is still wordless but moves you and him over to where his bed is, guiding you both down onto the mattress. A low sigh leaves his lungs as he tries to compose himself, grip still around your wrist. You feel your way over to the hand that’s holding you, carefully maneuvering the fingers off and transferring his hand properly into both of yours. You work mindless patterns and pressures over the appendage, further trying to physically calm him.

It starts with an utterance of the words “bad dream, family, my sister-”. He doesn’t go into very descriptive detail but with the way he’s feeling and how he’s speaking, you know it’s nothing pleasant. “They’re gone, it’s done. So why do I still...have these ridiculous visions of them?”

Your heart has ached hearing the way he talks; whether he realizes the extent of his words, when he talks about others and himself or his past, you feel compelled to be open with him.

What happens next almost shatters your heart because he asks you not to go. He’s done talking about his dreams and the past, his fingers are itching to go at this neck, and he’s just tired. When you pull him into your embrace, him mindful of where his hands fall, he surprisingly accepts it. 

You’ve got him and you’re not letting go, gently smoothing over his hair to further placate him. He’s definitely feeling better than when you’ve found him. You only begin to drift off when you feel him truly calm down and go limp in your arms. No one dares to say anything the next morning when the future king has skipped out on a meeting.

He’s not going to say this out loud but he is truly grateful you treated his emotions with the care he didn’t realize they needed from someone like you.

[reiven2017]

Delicate steel.

Chapter 5

The knuckles on Damian's hands turned white as he gripped the steering wheel with force and the artificial leather under his palms creaked pitifully.

He sat in his car for 40 minutes and could not and did not want to think, his body did not obey commands while only her smell was in his head. The smell of his steam.

He used to think that the torment was not knowing if his true mate existed in the world, but now, when he knew that she was there and lived somewhere nearby, Damian was going crazy and realized that he was ready to burn in Hell just to see her. To feel her scent again, dispersing the blood in his veins. The smell, with the help of which he felt alivefor the first time in all 17 years.

At first, having felt a strange smell and an inexplicable reaction of his wolf, Damian did not know what to think, believing that this was just an idiotic joke of his brain. He had been so used to loneliness for many years and already seemed to have reconciled himself to his fate and experienced panic, realizing that the wolf was glad to smell a couple. To tell the truth, Wayne didn't know why he was afraid, this was all new to him and he had no idea what to do with it.

Wayne didn't know what this new feeling was when he caught himself thinking that he was angry after learning that Grayson met his couple first.

The guy gripped the steering wheel with a new force, anger and something else burned his body from the inside, when he thought about Richard's hands touching his mate, his eyes saw his mate, he spoke to his mate and heard her voice, and Damian was forced to be content and rave only with a barely perceptible smell.

He was ready to personally interrogate Grayson, as long as it took and even more until he compiled a complete list of all the people he had met this week. Time, place, description of a person all this, he is ready to knock it out of him by force if it becomes necessary.

The very next day it became clear who she was. More precisely, almost nothing has become clear now. Dick, exhausted and tired from the endless questions of the evil Alpha, suddenly dug out a strange incident on the road from the depths of his consciousness. He did not remember anything important and valuable, except that the girl had strange, bright hair and he helped her with a panic attack. He didn't know the face or the name, and he didn't remember it.

The information about her attack caused Damian's parents to worry, but he dryly ignored them, turning only one thought in his head about hair. The next day, his people were already scouring the city and the search continued until now and Damian did not know a week or less had passed since that moment, but his patience was dangerously exhausted and the guy did not know how much longer he would hold out in ignorance of where his mate was.

Rumors that the heir of the Wayne family finally had a couple scattered like a flock of birds, and after the rumor reached the neighboring flocks. Damian was congratulated by other wolves, asking about how soon he would bring his mate to the pack, and he just waved away their questions, asking himself the same question.

His family called him crazy. He saw only her, his wolf felt only a couple, and this sometimes became dangerous.

Occasionally, at night, the guy woke up from the fact that he felt someone else's emotions. It happened insanely rarely and felt intangible and so far away that Damian began to feel that he was really slowly going crazy. Sometimes he stopped understanding what he was feeling, and for someone in whose veins Alpha blood flows, it was disastrous. Wayne was still a fucking Alpha and the concern for his mate was becoming very problematic for his affairs.

All this made him restless, anxious, nervous, and he hated it.

Now the guy was standing on the side of the road, the engine of his car was not turned off, and his phone was bursting with calls and messages. His cell phone screamed again, pulling him out of the bottomless world of emotions, reminding him of what Damian was doing and was going to do, as his thoughts went to the damn ass as soon as he felt the echoes of other people's emotions again.

This time, it was something remotely similar to fear and it made his wolf howl in despair that he was not there at that moment to protect her. Damian tried not to think about anything bad. Just the thought that something irreparable had happened to his mate and the guy couldn't restrain himself from growling.

Wayne blinked stupidly, trying to normalize his vision, looking at the windshield of the car, but his gaze disappeared somewhere in the distance. He followed the drop of water running down the glass with his eyes and shuddered sharply, returning to reality. Damian took a deep breath, trying to start reacting again and grabbed the phone with an uncoordinated movement. He saw a couple of missed ones from his father and Grayson, and his brain finally began to convulsively return to reality, trying to start working again. He was driving to the pack council when the guy was overtaken by the emotions of his mate and unable to cope with it, Damian was forced to pull over to the side of the road.

They even washed about his mate, made him weak and Damian became disgusted with himself and his pity. He was fucking Wayne, a fifth-generation Alpha, and he shouldn't have been sitting around melting like a stupid boy dreaming of a girl.

The thought made him frown. He sent a quick message to his father that he would be there soon and threw the phone on the back seat, rubbing his face. Damian was no longer going to be driven by emotions and behave like a madman in love. He doesn't even know who she is, and already breathes unevenly at the thought of her. It was insanely stupid for Damian.

The guy growled angrily and pressed the gas pedal harder than necessary. He still has a question about the pack council, and if Damian doesn't show up there during this time, his family will raise the issue of his execution.

                                                           ======

At the same time, on the other side of the city, Raven was once again asking how she had allowed herself to be persuaded to do this, standing in front of an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city and frowning listening to the muffled music coming from the half-broken windows.

These five hours in her life were the most intense in her entire history and Rachel was afraid to think what would happen next. She barely fought off Rogers with a wardrobe of indecently short dresses and won her right to stay in shorts with a T-shirt and a jacket. Roth wondered where Amy had gotten these dresses and if Mrs. Rogers knew about their existence. After slipping through the window in her room, she and Amy found themselves on the street, where, according to her, a taxi was waiting for them. The car was really standing a few houses away from Rach and she allowed herself to be seated in a rather muddy-looking car, clutching a knife in her pocket all the way, and then she was happy to stay in the car after seeing the place where the party was taking place.

Rachel had never been to a party before and was not eager. She had a list of what was bad and what was good, and the parties just related to the terribly bad. She knew that this was bad, partly because it was at one of the parties at the age of 16 that her mother met Rachel's father, Traygon, and became pregnant. She also did not like a large crowd of people who were under the influence of alcohol and carnal desires and she herself had never had a love for this kind of event and she had a hundred and one reasons why it was just a terrible idea.

But she was still standing there, giving her hoodie to Amelia, who was shivering in her dress.

-" How would you like to go home and forget the way here? " Rachel drawled warily as she dodged a drunken crowd of teenagers.

She looked at Amy, who was trying to force a smile, but her eyes were just as uninspired looking at the gloomy building in front of her.

Rogers tangled herself more tightly in Raven's sweater, casting a brief glance at her, trying to distract herself from the darkening facade of the building and the growing sense of fear. It was the first time she was so far from home, and if it hadn't been for Raven, who agreed to go with her, Amelia would never have decided to do this.

- "I didn't know you had so many tattoos. " Rachel smiled dryly.

"More than twenty...I think. I've never counted them.

"Do they all mean something to you?" Rachel frowned, thinking about the answer to the question. She didn't want to lie to Amelia, and lying was never her strong point, but it would be better for both of them if they were just stupid drawings without meaning and without what was hidden under them.

- "no. Just pictures." she smiled.

- "Cool. Amy's distant reply sounded." The girl nodded in the direction of the warehouse. -" I think so...should we come in? Michael...he should have been there a long time ago." -" I prefer to stay here. "Rachel caught the girl's reproachful look and just shrugged.

But Amelia Rogers wasn't the one who hesitated for a long time.

"Raven?" Amy said, glancing at the building, and Raven's name sounded questioningly on her lips. Roth looked at Amy for a few seconds, her thoughts were still against this whole terrible idea for the sake of one stupid boy, but she perfectly saw the love in the girl's eyes just at the mention of his name and smiled encouragingly at her, gently squeezed Amelia's hand.

Even if Raven had a certain fear of the party, strangers and the unknown, now...and even before that, she will not be able to say no when her hand is squeezed as the only support.

And Rachel Roth was the one who thought about others, much more than about herself.

Amelia nodded, a smile bloomed on her lips, and after returning the hoodie to Raven, she proudly walked to the warehouse, blowing a kiss to her friend. Rachel only quietly grinned after her, catching up with the girl and not noticing how wild, red-flushed eyes looked at her from the shadow of the forest surrounding the warehouse, and the toothy mouth stretched out in a cold snarl.

                                                    ======

From the first moment they entered the warehouse, the thundering music deafened Rachel and she hovered in space for a second, trying to orient herself. There were neon signs everywhere, music and smoke, and Raven counted about ten couples kissing as she and Amy walked down the corridor and shyly covered her eyes with her hand, at the sight of not just kissing couples. Rogers snickered maliciously at Rachel

's reaction.

- "Shut up." Raven grumbled, still half covering her eyes with her hand.

She learned early what sex is because her mother saw fit to tell her about it at an early age and Rachel sometimes hated her for it.

Raven didn't know if it was related to Angela's pregnancy or if it was just her parenting method, but she remembered closing her ears to her mother's words, blushing in every possible way. Even now, having already a driver's license and a mental disorder, Rachel never considered herself old enough and ready for this, without ceasing to be embarrassed and it was quite stupid in her opinion, but she couldn't do anything about it.

She grimaced, feeling annoyed when some left-handed dude blew cigarette smoke in her face, continuing to follow Amelia down the corridor. She didn't know if the girl had been here before, but of the two of them, Rachel thought that Rogers knew what she was doing, so she just followed her.

The music grew louder and minutes later a massive door appeared at the end of the corridor, and behind it a huge room. The sharp smell of alcohol and something sweet hit Rachel's nose, sharpening her senses and she had to admit that the club looked much better inside than outside. It was a large, spacious room, in the center of which was an improvised dance floor, a DJ booth and hundreds of people, covered with music and alcohol. At the end there was an iron staircase and Rachel followed it with her eyes, paying attention to the fact that there was something like a second floor on top, where the party guests were. To her right was a large neon-lit bar, to which Amy dragged her through the crowd, grabbing Rachel by the arm.

She barely caught Amelia's words to the bartender over the loud music, but the next minute Raven was staring in disbelief at the machine in her hand, in which an amber liquid was splashing.

- "Is it necessary? "- she said and felt Amy roll her eyes almost to the ceiling, standing with the same glass and smiling provocatively.

-" Yes, especially for a boring ass like you. "Raven looked doubtfully at the glass again, completely sure that it was something alcoholic. Probably not once in her life had she stood and breathed so close to alcohol and did not even expect to drink when she agreed to a party, but the amber liquid in her hand aroused her curiosity. Rachel had no idea what the hell was in her glass and it did not cause confidence, although she trusted Amy, but her cheeky side of character began to take up and Rachel tried to sniff the drink, catching the mocking look of the bartender. It made her pride growl.

- "How about something else and non-alcoholic?"

"Oh, my God, Rachel, just drink this!" Amelia shouted, trying to shout over the loud music and drained her glass in one gulp. Raven stepped back, and after a few seconds she couldn't breathe as her throat burned and her lungs filled with fire as she tried to breathe. It was bitter, sharp and hot, but Rachel hummed to herself when the first sensations subsided and a pleasant sweet taste was felt on the tongue. It was a sharp contrast and it seemed to stop the time inside her and Raven caught herself that she liked it. The corners of her lips lifted in a satisfied grin and she defiantly licked her lips, collecting the remains of the drink, seeing how the young man behind the counter nervously swallowed.

Sometimes Rachel did it before she thought about it, but alcohol inspired her with confidence that previously she would not have had enough for this. Amelia watched this scene with the pleasure of a mother for her child.

- "Why didn't you tell me earlier about the magical effect of alcohol on you? I would put it in your lunch every day." - she drawled mockingly, replacing their drinks. Raven shrugged, twirling the glass in her hands and drank without hesitation. She felt her brain beep a warning signal to her, but ignored it and heard Rachel call sharply. She barely managed to leave the glass on the counter before Ro was dragged back into the crowd.

- "Let's go dance."

- "What about your adventures with Michael? " Raven finally remembered their main goal.

"That's why we're going to dance, Rachel...I saw him near that column." Amy whispered conspiratorially in her ear and led them to the one Raven Colon understood. They squeezed in between the flow of people, slowly dancing to the music Rachel tried to concentrate, the alcohol hit her well in the head, but she continued to wander with her eyes in the direction where Amy was nodding. Then she saw him, a dark brown-haired man with gray eyes, vaguely known to her from her friend's love stories as Michael. He seemed to be playing football...or not, and that didn't interest Raven much.

"What are you going to do?" Rachel asked.

-" Push us off. Amelia's immediate response came, and Raven's eyebrows shot up in surprise when it sounded like a well-thought-out plan from Rogers ' mouth.

- And?

-" Now we will pass by him and you will accidentally  stumble and push me into him. " Amelia dictated, and shot Rachel a furious look. "Don't you dare miss."

- "And he will save you from meeting the asphalt like a prince?"

- "Exactly."

- Okay. - if it hadn't been for the two glasses she had drunk, Raven would never have agreed to such an adventure, but now she found it somewhat funny.

"If you do it right, I'll get you some more of those cocktails." Amy smiled cheerfully.

"Oh, this is definitely getting interesting."

                                                           ======

Raven leaned against the bar, irritably trying to wipe off her beer shorts. Some drunk idiot decided to flirt with her without being able to connect even two letters and stumbled, overturning the contents of the glass on the girl. Her head gradually began to spin, and her vision became blurry and indistinct, and she felt her body relax and get drunk, making her pliable and sluggish, and Rachel suddenly frowned.

Oh, yes, Rachel Roth, keep digging your own grave.

Rachel grimaced irritably, rubbing her face and returning the remnants of her mind, she was determined to get out of here before it was finally too late. She would have done it much earlier if it hadn't been for Amy, who, as expected, fell into the arms of her prince and flew away from Raven on the wings of love, forcing Roth to hang out near the bar, ignoring her anger at her friend.

She was angry at Rogers for just leaving her, but at the same time she was worried about her. Amy hadn't been in her field of vision for a long time, and Raven tensed her eyebrows on the bridge of her nose. Theoretically, Amy was with Michael, which means no one else could threaten her, but Rachel was the one who knew what girls in love could do and it covered her with a wave of nervousness. Maybe she was exaggerating, or maybe it was the effect of alcohol on the brain, but panic slowly rolled up to her throat and Raven rushed into a bunch of dancing people with a clear goal to get her friend away from here.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but a sharp sense of danger and panic didn't stop leaving Raven and she wasn't sure if it was just because of Amy.

Rachel suddenly found herself barely breathing as she scoured the building in search of a friend and her gaze involuntarily stopped on the man.

He was there, standing in the darkest corner of the opposite wall and his eyes were incredibly glowing when the man looked directly at Raven and she felt a herd of goosebumps run through her skin as soon as she could recognize in his dangerous and cruel smile, the local leader of the football players and her nedo-rapist Jonathan Wild.

He was looking at Rachel and only at her, and when he caught her eye, he grinned caustically. Raven swallowed hard.

Fuck.

The fear for her friend faded into the background. Now Raven was beginning to fear for herself. She didn't know what Wilde was capable of, but the fact that he was right here and right now, watching Rachel with fierce eyes made her doubt that it was an accident and her body froze with fear and Raven didn't know that it was possible to sober up so quickly.

She watched as Wilde moved in her direction, waving away everyone who got in his way, and this pushed Rachel to take a few frightened steps back. She needs to run. Right now. Her eyes carefully and warily slid around the room and Raven clung to the green sign "exit" under the stairs, and without wasting a minute rushed there. She felt like vomiting was rising in her throat from sudden movements and convulsive brain work, but she continued to confidently make her way to the exit through the crowd of people.

Grabbing the door handle, she forcefully pulled the iron door, literally falling out of the building, covering her mouth with her hand and leaning over the cold iron railing, spat the bitter taste of alcohol on the asphalt. Her head was buzzing, her hands were crumpled, and the fabric of her black shorts was soaked through with beer, viciously sticking to her body and she opened her eyes wide, staring into the forest.

Damn Data with its solid thickets.

Rachel tried to figure out what to do next. She had no idea where she was and was going to bite off her finger from anger that she didn't pay attention to the road when she and Amy were driving in the car. Her phone, of course, was happily left at home. And who could Raven call when her parents had already had their third dream, believing that their daughter was sleeping in her room with a girlfriend.

Amy. Raven could only guess where this woman had gone, but at least she was sure that she had a phone and money with the prince and urged herself to calm down mentally, her problem with the ferocious Wild hung over her a danger sign and Rachel had to move away from the building a few steps, I hope that she was able to break away.

Several long minutes passed, Wilde did not appear, but her nerves were on edge, Rachel stopped breathing, then inhaled sharply without taking her eyes off the iron door. The music continued to be loud, and Raven knew that no one would hear her screams from here. She shuddered.

Don't you dare think about it, Rachel Roth. You made it. You ran away. Well done.

In the next minute, her blood cooled and stopped, and her mind completely refused to accept what was happening. Raven heard a branch snap at her side and she heard a growl. A wild, bestial and dangerous growl, not capable of being made by a person. She swallowed hard, her muscles stretched into a rigid string and she did not remember how she turned around, meeting the gaze of three pairs of eyes. Wolf's eyes.

[sigcy]

We dabble in writing fics, as well! Here’s a slowburn sigcy fic (it’s still a WIP, first posted on AO3) that Mod Cricket and I worked on together. (CW for violence.) Part Two.

[ Part One ] | [ Next Part ]

 Sigma had lost track of time while he was working under Talon’s authoritative claw. He would wake, don his armor, and do whatever they asked him to do. They told him that they were freedom fighters, pursuing peace for a better world from corrupt politicians and faulty scientists. Days into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and he worked dutifully for his rescuers.

 But he had been confused-- told that he had been falsely accused, that he had been imprisoned due to someone fearing his work. And so a manhunt had commenced over the years, the astrophysicist slowly being melded into something far more sinister than he had ever anticipated he could be.

 A weapon.

 At first, he would hesitate-- a job ending in the death of someone that he had been told had worked against him. Begging for a life cut short by someone else finishing it off for him.

 Over time, it grew easier. Easier to reach out with his mind, thanks to the augmentations that Dr. O’Deorain had fitted him with. Mental augmentations, allowing him to bend gravity as he so chose-- as though he didn’t conform to the laws Isaac Newton had described centuries prior. The one exception. The one variable in the wide universe of mathematics.

 Over time, he would use his harness to strike fear in those who opposed Talon’s Just cause. He realized the world was filled with nonbelievers, those whose heads had been filled with twisted lies. That is, until Moira stopped him, one day.

 “You have become quite brutal in your work, Subject Sigma.” She leaned against the door frame, wiry arms crossed over her chest. “Like a trained killer.”

     That wasn’t his name.     He reminded himself, looking up from his workstation, scattered with datapads and papers. He had been catching up on scientific work that he had missed while he had been under capture-- several years worth of reading.

 The geneticist stepped over, humming to herself. Always, there was an air of aristocracy about her-- yet he couldn’t quite place why. He knew very little of his colleagues, in hindsight. Her spindly, metal-plated fingers graced his shoulders as she rounded his chair. “Mr. Ogundimu almost fears you may be getting      too...     powerful.”

 “I would never harm anyone here.” He insisted, that ringing in his ears making him flinch-- that damned      melody     sparking just under the surface of the sound, almost barely discernible. His eyes jammed shut, and he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the noise, to no avail.

 “Are you sure about that, dear?” She prodded, quirking a brow. One of his hands came up to cup at his forehead, attempting to still the sound.

 He had opened his mouth to speak, but Moira continued, never losing that little knowing smirk. “Perhaps we should give you more sedatives, mm? Pull you off the teams for a while.”

 “No, no, no, I can work--”                  “Nonsense.” She grinned, tapping at his arm and stalking off. “I only wish the best for you, my dear.”

 The ringing grew worse, and he grit his teeth as he watched her walk off. As the door closed behind her, the room fell dark-- and the datapads in front of him also lost their power.

 “What is going on!” He yelled out, standing from his chair and nearly falling from the ringing in his head.

 There was no answer, and as he stumbled to the door, it remained shut--      locked.    

 “What!” he yelled out again, his fist making contact with the door with a loud      thud.     Again, there was no answer. “Let me out! Your humor is lost. Let me work!” He yelled again, growing angrier by the second.

 But in the end, he was left alone.

 This treatment continued for weeks-- anytime he flinched, each time he made mention of the noises he heard or the ringing that drove him insane, he would be locked away-- given ‘time off’ in solitary. It drove him insane, loneliness driving him to improve. To survive out of spite.

 Eventually, he learned to cope, to ignore it, and to grasp it, if only to escape his room for missions-- as though he simply lived for Talon’s gains.

 The noose that Talon had him under grew ever tighter, however-- he soon was not allowed out of his room without armed guard, before he was not allowed out of his room at all, unless they required his abilities. It was as though he were a pet project, losing his freedom with each added layer of ‘security.’ His self worth deteriorated, and he was left to rot.

 Anger. Anger is what he began to feel, bubbling up in his chest, almost making him feel as though he could scream. But he didn’t.

 Sigma sat alone in his room, thinking about everything that had transpired. He was glassy eyed, staring at the wall in front of him. Fury was evident in his sharp eyes, almost like a small flame was burning in them.

 That damn melody rang through his head - he had built somewhat of a tolerance to it at this point, but when he was angry, the sound of it was deafening and unbearable for him.

 He felt a small itch in his arm, and looking down he could see the shape of something inside of it. Stretching out the skin with a pull, he looked closer, the shape resembling that of a pill.

 Sigma’s eyes went wide, running a finger over the bump to make sure it was actually there and he wasn’t hallucinating. How had he never noticed it there before?  

 And then that’s when he realized that this was a chip that was implanted inside of him. His pulse began to race and sweat dotted his forehead. The room felt like it was disappearing all around him, his vision beginning to intensely focus on this foreign object in his arm.

 Sigma began to claw lightly at it, not really realizing what he was doing, his mind racked and blank from panic alone. He applied more pressure, blood now oozing out of the open wound. Had he been a test subject? All those times he’d been given a sedative to calm down, had they put things inside him? What else was there?

 His adrenaline ran high, continuously digging at it and ripping open more of his flesh. Red tainted his vision, the melody in his mind turning into screeching, off-key notes the further he pulled it open. He was far past the first few layers of skin, muscle now visible. Blood poured from his arm and onto his bed - but that didn’t stop him, the adrenaline making him not feel the pain.

 Sigma could see the twinkle of the object in his room’s light, and without a second thought, he gripped it and yanked it out, letting out a yelp. The little device fell out and clattered to the floor, ripped from a nerve with a twitch and a spark of a wire.

 He gasped and panted, looking up to the ceiling in ...      relief.  

 The melody…it’s gone.

...........................

 "Ma'am, there's a situation in Subject Sigma's room." An attendant rushed to her, flashing the security footage of her pet project's room in question. Most of the lights had been busted from the ceiling, one hanging loosely and flickering in the corner of the camera’s vision. Sigma sat idly in the center of the screen, looking up to the ceiling as if lost in thought, turning away from the camera in his room.

 "What is it?" She asked, annoyed.

 "His chip. We're not receiving any more input from it. He dug it out of his arm." We have security on the way, but with the situation right now, we can't afford to lose anyone else--"

 "      Impossible.    " She hissed, before she turned on her heel, a breath leaving her as her body dissolved-- rocketing forward and out of the room. It didn't take her long to rocket through the fulcrum, rushing past and through anyone in her way, like a vengeful ghost rushing to glory. Finally, she rematerialized in front of Siebren's door, just as collected as she had been minutes prior. But an anger seethed under the surface, barely masked behind a cruel smile.

 She didn't knock, and the security outside the door followed her in without a word.

 "      A mhuirnín.     [My Dear.] What on Earth are you doing?" She asked, that same smile crossing her face as she entered. Her tone was light, kind, despite the anger that dwelled underneath. "A little bird told me you've done something very bad. And you know we can't have that, now."

 He remained silent, giving her a deathly, intimidating glare as he turned where he sat.

 The security team surrounded Moira-- unnecessary, she thought, but nevertheless, she seemed unfazed. This wasn't the time for a security breach.      They had to come together, as Akande had put it. Foolish sentiment, but nevertheless one she had to put up with.

 "Stand do--!" One of the security guards ordered, his rifle, along with the others, aimed directly at the subject in question. Though, he'd been stopped by Moira's slender, miscolored hand coming up. Her eyes narrowed-- something about the man had changed. His demeanor was filled with hate. With      distaste    . His intimidation was lost on her, and she stood firm. She still had the power.      She always did.  

 "My, my, A mhuirnín. You certainly seem to have been naughty." She glanced down to his bleeding arm, the trickle of blood following the lines of the musculature of his frame, before dripping down his fingers and to the floor. "And here, I thought we worked so hard to make you such a      good boy.    " What a setback, months of mental conditioning, wasted in a matter of moments. Nevertheless, she was patient-- A few sedatives would make it easy to replace the chip that funneled those delightful noises into his nervous system.

 She smiled again, taking a few steps forward, the security team following close behind. Their anxiety was present in their minute hesitations, one's hands even tightening on his rifle at his shoulder. But she showed no signs of that remorse, no signs of fear. "Come, now. Let's get you bandaged up. Your condition is      fragile.    "

     “Shut up.”  

 Sigma’s voice was stern, the anger evident from his tone. His usual soft, periwinkle eyes gleamed with hatred, looking right through the woman who stood before him. He understood, now. He understood everything that she had done.

 The hatred that bubbled up in his chest came to a boiling point, the feeling no longer ignorable. With swift motions, Subject Sigma threw a fist down, sending the security team slamming to the ground. They panicked, unable to move and felt like an invisible force was keeping them down.

 With Moira still standing before him, knees bent and      fearful     in all but a moment, he wasted no time in grabbing her by the neck with his free hand, his grip vice-like. Teeth bared, her usually stoic face marred by the lines of distaste forming around her mouth. A miscolored hand came up to grasp at his wrist, nails digging ruthlessly into his skin, clawing at him to get free. Her mismatched eyes bore into him, kicking about as he effortlessly lifted her from her feet. That smile she'd worn only moments prior melted away into anger, and into fear above all else. The panicked yells of the security team filled her hearing, along with the pounding of her heart in her ears.

     “I’m sick of you.”    He hissed, his grip tightening.

 Any retort she would have had was drowned by his hand at her throat. Only the choked gasps of her struggling for air could be heard. And within all but a moment, her head already felt fuzzy from the lack of blood flow to her brain.

     Damn. This was bad.  

 She closed her eyes, and in a moment, her form dissipated, the cloud she'd dissolved into twisting around him. She reappeared at his back, a gasp of air letting her return to the moment. "Stand down, pet. I don't want to have to hurt you." She hissed, dark, biotic energy rolling down her arm. It wouldn't kill him, but she could sap his energy enough to at least keep her alive. And       that     was what mattered. She could replicate the data she'd gathered on Subject Sigma's condition. She could do it again.      And do it better.  

 "      Now.    " She added-- it wasn't a request. Where she was used to her assistants cowering at the tone, she knew it would take far more than just that to get his attention, again. And so with a flick of her wrist, the corrupted caduceus technology reached out, latching onto his biometric signature, again and again, zapping at him like a drunken parent’s lash of a belt.

 A pang shot through his body as the red-head used the ability against him, a short wail escaping him. However, he remained unfazed by her attempt to subdue him, his anger and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he turned around to grasp her neck again. This time, he used his gravitational power to pull her in, the pressure around her much worse than before.

 He looked down at her, his usual soft, periwinkle eyes now bewildered and filled with pure hatred. This was a side of Sigma that no one ever saw, even in battle, he never had this same vicious look on his face.

     I want you to look at me as I wring the pathetic life out of you.    The phrase repeated itself in his mind as he looked at her, as though a switch had been flipped.

 His grip tightened, teeth clenched and bared as he put more power into his hold on her.

 She'd tried to dematerialize again, to shift from his grip, but something held her in place. Like a cocoon, a spider wrapping its victim in silk and immobilizing her nomatter how much she struggled. It was fascinating, seeing such a raw display of power take hold. But she was on the wrong side. She shouldn't have been prey. She was better than this. Her hands shook, and she couldn't help but watch the beam of caduceus tech get cut off from its link to him. Pushed away by the power of gravity alone. And while there was a minor surge to her own body's resilience, it wouldn't last.

 She managed to bring her hands up to clasp at his wrist again, shaking against the gravity that seemed to push against her at every angle. Squeezing her, as though she were about to be crushed by stones.

 Teeth bared as she struggled, kicked, eyes wide as she looked to Siebren, looked to the security that were trapped helplessly on the floor behind them. Her hands clenched tightly against his skin, nails clawing for any sort of purchase. But none was to be found-- there was no remorse, no mercy in his fingers.

 Moira let out a choked sob, eyes beginning to water. Pitiful. Desperate. She could do nothing, and even though the security called for backup, she knew that they wouldn't get there in time. She tried again and again to shift away, to dematerialize, but every time she did, the gravitational force that bound her in place only seemed to tighten. Finally, the sound of one of her ribs snapping could be heard, followed by a second, and a third. There was a rumble in her throat as she tried to cry out, but nothing could escape.

     Nothing ever did escape from a black hole, now did it?  

 Tears pricked the corners of his eyes; not necessarily from the intense fury that was ablaze through him, but he was finally getting his revenge after all this time. His revenge for all the times she tested on him, prodding and poking him like he was nothing more than a test animal to her. The flashbacks of her putting him under electroshock therapy during the very few times he did attempt to go against her flashed through his mind, the pain something that he could never forget.

 Sigma had it in his mind that when Talon saved him from that god awful facility, they were his saviors and he should be ever gratuitous for everything they did for him. But as time went on, he learned of how they actually were, and were far from being his angelic saviors, turning into his torturous captors and being treated much the same as he was in the previous facility.

     Moira played with fire, and now she was going to burn.  

 Sigma kept tightening and tightening his grip, her neck feeling as though it was crushing under this pressure alone. Both hands were on her, and he wasn’t letting go. His thumbs were placed over her throat, making sure that he was going to crush her windpipe. Her gasps and struggles were like music to his ears, a sense of peace and tranquility washing over him in that moment.

 His eyes watched hers through all of this, previously unfeeling and serious eyes now filled with fear. How the tables have turned, to now be the one who cowers before me.  

 Her desperate clawing began to dull, with time-- where he put up a fight, and stood as a brick wall for her to scrape away from, she clawed and writhed like a frantic, rabid animal in a too-small cage. She fought for survival, yet it certainly was a losing one. Nevertheless, her metal-reinforced nails gouged into his skin, tearing it open. She kicked at him, her shoes planting hard at his ribs-- But with the adrenaline that most assuredly coursed through him, she doubted he could feel it. Her eyes bulged, mouth frothing and tongue visible as her body began to kick in to the primal instincts of fear.

 She was furious. Furious and desperate. Where she usually wore an arrogant visage, a queen atop her throne, she now felt like a desperate peasant in the hands of a vengeful God. How long had passed? Shit, had she lost count? Precious seconds ticked by as her brain began to slow, consumed by a burning haze.

 Her wide eyes rolled up into her head, tears now spilling over as her pale skin turned a bright red. After a moment or two more, her strength began to wane. And finally, her hands slipped from where they dug into his wrist, the movements clumsy and haphazard as the seconds tick, tick, ticked by. Her thrashing stilled, and for a moment, the scientist almost looked at peace. Though, her lip quivered, and her arms twitched as they fell heavily to her sides, body convulsing. The room was spinning, Moira sputtering as her consciousness faded.

 Without hesitation, Sigma flung her lifeless body to the ground in-between the guards that he kept down. His eyes looked at her like she was nothing but a piece of garbage, a queen who had been removed from her throne and reduced to a nobody. The marks of his fingertips were visible as oval bruises that spotted her neck, in between discolored flesh.

 Sigma’s eyes glanced amongst the group of guardsmen, all of them looking up at him like they were nothing but cornered animals, pleading that he didn’t do the same to them.

 He knew he had to leave, otherwise his only other option will be to be killed. As horrific as a person Moira was, they wouldn’t allow for someone in the inner circle to be killed, and by a subject no less.

 As if on cue, however, gunfire could be heard outside the door-- screaming and the sounds of fighting, before the door slid open. A masked Talon grunt entered, backwards-- firing several more rounds behind him in a burst fire spray, covering them before the door slammed shut behind him. A fist broke the screen covering the hand scanner, effectively locking them in. They would be safe, for a moment.

 The trademark Talon Red helmet turned to the scene before them. Cowering security staff. An unconscious doctor. A lone victor. He didn't hesitate to lift his rifle, dispatching those that were pinned to the floor with ruthless intent before he stripped his helmet off, a flash of palms to show he was no threat. "Dr. de Kuiper?" The man asked, his short hair dreadlocked and brown eyes boring into him. Siebren nodded in alarm, backing up, his hands shaking. "Looks like I came just in time." His Haitian Creole accent was hard on his lips, English  sounding foreign on his tongue. "...Dr. Ziegler sent me. I'm here to get you out of here. Are you hurt?" He huffed, still breathless from the exertion.

[chappedandfadedvds]

Jan 19th, Tuesday 18:08

„What would you like to drink?“

Jens went over towards the kitchen, followed by cautious feet behind him, as he tried to recount what Lies had bought on the weekend.

„We don’t have a lot of alcohol,“ the boy went on, „but I think we have some beer and there should be an opened red wine from Saturday, if I’m not mistaken.“ He opened the fridge, scanning the items, while his finger tapped across the cold frame of the door he hold onto. „Other than that, orange or apple juice, and like icetea or water.“ 

„Water will do, and some of the wine. We don’t want it to go to waste, right?“

„Of course not.“ Jens replied, grabbing said bottles to carry them over to the table. He took a deep breath. He closed the fridge. Jens was incredibly nervous. Had been for hours today. It just had gotten worse, once the doorbell had rung five minutes ago.

His father stood by the set table, tall and sturdier than Jens had remembered him to be. Still the man had the same face, the same wandering eyes, that constantly seemed to examine everything it could catch. Hendrik was older, his hair giving in to grey strands that fell into his face again and again, only to be tugged behind the ear.

His father looked lost in this house. Familiar and yet an intruder in the home, his mom had created for her and her three children. The image was off, tilted and skrewed.

„If she isn’t down in a couple minutes, I’ll go up myself. Seriously, ever since she started playing Mario Maker 2 with Olivia last week, she had barely done anything else.“ Jens complained, brushing off the slight discomfort, because what else was there to talk about. Everything he wanted to say, was too much, too personal to bring up over dinner. He’d ask his father to stay a little longer, once Lotte would be in bed.

„I’m trying hard to keep it in, but I remember another eight-year-old, who refused to put his gameboy away for anything but to sleep. Throwing a tantrum whenever it was gone.“ 

Hendrik laughed, his eyes crinkled in kindness despite the jab at his son’s expense. Jens felt the awkwardness rise to his cheeks, while he grinned back at the man across of him. He had a point, Jens guessed. 

„Do you still need help with anything?

„No. It’s in the oven to keep warm. Just waiting for Lotte.“ Jens explained and waved off the kind offer, that fell completely short in Jens’s eyes. He also viewed his father to be more a guest than a member of this family. A person who just dropped by as it was convinient. „You can already sit down, though, if you want.“

If Jens was honest with himself, he would have loved to despise his father and scream at the ease of the situation they found themselves in. It went against what Jens would consider to be the normal reaction. He shouldn’t be smiling with a man who choose his work over his children. 

But all these late night talks with his mom had somehow helped to accept it. 

Jens still felt anger, still felt the abondoment and sadness that came with his father’s leave.

He wondered if he should sit here at this table with the man, who even after everything made Jens more serene to know to have around than not. His heart was torn by the duality of his fellings.

„How long have you been on sea this time? And where have you beenin the first place?“ Jens asked, for a lack of a better topic. He also was curious to be a child again and marvel at all the things his father had heard and seen.

„It was the first part of an artic expedition along the Greenlandic coast. I was on this big icebreaker, crushing through the tall waves and large ice floes. Enwrapped in total darkness for the last couple of weeks. Any second spend in a night that never ended. But the stars on cloudless hours were fantastic to see. And the northern lights, I certainly have photographs with me to show you. I’ve seen them before, but it had been years and it completely captivated me again to see the colours dance across the black sky. Absolutely worth giving up the sun for a while.“

His father poured himself some wine and some more for his son, who had just brought them glasses to fill. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy at least a little bit of gentle drunkness. At least enough to hopefully drown out the faint panic at the conversation ahead of them later that night.

„However, that were just the last three month. I was on a submarine before then. That lasted over the whole summer. I was assisting an old colleague of mine. He is from Irkutsk north of Mongolia in Russia. One of the most brilliant people I had the fortune to meet. He is studying deep sea creatures. And it allowed me to refresh some of my russian. So I obviously took six month of intensive deep diving lessons to further my skills and got my fitness up to be able to go with him. I can hardly put in words how humbling and how extremly frightening the whole experience was. Dangerous to be under so much weight of water and the pressure pounding in on the vessel. No light, only low rumble. Eery.“

His father’s pitch dropped as he spoke. It caught Jens to listen in to every word with intent.

„There was like this gripping loneliness at the bottom of the ocean. We just had each other in an environment that would be lethal for us to be in. Just narrow rooms and halles, wrapped in equipment. I am so grateful to have accepted to go. For a month we even had someone of the BBC with us to film some footage for a documentary.“

And there he was. Hendrik Stoffels. Always something to say, and show, and explain, and ponder over. Eager to get a grasp on the vastness of the sea and the depth of the water beneath him.

Sometimes Jens found himself wishing to be as passionate about anything in his life, like his father was about the marine wildlife and his adventurous expeditions. 

It was hard to hate someone, who has found so much happiness and love outside of traditional metrics. Hendrik hadn’t wanted to settle down and he hadn’t wanted fame nor monetary success. He wanted to explore, Jens’s mom had told him. That was what fullfilled his father, and Jens would be lying if he said he didn’t yearned to figure out what would make him feel like that too.

„Lotte.“ Hendrik proclaimed bright, ripping Jens out of his thoughts, as the girl appeared next to them to take her usual seat. 

She had the switch with her, but the screen was dark and she had placed it next to her plate. Her eyes were stuck on the strange man, she had no recollection of. She had been two when Hendrik had left, who could hold that against her. This man may as well be a random person Jens had picked up on the street.

„My god, Jens had grown, but you, you actually turned into an actual human being.“ Their father chuckled, his gaze transfixed on the girl in wonder. One day a toddler and the next an eight-year-old child. The six years almost non-existent, Jens guessed by the look in their father’s expression.

His words hold the same sentiment that he had brought against Jens on the doorstep into the house. When it had taken Hendrik a long minute to process to have found a young man in the place of his son he had left behind. 

If Jens would be asked, he’d say, that for once his father had been rendered speechless.

„Shall we eat?“ His father went on, when Jens had been to busy with his thoughts to pay attention to the reason they had met in the first place.

„Yes!“ Lotte loudly declared, already wiping the napkin off of her plate.

„One sec.“ Jens replied amused, before he turned to get the baking dish out of the oven.

__ __ __ tagged: @odi-et-amo85, @tayspots

[asimawv]

I write and conceptualize story to music, so I’ve compiled a playlist of 30 Darkest Dungeon-specific songs that I listen to when writing (and subsequently re-writing) in no particular order, which I hope will help you set the vibe too. :+)

Names in bold are links for easy listening - tons of Hozier and Of Monsters and Men up ahead, five minute warning.

1. ‘Fire and the Flood’ - Vance Joy

If you listen to nothing else on this list, listen to this one - it’s the kind of song that’s made for movies about yearning. Folk influences, choruses of trumpets and vocal harmony, and instruments that are layered for a rich, resonant sound. This is the song I imagine Dismas and Reynauld horse-racing through a crowded outdoors market in the hamlet to, and the song I listened to nonstop freshman year when I first started writing The Myth of Sisyphus.

You're the fire and the flood And I'll always feel you in my blood Everything is fine When your hand is resting next to mine Next to mine You're the fire and the flood

The chorus is built around biblical allusions to the fire (the burning bush signifying first contact) and the flood (destruction of the first world), the beginning and end. Every line is similarly evocative of Darkest Dungeon in their simplicity (“I’ve been getting used to waking up with you,” etc.)

2. ‘Soldier, Poet, King’ - The Oh Hellos

By the title alone you can guess who this is for. Even the Guild quote for the Leper approaches these three things as the defining parts of his character (specifically it’s “a ruined man, a warrior, and a poet.”) This song coincidentally has an old world influence to it, with a Medieval Renaissance style from a guitar playing a lute-adjacent melody.

There will come a ruler Whose brow is laid in thorn Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord Oh lei, oh lai, oh lei, oh Lord Smeared with oil like David's boy, oh lei oh lai oh Lord

To be smeared with oil is to be anointed by a prophet and thus chosen by god himself to be king, just as David was and his boy after him (presumably Solomon). There’s something strangely wistful about the imagery, which is just how I like my songs about bygone kings.

3. ‘Exit Hymn’ - Bear Attack!

This song is about the end of the world in a version where everyone simply stands together in silence watching, rather than having the masses swarming in panic.

Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters. Lovely shapes to the world descending, Brothers and sisters Mute.

It defies Lovecraftian horror, which is based on the premise that “common human laws and interests and emotions have no validity or significance in the vast cosmos-at-large” - it flies in the face of existential nihilism and the despair that it should bring us. That’s why I like this song for deaths in the end-boss fight; it also has a special place for other death-related ideas, like full-party wipes - entire teams of people vanishing into the dungeons, gone insane, holding hands while the darkness surrounds them.

It’s a bare song which has a sanctity to it, mostly just piano and rain and human voices. Just what you would hear at the end of the world.

More under the cut:

4. ‘Pursuit of Glory’ - Jhameel

This song is laid-back. It doesn’t have the Homeric intensity that some of the other songs here do - it’s a guy with a guitar and vocal harmony. By god is it a great piece of writing though (all of Jhameel’s older songs have that quality to them), and all of it is evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

So many eyes set on the path to glory Too many ties, friendship is for the lonely Can't still my heart, my tongue has tasted folly Thirsty for art, hungry for power and money

This is a song for everyone in the barracks, especially the ‘laundry list’ of people and their approaches to the pursuit of glory.

5. ‘Good Old Days’ - Macklemore (feat. Kesha)

This fucker put a Macklemore song in here. I did, yeah. It’s not even the only song with Kesha in it here (I’m sorry.) 

It’s a sentimental pop song, and I am sentimental to a fault. This is Darkest Dungeon AMV material, and I always mishear one of the lines as “we were underground, loaded mercs in that 12-passenger van” so it’s here.

We've come so far, I guess I'm proud And I ain't worried about the wrinkles around my smile I've got some scars, I've been around I've felt some pain, I've seen some things, but I'm here now Those good old days

6. ‘Past Lives‘ - Kesha

Here it is, the other Kesha song - this was introduced to me by a good friend, also in a Darkest Dungeon context. There’s just something about the lovers spanning time trope and finding each other in one life to the next that is irresistible (for the obvious reason in the context of Darkest Dungeon.) It’s a soft song, totally out of place in Kesha’s typical discography, and has a line about losing someone to the crusades, so... you know.

There's just somethin' about you I know Started centuries ago though You see your kiss is like a lost ghost Only I would know But I, I keep on falling for you Time after time Time after time

7. ‘Viva la Vida’ - Coldplay

You cannot fight this. You know that this is the song for King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem, you know it is. Did you know the official name of this genre of music is “Baroque pop”? Yes, that means more songs like this exist. You will live with this information now.

Don’t fight it. Just let it wash over you.

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field For some reason I can't explain Once you go there was never, never an honest word And that was when I ruled the world

Mirror, sword, and shield, the three other members of his party, his missionaries in a foreign field. Thinking emoji. I typed that out so I wouldn’t have a repeat of the crab emoji incident.

8. ‘The Boxer’ - Jerry Douglas (feat. Mumford & Sons, Paul Simon)

Partly inspired by the Bible, Simon & Garfunkle’s ‘The Boxer’ is a folk rock song about poverty, loneliness, and homesickness. It’s written and sung in a style that’s strongly reminiscent of older times, and the final verse about its eponymous boxer is particularly powerful:

In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of ev'ry glove that laid him down Or cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame "I am leaving, I am leaving" But the fighter still remains

This is what I use for Dismas’ life leading into organized crime and his foolish abandonment of stable job prospects in a half-baked bid for fame, as well as being punched down over and over again but with nowhere else to go. That last part is widely applicable across the cast.

9. ‘I Will Wait’ - Mumford & Sons

I am but a simple man. I see 'folk rock' and add it to my Darkest Dungeon playlist. This song I use for Reynauld - it has that sort of “salt of the earth,” somewhat biblical humility in its choice of words and style. 

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow

10. ‘Little Lion Man’ - Mumford & Sons

Have we not beaten this song to death yet? Can you blame us? This is the people’s song. We reserve it for all of our favorite fuck-up characters, as primal as Saturn devouring his son. We love this song. Jesus.

Tremble for yourself, my man, You know that you have seen this all before Tremble little lion man, You'll never settle any of your scores Your grace is wasted in your face, Your boldness stands alone among the wreck Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck

The line about learning from your mother in particular is why I think of this song for Dismas’ introspection, but I also associate it with the Hellion.

11. ’From Eden’ - Hozier

There’s too much Hozier in my playlists. There is so much of it, and it’s all important to me, says the hoarder. There’s something about profoundly intimate folk music that I love, and god put folk, R&B, blues, and alt rock into a Vitamix for 45 seconds to make Hozier.

Honey you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword Innocence died screaming, honey ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door

‘From Eden’ is, according to Hozier, about idolizing someone from a distance, written from the perspective of the devil “looking longingly at something he desires - for everything that he does not have.” I associate this song with the Grave Robber for its playfully nihilistic tone - Audrey does say something to the effect of being left for dead by high society and the affectionate bordering condescending address is on-brand.

12. ‘Cherry Wine’ - Hozier

‘Cherry Wine’ is unabashedly about domestic violence, and its sincerity is heartbreaking, the sanctification of the blood spilled in the name of keeping her.

The way she tells me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

This song is strongly tied to the Vestal for me.

13. ‘Work Song’ - Hozier

A song about unconditional love - heaven and hell were just words, indeed.

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

I think of this song for both Dismas and the Abomination - it’s a song about love transcending spiritual and even physical need, complete devotion, but something about it is also not quite right. It’s morbid and excessive, self-pitying, and almost ugly in its sincerity.

14. ‘Sunlight’ - Hozier

The strong gospel influence with the choruses, church organ, religious fervor - I think it makes a great song for traveling scenes and church/altar scenes.

I had been lost to you, sunlight Flew like a moth to you, sunlight oh sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight Oh, your love is sunlight (sunlight, sunlight) But it is sunlight

15. ‘Arsonist’s Lullabye’ - Hozier

The gospel this time is paired with electric rock instrumentation. Something about the lamentation is unapologetic and matter-of-fact in its disturbing inclinations - this is Paracelsus’ song. Arguably representative of Bounty Hunter and Flagellant as well.

Now that I think about it, it’s great for Abomination as well. Damn.

All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

16. ‘We Sink’ - Of Monsters and Men

Of Monsters and Men are closer to the indie rock/pop spectrum with influences of folk, with much less biblical influence and more folklore-inspired lyrics. They make for great trailer and action songs.

We are the sleepers, we bite our tongues We set the fire and we let it burn Through the dreamers, we hear the hum They say come on, come on, let's go So come on, come on, let's go

In Lovecraft’s Cthulu mythos, dreams are how the Old Ones commune with humans on the earth’s surface while they slumber in the ocean depths (Cthulhu fhtagn meaning “Cthulhu is dreaming”); I like to think of the ‘sleepers’ as the heroes being tasked to “set the fire” and the ‘dreamers’ being the Heir and Ancestor driven by some unseen force to unearth the antediluvian underground.

17. ‘I Of The Storm’ - Of Monsters and Men

Very somber song, overwhelmingly piano and snare drum and vocals. Also a great death scene song, or for introspection around the campfire, or played to reveal a major event.

If I could face them If I could make amends With all my shadows I'd bow my head And welcome them

18. ‘King and Lionheart’ - Of Monsters and Men

My favorite OMAM song - it’s clearly written about two children, kind of reminiscent of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’ in its fantastical nature, and very upbeat about the end of the world.

His crown lit up the way as we moved slowly Pass the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind Though far away, though far away, though far away We're still the same, we're still the same, we're still the same

This part is reminiscent of the Leper’s journey, but the mentions of taking over a town, howling ghosts, the end of the world, a black sea and creatures lurking below, etc. are all evocative of Darkest Dungeon.

19. ‘Little Talks’ - Of Monsters and Men

Also very upbeat for its subject matter - according to OMAM, it’s a narrative of a woman speaking with the ghost of her dead husband, or going insane and believing that she’s speaking with her dead husband.

Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear 'Cause though the truth may vary This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore

The call-and-respond style of the song is haunting. I like this song for expeditions and afflicted heroes.

20. ‘Wolves Without Teeth’ - Of Monsters and Men

Suitable for both Occultist and Abomination, being consumed by an unseen and otherworldly force that inhabits them - well, maybe just rarely seen, in the Abomination’s case. Special mention to OMAM’s ‘Human,’ same conceptual backing but more raw.

You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it

21. ‘Desierto’ (Original Motion Picture Score) - Woodkid

This is a full album, because all of it is dark orchestral cinema music described as ‘unsettling,’ with the sole exception of ‘Land of All,’ which has vocals to it. I reserve this album for writing fight scenes and for particularly unsettling events because it’s tense and wordless. I read Junji Ito to this soundtrack too, it’s insanely high-strung and discordant.

22. ‘Iron’ - Woodkid

‘Iron’ qualifies as Baroque pop - you might recognize this as the Assassin’s Creed: Revelations song. The large-scale, cinematic style of it and thematic lyrics make it great for writing about dramatic encounters or brigands.

This deadly burst of snow is burning my hands I'm frozen to the bones, I am A million miles from home, I'm walking away I can't recall your eyes, your face

23. ‘Never Let You Down’ - Woodkid (feat. LYKKE LI)

Another somber song, orchestral with some industrial noise in the mix - another great introspection song, or one for a scene with some hard decisions to be made.

Will you come along cause I'm about to leave this town In my eyes, a waterfall, all I can hear, a siren call Could you be waiting by the shore, oh I could drown without you Will you be holding out the line when I fall?

24. ‘Run Boy Run’ - Woodkid

Church bells, fast percussion, strong orchestral presence. For chase scenes, obviously, but great for fast-paced sneaking scenes as well. Also has a strong quasi-Medieval fantasy setting style to it.

Tomorrow is another day And you won't have to hide away You'll be a man, boy! But for now it's time to run, it's time to run!

25. ‘I Love You’ - Woodkid

Don’t let the scream effects and aggressive percussion at the beginning deter you (it kind of took me by surprise the first few times too) - it soon fades into more of the church bells and melodic string accompaniment.

Oh yeah, unrequited love song? It’s free (mental) real estate, baby.

Is there anything I could do Just to get some attention from you? In the waves, I've lost every trace of you Where are you?

26. ‘Vagabonds’ - Grizfolk

A rare departure from folk! Grizfolk is alt rock/indie pop. Stylistically it doesn’t match the feeling of Darkest Dungeon, but lyrically it’s almost 1:1 to arrival in the hamlet and the subsequent expeditions. Good song for writing about recruits bonding.

Oh this careless ground, guessing this is home now Oh in no man's land, at least we're still standing And we're all just fighting, some of us will not return And there's no redemption in trying to find your way out

27. ‘Everybody Wants To Rule The World’ - Lorde

Great trailer fuel, if you’ve seen the AC: Unity E3 trailer with this song - I listen to an extended version when writing fights in the Guild, especially one where two heroes are beefing. It’s got a primal kind of thing going on. I also associate this song with the Arbalest - lyrically, it fits her backstory like a glove.

Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

Acting on your best behavior Turn your back on mother nature

28. ‘Torches’ - X Ambassadors

More alt rock/indie pop - kind of a rallying song for dark expeditions, hopeful but still somber in nature - some gospel elements. X Ambassadors’ more popular ‘Renegades’ is also a fun tavern song.

Come on, carry your flame Carry it higher Leave it in the darkness Carry your torches

29. ‘Passing Afternoon’ - Iron & Wine

This is a song I use for reconciliation or domestic scenes - Dismas with Junia in the garden, for example. It’s soft and kind of meandering, and features vintage piano - you know, the piano you heard in the basement of your church turned community center as a child.

There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

30. ‘Some Nights’ - Fun.

You know this song, your mom knows this song, everyone knows this song from like, middle school. Thought it’d be fun to end this list on an uplifting and very popular song. This is the song that a Disney adaptation of Darkest Dungeon would use in the Training Montage™ - from the point of view of Reynauld. It hits all of the points - being their commander rather than their equal, his stern and antisocial zealotry with no true ideology behind it, the ghost of his wife.

Verse 2, starting with “Well, that is it, guys, that is all / Five minutes in and I'm bored again” is where I see it transitioning to Dismas.

Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end 'Cause I could use some friends for a change And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again Some nights, I always win (I always win) But I still wake up, I still see your ghost Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights, I don't know

_____

Well that’s all from me! Feel free to leave your own recommendations in the replies, and I’d love to know what you think about my personal picks. :+)

[hypno-egos]

Anti’s Toy Box: The Doll

TW: The following chapter contains themes of: Gore, Brainwashing, Suicide, Cosmic/Psychological/Body horror, Abuse, Alcoholism, possible Chase x Anti, and many other triggering topic. Reader’s discretion is advised. Chapter 1: Chase groaned as he finally came back to consciousness. The hard concrete outside of his shithole apartment scratched deep into his skin as he moved. He pulled himself up, eyes still closed due to a massive headache. Must have been drinking the night before. Once the pain subsided enough, his eyes opened to look up at a pitch black sky. How long had he been out for exactly? He looked back down to the rest of his surroundings. As soon as his eyes glanced at the rest of the city, he felt something heavy drop in the pit of his stomach.

 He stared motionless at the massive green tinted highrises, glitching in and out other buildings like a poorly rendered video game. Birds that were mid flight were frozen in place, their eyes black and physical forms breaking down into pieces, rapidly disassembling and reassembling into horrific amalgamations. He stumbled to his feet in a panic. Trails of small pixels seemed to float off of his body as he moved and then disappear into the ether. He felt a lump catch in his throat. He was struggling to breath as he stared at the strange world that seemed to mock his very own. He clutched his forehead yet again. A persistent hangover it was. He stumbled back into the wall behind him, clutching an empty bottle of whiskey.

“H-hello?”Chase’s voice was timid. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve yelled or remained silent. He wasn’t sure where he was or if he even should be attracting attention but he was desperate for answers. He mustered enough air and decided to let loose.“HELLO!?” He screamed out only to be replied to by his own voice. It seemed to slowly distort and warp over time, getting louder and louder until it suddenly stopped. He gulped and clutched the bottle close. What happened to the world? To him? Was there something wrong with him? He slowly moved to the front door, his footsteps echoing around him. The inside of the building was sort of the same besides the green hue to everything now. Something felt...off about it. The inside was completely untouched. It was as if the building was completely untouched by any sort of dirt or dust or….life for that matter. Beside the standard furniture, there was nothing.

Chase raced to the stairs to his apartment on the fifth floor. The halls were dark and narrow, more so than his dingy halls he knew. His flat was at the very end of the long hall. The far end of it was shrouded in darkness. Chase stood at the other end, frozen as a statue.

‘Come on. It’s just a hall. Once you start walking, just keep going until you reach the door. Okay...three...two...one!’

He didn’t move. Despite him trying to push himself, he found himself frozen in place out of pure fear. What if there was something lurking behind the dark? Something sinister. He couldn’t help but tense up. As he stared deep into the seemingly unending darkness, he heard a crackling noise along with a light high pitch ringing. The pain returned to his head. A light chuckle rang through the halls. A sound that made his blood run cold. The pain began growing more and more as footsteps began approaching him. He fell to one knee as a dizzying sensation took over. He looked up to see a familiar silhouette in the darkness.

“Finally awake...took you long enough.” The sickening voice hissed at Chase. Just hearing that voice made Chase want to puke. As the figure approached, the sound of static became louder and louder as well as the ringing. It caused a head splitting pain that nearly made Chase cry. The figure just gave him a cold smile as it watched him suffer.

Chase after a few moments of silence managed to compose himself enough to formulate his thoughts into words.

“Anti? W-where are we? What...what the hell is going on!?” Chase shouted, sounding desperate. That was the demons favorite sound.

“Oh Chase...you poor thing. Can’t even remember how you got here. Damn dirty alcoholics like you deserve to be here. Unlike your friends, you’re nothing but a waste of life.”Anti growled, kicked an empty beer bottle towards Chase.

Chase’s eyes shot open and he forced himself to his feet, trying to fight off the dizziness.“Look! I-I’m tired of these games, man! You’ve done nothing but torture us...all of us for years! For fucking once, just...just tell me the truth!” Chase cried pathetically.

Anti cocked his head to the side, almost impressed however this wouldn’t last for too long. Before Chase knew it, Anti had teleported himself so that he was sitting in a nearby window sill.

“Oh ho! Pace yourself there, trickshot. Don’t ask questions you really don’t want to know the answer to.”

The green demon dangled his leg out the window. The deep black sky seemed to blend in with Anti’s shirt seamlessly, as though it were physically part of him. Chase backed away slowly from the other. He sure as hell didn’t want to be within swinging distance of this thing.

Hesitantly, he responded.“I-I demand you tell me what’s-.”Before Chase could finish, Anti was cackling loud and hard.“You demand me!? A pathetic worm like you trying to demand ME!? That’s probably the funniest shit I’ve heard in a long time!”He sighed and collected his composure before getting off the windowsill and gestured towards the long and dark hallway. “If you really wanna know, just go and find out.” His voice was almost mocking in a way.

Chase was tired of being patronized by this parasite.“Maybe I will!”

Chase said, trying to sound confident. He took a step forward into the dark before his whole body froze up. He stared down the black maw in front of him. For some reason, his whole being was rejecting, protesting that he went any further than where he was. At first, he thought it was Anti fucking with him again. That is, until he saw another empty bottle roll out from the darkness. Something about that activated the fight or flight reflexes in him. Sweat poured down the back of his neck as he fought his instincts to try and move a step closer. He was so intensely focused on trying to move that he didn’t even notice the other slither up behind him.“Well...what’s holding you back? Didn’t you want to know?”

He whispered. Chase jumped a bit as he heard the voice, unintentionally moving more into the hall. Again, he started moving away, trying to avoid Anti. He didn’t realize he was backing up to his apartment door until he bumped into it. The numbers 89 read coldly on the door. It took Chase a while to process that his door was slightly ajar. A light spilled out. A sort of burning warm light. Somehow, it sent chills down Chase’s spine.

He opened the door, revealing his trashed apartment. Tables were turned upside down, stains of alcohol were stained on the walls and carpet, empty bottles and broken glass were scattered across the floor. The whole scene was illuminated by a deep red light. He opened his mouth to say something, however he stopped himself when he saw the open window. His heart skipped a beat as a breeze fluttered into the somewhat warped room. Anti stepped in from behind Chase, admiring the demolition.

“Hehe...well, what are you waiting for? The truth is right out that window, Chaser.” He cooed in his mocking voice.The pain in Chase's head returned. It felt as though his brain itself was imploding. The room itself spun around him. Anti began to become blurry as tears began to cloud his eyes. “L-leave….me alone…”

He cried, clutching the booze stained rug underneath him.“You were the one who wanted to know the truth. I warned you, but you didn’t listen.”Anti growled.

“And now...you’ll see it through.”Anti lifted Chase up by the collar of his shirt. He practically threw him towards the window. He slumped over, managing to catch himself on the windowsill. This was it. Chase could feel the sense of some sort of impending doom lurking in the back of his pounding skull. He shouldn’t look, but he has to.

Slowly, he picked himself up and began slowly peeking over the wall between him and his fate. Down below the floors of the apartment was his world. Not just that. What he saw was a splattered and mangled corpse in the darkened street. Only some of its features were illuminated just enough by a street lamp. The horror set in as Chase saw the gray snap back he’d grown so accustomed to wearing. A flood of emotion ran through his entire being as he looked down at what used to be him.

He remembered. Finally, the pain in his head subsided for a new sort of pain. The memories of what had really happened last night. Losing the custody battle with Stacy. Getting that eviction notice when returning home. The fight he got into with Marvin and Jackie. Taking out his anger on the Doctor who was only trying to help him. The copious amounts of alcohol he’d consume at the bar, only to get kicked out and stumble to the liquor store. Oh god. Oh god oh god.

The pain had spread all through him. A sort of crushing weight. He fell back to the floor, a trembling and weak mess. He looked up at Anti.“Why? Why did you do this to me!?” Chase shouted, wrapping his arms around himself. He felt every bit of loneliness he felt the night before. It was like a black hole that seemed to consume him eternally. Anti simply scoffed.

“Don’t blame me for your actions. This was all your own doing.”He circled the poor bastard.

“Then why the hell are you here!? I thought you wanted us all dead? Did you come here to rub it in my face?”

Anti paused for a moment before leaning down to his eye level.

“When you jumped...did you really think the pain was going to end? That pain that swallowed you whole?”

“...y-yes….but...it’s worse now more than ever. I...I just...want it to stop.” He whimpered. Anti thought the whole display was pathetic. Maybe he deserved his misery. Maybe he deserved to feel the weight of his guilt in this world forever. After all, unlike Chase’s friends, he was useless. Contributed nothing to the world that chewed him up and spat him out. A waste of life. Anti smirked. Perfect.

“You know...I can make this pain disappear.” Anti managed to speak up after a while.“I can make it so this never happened. Bring you back to life...with a catch.”

Chase just gritted his teeth.“Fuck you…”Anti shrugged and stood up.“Okay. Well if you want to wallow in your own sadness forever, I’ll gladly oblige.” Anti started towards the door of the apartment.

Chase knew that this unbearable pain would just get worse. He didn’t want to be alone. Anti was the only thing keeping it from crushing him.

“W-Wait!”He couldn’t believe what he was saying.“Please...d-don’t leave….” He reached out and grabbed Anti’s pant leg.“Tell me...what’ll happen if I say yes?”Anti smiled and knelt back down.

“Before you died, your life was meaningless. You were nothing. Life has given you very little. But me? I can give you a purpose. A second chance. And I can promise you every once of pain you feel right now will disappear.” Chase stared down at the floor for a moment, considering his options.“What’s the catch?”

“Well...I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise. But I can promise that you’ll finally feel some semblance of happiness.”

“...I...I haven’t felt that in so long.” Chase let out a sad chuckle. Before him was Anti’s outstretched hand. Chase managed to delude himself into thinking that it wasn’t attached to a horrible monster for a moment, and rather an old friend. His shaky hand slowly reached towards Anti’s. The two men grasped each other’s hands tightly.As soon as Chase shook it, his whole body felt a tingling sensation. It started from his arm and slowly worked its way up to his head. Static. Static was filling each and every part of his being. It was like he was drowning in it. He slowly began forgetting things. Little things at first. His pet dog. His YouTube channel. But then when the faces of his ex wife and friends began fading, he felt the pain suddenly vanish. He realized how good letting go to this nothingness was. His body fell into Anti’s arms. He wanted more. More blissful nothingness. More of this static. Anti wrapped his arms around the other, slowly rubbing up and down his pet’s back. Chase didn’t realize how touch starved he was until then. But that didn’t matter now. Everything was fading. Even the world around them didn’t matter anymore. He just wanted to give into the nothingness. He closed his eyes, and let the noise carry him into a blissful sleep.

Chase soon awoke. His gaze was hazy and dull as he stared up at the ceiling. He tried remembering how he got there, but ultimately decided he didn’t really care. He felt comfy. He tried picking himself up, but found that he couldn’t move anything below his neckline. Typically, he’d be alarmed by this, however he just couldn’t be bothered to question it. Maybe he was supposed to be still? The last thing he remembered was Anti holding him. Anti...why was that nice so nice to hear in his head. Made him feel all warm and fuzzy. Anti had always been there for him, hasn’t he? Yeah, of course he has!

Chase was having such a hard time thinking with all the static in his head. Warm, fuzzy static. Making him just melt and drift away. In and out of consciousness. Like waves crashing over him. In and out and in and out. He began to drool a bit, as though he were a baby. He was having such a good time, he couldn’t even tell that he was in some sort of decaying bedroom in a decrepit asylum. The bed he was laying on though felt oh so soft. He snapped to attention once the door opened. It was Anti! His brother...no...friend...not right…lover? He couldn’t remember but that didn’t matter to him. Chase felt a mindless smile sliding up his cold face.

“Anti! So happy to see you!” He said in a very soft and timid tone. He was still trying to get a grip on his reality.

Anti smiled in return and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Ah...hello doll. Glad to see you’re awake.”He cooed in a sickeningly sweet voice.

Doll? Was that his name? Yeah! Yeah that was his name! He giggled a bit.“What’s so funny, my puppet?” Anti asked as he cocked his head to the side.

“Nothing. Just sort of funny I forgot my name.” Chase looked back up at the ceiling.“Actually...I’m forgetting a lot of things.”

“That’s because you’ve hit you head, Doll. Don’t you remember who I am?” Anti grabbed Chase’s hand. It was cold, smooth, and hard. Although, Chase couldn’t even tell that his whole body had become this same porcelain material. Something as fragile as his old mental state.

“Do you remember who I am?”

“Uhh...well….sort of. I...know your name is Anti and you’re my-“

Before Chase could finish his thought, Anti finished it for him.“Master. I’m your Master, my dear doll.” Anti caressed Chase’s face. Seemingly by instinct, Chase leaned into his touch. It all made sense now.

“You’re...my Master. Yes…” he purred.

Anti grabbed his new doll and positioned him into a seating position. He sat behind him and began posing his arms.

“Yes...I’m your Master and you’re my doll. Without me, you have no purpose. You’re my plaything.” He whispered in Chase’s ear.

Each word seemed to bounce around in his head, sinking in deeply. All the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

“Yes...I am your...plaything. Th-thank you for giving me purpose, Master!” Chase beamed.

Anti wrapped his arms around his new porcelain doll’s waist possessively.

“Do you love me, doll?” Anti asked as he placed Chase’s old hat on top of his head.

“Of course I do, Master! I l-love you s-so much!” He said almost without thinking. However, he believed every word he was saying.

Anti posed him so he was sitting cross legged. “Good puppet.” He patted the top of his head which filled Chase with even more happiness.

“Tell me...does this mean anything to you?” He walked in front of Chase, showing him an old photo of him and his kids, ripping it right in front of him.

Chase just stared at the pieces of the photo’s a bit confused.“Um...no Master. I don’t r-recognize anyone in th-the picture. Is it...supposed to mean something to me?”

Anti grinned ear to ear.

“Oh no...it was just a picture of some family. But I’m your only family, doll.”

He held the Doll’s hands.“...only f-family.” Chase repeated and nodded along.

“Very good. Now, I’m going to be gone for a bit. Be a good doll and sit here. Don’t move and don’t think.” As soon as Anti said ‘don’t think’ Chase’s expression went blank and he stared at the wall, the static creeping back into his mind.

With one last chuckle, Anti made his way to the door before looking back and cooing.“Good puppet.”

[svnfulmyg]

Molten Gold// JJK

Molten Gold Part 1

Summary: Loneliness is all you felt for a long time, until you began to see the side of your bodyguard who kept his heart close.

Genre: Royalty Au, Bodyguard Au, Angst.. a lot of it, Eventual Smut.

Author’s note: Yaayyyy! Finally writing my first story, beyond excited. Feedback is always appreciated!

Word Count: 5.4K.. 

A tense silence engulfs you, drowning out the bustling of the maids. His dark menacing eyes hold you in place, pouring iced water on you, chilling you to the bones. 

When did it come to this? 

“___,” Your husband exhales tiredly and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to grip whatever patience he had left for you. “Stop running away from the conversation. The need for an heir must be discussed, there are questions being asked.” 

Gods, you know. Of course you know what was to be expected, but you can not bring yourself to do it. How could he talk about this in front of people?

Damn him.

Yunho’s patience snaps, slamming a cup on the floor. You try not to flinch while the maids freeze and gasp at the sudden noise. The air turns frosty, each one of them waiting with a baited breath to see what their beloved king would do. Your eyes find his own, his holding nothing but contempt. Fist clenched, his chest heaving. 

You waited for the worst.

“Get her dressed, the party will be starting soon.” Yunho sneers, not waiting for a response as he makes his way to the door. 

Frustrated tears pool into your eyes, watching his back as he walks. He never spares you a glance, never bothering with the chaos he leaves behind. As his back disappears, a throat clears; your eyes snapping, looking for the source. Ready to let your anger pour and unleash, the need to get it out was overwhelming.

Your eyes meet the ones of your bodyguard’s, Jungkook’s. His big eyes solemn, as he holds your gaze, wishing he didn’t witness what has happened. His hair brushes into his eyes as he looks at you, expression unreadable; and before you can question him, he bows and walks briskly out the door. 

Not giving it much thought, you glance at your maid who looks at you with sympathy. You give her a sad smile of your own, wishing for the unreachable.

The ballroom is alive with music and lively chatter, many couples dancing and mingling. You glance at Yunho, a crowd around him hanging to his every word. The tangy taste of champagne slides down your throat, but it gives you no relief. 

You hate these occasions, where you have to pretend what you weren’t, that you weren’t in a loveless marriage. You much prefer being in your garden or in the library reading about the world, that you yearn to be in and explore. 

The king turns and cocks his head, taking you in before a wicked smile paints his lips. He holds out his hand, staring at you expectantly. A challenging gleam shines in his eyes, a twisted game playing in his head. 

“Come, darling.” He coos in a sickeningly sweet tone, and you grit your teeth together. He knows he hasn’t given you much of an option, and he’s thriving off of it. Leaving you no choices always gives him satisfaction, giving his sadistic side a thrill. But you were never one to take it without dishing it as well, so you plaster a smile, one as convincing as his own.

You daintily place your hand in his and he pulls you tightly against him. The crowd scrutinizes you, while the women look at you with slight distaste that isn’t blatantly obvious.

After all, you were their queen.

They immediately bow as your husband continues his conversation, and you give a pretty smile back. 

“Ah, Your Majesty, you look as beautiful as ever.” The man next to Yunho gives you a bow and a sweet smile, a genuine one finding its way to your lips.

“Mr. Jung, a pleasure to see you as always. I hope you and your wife are full of blessings.” He beams at you and continues to tell you about his wife, you envy the love and respect in his voice. Nevertheless, you keep a soft smile plastered on your lips. Not long after that your eyes eventually wander and catch the eyes of Jungkook’s, his unreadable as he nods at you.

You are shaken from your daze, and Mr. Jung looks slightly uncomfortably at your husband. A hand squeezes your waist in warning, you glance and Yunho and he gives you a tense smile. “Darling, Hoseok was telling us how his wife and him are expecting a child.” His hand is heavy on your waist, anchoring you to where you are now. Never forgetting where you are and the whispers and troubles that come with it.

“Congratulations! What a blessing for you both!” You give Mr. Jung a pearly smile and he bows, he looks at your husband nervously, waiting in a tense silence.

“Thank you, your Highness. Blessings to you both as well.” Yunho’s smile falters at Hoseok, before he pats the lord on the back and returns back to his facade. The air is thick, with the unsaid words. He hums and nods in gratitude.

No one spoke, what was left unsaid was louder than the chatter around you. Blood rushes to your head and your chest constricts, white specs clouds your vision. Your lungs no longer take in the oxygen, everything fading to the background. You need to leave.

Now.

Yunho looks down, coming to realize what was happening. He cocks his head, a vicious glint in his eyes. The iron grip on your waist turns tighter, it’s a warning to stay put. The walls begin to close and you find it hard to breathe, Gods why were they so cruel to you?

“You will have to bring your wife to see me, I would love to help her plan her baby shower. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the powder room.” You wheeze, they start to bow as you turn your body to bolt. A hand reaches out for yours, your husband stares at you with malice and disgust. 

You yank your hand away and briskly walk to the exit as fast as you can without making a scene. Your hands come to the wall a few feet outside the banquet hall and you lean into it; the air doesn’t seem to enter your lungs, leaving them burning, aching, shrinking. You kneel and start to count.

One, two, three.

You had to get as far away as possible.

It had been a while since you had a panic attack, they became less frequent, because over the years you’ve come to learn to live with them. The constant conversations and expectations of you to complete your duties were bringing them to the surface, it gave you no peace.

You get up panting, looking everywhere and nowhere. Somewhere to hide and escape from this dreaded place and circumstances. It didn’t matter where you went, you started sprinting down the hall. Fuck all, and fuck the heels on your feet.

“Your Highness, please!” A voice bellowed, slightly panicked, you didn’t give a damn who it was. You kept running aimlessly down the hall and didn’t stop for a single thing. A hand abruptly grabs yours, pulling you into a secluded hallway. Turning to face the person, you yank your hand away, ready to unleash the pent up frustration at the person who dared touch you. The desperation to leave far greater than the consequences of what your actions could’ve caused. None of it mattered to you, the panic clouded everything leaving the ends of your vision tinged in black spots. There was no going back to how things were, you had to face what you needed to let go.

Doe eyes met yours and his chest was heaving, dread etched all on his face as he caught his breath. “Please,” Jungkook motions are the chair near you, “take a seat, you need to calm down.”

You couldn’t believe this, your mind reeling, yearning. You shake your head violently, pulling your arm away from him before he reaches again more aggressively and desperately. You looked for options, anything. 

“I need fresh air, please.” Your chest heaved up and down, lungs still having a mind of its own and not allowing you to get a proper breath.  You look deeply into the eyes of your body guard’s, trying to plead with your eyes. Jungkook purses his lips, scrutinizes you as uncertainty swirls around him. You try to give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, which probably resembles a grimace. 

He sighs and glances at a balcony before looking into your eyes, authority and caution in his irises. “Alright your Highness, there’s a balcony. We can get fresh air there, you will be able to catch your breath there.” He gently grabs your elbow and leads you to the French doors opening them before pushing you both in quickly.

The breeze instantly hits, you immediately start to take deep breaths, thanking the air that is entering your lungs selfishly. He leans on the door, silently watching you, feeling some relief too. He feels like he can finally breathe himself and he watches you softly, and feeling at ease seeing you gain some composure. 

“Thank you..” you whisper into the winds and your eyes flutter close, he stares at you in awe. He feels the ends of his lips quirk up.

He can do this, he can let himself loosen up. While your eyes are closed and no one there to witness it. 

Just this once, Jungkook. Gods, did he love to torture himself, so selfish.

Just this once he wants to abandon his inner conscience and be selfish, what was wrong with being selfish? But he always feels guilt in the pit of his stomach when thinking of such a thing. He was never allowed the luxury of thinking of himself, for himself. Something many people took for granted and so carelessly did with it what they pleased.

But you, you were made of the same. You know the agony it is of not having something for one’s self. You know just as much of it as he does.

One of the same.

Coming back to the current situation, he hums and looks past you to take in the view, two stories up and overseeing a beautiful garden. The very garden he ran around as a kid, playing cops and robbers with the king. 

Of course he was the robber.

Soft whispers of the wind sing through his hair, tousling it and brushing it in his eyes. He pushes it back and tenses, coming to realize your eyes were trained on him. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine at the intensity of your gaze. You had an ability to turn him into putty, to do as you pleased with him, always.

He tried, of course he tried. He tried to not let your stare smoulder through his defenses, he tried so hard to forget you and your allures. But alas, he could not forget your eyes on his skin, no matter how much he wishes to the Gods. It was always impossible to forget, at least when it came to your heated gaze and fiery temper. He should know better, should know not to want something he can never have.

“It wasn’t a problem, your Highness. Are you feeling better?” 

You throw your head back and smile at the stars, unknowingly allowing Jungkook to drink in the column of your neck. He traces it before he moves his gaze back to the garden, his hand tightening around the railing. He pleaded for someone, to the Gods, wishing he had more self control than he had at the moment, his fingers flexing as he held himself back from reaching out to you.

“Yes, thank you Jungkook. This has made a world of a difference.” You give him a small shy smile, oblivious to his inner turmoil. He bows his head, keeping his eyes away from you.

For a moment you forget, the hostile environment revolving around you always, and why you so desperately needed this moment. 

Until it comes back.

The smiles fade from your lips, as does it on his. The air tense, heavy on your limbs. 

“You know,” you look sadly out to the horizon, longingly at the gate separating you from everything. You glance at the stars, whispering your secrets to them. “I feel at peace in this moment, but I yearn for more. To be as far from here as possible.” 

Jungkook stiffens, ice invading his limbs and spine as he stares at you wordlessly. His hand comes off the ledge and observes you wearily, he doesn’t say a word. 

He can’t be a part of this conversation, he is the king's most trusted knight. The one selected to look after the queen, an honor in itself. His loyalty to the king has never been questioned. 

But why is he questioning so many things today?

“I don’t believe it is a good thing to think like this, your highness..” He murmurs looking around, making sure no one is around the doors before he puts his steely gaze back on you. You meet his eyes, his so unreadable, so hard to understand. You tense and give him a cold smile, trying not to snarl at him.

“Forgive me, how foolish of me to think of that. Please take me to my room, and give me whereabouts to the king.” You spit out, leaving no room for denial. You pass him quickly, careful to not touch him as you open the door on your own accord. 

How foolish, ____. You think to yourself no longer able to face Jungkook, he will give you up the moment the king asks him to.

Jungkook looks at you solemnly and bows as he starts walking you to your chambers. A dark pit in his stomach, he searched for words to reassure you, but he can’t seem to say them. 

This whole night is leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He follows you silently to your chambers, feeling more out of place than he has ever. This wasn’t right, he had always felt at peace with what the king had thought, but this, this, it never felt right to him. Ever. It never felt right to him how close the king keeps you, sometimes to the point where it was overbearing. He watches as you pull the doors and enter without sparing him a glance. No goodbye and it ached him. He took his time as he walked back to the ballroom, he dreaded talking to the king, knowing full well of the simmering anger that grew in him.

The morning is quiet as you stay in bed, dreading having to get up to face people and the duties you have to endure. Of having to face him. Your maid, Lucia, comes in and gives you a beaming smile. “Good morning, your Majesty,” she bows to you and you groan, pulling the covers closer to your body. 

“Lucia,” you start to get up slowly and pinch her cheek, “for the last time, please call me ___. There is no one here so there is no need to be formal, and I would feel much more comfortable if you did.” Lucia smiles at you before nodding and motioning you to the bathroom to start your morning routine.

After you are dressed, you begin to make your way to the dining room where your husband is having his breakfast. You count the steps as you reach the room, one, two. Yunho is sitting at the end of the table, he doesn't bother looking at you when you take a seat next to him, he continues to sip his tea.

You don’t bother to greet him, there is never a need for fake friendliness. You tried, early in the marriage, naive to him who at the time was a prince. He was slightly less cold than who he was now, but he was not the type of man you wished you married. You gave it your all at first, your heart and soul, but he would budge and never tried to make something you were both forced into to work.

“___, I see you couldn’t bother to come back to the party.” He puts the cup down as he finally looks at you heavily. “No, no, no. You had to send Jungkook to relay and give a shit excuse.” He lets out a humorless chuckle. You see from the corner of your eye Jungkook tense, frozen.

You grit your teeth together, you always hated his condescending tone, he stared at you with as much distaste.You hum, not bothering to give him an answer, instead allowing the silence to stretch between you. You calmly bring the cup of tea to your lips, looking in defiance at him and raising a slow eyebrow.

He bellows out a laugh before pushing away from the table with hands. “You are not fit to be queen, I don't know what father saw in such a low lady as you.” He smirks cockily, walking away slowly; you slam your hands on the table as you get up to face him.

Red, everything was red, it bubbles through you and seeps into your limbs. It settles in your stomach. It felt as if the fires from hell settled themselves in your gut, you had had enough of his games.

“Do not bring your father into this, tainting such a good man’s name.” You spit aggressively and jut your chin to look him dead in the eye. He ticks and is coming full force into your space, he lowers his head and brings his face close to yours. There is no sound other than his heavy breathing, it fills the silence and surrounds you both. He continues to look at you menacingly, you refuse to look away from his gaze.

Yunho pulls away abruptly, running a hand through his perfectly combed hair. “You,” he looks at you with a quiet anger deep in him, resentment. “You are unfit to be the mother of my children, the heirs to this throne.” He mutters quietly and you flinch, reeling back and staring at him motionlessly. It steals the air from your lungs, and leaves you aching.

You push his body away before taking in the sadistic gleam in his eyes, he enjoys seeing you at your ends wit. You look behind him and see the despair in Jungkook’s face as he stands to the side hopelessly. 

Shame, embarrassment flood into you. How right is he? You wanted to crumble, but you couldn’t. You were queen, and you had your own will and fire. You couldn’t let yourself be beaten. No, he isn’t right. You raise your head to meet his gaze, and bare your teeth at him. No, he was the problem.

“On the contrary, your highness,” you mock, his eyes set on fire.”It is you who is unfit to be king.” He looks stunned, before it turns into blinding rage. You’ve heard the whispers, the gossip of how he came to have a claim to the throne, how unprepared he was for it. How much he failed his father and never could meet his expectations. He looks at you and growls, you smirk in victory. You were ready. You’re ready for this, no matter what the outcome is. Before he can do anything, Jungkook reaches you and slightly pushes you to the side.

“I will take the queen back to her chambers, your majesty.” He bows deeply to your husband and turns to you quickly. There are no emotions as he motions for you to continue walking. You shake your head, fire and fight still tinged in your blood. You wanted it, craved it. He grips your elbow firmly and drags you out the doors before you have time to react.

As you round the corridor, Jungkook turns to you halting his pace to tower over you in his full height. “Are you out of your mind?!” He bellows, chest heaving as he stares down at you as if you grew two heads. He scoffs in disbelief, running his hand over his face. “You can’t say things like that, your highness. Think of the consequences before speaking of such a thing.” He was panting by the end of his outburst, Gods, does she not understand?! 

The things that could happen? He wanted to shake the sense into her, it was dangerous, she failed to understand the problems this could lead to. 

He didn’t realize how close your faces were, you were looking at him through your lashes. Eyes steely on his own. Without a second thought, you turn, no longer listening to your bodyguard. There is no point trying to get him to understand, he would never see it any other but the way of his king’s. 

As you rounded the corner to your chambers, you turn to give Jungkook a look of warning. His steps falter, giving away his hesitation as he looks at you and around the halls. His eyebrows crease and he comes to a halt in front of you.

“Thank you, sir Jeon.” His spine straightens automatically at the sound of his formal title, he stares at you in disbelief as you look at him callously. “But I will be on my way from here, thank you.” You turn, not giving him a chance to refuse. You didn't want him seeing you grab a satchel for the necessary items to get as far away as you possibly could from here. He would've told the king right away if he saw your motives. 

Fuck all. You were going to leave right away, you have had enough. 

Walking into your room, you grab the essential and jewelry you could sell to get to a safe place. Finally, you were going to something you yearned and craved to do. Once you grab everything, you slowly open your door to peek out. No guards were stationed around your room, you glanced around in confusion. 

Odd.

However, you weren't going to waste the opportunity to slip by easier. You start down the hallways quietly, keeping your ears open for the slightest sound. Turning the hallway to get to the stable, you hear a giggle in front of you. You duck quickly and see a maid flirting with a knight, you put your hand over your mouth to keep from making any noise. They slip quietly into an empty room, and you allow yourself a sigh of relief. 

Gods, you are so close.

You could not give up, you had to keep trying. This was going to be the only opportunity you were going to be given. Finally getting to the door to enter the garden, you see the stables a couple of meters away. You can't be relieved as of yet, couldn't allow yourself to relax until you were galloping away from the castle. When you see there is no one at the stable, you sprint to the horses grabbing your favorite, Cloud. She is beautiful with her creamy white hair, and as sweet as they could come; she always knew when you were in need of comfort. She stomps her foot excitedly as she sees you make your way to grab your saddle and fetch her some water quickly. 

Once the saddle and leading rope are on and secured, you put your hand and she nuzzles her head into it. You bring your face close to hers and sigh softly. “Hi beautiful,” you whisper and she snorts nuzzling closer to you. “We’re leaving, my sweet. To a place where you and I can both roam and that is all we’ll need.” You promise her and slowly grab the rope as you lead her to the quieter part of the castle. The side entrance was not as heavily guarded as the others, it still had a few, but not many that could stop you if you play the cards right.

You can make it, __. You will.

You get on her back as the entrance comes into view, sliding your hood over your face as two guards notice you and scrutinize you from afar. “Halt, ma’am.” You come to a stall as they near, shielding your face. As soon as they are close enough, you tug on the leash and Cloud starts into a sprint forcing the guards to move out of the way. They scream and start to run after you before quickly giving up realizing they are not a match for the speed of your horse. You will Cloud to go faster, as you gallop across the bridge. 

You only have a few minutes before the guards reach the castle to announce the incident, and alert the king. It would only be a minute after that when they realize you are gone as well. You had to make the most out of the time you were given, you lightly whip the leash for Cloud to take off faster, you needed as much distance as you could before it was too late. You make a quick beeline to the woods once across and don't dare look back to hear the shouts of the soldiers getting ready to leave the castle.

Sunshine filters through the trees as you rush through the forest, you don't allow yourself to admire the scenery. Adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you couldn’t let up for a second because you know what will await you if you slip and ruin your chances. This was it.

Your only chance.

Finally, after what felt like an hour of riding you came to a halt in a river. You get off Cloud and she immediately starts drinking water, you pat her mane and smile wistfully at her. “Don't worry love, just a little longer and we’ll find our way far away from here.” You start to walk slowly into the forest and lean on a tree, basking in the warm sun. You feel a feeling you haven't felt in what feels like a long time. Blissful happiness, it warms your limbs and loosens you up.

You start to make your way back to Cloud when you hear rustling in the bushes, before you can start to panic Jungkook appears before you putting his hand over your mouth. You stare at him in disbelief before thrashing around against him. Like hell were you going to go without a fight.

He lets you go before looking around for any other soldiers, finally turning to look at you at his full height. He crosses his arms and gives you an unamused look. Why? Why did he have to come, and so quickly? You start to look for a way to get to your horse before he steps into your vision.

“You would think you would take the hint, but yet here you are. Here to mock me and take me back to the lion's den?” You sneer and get into a defensive position, and he tilts his head and stares you before a smirk paints his pink petal lips. 

He couldn't help but find your defensive position adorable, you were no real threat. And if this was a different circumstance, he would teach you how to properly defend and fight, hell might even be proud of it. But you were the queen, and he was a mere knight. 

And you had run away. He thought solemnly, and he knew the hell that was waiting upon your arrival back at the palace.

“You,” His back straightened at the tone of your voice. “You are no better than my jailers, doing their bidding. Does it give you a thrill? To be the one to find the defiant queen and hand her to the king for the slaughter?” The smirk is wiped off his lips, and he looks at you with an unreadable expression. A dark silence passes by as he takes in your words, shame filling him to the brim; he holds your eyes as he mulls them over.

He hums softly and looks at the sky, his black mane shields his eyes away from you. He looks at you before allowing his facade to fall. The facade he holds around everyone. The mask he has especially with you.

“You know, I could have stopped you before you stepped outside to the stables. Before you left your room or when you grabbed that satchel.” He whispers and you stare at him in disbelief, he knew this entire time? You watched him under cautious eyes, asking silently what his motives could be. “Yet, here you are, outside the palace roaming the land.” He continues to look at you like you were a wounded deer, ready to bolt when the opportunity shows itself. 

“Why?” You say in a raspy voice, not believing him for a moment. He was the king’s longest friend, his most trusted knight. It makes no sense to you why he would allow you to leave and not warn Yunho, you were wary of his intentions.

Call it weakness. Jungkook thought to himself, wanting you to roam and have some type of freedom that you so desperately need. Call me weak for you.

Gods, he wanted to yell it, he wanted to show you, he wanted everything that you had to give. But he couldn't have it, no matter what he shouted or showed through his actions. It wasn't his to claim, nothing was in this life.

Instead he swallowed his love and shrugged softly before looking away from you to look around for guards. He was tempted, to let you leave and to allow you the life that you wanted. But he knew, he knew what he would do if he allowed you to leave. You were right about one thing, you would have been hunted and presented to slaughter if this went on any longer. If he allowed you to leave. What awaited you would be nothing compared to what would happen if you actually escaped and started a life of your own. Call him selfish, he needed you safe over your dreams and longing. At least that way he would be able to watch over you and not have to stand and watch the inevitable. He would not do that, he couldn't bare it. 

You crumbled, looking at the ground wishing it would swallow you up and spit you on the other side of the earth. You couldn't take it anymore, this sad, grey life that you led. To be helpless against the whole world, against Yunho. You let go of the last bit of strength and looked at Jungkook with tear-filled eyes, his own eyes betray him, they show the agony he feels for you. The hopelessness of the situation, the imminent result of this.

“Please,” You whisper as tears drop from your eyes and look at him in the eye, your vision blurring. “Please, I can't go back to that cage. I will not say you saw me, and I didn't see you. Just give me that small chance to get the hell away.” You were desperate, you had never been so close, it was on your fingertips. Barely there.

He sucks in a breath and brings his hands to his face, the sorrow too evident in his eyes and face. He could not allow you to see it, for then you would know. And there were things he needed to keep to himself, he could not let you know where his heart was and how tightly you had it clutched in your dainty littles hands; how it was bleeding at this very moment. 

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracks at the end, enough to have you brought out of your moment of despair to look at him. “But I can't, and you know I could not. If I were to it would be worse, and I can't allow that. Please.” He took a slow step to you and held his hand out for yours, waiting and pleading with his eyes.

You stare at his eyes, they were like pools full of emotion. How had you never seen them? They were full of emotions swirling, asking to be let out. They were on full display for the world to see, for you to see. How had you never noticed them? So full that there was no possible way he could hide it.

You wordlessly take it and he brings you up to your feet.

[supremeuppityone]

Author’s note: This was written for Klaroline Bingo @klaroline-events. Prompt: Pain. As an Original, Klaus thought he understood death. But it took meeting one brave human to show him how little he actually knew.

Warning: The angst is back. This idea came to me when I had a health scare earlier this year and I wasn’t quite ready to work through it until now.

Chapter 121: Special Care

“Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.” ― Isaac Asimov

           Klaus was a selfish man. But he couldn’t be selfish about this. This was not about his pain. He watched Caroline’s blue eyes light up as she cradled the delicate blue flowers he’d given her. It was foolish, but he imagined that his gift brought color back to her cheeks. She was far too pale. Klaus had met Caroline when he was traveling through the Andes, searching for a powerful shaman to assist him with locating the final ingredients needed to break his hybrid curse. He’d been in a right strop when he tore through the mountain village, dripping blood and chunks of flesh, and it wasn’t until he’d paused at a stream to wash off some of the gore that he heard the sweetest, most sarcastic voice.

           “If you keep scrubbing that hard, you’ll rub off all your glitter.”

           From her impish grin, he assumed his expression was quite comical, but for the first time in centuries, he found himself at a loss for words.

           “You’re a vampire, right? Seriously?! How do you not know about Twilight?”

           For the first time since that half-witted shaman had betrayed him, he burst out laughing.

           And that was the moment his life changed. Because Klaus had never met a human so full of life like Caroline was. But Caroline was dying. As he thought of the pain she’d endured, he could feel his temper flaring, wishing he could unleash his fury at this indifferent world.

           “Stop it, Klaus,” Caroline’s melodic voice commanded, taking him by the hand and leading him out into the garden. “It’s not your job to be angry at my cancer. Trust me — I’m angry enough for both of us.”

           He watched her fussily arrange the brightly colored flowers in the lopsided vase she stubbornly kept from his disastrous pottery lesson, frowning when he noticed how her knees started to shake. He guided her to the plush daybed, mindful of his supernatural strength as he felt how painfully thin she was underneath her gauzy dress. “Trust me, sweetheart, I was furious at the world ages before you came along.”

           “Yeah, but I’m special. Something about beautiful and full of light, blah, blah,” she said with a wink.  “And before when you were pissed off, you’d just slaughter a village until you felt better, but this is different.” Her voice took on a more serious tone, and she slid her gaze away from his. “It’s metastatic breast cancer. I have tumors throughout my body. I can’t be cured; the best I can hope for is to keep up my herbal treatments here.”

           He shook his head, doing his best to quell his anger. None of this was her fault. He knew when she’d first been diagnosed in the States, she went through the conventional chemotherapy before moving to targeted therapy treatments, but each time the cancer grew back. Finally, she’d exhausted all of her options, and instead pursued a variety of alternative herbal therapies that eventually led her to Argentina. “The kenaf seed extract and aromatherapy seem to be working,” he murmured, placing a kiss to her temple.

           Caroline laced their fingers together, a familiar note of caution in her voice as she gently reminded him, “It’s true in lab trials, the extracts killed cancer cells better than some of the other herbal supplements I’ve tried. But with metastasis, there’s peaks and valleys — sometimes the disease is stable, and other times it progresses.”

           “But you’re stable now,” he blurted out, hating the uncertainty in his voice.

           Her smile was sunshine and joy and all of the sweet promises Klaus fervently wished he’d known centuries ago. How different his life would’ve been. “It’s like I reminded my doctors when they tried to talk me about of moving down here. It’s about the quality of my life, Klaus.”

           They were distracted when a vibrant blue and green hummingbird appeared, hovering over the orange and yellow bell-shaped flowers. He heard Caroline’s heart flutter in excitement, and he did his best to ignore her shortness of breath.

           Turning away, he observed the hummingbird, an odd sense of peace washing over him as he observed, “Such an extraordinary thing, mercilessly beating its wings just to stay alive. I’ve never witnessed a creature with such fire in its soul, fighting to earn every moment of its life.” He glanced back at her, his gray gaze intense while his voice was barely above a harsh whisper as he said, “Except for you.”

           “Are you always so charming,” she asked dryly, reaching up to poke at one of his dimples. “Or, do you normally let your dimples do all the work?”

           Klaus gave her an indulgent smile. He loved her sheer cheek; the way she never backed down from him even after she saw what he was. She was glorious. His equal in every way. “Let me turn you,” he pleaded, “my blood can heal you, and then you can be with me.”

           “Ask me tomorrow.” She laid her head on his chest, palm resting over his heart. “I’m always surprised that I can feel your heartbeat. It’s strong — like you.”

           “And I can hear yours,” he replied gruffly, her erratic pulse sending him into a panic that he did his best to cover up with a smirk.

           “Isn’t it amazing?”

           Klaus found himself leaning into the warmth of her embrace, protectively draping his body against hers as they watched the hummingbird flit from one flower to another.

           Amazing.

                             _______________________________________

           “You’re going to drop me,” Caroline said with a giggle, her voice muffled against his shoulder and Klaus cradled her against him.

           “Nonsense, love. Even as a lad, I carried deer that weighed more than you. Even some of our goats.” As she rolled her eyes, he hastily added, “But you smell much better.”

           “And I smell bullshit.”

           Her delighted giggles made his heart feel like it was breaking and healing all at once. They came to a stop at the blanket he’d spread out on the dock, and he carefully laid her among several pillows. Lake Lacár was a magnificent sapphire blue today, and Klaus knew he’d always see Caroline’s fierce gaze reflected in its still waters. Gesturing to the wicker basket, he said, “I thought you’d enjoy a picnic.”

           He shyly handed her a glass, pleased that the witch’s freezing spell had kept the smoothies the perfect temperature. “This has ginger in it. I thought it would help with your nausea.”

           She beamed at him, taking a sip and nodding enthusiastically, “Delicious. You’re too good to me.”

           He ducked his curly head, cheeks reddening slightly. “Many things have been said about me over the centuries, but ‘good’ never was one of them. I’m not a good man, sweetheart.” Snorting derisively, he added, “I’m not even a man.”

           Setting aside their smoothies, Caroline huffed impatiently. “Who the hell cares? I certainly don’t. You’re smart and tough and fiercely protective. You’re basically a Rottweiler with dimples.” She leaned forward, briefly brushing her lips to his.

           Every time they touched, Klaus felt as though his soul was sinking into hers a little more, and he welcomed how his loneliness seemed to vanish. He cupped her cheek, thumb lightly grazing the sharpness he found there. “And you are a cheeky minx.”

           Caroline grinned, gazing across the water at the people paddling their kayaks. “Hey, when you finally get around to breaking your curse, will you take on more wolfy characteristics?” She placed her hand over his heart, her voice endearingly curious as she questioned, “I mean...do you feel your wolf now?”

           Klaus was stunned — no one ever had asked him that before. “Being cut off from my wolf is...hurtful. Sometimes I fancy I can feel it move through me, but I’m never sure. My birthright is there, trapped in my blood and bones.” He sighed heavily, “And it’s beyond my reach.”

           “Nothing is beyond your reach,” she swore vehemently, “you’re Klaus Mikaelson. You’re the man who survived an unspeakable, violent childhood and now has powerful supernatural creatures as his minions.” She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, dryly adding, “And you fearlessly attempted to teach me how to make alfajores.”

           “And then generously replaced your oven and repainted your kitchen.”

           Caroline playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “Okay, seriously? The first two fires were your fault. The third and fourth ones...meh, we’ll call it a draw.”

           Lips curling into a devious grin, he kissed her soundly, delighting in the tiny surprised squeak she emitted as he ran his hands down her back. He winced slightly as he felt the harsh ridge of her spine. She shuddered in his arms, and at first, he was alarmed that he’d hurt her, but then she moaned against him, dominating the kiss and he was lost within her.

           With a gasp, she finally pulled back, resting their foreheads together. A hitch in her voice was apparent as she said, “Just need to catch my breath.” Klaus found it endearing when she giddily told him, “I can feel my pulse. It’s racing! Isn’t that amazing?”

           “Amazing,” he agreed, cursing his supernatural hearing that told him her heart was pounding far too haphazardly. Needing reassurance, he lightly touched her chest, the feel of it moving with every breath both a blessing and a curse. “Will you let me turn you?”

           “Ask me tomorrow.” Caroline’s sunshine smile always filled him with warmth. He refused to see how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

           When a jewel-toned hummingbird briefly hovered over the blue flowers near the edge of the water, her eyes lit up excitedly. “Do you think it’s the same one from the garden? Aww, he’s alone again. I hope he finds a friend soon. Everyone needs someone.”

                            _______________________________________

           Klaus knew something was wrong the moment Caroline didn’t answer her door. The morning felt different. Everything did. He took the spare key from the hideous ceramic frog she’d insisted on buying when they visited the village market because ‘it looked lonely.’ He loathed the panic in his voice when he called out, “Caroline?”

           He found her lying in bed. And far too still. And he could smell —

           No.

           Cursing his supernatural senses, Klaus flashed away, unable to be in her room a moment longer. That wasn’t Caroline anymore.

           Needing to feel close to her, he found himself in her garden. She loved being surrounded by flowers and once she’d grown too weak to tend them, she’d enlisted his help to keep everything blooming. Suddenly, a blue-green hummingbird flitted to the vibrant, bell-shaped flowers, and despite his sorrow, his lips quirked when he saw the hummingbird had brought a friend. Caroline would’ve liked that.  

           Caroline was gone. But she didn’t have to be. There was magic Klaus could use; a powerful coven was cheaper than buying an election these days. The right promises of power and protection coupled with the proper threats and even the most discerning of witches would pledge their loyalty.

           He clenched his fists, trembling. She would be whole again. Ageless and beautiful. And his. Except Caroline never wanted to be anything more than what she was. Human. All she’d ever wanted was more time. He saw it in her earnest gaze and bittersweet smile every time she rebuffed his offer. ‘Ask me tomorrow’ was her way of telling him she craved another day at his side as a human.

           Klaus was a selfish man. But he couldn’t be selfish about this.

[kofubisha]

beheld chapter 2 / 2

here’s the second part of my kofubisha fic for the @noragamibigbang! i hope you guys enjoyed this. i worked really hard on it because i love women. the gorgeous art for this chapter is by @viinas so go compliment it a lot or else.

after many years;

Kofuku has grown accustomed to comfort. She likes having her own place, where she can sleep in a soft bed, and cook whatever she grows, and have things that are hers.

So little has ever been hers.

Before Bishamon installed her in this place, it had been little more than a dump, smothered in graffiti and bearing a pervasive odor of rotten food. But the shinki of a god of fortune are eager to please, and in less than a day they had cleaned out the yard, scoured the interior, repaired the damaged roof and porch, and moved a set of modest—but comfortable—furniture into the house.

At the time, Kofuku wondered if Bishamon would expect more from her than mere auguries. A binbōgami could be a powerful ally—or enemy—no matter how filthy their reputation. However, Kofuku did not really believe an honorable war god like Bishamon would strike that low—and she was right. She has always been an excellent judge of character: a thought that makes her smile.

Between her cupped palms, Kofuku holds a clay cup of sake. Another cup sits opposite her on the low wooden table. At that moment, a voice comes from outside the open front door.

“Do you still want me to knock?”

“You have to!” Kofuku shouts back. “Otherwise it doesn’t count!”

The owner of the voice doesn’t sigh, but Kofuku can tell they want to. After a moment, she hears two deliberate knocks against the doorframe.

“Come in!” she chirps, and Bishamon enters, bare feet silent against the rough wooden floor.

“Is this something you brewed yourself?” she asks without preamble, eyeing the cup before sitting down at the table.

Kofuku grins, watching Bishamon peer skeptically into her own cup. “Yes it is!”

“How strong is it?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure what this is going to do to us,” Kofuku admits, before promptly tipping her head back and emptying the cup in one go. The sake hits the back of her throat with a satisfying burn, and she slams the cup back down onto the table with gusto.

As soon as the cup touches the table, it shatters. Shards of clay spray across the table and floor, and when Kofuku looks down at her hand she goes white. A sizable piece of clay remains embedded in the flesh next to her thumb. As she stares down at it, numb with shock, blood starts to bead at the edges of the wound.

“Ow.”

Before she can say any more, Kofuku’s hand is taken in a firm, yet gentle grip. She sobs—more in surprise than pain—as Bishamon expertly pulls the clay shard out of her palm.

“Honestly, I don’t know how you live on your own,” Bishamon mutters as she cleans the edges of the wound. “Or do you just save all your injuries for when you see me?”

“Aw, you worry about me!”

Kofuku smiles at Bishamon, who can’t quite keep her own lips from twitching upward.

“Of course I worry about you,” she says with a hint of fondness. “I have never known anyone so unlucky.”

Bishamon’s attention is focused on the wound, so she doesn’t see the smile slide off Kofuku’s face. Nor does she notice when Kofuku’s voice is a bit too casually cheerful as she says:

“Besides, without me, you war gods wouldn’t know where the next storm is going to break out.”

“It would be all right, I think,” Bishamon says absently, tightening up the bandage. “After all, we are in a time of unprecedented peace and quiet. You rarely predict any surprises.”

Bishamon finishes neatly tucking the edges of the bandage. She doesn’t seem to notice how Kofuku has gone utterly quiet. If she does, she doesn’t comment on it, merely returning to her own cup of sake and sampling it with caution.

“This is…good, actually.” Bishamon’s face lights up with pleasant surprise, and she empties the cup in one generous gulp. “You should expand your business selling this.”

“A poverty god expanding her business…” Kofuku muses, tapping her chin with a single finger. She smiles, but can’t quite make the mirth reach her eyes. “I see nowhere that could go wrong.”

Bishamon nudges her cup across the table, and Kofuku refills it without comment. However, Bishamon makes no move to take her cup back.

“You are upset.”

It’s not phrased as a question. Kofuku goes very still for a moment, before snatching up the full cup of sake and hurrying into the kitchen.

“Don’t be silly, Bisha,” she says cheerily over her shoulder. “Why would I be upset?”

“That is what I don’t know.”

Bishamon is already in the kitchen, blocking her path. Kofuku yelps, the cup tumbling out of her hand. This time instead of shattering against the wood, it hits her big toe. The cup rolls away across the floor as the rest of the sake pools lazily around Kofuku’s feet.

“Ouch!” she cries out, hopping once on her undamaged foot.

At that exact moment, her heel lands on a particularly slippery bit of floor. Both her legs shoot out from under her in a single, smooth motion that might, in other circumstances, be considered graceful. But before Kofuku can even scream, a pair of arms scoops her out of midair, and once again Bishamon is looking down at her with an expression of deep concern.

“You really should not be living by yourself,” she reiterates, moving a safe distance away from the patch of wet floor before setting Kofuku back on her feet. “Are you quite sure you don’t need a shinki of your own?”

Kofuku barely hears the words.

It had been so brief—just a few seconds, but it had happened. Someone had carried her. For one moment, out of the fullness of all time, she had been held.

“Kofuku?”

Bishamon’s concerned voice reaches her ears as though through deep water. Her face, too, wavers in front of her eyes like a warped reflection. How odd, Kofuku thinks. Then she realizes she’s crying.

“What is it? Is it your foot? What can I do?”

Bishamon sounds almost frantic. If Kofuku wasn’t busy with inconsolable weeping, she might be tempted to laugh at how quickly the greatest of all war gods panics at the sight of a crying woman.

“It’s because…because you probably hate me,” Kofuku finally manages to choke out, and as the words leave her mouth, she wishes she could gobble them right back up. The look of wounded shock on Bishamon’s face cuts straight to her heart.

“Hate you?” she repeats quietly. “Why?”

Kofuku quiets a last few hiccuping sobs. She has never felt more miserable in her life.

“It’s…it’s nothing,” she says, cringing at how false it rings. Bishamon doesn’t even grace the lie with a response. Kofuku shuts her eyes, wishing she could sink straight into Yomi and rot there.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers. “It’s me. I…”

Her lip trembles. If this is really going to happen, she might as well do it right.

“Don’t you realize how strange this is, Bisha?”

Kofuku can feel the other goddess watching her, but when she opens her eyes she keeps them resolutely fixed on a blank spot on the wall.

“Don’t you hear things about me, up there? What do they tell you about your friend, the poverty god?”

Bishamon inhales as if to speak, but Kofuku shakes her head.

“I need to say this now, or I’ll never forgive myself,” she says, the truth of it slowly dawning on her. She almost wants to laugh at her own inescapable, ruinous stupidity. Then she wants to cry until her body dries up and dissolves into dust.

“We need to end this friendship,” Kofuku says. She is proud of herself for how little her voice shakes. “It isn’t right—it isn’t normal for you to be friends with me, Bisha. It’s bad for your reputation.”

Before she even finishes talking, Kofuku sees the stubborn set of Bishamon’s chin. This isn’t going to be easy.

“Have I indicated at any point that I care what the other gods think?” Bishamon retorts. “It is not their place to question my decisions—and frankly, neither is it yours.”

Kofuku’s face flushes with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and tears begin gathering in her eyes once again.

“I’m trying to help you,” she wails. “You said yourself you didn’t need my auguries anymore! You don’t have to visit me out of obligation! I’m telling you that it’s fine…it’s fine if you want to end our bargain.”

She stares down at her own feet, tears silently rolling down her face. Her heart is in shambles, but at least she can move forward with a good conscience. Bishamon, at least, will not suffer because of her.

“You don’t actually think I would do that.”

Kofuku expects to hear anger in her voice, or perhaps hurt. Instead, Bishamon sounds almost…relieved.

Shocked, she looks up to see a smile spreading across Bishamon’s face. Something in her stomach does a funny flip, and she feels the tips of her ears turning pink.

It really isn’t fair. This is supposed to be a goodbye, and all Kofuku can focus on is the warmth and loveliness of that smile.

“I have so few real friends,” Bishamon says, mercifully oblivious. “Sometimes it feels like I cannot talk to anyone. My shinki rely on me, and I refuse to burden them. I enjoy spending time with the other gods, but in many ways they still treat me as an outsider.”

Her smile fades. For a moment, the look on her face is one of savage, almost frightening loneliness. Kofuku recognizes it at once. She’s seen it many times before: staring back at her from every reflection since the first moment she could comprehend the scope of her own solitude.

“Even if that were not the case,” Bishamon continues. “Reputation is of such little consequence to me. If the other gods are petty and shiftless enough to form opinions on my business, then I have no use for them.”

There is a hard streak of annoyance in her voice, and Kofuku realizes it’s already happened. As much as the knowledge fills her with shame, she also can’t help but feel pleasantly warm at the idea of Bishamon defending her.

Suddenly, she realizes that Bishamon has gone silent, eyes fixed on her face with strange intensity. Then, suddenly, she reaches out to cup Kofuku’s face between her hands, cradling it like something precious.

“I will never believe them,” she says quietly, earnestly. “I never have before.”

Kofuku is trembling from head to foot.

“I love you,” she says, because if she doesn’t say it right now she might never say it, and if she never says it she’ll die. To her immense relief, Bishamon does not look surprised or angry.

In fact, her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes are lustrous.

“I thought you might,” she replies breathlessly.

after some hours;

The glow of sunrise begins to turn the inside of Kofuku’s eyelids pink, and she burrows more snugly into the blankets. Her cold toes encounter something warm: a leg. Its owner yelps, kicking back at her.

“You promised to stop doing that,” Bishamon mutters into the pillow.

She looks particularly precious in the morning, Kofuku decides. Her hair is rumpled, her cheeks pink and soft-looking as she yawns herself gradually awake. Then she gives Kofuku a piercing glare.

“What are you thinking about?”

Kofuku blinks innocently. “Nothing.”

“No.” Bishamon smiles suddenly, quick and bright as lightning. “I know what it looks like when you’re thinking nothing. Your face looks like this.”

And she does an extremely unflattering imitation of the expression. Kofuku flicks her forehead.

“You’re not supposed to tease me, Bisha.”

“Why not?” Bishamon challenges, sinking back onto the pillows. “You told me to practice my humor.”

“I don’t think physical comedy suits you.”

Bishamon pouts, which makes Kofuku laugh out loud, and then she kisses her. They kiss a great deal that morning, sweet and soft at first, then hungrier.

Kofuku learns what makes humans hold each other so fiercely, even while their frail bodies remain so doomed. It is a wonderful feeling, this closeness. Maybe the two of them can cradle it between their hearts, like a small fire.

For a time, at least, she thinks with a smile.

after decades;

It is the dead of summer. Outside, the creaky song of cicadas is the only disturbance in the close, muggy air. Within the house, five figures lie flat, their sweaty foreheads pressed to the cool floor in the hopes that some of the earth’s natural chill will provide relief.

Yukine is the first to roll over, his cheeks flushed and eyes glassy with misery.

“We just need a distraction,” he says.

“Like what?” Hiyori says, her voice muffled against the floor.

“A drinking contest!” proposes Kofuku, who seems to miraculously recover all of her energy at the prospect.

“Absolutely not,” Daikoku vetoes, though he remains motionless facedown.

“I’ll get out the sake,” Yato says, lurching to his feet. Before Daikoku can grab his ankle to stop him, a voice calls from outside the house:

“Hello?”

The front door slides open, revealing the voice’s owner, and Kofuku springs to her feet with all memory of exhaustion forgotten.

“Bisha!”

Bishamon catches her effortlessly, spinning in an elegant circle before setting Kofuku on her feet once more. Her mouth softens with amusement.

“We thought you might like some company down here,” she says.

“Completely unrelated to the fact that Yato texted me and asked me to bring an air conditioner,” Kazuma adds, following her inside. The air conditioning unit appears next, carried between Kuraha and Yugiha.

“We brought alcohol,” Kinuha adds, carrying several heavy-looking paper bags.

The rest of Bishamon’s team troops into the house, and in short order the air conditioner is blasting at full strength. The four bodies plastered to the floor start to regain vitality as the room rapidly cools down.

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant haze. Daikoku, Yukine, and Hiyori eventually retreat to the kitchen to scare up enough snacks to pass around. A drinking contest does indeed get underway, which results in several of Bishamon’s shinki having to be put to bed in various states of inebriation. Yato and Yukine both end up sprawled on the floor next to the air conditioner. Hiyori sits against the wall next to them, tiredly fanning herself. With a groan of effort, Daikoku hauls himself to his feet and stretches mightily.

“We’d better start cleaning up,” he says in resignation. “Kofuku!”

"She disappeared about an hour ago,” Yukine mumbles, his eyes at half-mast. “Not sure where.”

Kazuma rouses himself from his own spot on the floor, squinting around the room through his crooked glasses.

“…Has anyone seen Viina?”

: : :

On the roof of the house the air feels slightly cooler. A tiny breeze tangles the curls around Kofuku’s ears and tugs a few silvery strands from Bishamon’s braid. Light spills out across the yard from the first floor, and the two of them can easily hear the voices of the others in the house. Currently, Yato and Kinuha seem to be arm-wrestling. Based on the amount of yelling, there is money involved.

“They must still be having fun,” Bishamon comments after a loud crash and a bloodcurdling scream.

“I think she broke his wrist,” says Kofuku.

Bishamon’s expression is flat. “Like I said,” she repeats. “They must still be having fun.”

Kofuku giggles, then flops backward onto the roof. After a few moments, Bishamon follows suit.

In a few hours, Daikoku will find them both fast asleep, curled into each other, hands firmly intertwined. But for now they lie side-by-side, hearing the laughter of their friends, watching the milk-bright stars wink back at them from a crowded summer sky.