#discord is not active. the only ones who can reach me already have my contacts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rookiespropeller · 2 years ago

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@yaikat okay this is gonna seem like a ridiculously long story that doesn't have to do anything with ur comment but bear with me, i'm going somewhere with it lol

(starting off with an entire essay's worth of me just complaining 💀 i'll put TL;DRs throughout the post for those who don't want to read all of this)

i only played cpr really casually around 2018, blissfully unaware of the whole culture surrouding cppses, all the discord servers, etc. i was kinda forced to stop playing due to my account suddenly telling me my penguin needed to be activated in order to play... over a year after i had verified it. attempting to use a new activation link told me "your penguin has already been activated", yet i was still blocked from logging in.

ofc i was devastated, so i decided to reach out to their support team. the website said to contact their email address, which i did. wrote them a detailed explanation of the issue and prayed that there was something they could do to help me.

i never got a response. over a month after initially reaching out, i wrote them another email, thinking that maybe they didn't receive the first one, or that they forgot about it. it happens, no big deal.

...except i never got a response to that one either. or the next 4-5 i sent before giving up.

i was later told (and by later i mean like, only a couple months ago) that pretty much all of their customer support was done through tickets on their discord server. can't confirm if that's true bc i wasn't in there myself, but other people were corroborating that statement.

there was no indication on their support page that you had to go through discord to get help from them. just an email address that either no one or barely anyone actually kept up with — for good reason: one giant inbox filled with all the issues player might've been having, concerning anything at all, indiscriminately from "there's a tiny visual bug in this room" to "i just discovered an extremely important issue that could potentially break the entire game" to "i got banned but i did NOTHING WRONG >:(" to general questions about the game, or straight up trolls... considering the amount of players, the influx of emails must've been pretty steady too. needless to say that was most likely impossible to navigate, even more so trying to deal with each problem & answer everyone.

even if there had been a link to their discord, that's still... not an ideal situation. club penguin is a children's game, and rewritten was accordingly advertized as child-friendly. meanwhile, discord is 13+ and most parents have either never heard of it or don't have an account. which obviously leads to kids making accounts claiming they're 13 and entering a space where they could easily get preyed on. no matter how strict moderators in a discord server may be, it's impossible to regulate what goes on between server members in dms

i think their solution to this was making access to the server more difficult (by requiring an invite to join & changing the invite link often), but this circles back to the problem of only being able to reach their support team by making a ticket there. casual players and children had pretty much no way to get help from the team.

and i haven't even mentionned the data breaches yet! but i'm sure i don't have to go into detail abt that, there's plenty of articles out there that can explain it better. healthy reminder to always use a burner email when signing up for cppses 👍

(HERE IS WHERE I STOP COMPLAINING)

on the other hand, i've heard their custom parties were phenomenal, and their updates were pretty steady. from what i've seen (and heard! those custom tracks commissioned from Screenhog are lovely), the game was incredibly fun and there was a lot of work put into it, fueled by the passion the staff had for the original game. can't deny that for those who didn't run into issues, it must've been an amazing experience & i know lots of players met people on there that they are still very close with. im not familiar enough with how their content updates went to talk abt that card-jitsu release, as i didn't even know abt that until you mentionned it lol

1st TL;DR:

cpr's biggest issues were not about content updates, but about security and customer service (difficult/impossible to reach support due their ticket system operating through an official discord server that was purposefully difficult to join + misleading instructions on their website about how to get help; the official discord being a security issue in itself; 2 data breaches that affected millions of accounts)

for those who were active in the early days of cpl (im talking april/may/june/july 2022), you know how chaotic things were, ESPECIALLY in april/may. huge lack of organisation and professionalism due to the ''community manager'' at the time having a lot of influence and not really wanting to prioritize safety. in july, everyone had just about enough of that guy's behavior + the lack of communication the owner of the game had with her sole dev and moderation team. long story short: the ''community manager'' was launched into the sun, never to be seen again, & ski (the previously mentionned dev, now mostly known as Joey) took the lead of the game. safety then became number one priority and lots of changes were made.

i won't go into details cuz this post is already extremely long, but one of the most obvious safety-related change (and most relevant to this post) is that the cpl discord server, which was a official at launch, was handed over to the community. along with this, an actual support team was created (instead of it being done by the first mod available, regardless of experience in customer service). the ticket system was also made a lot more accessible.

that was only the first step in organising the team into more fitting categories than ''mod'' and ''admin''. there are now various roles to be fulfilled (it's even possible to apply for some of them rn, u can see it at the bottom of the page). here's the thing tho. Every Single One Of These Departments Are Severely Understaffed (including ones without applications open), bc the good ol' method of ''pick some random active/friendly community member & hope they're a decent person'' that was used in early cpl by that ''community manager'' is rlly unsafe & unreliable.

2nd TL;DR:

cpl used to have the same safety & support issues as cpr when it started out, but since changing leadership, had safety become THE priority above all. which is obviously a really good thing, but it's also somewhat one of the reasons why the team is understaffed (the hiring process being this thorough is really unusual in cppses)

(HERE IS WHERE I START CONNECTING EVERYTHING I'VE BEEN SAYING. if anyone is still reading this i genuinely can't believe u made it this far 😭)

unfortunately, thats pretty much how cppses have operated until now. staff picking other staff bc they're friends w them/think they can trust them — until disagreements start happening, which potentially leads to drama. and, apparently, in cpr's case, a whole data breach.

cpr staff most likely experienced just as much pressure (if not a lot more, due to their extremely large userbase) as cpl staff is currently under. however, i do think that pressure originated from 2 very different areas.

cpr was able to be really ambitious and go big with parties/events, while still keeping up a rapid pace. cpl is attempting to keep up a similar pace, with just as much ambition, but MUCH less staff. so things often get delayed, cancelled, etc. usually because they're incredibly difficult/impossible to achieve without the game going completely update-less for like a month. frustrating for everyone involved. vicious cycle of staff overworking themselves to try to put out impressive content for the community to enjoy, realizing they do not have time/ressources to accomplish what was planned, and having to change things last minute to be less ambitious.

for this next part, please keep in mind that it's pretty much all speculation based on my personal understanding/knowledge of cpr.

i believe most of their issues were internal, and caused by the lack of security measures (which ensured they could have a large enough team to see their projects come to life). alas, hiring without a proper verification process leads to these kinds of situation:

^ that's only 3 of them. there are more if you look at the full list. imo that should never have been allowed to happen over and over; at some point there should've been at least some kind of measures taken to prevent these situations. if they did take measures... it didn't work all that well, apparently. but, as i said, i wasn't there. so take this with a grain of salt

CONCLUSION / FINAL TL;DR:

you were completely right when you said maintening a cpps is ''stupidly hard'', although i'd say it was/is equally as hard for cpr and cpl, for contrasting reasons. cpl's issues are sometimes noticeable at surface-level, while cpr's were mostly internal. either way, club penguin fans are resolute: the game can't die, no matter what. as inspiring as that sounds at first, the more you think about it, the more depressing it becomes — we just want the club penguin we remember so fondly back. and that will never happen. it's gone. forever. and i miss it.

THANK U FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

im in one of those phases rn where i profoundly miss ogcp's 2010-2012 era. like, i would've loved for the game to freeze there. keep new stories + new parties going ofc, but in that same style & vibe.

which is kinda what cpl is attempting to do, and i really do love the server, but theres only so much u can achieve w a team of around 10 volunteers (only 2 of them able to work full time, soon only 1) when updates need to be pumped out left n right

i watched an old ogcp video on youtube and saw that the lights at the dance club turned a different color as enough penguins changed to wear the same color. i had genuinely forgotten that was a thing, with how long it's been and how used i am to simply... not have that feature. but ofc the memories came back to me instantly and i longed to go back in time to live it again.

i really miss small details like these. not that many ppl care abt them, but to me it makes the world come a little bit more alive. i'm probably never gonna experience those lights changing by color again & it makes me sad

edit: rambling goes on below the cut bc i wanted my the rest of my thoughts to be on the post itself, not just in the tags

ofc its not just about the lights, but u get what i mean. with a large professional team who gets paid to keep things rolling, has enough employees + ressources to work on multiple things at once... theres a lot more u can do. and unfortunately, no cpps will ever be able to have that

like even going back to comparing w cpl. cpl cant have a weekly updating newspaper, or even any newspaper at all, bc theres not enough ppl to 1) write it 2) create/find fitting artwork to go on the pages 3) code it and put it into the game and 4) repeat all these steps on a regular basis. and the newspaper is only ONE thing among so many

there are lots features that are planned & already announced. they'll all get done eventually, but the thing is that if one feature is being worked on, there's no time to work on anything else. meanwhile, the community is expecting parties & events at the same rate the ogcp team was churning them out (and i don't blame them for it, new content and parties are a big part of what keeps the game active & exciting). problem is, whenever parties need to be worked on, development of new features is halted.

& then of course you can't forget to update the hidden pins, the Penguin Style, the Furniture + Igloo catalogs, the igloo music selection, the stage plays, the ice rink turning into the stadium (and vice versa) along with a new Snow & Sports, the blog posts, the community board, etc. etc. this is just what's coming at the top of my head. most of these are already not updating as often as ogcp updated them, yet are still incredibly difficult to keep up with

& THEN between all of that, there are bugs that need to be patched. but ofc no one wants to work on bugs when they're already completely exhausted from the rest of their workload + they're not getting paid for any of it

after all of this, it's near impossible to squeeze in stuff like garden animations at the mine shack, a working puck/soccer ball at the ice rink/stadium, stage scripts with clickable chat... or even color-changing lights at the dance club.

god this makes me so upset but its literally no ones fault. theres not much anyone can do abt it & it breaks my heart

i miss club penguin.

#i am SO sorry i had way too much to get out of my system #IF THIS IS INCOHERENT I APOLIOGIZE BUT IM NOT PROOFREADING ALL OF THIS 😭

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slylie · 2 years ago

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after half an hour of looking for this email, after so close to a year hiatus, i am posting this to thank you for those who reached out after Kelsi’s check in. without further hope, goodbye again !

#discord is not active. the only ones who can reach me already have my contacts #soooo lovely that you all made the effort <3 #thank you all again

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mythaura-blog · 2 years ago

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Under New Management

Hey all, Grif here!

Mythaura started out of a love for virtual pet games and the incredible sense of community that blossoms from them. It was always my goal to create something not only fun and visually wonderful, but someplace where people from all over the world can come together.

The last few years, I began to understand that my plans for Mythaura were starting to get further and further out of reach as my free time was something of a rarity. I realized that, to see the game released sooner, I would have to let it go. I’ve made the enormously difficult decision to hand Mythaura over to Koa. She has been coding on the project for a long time and is someone who knows Mythaura inside and out, since close to its inception. I whole-heartedly believe under Koa’s incredible leadership, the vision for Mythaura will be made into reality. I am very excited for the future of this project, and I really hope the community still is too! I want to thank everybody who has supported me and my vision for the game. Without the amazing encouragement of the community on tumblr and discord, Mythaura would not have ever lifted off the ground. Thank you to past Patreon supporters who kickstarted development for the game, your faith in the project means the absolute world to me. I hope Mythaura will be everything you wanted and more. I will still aim to be active in the community however if you need to get into contact with me, please feel free to message me on Discord (Grif#1760) or please send an email to [email protected]

---

Hello Mythaura, Koa here now to bring you the rest of the update!

First off, I want to extend my gratitude to Grif for everything she has given to the game. These last few years have been some of the most difficult in memory for so many people, and she has been committed to the success of Mythaura through all of it. Mythaura could not have gotten this far or have captivated so many people without her dedication and talent and I am honored to have the opportunity to carry the torch past the finish line.

As part of the immediate move, there will be some downtime as the domain and server are transferred and re-delegated. Rest assured we will have it back up as soon as possible. This downtime may last several days but when it is up again, there will no longer be a security certificate error when you access the site.

Introducing the New Owners

Koa and Sark are a married couple who love to code together. We’ve worked on numerous projects together and have a passion for gaming and all things nerdy.

Koa (she/her) - Full Stack developer with an emphasis in PHP & Laravel. She has developed with other pet sim games in all stages of release, including building one from the ground up. Koa is also a seasoned artist, and has the flexibility to work both on art assets and code development.

Sark (he/him) - Front End developer with an emphasis in User Experience and UI. Sark is a professional UI developer and plans to bring nearly ten years of his expertise to Mythaura to ensure we deliver an amazing user experience on both mobile and desktop.

State of the Game Right Now

The art assets are mostly complete. We also have already talked with previous artists and intend to retain them in order to finish out the remaining art assets.

The amount of code work still needed is substantial. It will be some time before we have an idea of when we can transition into a beta release but we do hope to provide a development roadmap in the coming months so you guys can follow along as we develop the game. While we will be dedicating as much spare time as we can to Mythaura, both the new owners are employed full time and working on this during evenings and weekends as a passion project. This will be a marathon, not a race, but we are in it for the long haul and hope you will stick around for the ride too!

Rain or shine, development updates will be posted to social media once a month.

Patreon & Closing Notes

Patreon will not be reopening at this time. We are funding the completion of Mythaura out of pocket and want to focus all of our attention on building the much needed code infrastructure. There will be opportunities in the future for you to contribute and help, so keep an eye on our monthly updates for ways to get involved.

A big thank you to all of you who have been sticking with us this whole time. We will be keeping an active presence on discord and invite anyone interested in following the project to join the official channel using this invite link: https://discord.gg/hdcp3V9Ts6.

#mythaura #virtual pet site #petsite #virtual pet sim #pet site #game dev #dragons #browser game

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finalexit · 3 years ago

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The Most Familiar Sound (A TanZen Fanfic)

As Tanjirou attempts to manage his trauma, Zenitsu finds the strength to comfort him in all the ways he wishes someone would do for him. When he least expects it, Tanjirou decides to return the favor, and together, they unravel Zenitsu's unsavory view of himself.

"There was no one in the world who would waste their time comforting someone as low as him."

Can also be read over at ao3!

There was nothing particularly special about that day, so Tanjirou’s abrupt silence seemed very out-of-place. While Tanjirou wasn’t speaking, though, Zenitsu could still hear him. His heart rate was faster than normal, even when taking into account their time actively fighting demons. The only times that his heart rate was that quick and that loud were when Nezuko was in immediate danger. So... that was worrying.

And it’s not just that his pulse was loud -- it was unbearable. The inescapable sound seemed to echo within the confines of Zenitsu’s head, trapping him in the assaultive wave of Tanjirou’s adrenaline. He felt his stomach turn, and he listened (with dread) as his own pulse began to join in with Tanjirou’s, discordant, asynchronous, too much.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Normally, he wouldn’t be able to catch this crescendo of thrums until it was too late, until his head was aching and even the throbs would join in on the cacophony, leaving Zenitsu trembling, tearful, and often times incapacitated. He slowly let his breath pass back out, again through his teeth. Though he was somewhat (read as: very) used to passing out, he didn’t want to keep being a burden on the people around him. Again and again, he’d lose consciousness, and again and again, his teammates would have to pick up the pieces for him. Without him. But not anymore.

At least, he hoped not. As his heart rate slowed to something more gentle, more manageable, he noted that this situation wasn’t exactly dire. Tanjirou and Zenitsu were sitting side by side on the tatami in Hisa’s house after acquiring a new set of injuries that would need weeks to heal. So, if Zenitsu were to pass out, it’s not as if it would really matter. He took comfort in that thought, and his pulse finally reached normalcy. Things were fine. He was fine.

He turned his attention to Tanjirou, whose heart was still hammering in his chest. What’s his deal? Needless to say, it was unusual for anyone to be as overwhelmingly anxious as Zenitsu, and it was even more unusual that Zenitsu was the (relatively) relaxed one in literally any situation (because how relaxed can you really be when you’re never afforded a moment of silence?). He smiled at the role reversal, and, overcome with a misplaced sense of pride, clapped Tanjirou on the back, exclaiming, “What’s up, Ta • n • ji • ro • u?”

Because of this sudden positive spike in mood, he wrapped his arm around Tanjirou, expecting some reciprocation of affection. Or, much more realistically, some blanching in response to his touch. What he did not -- could not -- expect was Tanjirou’s shuddering breath as he turned toward Zenitsu and sobbed into his sleeve.

He tensed at this before gently, and awkwardly, patting Tanjirou lightly on the back. What the hell am I supposed to do??? What is this situation?? Zenitsu was usually (always) the most socially conscious person of the threesome, though that wasn’t saying much when his competition was (innocent, naïve, adorably oblivious) Tanjirou and (fucking insane) Inosuke. He was reasonably able to read the room, but that did not prepare him for this. He had never needed to console anyone before, and it’s not like he had any experience receiving that care, so he had no example for how to properly handle this. But… it was Tanjirou, and if anyone was deserving of some comforting, it was him. Of course, it was him.

“Hey… um. Are you okay?” Good. Simple. Easy. He could handle this.

He jumped as Tanjirou sobbed in response. Ok. Not good. Not simple. Not easy. He could not handle this. No, he had to. Tanjirou deserved someone who could handle this, and there was no one else here to be that for him.

“Talk to me.” He fully turned to Tanjirou, wrapping his other arm around him firmly. Gently. He hoped.

Tanjirou took another shuddering breath, attempting to gather himself, before giving up and burying his face in Zenitsu’s shoulder. “I’m fine. I’m okay.”

Zenitsu snorted. “Seriously? This is ‘fine?’” He knew that laughing probably was not the right move here, but it was hard to resist. It would be like Zenitsu claiming that he was calm while perpetually being on the brink of an anxiety attack. Who would ever believe that?

Tanjirou sighed and pulled away, arms still clinging to Zenitsu, now able to look him in the eye. Zenitsu wished he hadn’t. He watched the tears fall away only to be replaced by an identical stream of more tears. He watched Tanjirou’s lip twitch, his face crumble, his hiccupping attempts at breathing normally. His stomach churned and nausea perched at the back of his throat. Since when was watching someone cry this painful? He sensed that his own eyes were threatening to gloss over, and he inhaled sharply. Hedid not want his own dam to burst. Not now. Not when Tanjirou needed him to be the rock for once.

He straightened his posture and blinked the tears away. Tanjirou, seeming not to have noticed this moment of weakness, glanced downward (thank god) and decided to chance another attempt at speaking.

“I really am okay. Nothing’s… nothing’s wrong. I just got a small cut and... blood -- human blood -- hurts.” He must’ve noticed Zenitsu’s eyebrow raise because he quickly continued on. “It’s, like. It just-- When I smell it, I panic. Sometimes it’s not that bad. Most of the time, I use Total Concentration Breathing and that centers me. But sometimes it doesn’t, and I’m back on the mountain running to my house, seeing the blood, seeing my family--”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t suppress the onslaught of ensuing sobs. It was bordering on hysterical, which would’ve been more concerning had Tanjirou not reigned it back in as quickly as it had begun. “Seeing my family…”

“I know,” Zenitsu said, when Tanjirou gave no sign of continuing. He pulled him closer, as awkward as that felt, and rubbed his back. This was what he would want to be done for him. This was what he wanted to be done for him. He craved the proximity and warmth of another person, but he wished for it to be accompanied with gentleness instead of the aggression he’d usually receive close contact with. He resisted the impulse to whimper, as Tanjirou’s tears were still tugging at him, painfully close to ripping his heart right out of him. Instead, he rested one hand on Tanjirou’s head and laced his fingers slowly through his hair.

Zenitsu tried to think of other things he’d want done for him, other things he could do for Tanjirou in turn. What did he usually imagine? His grandpa hugging him closely? Check. Running his hands through his hair? Check. Telling him that things would be okay, that he would be okay, that he was okay the way he was (because “perfect” would be a huge stretch), that-

“Thank you,” Tanjirou said, barely above a whisper. Zenitsu could hear the grief clinging onto his words, dragging them down, filling them with a tearfulness that he was all too familiar with. Zenitsu nodded in response, though he wasn’t sure if Tanjirou could even tell.

“Of course… anytime. You’re always there for me, anyway.” He smiled, a private smile meant for no one’s eyes, as he recalled all of the times Tanjirou afforded him a small pat on the back whenever he was panicking. It didn’t always happen -- there wasn’t always time anyway -- so the times that it did occur, Zenitsu tried to soak it up. In those moments, he wanted to lean into Tanjirou, cling to his checkered sleeves, and let the tears fall as he would rest his head in the crook of his neck. Obviously, he could never do that, and he was beyond embarrassed each time the thought, that imagery, flickered behind his eyes. As nice as it was. As much calm as it brought him. As much as something inside of him needed desperately for it to happen.

Tanjirou broke away once again, this time with a relaxed smile on his face. Well that was quick. “Yeah. Yeah! You already know I’d do the same for you.”

He did not anticipate the violent clench of his stomach. He turned away, aware of how conspicuous this sudden change must’ve been. But he had to look away because he did not know how to stop himself from freezing over, how to stop the frost that originated in his ribcage from spreading elsewhere. Spreading everywhere. He was turning to ice inside and out, the muscles of his back (and legs and arms and chest and-) abnormally tensed, and he knew Tanjirou had probably already noticed… But he also did not know how to change that. The most he could manage by way of calming himself was a shallow breath, in and out, before his face was in his hands and tears were spilling over them.

Because he knew Tanjirou wouldn’t do the same for him. No one would. He could laugh at the absurdity of the notion, but the assertion was way too cruel. There was no one in the world who would waste their time comforting someone as low as him.

He tried, once more, to pull himself together but was startled by a nearby sound. What is that? Eyes still closed and still buried in his hands, he tried to locate the sound. It was close. It was loud. Oh, it’s a voice. With a jolt, he realized that it was his voice, and that he was sobbing. Not just sobbing but wailing. He listened as the cries clumsily raised in pitch over and over, cracking at each peak before dropping drastically again. It was chilling that something so ugly could be coming out of him. Horror crept over him as he noted the growing distance between himself and his crying. He was right there. But he was far away. He was sitting next to Tanjirou. But it wasn’t him sitting there, it was just someone who looked like him. What is going on?

Something about this was ironic, probably. This was the first time he’d ever gotten any respite from the din of sound that typically plagued him. He could hear his voice, yes, and he could hear Tanjirou saying something, but it was as if he was hearing everything from behind a thick wall of glass. And wasn’t that a sort of peace? Something he had always wanted, whether he admitted it to himself or not? He waited for relief to crash over him, to feel renewed by this newfound quiet, but part of him knew that he was awaiting something that would never come. Instead, the sense of eeriness that was already present seeped into him, dribbling into the crevices that existed between the plates of ice within him. Maybe this would be nice if it wasn’t so alien.

Then, all at once, it stopped. With Tanjirou’s warmth encasing him, he was forcibly dragged back into his own body, the ice falling away and crashing down at his feet almost instantly. He sat still for a moment while he tried to recover from the suddenness of the moment. It was hard to parse where he had just gone and how long it had been. It felt like he had been alone, locked away in some other dimension, for hours. But he got the sense that it had only been a few seconds or a few minutes at most. He kept his gaze lowered and locked on his hands in an effort to steady himself as he tried to gather the rest of the present situation. Like… why he was so wet (wow, he was drenched in sweat) or why he was shaking so severely (when was the last time he had trembled this much?) or why he-

“Hey, talk to me” He startled at Tanjirou’s voice. Right, Tanjirou was there. And Tanjirou was… at his side with his arms wrapped around his shoulders and his large sleeves blanketing him in an embrace. Huh? He blinked as he tried to process this. Huh? Another second passed, and he still didn’t quite underst-

“HUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH???????????”

Tanjirou jumped at the exclamation, eyes searching wildly for some reason Zenitsu would be screaming (not that he ever needed much of a reason). “What?? What’s wrong?? What happen-”

“YOU’RE HUGGING ME!”

Tanjirou hurriedly released his grip on Zenitsu. “Sorry!! You were just hugging me??? So I-”

“DON’T LET GO, IDIOT! HUG ME AGAIN!!!”

It was clear that Tanjirou probably would’ve preferred to back away slowly at this point, but he resumed his embrace, this time with some trepidation.

“HARDER!!!” With that, he tightened his hold. There was a moment of uncomfortable stillness wherein both held their position without even so much as a twitch. And then Zenitsu shifted in his arms, seemingly uncertain, before slowly returning the hug. He crept closer to gingerly rest his head on Tanjirou’s shoulder. Tanjirou had already pulled away once, and the idea that he would do something to make Tanjirou retract his warmth again was buzzing between his ears as he worked to restrain himself.

What he wanted to do was fling his arms around Tanjirou and just fall apart within the security of his presence because he knew he was always safe there. But that… who would want that from him? Who would even be able to tolerate that from him? He wanted this with too much fervor, and he had no choice but to reel it in because he was Zenitsu and if someone was willing to be there for him, he could not ruin it by being too much. By being himself. That was too much to ask anyone to sit through.

Once his head landed on Tanjirou’s shoulder, though, his resolve broke. Well... he was never under the illusion that he was strong, anyway. He let his body sink into Tanjirou, dig into him, and he briefly wondered how it would feel to melt into Tanjirou. To be part of him. To not be himself for even just a couple of minutes. Then he wouldn’t have to face the wall of sound that seemed to press into his ears, surrounding him on all sides. He imagined somehow extricating himself from this wall (if only it truly was tangible, perhaps he could’ve sliced his way out) and hearing nothing. Or whatever someone with a normal capacity for hearing would hear. Maybe his own breathing, the light breeze licking at their faces from the open door, the creak of the house settling every now and then…

As much as he wanted to immerse himself in this daydream, he felt that something vital was missing from it. He pondered over this, searching for what could possibly be lacking. What more would he need when all he ever wanted was to know what “silence” really meant? As he inhaled, breathing in the scent of Tanjirou’s freshly washed hair (in a totally normal way that wasn’t weird), he realized all at once what it was.

Tanjirou’s sound.

Right. Of course. It was hard to imagine living without Tanjirou’s sound now. He listened closer to the the gentle flow of Tanjirou’s blood in his veins, the rhythmic thump thump thump of his heart, the musicality of his thoughts (how was it possible for Tanjrou’s thoughts to harmonize so pleasantly when his own were so discordant?). Even when Tanjirou had been panicking, the melody of his nerves was almost beautiful in retrospect. It seemed laughable that he had been so overwhelmed by Tanjirou’s sonorous heartbeats earlier when he was now aching for it. He wanted to be consumed by it. Forget his previous fantasy -- his new ideal world was one inwhich Tanjirou’s sound was the only thing he could hear. That would be enough.

“You know how blood ‘hurts’ you? That’s how it is for me with hearing. But, like, with almost everything. It’s not any individual sound usually -- it’s just… There are so many sounds. It hurts.” He felt pathetic admitting this. He knew, he had always known, that he should only feel grateful for his heightened sense. What demon slayer wouldn’t want something that could afford them more awareness? Every possible advantage mattered when your enemies were often much stronger, faster, and more durable than you could ever hope to be. But he was a human before he was a demon slayer, if he could even call himself that, and he didn’t know any human strong enough to handle this without going insane. If there was ever a time before his hearing grew so sharp, too sharp, he didn’t remember it. But, whatever he was like then, his hearing had reduced him to the bundle of nerves that he was now.

“I should be able to handle it, but I can’t. Big surprise.” He chuckled bitterly at this before continuing, “It’s like… I know that no one else would be able to deal with this either, right? I mean, you’re not supposed to be able to hear every strand of hair raise on someone’s arm when they get chills, right? Or hear each individual muscle in someone’s body contract, right? But still, I-”

Tanjirou pulled away in surprise, perhaps to get a better look at Zenitsu’s face, but Zenitsu tugged him forward again. He knew that he must’ve been balling Tanjirou’s clothes in his fists by this point, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was unraveling in front of Tanjirou’s eyes, and he just didn’t care anymore. He didn’t need to be liked, he just needed to be held.

“Wait, you really hear all that?” Tanjirou had already given up on trying to look at Zenitsu face to face and had settled on patting his head lightly. “You really hear that much? All the time?” That sounded… devastating. Sure, Tanjirou had his sense of smell, but he didn’t necessarily mind its strength. When he was confronted with the familiar copper of blood or when an unpleasant odor clung to the air and every inhale through his nose polluted his mouth and lungs, it… sucked to say the least. But he could run away, theoretically. He could run away and smell something else, something pleasing or at the very least neutral. But could Zenitsu do the same?

“Is that why you’re always so....” Tanjirou paused, wondering how to put this delicately. He had never viewed Zenitsu as cowardly or weak, but it was beyond apparent that Zenitsu did, and he didn’t want to reinforce that. But it was true that Zenitsu was constantly anxious. “...on edge?” He felt the boy nod. “That sounds hard.” He winced at his own understatement but was met with a whimper from Zenitsu.

“It is,” he said, his voice fragile and so so quiet. When Zenitsu cried or worried aloud, it was usually ear-piercing at best, so this was new. Different. And, though it was considerably much easier on the ears, it was hard not to be concerned by the disparity. He wished, ardently, that he could jump into Zenitsu’s mind and see through his eyes. Listen through his ears. Tanjirou had always considered himself empathetic, and others’ emotions would typically be laid out in front of him as plainly as if their feelings had been written on their foreheads. But, if Zenitsu was struggling so much this whole time, and he had no idea, then he could only imagine what emotion could render Zenitsu so frighteningly quiet.

His chest tightened at the thought. He knew grief. He knew pain. He knew fear. While he was occasionally afforded brief reprieves from these things, they normally weighed heavily on him from the moment he woke up to the moment he drifted off to sleep. And sometimes even during sleep, when he’d watch grossly distorted versions of the one event he could never shake away. He wasn’t there when his family was slaughtered, and yet what occurred in his childhood home while he was away was all he could think of. It hurt that he couldn’t have been there with them. It was somewhat of a moot point considering he couldn’t reverse time and, even if he could, he most likely would’ve died among the rest of his family anyway. Except Nezuko. She would’ve been left alone, then, and that was the only thought that could convince him that dying that day wouldn’t have been preferable.

He shook the thought away. This was too dark. The point was… he knew grief and he knew pain and he knew fear. And yet, the thought of Zenitsu carrying similar baggage scared him. He could’ve been carrying something heavier. He could’ve been carrying it for longer. He could’ve even been carrying it alone, with no one there to share the load. He had Nezuko, and he had the comfort of knowing they could always, and would always, grieve together. Who did Zenitsu have?

“I’m so sorry. I wish I could take that away from you.” His lips pressed together, holding back everything he could say but shouldn’t. Like, if he could somehow switch senses with Zenitsu, smell for hearing, he would. Like, if he could go back in time, maybe instead of using that power to die alongside his family, he would instead use it to meet Zenitsu earlier and carry this burden with him. Like, if he could sit here cradling Zenitsu forever, he really would. And it felt so wrong that he could do none of these things. What use was any of his training if he couldn’t do something as simple and as necessary as that?

The two proceeded to say nothing in the coming minutes as Tanjirou found himself lost in thought, the only notable noise being the rustling of their clothes as they adjusted positions to hold each other closer. Zenitsu broke the silence by asking, “Do you know what you sound like?”

Tanjirou’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What he sounds like? “What do I sound like?” He didn’t quite understand what Zenitsu meant by this, but inquired all the same, figuring that Zenitsu’s answer would contextualize the question.

He didn’t expect the affection in Zenitsu’s voice as he said, “You sound like… a sunny day. Blue skies, fluffy white clouds, you know…” Tanjirou’s hearing was no match for Zenitsu’s, but he didn’t need heightened senses to hear the smile in Zenitsu’s voice. He suddenly was very grateful that they couldn’t see each other, as he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks and creeping along the rims of his ears. Though, he had to wonder if Zenitsu could hear even that?

He opened and shut his mouth a few times as he fished for an adequate reply, but Zenitsu saved him the trouble by continuing on. “That’s why… even though it hurts to hear so much all the time, I guess I’m actually kind of thankful for it too. Like, I knew I could trust you because all I had to do was listen, y’know?” Tanjirou smiled at the admission. He did know. It was the same for him. One sniff was enough to confirm that Zenitsu was kind and strong and intuitive and- But he had already told Zenitsu this months prior, and all he had received in response was, “No, I’m not strong. Don’t give me that,” so he wondered whether it was worth mentioning again or not. He decided that if it could soothe his friend at all, it would be worth it, and he relayed the message again.

He felt Zenitsu’s back stiffen at his words, which hadn’t been entirely unexpected. He recalled the prior experience, wherein Zenitsu’s demeanor had taken a dramatic shift. He hadn’t understood why then, and he couldn’t say he really understood why now either.

“Please. Not right now.” Zenitsu’s posture seemed to slowly relax again, slumping forward into Tanjirou. “Don’t lie. Just-”

Tanjirou ripped Zenitsu away from him, and he realized that it was probably a bit too forceful when he saw Zenitsu wince at the contact. But his heart was speeding up and he felt like he had to do something because how could Zenitsu really think this is a lie? He had always suspected that Zenitsu’s self-esteem was low, but it seemed bizarre that he could genuinely have absolutely no faith in himself. “I would never lie, Zenitsu! Not about this or about anything else! Isn’t that obvious?” He noted that maybe he was being too loud.

He stared intently at Zenitsu as he awaited an answer, though it was clear Zenitsu didn’t have one prepared. His lip quivered, and Tanjirou felt his stomach sink as Zenitsu’s face fell. He marveled at how far down a stomach could fall. There it was, by his feet, There it was, disappearing into the earth below. There it was, steadily making its way to the earth’s core -- all occurring as Zenitsu spoke his next words.

“Stop, seriously… I know already. I know what kind of person I am.” Again, that bitter laugh along with an irritatingly dismissive tone. Something about this was just so wrong. Why was Zenitsu putting on a front all of a sudden? And why did it hurt so much more that Tanjirou could see through it clear as day. There was nothing Zenitsu could do to mask the fragility of his voice except hope that it wouldn’t break, and something about that made Tanjirou’s throat tighten.

“I don’t know why you’re friends with me, or if you even consider me a friend, but I already know what I’m like. And I’m not… any of the things you say that I am. Maybe you’re just being nice? You’re the kindest person I know, so I guess it does kinda make sense that you would say all that. But I don’t get why you’re going out of your way to comfort me. That’s too nice. You don’t have to push yourself.” The dismissal was gone from his tone, replaced with… was it sadness? Shame? Tanjirou sensed some longing too, though that seemed out of place amongst the array of emotional wounds, all of which were raw and greatly needing someone to tend to them.

“It just… Please don’t anymore. All it does is hurt because I know it’s not real.” Zenitsu had scooted backwards, away from him, by this point, so he looked down at his now empty hands. Guilt over the rashness of his initial reaction weighed on him, gluing his legs to the floor beneath him. It had startled him, at first, to be confronted with the possibility that his friend thought so low of him that he’d mistrust his words. But he realized, then, that it wasn’t him Zenitsu thought poorly of. It was Zenitsu himself.

He watched tear drops land on the back of hands, but he didn’t attempt to stop them. How could he have been so blind -- so stupid -- to not see it until now? Zenitsu didn’t just have poor self-esteem. He didn’t just underestimate his abilities. He hated himself. He couldn’t imagine a world wherein someone would truly value him. Every time he rushed to Tanjirou’s side for protection, it was because he could not fathom even the slightest possibility that he might be competent despite how many demons he had proven himself capable of defeating.

Something about this hurt worse than Zenitsu freezing up or crying in his arms. If Zenitsu really believed these things about himself, and likely believed it for much longer than Tanjirou had known him, was there anything he could do? What, really, could be said to change Zenitsu’s mind when he was clearly so resolute and so resigned to this image of himself. There was so much powerlessness there, and it was choking Tanjirou into silence. He thought that he had left this feeling behind, that as long as he worked hard, there wasn’t any situation he couldn’t surmount. It was something he held onto during the most challenging battles, yet it was quietly dissipating between his fingers now. How could life-threatening situations feel so easy when compared to what should’ve been a simple talk with a friend? How?

He had to remind himself that it wasn’t a matter of whether he could or couldn’t -- he had to reach Zenitsu. His friend was shouldering such a dark inner world, and there was no way he was going to leave him in there alone. He grabbed both of Zenitsu’s hands in his, and searched his eyes. Zenitsu’s gaze wouldn’t meet his, though, so he urged, “Look at me,” to which Zenitsu acquiesced. It made something in his chest squeeze to see the fear and the overwhelming shame behind his friend’s eyes. What did the world do to him? And what could he do to make up for it?

“Zenitsu, even if you don’t believe that you’re a admirable person, please at least believe that I would never lie to you. I can’t make you see yourself differently - I know that. I know that’s too much to ask of you right now. I just need you to trust in my honesty. And if you can’t then…” He paused for a moment, racking his brain, before delightedly exclaiming, “Wait! Sometimes, if I hone in on someone’s scent, I can tell if they’re being truthful or not. Can you do that with your hearing?” Zenitsu nodded hesitantly. “Then, listen to me, and you can judge for yourself whether or not I’m lying, okay?” Zenitsu nodded once again, and Tanjirou breathed a sigh of relief. He knew that he wasn’t lying, and soon Zenitsu would know too.

“I’ll start by saying that we are friends. I considered you a friend ever since you protected Nezuko’s box… And I really do believe that you’re strong -- I’ve seen enough to prove that to be true. And… funny! And smart! And really really brave!” He had worked himself into a frenzy, his speech coming much faster and louder, and he was making no effort to stop himself from beaming. Zenitsu’s face, on the other hand, was almost comically downtrodden, practically screaming “Stop messing with me,” though he had enough restraint to let Tanjirou continue without interruption.

“I really mean it! I mean, when you think about it, bravery isn’t about not being afraid. It’s about being afraid and doing what you need to do anyway. You’ve been terrified for so long, right? And yet you’ve trained, and you’ve become a demon slayer, and you’ve done so many missions already. Isn’t that impressive in its own way? When fear is constantly telling you to run and hide instead?” Tanjirou watched Zenitsu react to this and, while he still clearly wasn’t convinced, he did seem to be taking Tanjirou’s words into more careful consideration.

“Okay. But I still don’t get why you’re going so far for me. Why did you hug me… why did you let me hug you?” He could tell Zenitsu was asking this in earnest, and Tanjirou wanted to respond in kind, but he was just so confused. What did he even mean? Why did he hug him? What else would he have had him do? Tanjirou supposed that he could’ve fed him some onigiri like the first -- second -- time they met. Should he have done that? But didn’t Zenitsu tell him to keep hugging him? So then… Huh?

“You wanted a hug, and I wanted to hug you? And before that, when I was upset, I wanted a hug, and I’m guessing you wanted to hug me? Isn’t that normal?” Was he missing something?

“You wanted to hug me?”

“Yes.”

“You swear?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t out of obligation?”

“It was not.”

“Pity?”

“No.”

Zenitsu looked about as mind-boggled as Tanjirou felt by this point. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

Zenitsu opened his mouth to answer but hesitated. Tanjirou watched the progression of emotions on his face -- the sadness, the disgust (why disgust?), the attempt to recollect himself, the inevitable return to sadness. Now that he knew there was more to Zenitsu than he had previously known, he was tuned in. It was perplexing to him that his sharp nose and intuition could’ve somehow missed all of this to begin with. But, he considered the very real possibility that it was only so apparent now because Zenitsu was no longer hiding it. Whatever the reason, he was glad to understand more about his friend. Even if that meant feeling his insides contort in commiseration each time he had to confront the fact that Zenitsu was just a tumultuous ball of self-hatred.

“It is hard to believe, yeah. I don’t really know how to explain it. But I know you’re telling the truth -- I don’t have to listen for it. I trust that you’re being honest. I guess it’s just weird, you know? It feels weird to be held like that after not being held for 16 years.”

Tanjirou blinked. Wait. But “Aren’t you 16?”

“Yeah.”

“And you haven’t been held like that in 16 years?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m the first one?”

“From what I can remember at least.”

“HUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH???????????????” Tossing all etiquette aside, he grasped his friend and roughly pulled him into an embrace, all but dragging the boy into his lap. “Why didn’t you say so sooner?? We have to make up for all the lost time!!”

Zenitsu snorted at that. “Do you know how much we’d have to hug to do that?”

“I’ll do it.” He nodded to himself. “No matter how much!”

He sensed his friend tensing up against him once again, huffing a laugh into his neck. With some uncertainty, he asked, “But seriously… Would you- Can I ask you for a hug sometimes? Not a lot! Just sometimes. Occasionally. Every once in a-”

“Of course, Zenitsu. Ask me for a hug anytime. You don’t have to hold back.” He thought better of this before adding, “Well, if we’re fighting a demon, maybe don’t. But, any other time.”

“Then can we just stay like this for a while longer?”

Tanjirou felt a smile emerge. “Yeah. No problem.”

“And umm... can I cry?”

It was Tanjirou’s turn to snort. “Since when do you ask for permission?” He felt Zenitsu giggling at this, at the irony of such a question. He couldn’t stop himself from joining in, at first doing his best to contain it to a chuckle, but almost immediately failing. He threw his head back and laughed openly, Zenitsu’s snickering only egging it on. They sat there, holding each other, shaking against one another with unrestrained mirth, for way too long. Every time it would die down, one of them would inevitably succumb to another fit of giggles, and the other would laugh along.

Once the laughter died down for good, Zenitsu sighed and drooped onto Tanjirou, finally seeming to relax. The hilarity of the moment prior stood in stark contrast to the howling that began then. Much like earlier, Zenitsu’s cries were loud and so pained. He closed his eyes as he listened to his friend and felt the sound reverberate through his body until it felt as if he might be the one hollering instead. He wanted to cry as that familiar desire to take Zenitsu’s pain away returned. When he paused, though, he recalled Zenitsu’s words. That Tanjirou sounded like a sunny day. That he was glad he had his heightened sense of hearing for that reason. The heartfelt sentiment that he didn’t want this to be taken away from him.

Maybe he didn’t need to take anything away from Zenitsu. Maybe it was enough to be sitting in each other’s arms. Maybe it was enough that Zenitsu finally believed there was someone on this earth he would hold him like this. Maybe it was enough that they could carry their burdens together.

He let a tear drop onto Zenitsu’s shoulder as a smile spread across his face. Yeah. There was no maybe. This was enough.

#tanjirou kamado #tanjiro kamado #zenitsu agatsuma #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #tanjirou x zenitsu #tanzen #zentan

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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

Text

Callisto (Part Eleven - Them)

Some reveal in this one, lots of worry and some discovery. John is not a happy boy.

As always, many thanks to @scribbles97 @janetm74 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment for all their amazing support. you guys rock ::hugs you to bits::

Tonight is a bit of a posting night. I will be posting the last chapter of The Cane shortly as soon as I finish proofing it :D Yay, for finishing things :D Callisto is currently at 45,000 words.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one.

-o-o-o-

Alan was out of his pod, screaming Scott’s name, but his brother was gone. The water as still as before.

“Alan! Status!” John’s voice was as panicked as Alan had ever heard it.

“Scott’s gone.” He dashed over to Virgil. His big brother was crumpled in a heap. In the low gravity, Scott’s shove had been enough to throw him up against the rock wall. “John, I need you.”

“FAB.”

Virgil was unconscious.

Again.

A quick scan and his vitals were good. There would be bruising ...as if his brother needed more. But there was nothing broken, thank god.

A scan of the still unconscious director proved her to be stable as well.

He shifted Virgil into a safer recovery position.

“Eos, can we scan the lake?” He eyed where his big brother had vanished.

“No. I can get no data beyond approximately ten metres below the surface. It is very frustrating.”

Alan continued to stare at the surface and its glass stillness. “Can you locate Scott?”

“John has already pinpointed the Commander. He has joined the other life form below the lake’s surface. There is no comms response from the Commander.” The AI managed to sound both worried and frustrated.

“Are there any other life signs in the area?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

There was a pause. “There is no life as defined by the search parameters programmed into Thunderbird Five’s sensors on the moon beyond what has already been accounted for by International Rescue and Callisto Base personnel. Did you wish me to change those parameters?”

Alan swallowed as the third dragonfly buzzed into the cave. “ I think we’re going to have to. There is something down here.”

-o-o-o-

“We can’t leave him!”

“We’re not leaving him, Alan. We need to get the director and Virgil back to base.”

“But Scott-“

“He’s alive. We will do everything we can, but first we need medical attention for Virgil and the Director and to gather more information to better understand what we are dealing with.”

Virgil groaned and dragged a hand to his face. There was an oxygen mask in all its cold and moist glory and he shoved it off.

The elastic caught in his hair.

“Virgil!”

The pounding in his head was so loud, he could barely hear above it. There were hurried footsteps and someone ...Alan, it had to be Alan...touched his arm.

“Virgil, are you with us?” John’s melodious voice appeared on his other side and echoed through his aching head.

“You gonna open your eyes for us?” Alan sounded worried.

Open his eyes? Oh, yeah. A flicker and suddenly his retinas were assailed by the red of Three’s tiny infirmary.

A sigh. What the hell had happened now?

God, his head hurt.

“Alan, get us back to Base.” John’s voice was calm and quiet but had that tone of command.

There was quiet for a moment as the infirmary walls faded in and out of focus, roiling Virgil’s stomach.

A sigh and his little brother acknowledged John with an exhaled FAB before leaving Virgil’s bedside with soft footfalls.

Hands strapped him into the bed, fingers brushing gently across the surface of his uniform before landing ever so softly on his temple. “Rest, Virgil.” His hair was brushed off his forehead, the fine grip on John’s glove catching strands. “You’re safe.”

Virgil let out a sigh and closed his eyes, willing his head to stop pounding.

Perhaps it was a sign of the severity of whatever had happened to him, that he didn’t realise there was a voice and a touch missing until he was caught in the spiral of pain-induced exhaustion.

The question of a missing big brother followed him into an uneasy sleep.

-o-o-o-

Berry for his eldest son.

It was an exchange Jeff wasn’t sure he was willing to make.

But the thought was arrested before he could consider it further, knowing that Scott would admonish him for even thinking it.

But in the depths of his soul, the father in him was screaming.

Berry was off loaded from Three and onto the gantry, quickly followed by an equally prone Virgil. His engineer son was only asleep according to John, but with Scott missing, Jeff found himself clinging to his second eldest regardless.

The automatic cams on the Dragonflies had picked up what had happened. It was blatantly obvious there was something with purpose at work, something not human, possibly sentient.

The word ‘aliens’ bounced back and forth in his head.

Virgil was returned to the spot in the infirmary he had left barely an hour ago. Gordon sitting on the bed Jeff had restricted him to, stared at his co-pilot with worried eyes. Alan, equally as worried, sat down beside his fish brother and Gords wrapped his good arm around him.

Virgil was ever so quiet.

Berry was surrounded by the Base doctors, a curtain pulled around her bed, hiding her from the rest of them.

Jeff had the urge to shove it all aside and demand answers.

John had an IR medscanner out and was scanning his brother again. He spoke up without Jeff having to ask. “He’s sleeping.” It was a repetition of the earlier diagnosis, but it was welcome anyway.

A frown and the astronaut narrowed the scanner’s beam, prodding its controls and bringing it closer to Virgil’s head.

“What is it?”

John’s voice was calm, but distracted. “Director Berrenger has some ear damage. Virgil...” Another prod of the device. “Damn.”

“What?” Jeff took a step closer.

But John stopped scanning his brother, adjusted the controls and then ran the medscanner over his own head. Frowning at the readings, he activated his wrist ‘projector and swiped the results to that display.

The two scans bobbed up side by side, close up details of Virgil and John’s auditory systems.

“Virgil has had a headache since he arrived. We thought it was related to the T-Drive. But it appears that he has been subjected to some kind ear injury.”

Gordon spoke up. “He got dizzy.”

John frowned and poked at the hologram, spinning it. The frown deepened a moment before the astronaut suddenly darted around the bed and aimed the scanner at Gordon’s head.

“What? What the hell are you doing?”

“Hold still.”

A flicker of yellow and John obviously got what he was looking for. A breath and he aimed the scanner at Alan’s head as well.

His sigh was a frustrated one. “We are all exhibiting signs of ear irritation, but Virgil’s is by far the worst. Dad?”

Jeff blinked as John waved the device over his head. His son’s glare at the scanner was almost enough to incinerate it.

John slapped his comms. “Eos, land the probe closest to the Crystal Cavern. I need physical contact with the rock. Activate mic input, scan the spectrum.”

“FAB.”

It took a few moments and Jeff found himself absently stroking Virgil’s hair.

“Contact made. Scanning...oh, my!”

“Let me hear it.” John was wired ever so tight, eyes on fire.

“Input is being received at a very high volume, but at a very high frequency far above the human ability to hear. Translating.”

The sound that emitted from John’s comms was a very loud discordant screeching. Everyone in the room clapped their hands to their ears. A nurse attending to Berry shoved aside a curtain and shouted at them, as John yelled at Eos to stop.

“What the hell is that?!” Gordon, as always, voiced what everyone was thinking.

John was already bouncing program variables over his wrist. “That is what we need to find out.”

-o-o-o-

It turned out it was the moon itself.

Jeff sat with Virgil as his son slept, unable to relax himself. Alan intermittently gnashed his teeth fretting out loud what all of them were thinking. Scott was missing and it tore at all of them.

Virgil slept on.

John could only be described as frantic. The space monitor swore a blue streak that had Jeff snapping at him at one point. The man’s response was throw up a hologram on his tablet that mapped out the sounds being emitted by Callisto.

It was like a nest of spiderweb laced around and through the rock of the Jovian satellite. Pockets of density existed in places along with patches of less. John reached up and poked a spot that was slightly different from the rest, but still drenched in lines.

“This is Callisto Base.”

“And what is that?” Jeff pointed at the fine lines darting all over the moon.

John sighed. “My guess is that we are looking at a communications network.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “Who is communicating?”

“Unknown. There are no unaccounted life forms on this moon. Not life as we know it.”

“What about life as we don’t know it?”

“We’re working on it.”

Next question. “How did we miss it?” The moon was literally shouting loud enough to injure.

John deflated on the spot, obviously considering the lapse a failure on his part. “Sound requires matter to travel through. Thunderbird Five is not equipped to detect it unless we have something in contact with the atmosphere or a mic in play.”

“We have mics in our comms.” But Jeff knew the answer before his son supplied it.

“The frequencies are beyond usual pick up range. Far too high.”

“What about Virgil?”

John wilted. “I don’t know, Dad. Why is he affected more than the rest of us? Hell, why aren’t the colonists showing symptoms?”

Jeff frowned at that. “Why aren’t they? They’ve been here for years.”

“I can’t see how they could not be affected. We’ve only been here a short time and we are showing the effects.”

Something cold curdled in Jeff’s gut. A sudden suspicion roiled to the surface. “Leave that one to me.” He threw himself to his feet.

“Dad?” Aquamarine frowned at him.

“I’ll get some answers.”

-o-o-o-

His head was hammering both in dream and, as he rose to consciousness, in reality. “Oh god.” Virgil rolled over clutching his head and curled into a ball.

“Virgil?”

Alan? He clenched his eyes shut, hands gripping his hair.

“Virgil?” The softer more melodious voice of his older space brother. “Hold on.”

There were words not directed at him and Virgil must have faded out again because next he knew he was flat on his back and the pain had been reduced to a pale echo of itself, replaced with a light fog.

Someone was holding his hand.

“Scott?” It came out hoarse and barely there.

“Virgil, you with us?”

Alan. It was Alan. His little brother.

Rocket boy.

God, his head was sluggish.

“Alan? Where’s Scott?” He forced his eyes open and blinked against the light. Another groan and he moved on the bed, his body aching and stiff as if he had been in the same position for an eon. “What happened?”

Another slow blink and his memory landed in Crystal Cave and rescuing Director Berrenger, and then…pain and nothing.

“Ummm…Scott’s not here. Lemme get John.” There was the sound of an active comm and Alan calling for his big brother.

Huh?

“Where’s Gordon?”

“Asleep.” Alan pointed at the blue curtain beside them. “Dad had a go at him for not resting. Threatened to send him up to Five if he didn’t try to sleep.”

Oh, just fantastic. “What about you? Have you slept?” How long had Virgil been down for the count?

“I’m good. Been helping John detect aliens.”

“Aliens? What aliens?” Frowning shouldn’t hurt like this.

“Virgil, you’re awake.” John’s melodious voice was a welcome balm despite the fact it was stating the obvious.

“John.” Virgil tried to sit up, but a gentle hand halted him. A pair of aquamarine eyes telling him more than any words. “What happened? Where’s Scott?” Scott should be here. He was always here.

John sat down beside Virgil’s bed deliberately and quietly.

Oh god. “What happened?” Virgil pushed himself into a seated position despite his brother, determined to face whatever had happened…not lying down.

“Scott is okay, as far as we can tell.”

“As far as you can tell?”

John’s lips thinned and his eyes screamed apology before he activated his wrist comm and showed Virgil footage from the dragonfly cam that caught exactly what happened.

Virgil stared as his brother sacrificed himself to save him.

The expletive that fell from his lips was sharp and vulgar.

He pushed the fog in his head to one side and forced himself to focus. “I need details.” He shoved the covers off his legs.

A blink.

“And clothes.”

-o-o-o-

Jeff stared the Commander of Callisto Base down, every ounce of his height, every piece of history they held together. “What haven’t you told us?”

“Have you located Ju yet?” The shorter man set his shoulders and glared up at Jeff.

“We have discovered that there is likely another form of life on this moon. Were you aware of this?”

Graeme blinked. “Life? What?”

“My eldest son was captured by the same mechanism that likely caught your wife. My second eldest has taken ill with the effects of strong ultra-frequency sound. These sounds appear to envelope this moon. Are you trying to tell me, that with all your scientific staff and equipment, supplied by Tracy Industries, no less, you have yet to encounter this problem after inhabiting this base for over five years?” Jeff inched closer. “Think before you answer.” The threat was clear.

Graeme swallowed. “There was Jeremiah, but we thought that was an isolated case.”

“Jeremiah?”

“One of our geologists. Took ill, nausea, headaches, nothing we did helped. Are you telling me he died of exposure to sound?”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed as his heart lurched. “He died?”

Graeme’s eyes grew frantic as the dots connected. “Stroke. The doctors said it was stroke. I was going to ask you to take his body home to his family when you left.”

Jeff’s lips thinned ever so much more. “Anyone else?”

“Uh.” The man was obviously floundering and cursing himself at the same time. “There have been instances of nausea, dizziness and headache, but nothing as bad as Jeremiah. We put it down to long term low gravity and the environment. We are living on the edge of human experience out here. You know what that is like.” He stared up at Jeff. “What kind of life? Have you seen it?” A swallow. “What about Ju?”

What about, Scott? “We’re working on it. We hope to have more information once Berry wakes up.” They needed so many answers.

-o-o-o-

John glared at Virgil, but his idiot brother was as determined as any of them would be in the same situation. John dreaded what would happen when their father returned.

There was going to be hell to pay.

Virgil was given his uniform and Alan was scooted out of the closed curtained area. John refused to move and earned a glare for his efforts, but there was no way he was leaving Virgil on his own in this state, stupid determination or not.

Dad was going to kill all of them.

The rainbow of bruises across Virgil’s back as he threw off the hospital gown their father had so painstakingly helped the nurses dress him in hours earlier only served to impress on John the fact that this was ever so wrong.

“Virgil, please give yourself more time.”

“Scott doesn’t have time.”

“How do you know that?”

“He’s been kidnapped by goddamned aliens, John. I’ve seen enough sci-fi flicks to know where that leads.”

“I don’t think we need a Ripley in this case, Virgil.”

His brother yanked spacesuit onto his legs. “How do you know that? You haven’t even located the bugs yet.”

“I doubt they are bugs, Virgil.” With a sigh, he reached in and helped his brother pull his spacesuit up over his shoulders, not missing any of the multiple winces at the action. “In fact, I think they might be the crystals.”

Virgil turned to look at him. “The quartz?”

“Yes.”

“How? It reads as silicon dioxide.”

“I know. Thunderbird Five is not the USS Enterprise. We’re doing our best here.” John lowered Virgil’s red and green baldric over his shoulders, ever so gently letting it rest on what he knew were bruises.

This was madness. “You should stay in bed. You’ve been affected more than any of us. Long term exposure to ultrasound can be life threatening. Please, Virgil.”

His brother turned around, ever the rescue operative, the uniform wearing him rather than the other way around. “And what about Scott?”

“Let me, Virgil, please. We have Dad and Lee. You need rest.”

Dark eyes met his. “With Scott down, I’m in command. It is my duty to lead.”

“Virgil, this is not a military organisation and you are not a soldier.”

“No, I’m a Tracy.” With that, he threw aside the curtain and strode out.

John sighed. First Dad, and then Scott, when they found him.

Yes, there was going to be hell to pay.

-o-o-o-

The woman on the bed was an echo of the team mate he used to know. So much time had passed between them and, as it was always with time, it took as it left.

Berry’s hair was fading to white. Her skin had been kept relatively young by the lack of sun in her life. After all, it was a six to nine hundred odd million further kilometres away out here. But there was a frailness, nonetheless.

She seemed so small against the white of the pillow and bedsheets. Lacking the vivacity he knew she possessed.

“Kate?” He swallowed. She couldn’t hear him. Two broken ear drums would do that. He reached out a hand and gently nudged her shoulder.

He was relieved to see those familiar green eyes open and look up at him.

“Hey.” His voice broke just a little.

“Jeff?” Those eyes widened. And suddenly, before he could react, he was wrapped in eager arms holding him ever so tight. “Oh, Jeff. You came.”

“Could I do anything else?” But her arms were still around him. She couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t hear his words.

He found himself hugging her ever so tight back.

But he had to break it off. He needed information.

A gentle nudge and she relaxed back onto the bed, frowning up at him in worry.

Grabbing a tablet, he typed in the question and held it up for her to see. What happened?

“They caught us. The water kept us trapped. Couldn’t get out. Nga and Steve and then Chrisoula. They killed them. Trying to do something.” Her breathing elevated and for a moment there, Jeff feared he had lost her to whatever she was remembering.

He shook her shoulder gently, bringing her eyes back to him. Fingers on the tablet. Sound. They use sound.

She nodded and then closed her eyes as if in pain, a hand going to her head.

He squeezed her shoulder again. “Take it easy.”

A blink and he realised she knew he had said something but not what. He hastily tapped the words into the tablet.

She sighed as she read them, melting a little into the bed. “Where’s Ju?”

I was hoping you would be able to help us with that.

Realising what he meant, her lips thinned and her shoulders straightened a little on the bed.

“She’s still out there?”

He nodded.

“Damn.”

There’s a possibility your release was either an attempt at communication or a ruse to trap one of our operatives.

“Operatives?”

International Rescue.

“Your sons are here? To rescue us?”

That’s the plan.

She blinked a lot at that, moisture in her eyes, her lips twisting a little. “Thank you, Jeff.”

It’s what they do.

They. His own words struck home as he looked at the tablet.

A hand scratched gently at his arm, drawing his attention back to Berry.

“They kept us in a room made of water. The walls were continually moving, like a waterfall that never stopped. But with our lights we could see through it.” She blinked, eyes again focussing away from him, seeing something he couldn’t. “In the room, the floor was bare rock except for one of those crystal formations. Just one. But in the water outside, there was crystal everywhere.” She looked at him. “It’s the crystals, you know? They’re alive.”

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Jeff Tracy #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #callisto

55 notes · View notes

clean-bands-dirty-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Drive By ~ L.P. (Part 1)

A/n: I have a discord I’m part of! I’m gonna add it to every jatp fic I have, so you’ll get updated links as I post or if you just ask because I don’t know how to do permalinks lol. Have fun reading!

Word Count: 5300+

MASTERLIST

"What are you smiling so widely about?" The teasing question came from Luke and was directed at Alex, who had come into the room blushing with a smile wide and bright enough to outshine the artificial lighting.

"Nothing," Alex dismissed, hopping down from the piano he'd manifested on top of. "Willie just answered a lot of questions and now I feel a lot better about what's going on." They'd just gotten done talking about Julie joining the band and how Alex had met a new ghost friend on his walk.

Reggie's eyebrows came together and he reached out, catching Alex's wrist with both of his hands to still the boy. "What's that?" In dark ink, almost like a tattoo, words were set into the base of Alex's wrist. "I didn't know you had a tattoo, and why does it say 'I think you dinged my board'?"

Alex ripped his arm away from Reggie, but the damage had already been done. As Alex looked over at Luke, he could see in the guitarists' eyes what was about to happen. "You found your soulmate?" Luke asked, a slightly bitter tone already in his voice. His nose was scrunched up a little. Not in hate or disgust per say, but edging toward those emotions. Like he was ready for Willie to be a total jerk or hurt Alex.

"Yeah," Alex slowly admitted. Reggie shot Alex an apologetic look but Alex just shook his head. Reggie hadn't done anything wrong. Normally it would even be a good thing, like when Julie had spent hours talking to him about Flynn and how happy she was that Flynn had been her soulmate. Luke wasn't Julie though. Before Luke could go off like he was getting ready to, Alex stood up to his full height, determination setting in his eyes. "And you know what? I'm glad I did. Willie is really great, and it's nothing like they used to say soulmates were. It isn't forced or weird or magically easy. I don't feel addicted to him. It wasn't even like we were flirting with each other or anything. It was really chill and nice, and he was funny and easy going and listened to what I had to say and understood my feelings and helped me. He's a good guy."

Luke was suddenly very interested in his guitar. "I'm happy for you." His tone didn't support his words.

It was hard, because Alex knew that any other time Luke WOULD have been incredibly happy for him. He'd have wanted to know every detail and have hyped him up and been excited and invested in the story like he always was. Luke would have been more than happy to tease and laugh and be so, so very happy for him just like he said. He'd have smiled and hugged Alex, because he knew how hard this had been for Alex. How he'd always thought he'd die without ever really falling in love and then he DID and now despite everything he has answers and a cute boy who's interested in him and a promising relationship waiting to bloom.

But Luke wasn't, and it was all due to the fact that Luke had a soulmate once and swore them off ever since. Sometimes... Sometimes Alex wished Luke had never met Y/n.

It had been a good performance, and Luke was tired. He wanted to go back to the studio and burn off the rest of his performance high with lots of snacks and a good movie, right beside his best friends, like they did after every performance. Before that though, they drank lots of water so they could drive home without passing out. It had happened once and Reggie had sprained arm. He'd sat out the next performance and they all made a rule to be more careful about self care so it wouldn't happen again. They would have just canceled the gig but Reggie would have killed them. They did learn however they hated not performing with everyone present, so here they were.

Because they were just performing at a little bar on a slow night, there weren't many people around. They also weren't a big enough band to perform at somewhere they could get a real bad stage, so they all just sat on the bar, sipping on water so they wouldn't hurt their stomachs. Luke had thrown up once and it was another lesson they'd taken to heart.

As the guys were refueling, a girl approached them. Her smile was wide and she took the open seat next to Luke. Alex had been sitting there but he'd gotten up to use the bathroom. "Hi," she greeted. Her cheek rested on her hand and her eyes sparkled.

Bobby was immediately returning a flirty, "Why hello." He'd always been more of a charmer than the others. Luke was a close second, but Bobby did it more often than he did because Luke didn't like what usually happened when you flirted with someone.

The girl ignored Bobby though, turning to the lead singer, who currently far too busy shoving his face full of food to pay attention to her. 'Hey, slow down or you'll get a stomach ache," Reggie reminded.

Luke nodded and then swallowed, breathing for a few seconds before going to take another, smaller bite. He paused when the girl cleared her throat. "Uh, hi," he said hesitantly, only now registering she'd been talking to him. For some reason.

Her smile grew when he greeted her. "You're Luke, right?" She leaned against the counter, draping herself in an odd way.

Despite how much he hated when people did this, he wasn't thick enough to not know when it was happening. He wiped his mouth, offering an awkward smile. "Uh yeah. What's your name?"

"You can call me anything you like," the girl responded evenly. Her bright hair moved fluidly as she twirled it around her finger. She was pretty, Luke could admit that. Her eyes were a bright blue, and her clothes were a nice silver, which went well with her deep tan.

Unfortunately for her, he wasn't interested. "I'd prefer to just call you your name if that's okay with you."

Her eyebrow arched in surprise. She seemed like the type of girl who dealt with people like Bobby or Reggie. People who were into her and didn't often say no when offered the chance. She was attractive, and probably popular. Luke just... didn't want what she did, and what she wanted was getting more clear by the second. Before she could make some comment that would probably make him feel even more awkward, he slipped off the stool and began to move away from his friends, using it as an excuse to dismiss the girl. She only followed after. "Oh come on," she drawled. "You're hot. I'm hot. We'll have lots of fun. I promise I'll be worth your time." She stepped in front of him, stopping his path and hooking her finger into his collar, pulling him closer to her.

Luke felt panic begin to rise. He'd never had someone come onto him this strong before. Usually they backed off pretty quickly after he made it clear he wasn't interested. What could he say to her to make her lose interest that would make sense without offending her? He didn't want to be mean but... he was the last person to sleep around, even after Alex who was gay in a world that hated people like him. A world that demanded him to keep it secret. HE was more sexually active than Luke was. To say, Luke wasn't. "Listen..." he began slowly, feeling his nervousness twist his gut. His friends had told him so many times that it was okay he didn't want to be with people like Reggie and Bobby did, the same way that Alex didn't want to be with girls like that. It was fine. Yet, every time he had to face it in a situation with someone who might not be so forgiving, he felt the weight of the world on his chest. Not all people were like Alex, Bobby, and Reggie.

"Darling, you're breathtaking." The low purr came from a new body. A hand touched Luke's arm with the most gentle pressure, just enough to nudge Luke backward so the new person could pay attention to the girl. All Luke saw was hair and broad shoulders, but he was distracted suddenly by a weird tingling where the person had touched him. A guy, he realized. "I can't believe there's anyone here that can't see how absolutely beautiful you are." The man rose a hand to brush the girl's cheek with a thumb. Her shining eyes turned to him, taking in his charm in gulps. The man's arm moved to go around her shoulders as he tucked her into his side, burying his nose in her hair to leave a little kiss on her forehead. "What do you say we ditch this poor soul who's so obviously blind and have some fun of our own?"

The girl blushed. "Oh definitely."

An odd feeling went through Luke when the guy made eye contact with him and winked. He turned away from the couple as they began to walk away, hurrying back to his seat. He sat down, trying to get the guy's face out of his head. He'd never been exactly blind to how attractive some people were, but usually it was easy to ignore or forget. This guy... his mind was packed with this guy. Everything about him that Luke had seen in those short moments before he'd left. How he'd smiled at Luke with a look that said he knew Luke had been trying to get out of the situation. Almost like a little 'you're welcome'. And if he was honest, he was thankful.

"Hey, what's that?" Reggie grabbed Luke's shoulder, stilling him so he could get a better look.

"What?" Luke looked over, but he could only see the tip of something inked on his shoulder. It was just out of view for him to see any better.

Bobby moved over then, a smirk growing on his face as his eyes widened. "That's a soulmate mark."

There was a tension between the three boys for a second. Everyone knew that soulmates were a huge taboo, but with all the things between them that were taboo, it was kind of thrilling too. Bobby shrugged off his jacket, offering it to Luke. "Probably a good idea," Luke agreed, putting the jacket on and covering the mark. Even if all of them were cool about it, other people might not be. He could get it tattooed over later or something.

Three full days and no one had stopped talking about Alex and Willie. Willie seemed really cool and Luke was easing up a bit, but when the conversation turned that way he found himself usually drawing away, focusing on cleaning his guitar or writing more lyrics. Today he was fiddling around with a melody quietly, a pencil in his mouth and his lyric journal on the floor next to him. He absently rose a hand to tug at the collar of his shirt. He'd never really gotten used to how high the collar went, or the feeling of fabric against his shoulders. He had always worn cut off sleeves, but had changed it after...

He felt suddenly ill.

"You know we still have some of your old shirts," Alex comments casually. "Most of them are cut off actually. You could wear one of those instead." He spoke with a soft voice, and Luke looked over to see Julie and Reggie going off about Flynn. Of course Alex wasn't one to call Luke out in front of anyone else, but he'd still had to check just in case.

Luke's eyes fell back to the song he was sort of writing. "No it's fine. The sleeves cover... my shoulder."

Alex didn't have to ask, but there was something in his expression. "You know you don't have to hide it here," the blonde reminded gently. "Julie and I have our marks too, and-"

"I know," Luke cut off. "I just... don't want her to ask about it." His eyes flickered to Julie before moving away again.

This time Alex nodded and let it drop. "What song are you working on?" Luke smiled, appreciating his friend more than ever. Luke didn't get to respond though because Reggie began to come over. He was holding Julie's glass of water, thrilled by the fact that he wasn't dropping it.... He tripped though, spilling the water all over Luke's shirt.

"Crap!" Reggie hissed, his eyes widening with guilt. "I'm so sorry, Luke."

Laughing it off, Luke rolled his eyes as he moved to his feet, putting his guitar down. "It's fine Reg." He pulled out another shirt, pushing down the way he wanted to glare at it as he pulled off the wet shirt to change into the new, dry one.

Julie's eyes went wide. "You have a tattoo?"

Luke suddenly froze. He tossed the wet shirt by his other stuff, forcing himself to move to cover his midrift again. "No, I don't."

Alex made an expression between pained and amused. "Guess there goes keeping Julie from asking," he mumbled quietly.

As if on que, Julie asked, "What is it?"

Now, Luke could have lied. But he hadn't, and he didn't want to. He hated lying, especially to bandmates. "It's a soulmate mark. It appeared the first time my soulmate touched me." He pulled his shirt the rest of the way down, covering the mark. Without even thinking about it, he tugged at the sleeve. He'd never worn sleeves before using them to cover his mark. He'd always passed it off as a tattoo, but when the mark had just turned into a bad reminder, he'd started covering it up for himself.

Julie didn't pick up on the tone of his voice though. He had played it casual, so he didn't blame her, especially as she rushed up to him with shining eyes and a wide smile. "Wait what? You have a soulmate? How come you never told me?"

"Because I HAD a soulmate," Luke answered softly, offering a small smile in response to her enthusiasm. It turned a little bitter when he continued, "I don't. Anymore."

Suddenly Julie looked really guilty. "Luke, I-"

"It's okay," he dismissed quickly. "That's just why I don't usually engage in soulmate conversations." He forced his smile to brighten. "Now, where were we?" Seeing his urgency, the others shared looks before moving the conversation onward. They talked about soulmates around him a lot less after that.

Hey, wait!" Luke's eyes had caught the guy that had saved him earlier as he moved through the crowd. Luke picked up his pace, reaching out to catch the guy's arm. Suddenly they were looking at each other straight on. Luke was a little shorter, but he was a little shorter than most people so it wasn't new. "Sorry, I just wanted to thank you for earlier." He felt his body heat up under the stranger's gaze. "I... thought you would have left."

A smile rose to the stranger's face. "I don't exactly require a lot of space to handle business." When Luke drew back, the man ducked his head. "Sorry I didn't mean to be vulgar, I'm just used to people... anyway." He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me. Not everyone likes to get attention like that from people, and I have no issue stepping in when it's required." His fingers tapped against his leg, his demeanor a lot different from the flirty, confident front he'd put on earlier.

Luke swallowed, trying to pull himself together. "Uh... what's your name?"

The guy's shoulders sagged, as if he was disappointed by the question. "Y/n. Yours?"

"Luke," Luke responded. "Listen, I was just wondering-"

"Look," Y/n began, a sudden tiredness coming into his features. "I get that you're not into girls and that's fine, but I've already had sex tonight and I'm really not in the mood to-"

"What?" Luke's face screwed up in confusion. "I don't want to do that. With anyone, let alone you. I... I'm into girl. And guys. But- I- That's not why I-" His face burned hotter. "Listen." He reached forward, grabbing Y/n's palm. He turned it up, to reveal what he was so hoping would be there. A mark, in the shape of a rose. It looked a lot like a tattoo, just without any color. The details were outlined in black ink - even the thorns on the stems. He felt thrilled when he saw it, angling his body to show the exact same mark on his shoulder. "I know we all grew up on the same stories. But I thought... maybe we could get a drink? Talk? I'm the first one of my friends to get a mark and I'd hate to lose the chance to act on it." He shuffled nervously, ready for rejection.

By the look on Y/n's face, it might be harsher than he wanted to face. Y/n surprised him though with a gentle, "I don't think you want me. I- I know we're soulmates, and this has nothing to do with you being a guy, or the whole weird thing most people have with soulmate bonds. I just... I'm not the best person. People don't usually stick around for long."

There was something in what Y/n said that pulled at Luke. "Maybe I could change that. I'm planning on sticking around for a while. How about you?"

Hope of the kind Luke had never seen before filled Y/n's eyes and Luke was rocked breathless by the sight. "You promise?"

"On my life," Luke swore. "At least give me one date to prove I'm not a total waste of time."

Y/n grinned. "You have one date." Luke pumped his fist and Y/n laughed. "Now what did you have in mind?"

Luke plopped next to Julie on the couch, concern already on his face. "Are you okay?" He asked softly, slowly reaching out to rub her arm. Alex was on the other side of her, laying on his chest. The two had gotten really close in all their talk about soulmates but when Alex had shot him a plea for help, Luke had been plenty willing to jump in.

"Yeah," Julie sides, picking up her head. "Flynn and I just got in a fight. It was dumb, I just... Someone made a comment asking about 'my boyfriend' after the performance yesterday. Claiming we were together. They were talking about you." She sighed and Luke felt like he was the worst person to get involved in this, but one look from Alex made him stay where he was. "I told them you weren't my boyfriend, and the conversation moved on. She was a little annoyed that I didn't mention she was my girlfriend, I guess? And then went off about how you're into me or something?" She shook her head.

Luke's eyes went wide. "Wait what?"

"I know!" Julie gushed. "I tried to defend you, because we all know that's kind of just how you are with everyone. I mean people also think you're dating Reggie and that's not true..." Suddenly her head tilted. "Is it?"

Despite the tense feeling of the situation, Luke laughed. "Uh, no." Then he considered it, and tilted his head in thought. "I mean, not that I'd pass up the chance if it came. Just-"

Seeing him struggling, Julie supplied, "Your soulmate?" Luke hesitated before sighing and nodding. "When did you..."

"Not long before the night we died, actually. A month max? Time started to kind of blur as things got more intense and trying to get over a break up and stuff." He shrugged.

Julie nodded. "That makes sense." She hesitated, but finally asked, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, of course, but... what was she like?"

That made Luke smile. "He."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He laughed. "Yeah, really. Uh, I mean it was actually Alex who helped me come to terms with that whole me being attracted to dudes thing." He shook his head. "Anyway-"

Julie chuckled. She calmed, her eyes settling on Luke with a gentle curiosity. "What was he like?"

Immediately Luke remembered a time when things were amazing. When life had seemed truly good since he'd run away from home. "He was... like, a light. In a really dark part of my life, he came to me like sunlight in the morning? You know when the nights really dark and the clouds cover the stars and the moon just isn't enough and then the sun rises and it's almost a relief? It's like that. I had enough before him, but after... It was like everything I needed - everything I'd ever wanted or dreamed about or thought of - it was just right there. A whole person made of my dreams." He got a sort of dreamy smile on his face. "He was always so warm and soft. He used to... trace it." He rose his hand so his fingers ghosted over the mark on his shoulder. "When he did, it sort of tingled. Like this warm sensation that rippled across my skin. It always did that when he touched it. I usually did it more though. I'd hold his hand in my lap and just like stroke the mark. Cause his was on his hand, below his thumb. He used to call me his flower because of it." A bubbly laugh rolled from him and Alex and Reggie looked at each other in surprise. They hadn't seen Luke like this since...

Julie's eyes were very soft. "He sounds amazing."

"He is." Luke's smile suddenly faded, slowly. His fingers grazed the rose again. "He dances like I play music. He was really good at it. All kinds of dancing actually. He used to slow dance with me all the time. Just pulling me close when it was just us and swaying back and forth. He did actual dancing too, but I loved slow dancing with him the most. If he was feeling really restless he would HOARD spray paint and sneak out. The next day we'd wake up with some street art of our band. It's how we did most of our advertising back then. No one could ever pin it on us because we didn't do it, and no one knew me and Y/n were..." Suddenly Julie realized why Luke looked so sad while talking about something that was obviously such a happy time. "I mean, two guys are soulmates in a world where both soulmates and anything nonheteronormative is demonized? I was trying to make a band that was gonna get really popular and do a lot of incredible things and we couldn't even DREAM of being caught together, let alone going public. Girls would still flirt with me all the time, and I got distracted really easily with practices and writing music." He shrugged. "I always thought that soulmates were... different, I guess. I learned my lesson." He stood, putting his guitar down. "I'm done for today. I'll see you guys later." He walked out and Julie almost went after him, but Alex shot her a look.

"Well that went well," Julie mumbled, sitting down again and rubbing her face.

Alex sighed. "About how well it always goes." He shook his head. "But anyway. How about we figure out how to get you back on Flynn's good side?" He winked and Julie managed to actually smile. Luke hadn't had luck with soulmates, but she had. The past was the past. It was time to enjoy the now, until Luke was ready to really talk about it.

Luke wasn't sure what he had walked in on, but it was obviously something he wasn't supposed to have. When he opened the garage door, the muffled sounds of an argument trying to be hushed died out immediately and of all people, Reggie and Y/n were the ones who stepped away from each other to break out of whatever heated exchange they'd been having.

Since Y/n and Luke had started... whatever it was they were, Y/n and Reggie had become like best friends. At first Luke had been a little jealous, but at the end of the day he was just glad that his two favorite people had someone when he was busy as he so often was. Bobby and Alex were important to him of course, but Y/n was his soulmate and he and Reggie had known each other the longest. Sometimes he felt like there was a disconnect between him and Alex; the same with Bobby. He and Reggie were always on the same wavelength though. Even when Reggie missed something, he always got the idea or figured it out after a second. He was slower to do so when it came to the others. Y/n was the same way, as if he was just an extension of Luke's body. Rather than an echoed return, it was just one fluid motion. He and Reggie bounced off each other and built; he and Y/n slowly grew together, feeding off a constant wave of energy. Reggie and Y/n were like a game of hot potato, where the potato got hotter each time they threw it. They had that same gaining effect, but not an echo or a constant, just a little bit of energy from each until it was overflowing. The three of them were kind of unstoppable and anytime they could all hang out, it was the most fun any of them had ever had.

That didn't seem to be the case right now.

Y/n snagged his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. "Hey." His voice was strained, and all of his muscles seemed to be tense. He couldn't focus directly on Luke, his eyes constantly drifting to the door. He wanted to book it.

Luke caught Y/n's shoulder, his eyes full of concern. His eyes drifted between the boy trying to run and the one still in the studio, retreating to the furthest corner - seeming just as desperate to escape. "Wait what's happening here?" Luke asked. "You guys never fight." When they didn't answer, he pressed, "Come on, maybe I can help. Friends argue all the time; it's not a good idea to leave on a bad note."

Despite how odd it was, he did not miss at how the two flinched at the word 'friends'.

Finally, someone spoke. "It doesn't matter, dear." Y/n didn't relax, and the small smile he managed onto his face was so forced it was painful to look at. Luke went to argue, but Y/n rose a hand and caressed his cheek and Luke got distracted for a second - just long enough for Y/n to add, "Just some talking between friends." The word came out harder than the others. Friends. Luke was even more confused. "It was stupid to argue about. Some people just have their minds set, and that's it."

Luke's eyebrows came together, eyes moving between Y/n and Reggie. "You know you guys could... tell me, right?"

"Of course," Y/n reassured. "We just..." He sighed. His walls fell and Luke relaxed, knowing whatever was about to come out of his mouth would be genuine. "Can we just not talk about it please? It's something we need to deal with."

That was understandable. Luke could let it go for now.

Luke was glad he couldn't dream anymore. It had taken him a while to figure out he could go to sleep. He didn't tire like he used to, and usually any exhaustion he felt faded pretty quickly if he just sat down and relaxed for a few minutes. He had been nervous the first time he'd fallen into what he now considered sleep, and had woken up pretty quickly. But then he realized he'd been out for half an hour and he hadn't had any dreams. Not like when he had when he was alive.

Y/n wasn't in his dreams now that he was dead.

If he was being honest though, in the very back of his brain, he did miss it. He missed going to sleep knowing that he would be lulled all night by imaginary arms, dreaming of a life he yearned for. A life he missed. A relationship he so regretted losing.

Without the dreams, he started to imagine. Just out of nowhere, if he wasn't engaged in something important, he might just sort of... zone out. And he would think. Think about what things used to be like when Y/n was still around. What life might have been like if Luke had been better. Just, in general. They'd never even called each other boyfriends. The title had never been used, and Luke knew it was because their relationship didn't deserve that. They cuddled sometimes and kissed sometimes and knew each other well, but Y/n had never been Luke's first priority. Of course his music was important but...

The night they'd... broken up? No, that was for people who dated. It was more of just a parting of ways. They'd argued and then Y/n had walked out and like an idiot, Luke had let him. He hadn't gone after Y/n, or tried to fix it after. He'd just lost himself in music and the thrill of being so close to fame and victory. It hadn’t been until he was dead and had realized he’d missed twenty-five YEARS that he even thought about Y/n again.

And now he couldn’t STOP thinking about Y/n. How wonderful and special their time together had been and how much Luke absolutely didn’t deserve it. How he had ruined everything and just let it be ruined. He had been too ashamed to go looking for Y/n because he knew it would only bring him pain. Seeing him with someone else - or even worse, still alone - it would kill him. Again.

What really sucked is that Luke was back to exactly where he’d been when he was alive, after Y/n had left. He was distracting himself with music and work and shutting everyone else out and refusing to talk about it or acknowledge it or anything, and WANTING to go back and fix it but being far, far too terrified to. The result was that Y/n was just always on his mind, more prominent than ever, because now he had so much more guilt. So much more pain, watching all his friends be happy and in love. It was all so much harder to ignore.

Maybe that was why he saw Y/n across the street as they stood outside Bobby’s house, Julie telling them off for going after Bobby and holding onto the past when there was so much in the present to focus on.

Luke suddenly couldn’t hear a single thing Julie was saying.

He stepped past her, eyes wide and heart racing. He had forgotten how beautiful Y/n was. Maybe it was a weird word to use for a guy but... GOD it fit.

The weird thing was that Y/n wasn’t a day older than the last time Luke had seen him. So for a second he thought that maybe he was just imagining it. But the longer he looked, the more clear Y/n became. He wasn’t looking at Luke. His eyes were focused on Bobby’s house, anger twisting his features. And then someone passed him, a woman and her child, and they walked right through Y/n and the small child, a little girl, jumped, eyes wide as Y/n seemed to become clear to her. She dropped her toy and Y/n ran to pick it up and hand it back to her, a soft smile on his face. She took it back with a look of awe and then hugged her little toy close, a huge smile on her face.

She said something to her mom and Luke didn’t know how but he HEARD it.

“Mommy! Mommy! The angel helped me!”

Luke took another step forward. “Y/n?” He only whispered it. He was sure the others hadn’t even heard it, let alone Y/n from all that distance away. But he looked anyway, as if answering to his name, and his and Luke’s eyes locked.

Behind him, someone gasped and someone else shouted in a voice flooded with concern.

Then Y/n disappeared, and with him, Luke felt his heart shatter all over again.

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whoistheasshole · 3 years ago

Text

How do I get out of this unsatisfying life I’m living?

Anonymous asks: So the thing is that I feel incredibly stuck - I have all the basics of life which I'm grateful for but also that was my BIG dream as a kid, to get tf out of my parents' house - but now I have that and idk what to do for the rest of my life. Like, if I try those "visualize your future" things I'm just like, "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer" & it feels like I don't really WANT anything so I can't plan, you know? Just flailing here honestly. Pretty tired of it.

I wrote back: I got your question. To pinpoint my answer a little better, can you tell me about your current situation, like how long has it been since you moved out? Which are the things you have in order to your satisfaction? Some vague idea of your age range would also be helpful, but I can work without it too if you’d rather not share.

Anonymous answered: Ah, sorry. I was trying to fit in the character limit & also whenever I think about this my mind just goes flbbbbth. It's been about 5 years? That's about the only thing I'm truly HAPPY about, I'm not thrilled with my social/love life, career, etc & have pretty much been just coasting tbh. I'm almost 30. Thanks for entertaining this.

Alright, thanks for adding some background. I will come at this from different angles and you can pretty much pick and choose what sounds helpful and leave the rest, okay?

First, while there are people who have it all figured out, methodically planning their next career step or fully certain that there is no greater joy than raising a child, there are tons of other people who just, to quote, go „ flbbbbth“ when asked about their next steps or, god forbid, their life plan. I would say I fall in the latter camp, but I don’t mind because I think there is nothing wrong with that. I let myself be guided by the things I need to be happy (more on that later) and by current necessities – if my job becomes shit, I need to find a new job. If a friendship goes sour, I need to end it respectfully. But I couldn’t tell you specific career or personal goals, except...

... let’s talk about the „later“ now.

I’m an organizer, maybe even a worrier, and therefore I like lists. And for that reason I made a list a while ago that I still have and expect to keep for a long time. It is a list of everything that I need to be satisfied with my life. It consists of 29 entries and has three of them checked, though several others could be counted as half-checked. I wrote down everything that came to mind, paying no attention whether it was reasonable or feasible to want. That wasn’t the question.

It covers stuff like a clean flat (not checked), restful sleep (not checked), friends that I see regularly (checked) or a job with purpose (not checked). This list is my guide. Well, generally my needs are my guide, but it can be hard to be aware of your needs sometimes, so I got this list. And if I wonder what I need or want to focus on, I can turn to it and choose one of the entries and see what I can do about it. I can also look over the list every few years and see if things have developed in the right direction. Little progress is no reason to chastise myself, but helpful information to see whether I need to re-direct my focus.

Please note that I wrote „satisfied“, not „happy“. Being happy is a passing emotional state. It is completely normal and okay not to be happy all the time. But quiet satisfaction with where you are or where you are going, that is pretty achievable. It certainly is a process, but an enjoyable one.

This list is not a race and it is not really a to-do list because most of the things I wrote down aren’t easy to accomplish with a single action. They take months and years and, for some items, I can only try and hope it works out some day (see anybody who ever purposely looked for a partner).

So maybe this kind of list could be an exercise for you. Maybe it provides you with some insight, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s not the right point in your life. But if you sit down and the only thing you can come up with is „cry forever“ or „sleep forever“ then, you know, that’s a sign.

Which brings me to my next point: Journaling or automatic writing. This method is especially helpful for those „I feel some kind of way and I couldn’t even tell you how“ moments – so maybe exactly where you are right now. Captain Akward has introduced me to a website called „750 words“ and I’ve used the principle of „morning pages“, though not the website, since then whenever I felt like some emotions were starting to boil over.

I sit down, ideally in the morning, and just barf it all on the (digital) page. There are only two rules: 1) Don’t edit or judge yourself, write everything as it comes to mind (that’s the automatic writing part) and 2) Don’t stop before you’ve reached 750 words. You are not looking to write anything readable or clever or lyrical, you’re looking to get all the weirdness out so you can move on. Repeat this as many days as you feel queasy or weird or confused or angry or sad. Each day, as soon as you’ve reached the 750 words, you can walk away. Heck, you could even delete/burn the document if that feels right. It’s just about giving your thoughts the room they need so you can continue with your day, hopefully feeling somewhat relieved.

While we’re at writing, I also have a question for you: Where is the pressure coming from to „do something with your life“? Is it truly coming from inside you or are there outside factors? Are people in your life asking you when you’ll have kids? Do you live in a culture where it’s expected that everybody does something of note, works certain prestigious jobs? Do you compare yourself to the people around you and feel like you’re „late“?

Maybe mull this over on a leisurely walk or write about it, using the method above. No matter where it’s coming from, the feeling of pressure won’t go away just by knowing its origin, but the knowledge can help you keep it under control. And if you find it is truly your own wish, you will have tools to shape your life according to your needs.

So, next, sleep: Maybe do that?

You wrote "I'd like to sleep for a month, maybe longer". I understand this was half a joke, but also … it was probably more than a joke.

How are your energy levels? How does life feel? Are you trying to jog through jello most of these days?

If we’ve been overachievers or had a tough home life or needed to take care of ourselves pretty early, we can become accustomed to everything being difficult. This feeling and behavior can become a way of life, even when circumstances change and we have a chance to act differently.

Do you feel rested? Do you have regular moments of quiet in your life that let you breathe? If not, this is where I would start. Forget about lists, though morning pages might be a helpful accompanying tool (if they don’t become a task to punish yourself with if you don’t find the energy).

Take some weeks or months, maybe even a year to make rest your priority. You will have to find a way that works for you. Yes there is a lot of clinically proven stuff out there, but you will not see me do yoga or meditate. Though feel free if that’s up your alley. If you love cycling or taking photos or drawing or just plain lying on your bed and staring at the wall, see where you can add more of that to your day. Whatever brings you closer to yourself and makes you feel like you can exhale and stand still for a moment, that’s the way to go. Do this as long as sleeping seems like a fine choice. And for good measure maybe a month longer. You are ready to stop when you cannot wait to do something else goddamnit I’m bored!!! (you might say)

If you are in this picture, please start here. Any kind of life plan, next steps, strategizing, solving of riddles would set you back and perpetuate your exhaustion. Rest is not time wasted, rest is how you get your life back.

If you are in this picture, you will likely find that if you really pull through, if you truly rest, as long and boring or even scary as it may be, the other questions will probably have an intuitive answer afterwards. Not like „this is my 20-year career plan“, but „I feel like doing x this week“. And that is enough. Because you won’t need to strain to hear your needs through the fog of exhaustion anymore.

Finally, some practical information and links for when you do have the energy and inclination to tackle your job and social life. I am not saying you need to change anything if that’s not what you want to focus on. These are just some tips, in case they become relevant.

For your social life, I recommend what others have recommended before me: Pick an activity that you do with other people and stick with it long enough to become a familiar face, see also here and here (yes, meeting gay people is similar to meeting other people). If you try out new stuff, go there at least 5 or 6 times before you decide it’s not for you – of course assuming nothing bad is coming up like racist or abusive people in the group. Shop around if the first group/activity doesn’t work for you until you find something that you’d like to do permanently. Maybe you’ll gain some friends, maybe you’ll find a romantic opportunity. In any case, if it’s something fun that you like to do anyway, you will have found an outlet with a social group attached. It is absolutely not as easy right now, with Covid and all, but if nothing outdoors-y comes to mind, you could also use this time to brainstorm what sounds like fun for when things are safer again.

Of course you can also look at opportunities online, like Discord servers, online interest groups etc but I do understand if that’s just not appealing right now. I am certainly over sitting in front of a screen.

To round this up, don’t sneeze at contacts that you already have. Are there acquaintances, friends of friends, colleagues, family members who you would like to get to know better? Then go do that! Suggest a time and place to meet up and see how they react. Say yes to the potential friends.

Speaking of which...

The Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes might also be interesting. Sure, it’s a little pop culture positive thinking kinda stuff, but I did like the impulse it gave me to consider when I say no to opportunities out of anxiety or worry. It made me accept some social invitations from colleagues (… in the before times) that I would not have otherwise considered. I did not gain life-long friends, but I did learn another valuable info: That my FOMO wasn’t justified for these events ;)

It also lead me to the decision to do one new thing every month – visit a new place or try a new activity or cook a new food. If the concept sounds appealing, just think about what sounds interesting and achievable to you.

And finally, the advice blog recommendations that I’ll always have. For social life, love life, and general life planning turmoil: Captain Awkward. For everything job-related, including how to write a good cover letter or interview well and, of course, how to get out of the dreaded current job you have: Ask A Manager.

To sum it up:

1) Figure out if you even have the energy to tackle any of this right now.

2) Figure out your pillars for a satisfying life – nothing big and shiny, just … basic needs, wishes, social needs.

3) When you feel like it, pick what you want to tackle next and see where it leads you.

4) Stay flexible. This is your life and it’s okay to go where it takes you, even if it doesn’t look „cool“ or „impressive“ from the outside. All you need is to make it your own.

And if you want to, let me know how it goes some time. :)

#post #questions #advice #WHO IS THE ASSHOLE #life advice #rest #recovery

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years ago

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Evan’s Personal Route Chapter 1-1: Unexpected Request (意外之请) Translation

“Just who is the dinner party’s esteemed guest…?”

*Light and Night Master-list | Evan’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Evan’s tag will be #For Night, For Revolution

In the afternoon of a rare day off from work. So very rare, that even the air seems to be much fresher than ever before.

The sunlight shines upon my body, warm and fuzzy, as I lay on the sofa, yawning as I scrolled through my social media feed.

MC: Hmm? This post…

There was no description attached to this post, only a mere photograph. It was one of Zee, the COO (Chief Operating Officer) of Zeal & Company Asia-Pacific Pte Ltd.

Zeal was one of the top FMCG (Fast Moving Consumer Goods) companies in the world. It has now expanded to cover a wide expanse of industries, not limited to: Finance, Real Estate, Beauty, Household Products, and many more.

Zeal had just announced their high-profile entry into the Apparel Market recently by forcibly acquiring an internationally worldwide renowned clothing brand.

This bold move of theirs had caused a huge stir.

MC: The background in this picture looks a little familiar…

I enlarged the photo. The tower depicted in the picture was a little blurry, but I could still make out its iconic turret.

MC: Zee's here in Guangqi City?

The sudden realization made me recall the one rumour I'd heard back in the office.

To further expand their reach in the Apparel Market, Zeal was actively looking for worldwide partners to aid in their cause.

MC: Is Zee's sudden arrival here because of that?

However, the phone in my hand rang before I could delve any further into my thoughts about it.

I glanced at the incoming Caller ID…

MC: Evan? Why would he suddenly be calling me?

I straightened myself up and answered the call.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan: Good afternoon, (Y/n).

Evan: It's Saturday today. I'm not disturbing you, am I?

His voice was deep and gentle, tinged with a slight cheery undertone.

MC: Nope, you aren't.

I could hear the low background music playing in the background, its melody was a little familiar. My heart leapt at the realization.

MC: Are you at a cafe?

Evan: Yes. Guessed it with your ears now, did you?

He seemed to be stirring his coffee as he spoke, the crisp sound blending in with the flowing piano notes in the background. It made me unwittingly picture him leisurely seated by the windowsill, relaxing.

I wonder if he’s in the same cafe where we met?

Then came Evan’s reply, almost as if he could read my thoughts.

Evan: It's the same one I first met you at.

Evan: Let's come here together again when we have the chance.

MC: … Yeah!

I froze, coming back to my senses a few moments later, the corners of my lips subconsciously lifting.

Evan: But, I'm calling you today for other matters.

Evan: Do you have any plans tonight?

MC: Not at the moment. Why?

Evan: How about joining me for a dinner party if you're free?

His voice sounded from the receiver, crystal clear to my ears, and igniting my fluttering heart.

Me? Join him for a dinner party…?

❖ Choice A: Sure

MC: Sure. What kind of dinner party is it, though?

❖ Choice B: That doesn't seem too appropriate

MC: A dinner party is a far cry from a normal dinner… Wouldn't it be too inappropriate if I went?

Although he was the one who’s taking the initiative to invite me, I wasn’t exactly sure just how I should be presenting myself.

And, just how will he be introducing me to others once we get there? As his colleague? His friend? Or… something else?

Evan’s voice sounded from the receiver once more after a brief moment of silence.

Evan: Sorry, it was a lack of consideration on my part.

Evan: I'll go alone if you think it's no good then.

It might have just been my imagination, but I could hear the faint disappointment colouring his voice.

MC: I… Sorry…

Evan: There is no need for you to be apologizing. This isn't your fault.

Even after cutting the call, I could still hear his gentle and comforting words, as if his words still lingered by my ear.

I curled back up on the sofa and looked out the window. The skies outside had already been dyed by the faint scarlet hue of the setting sun.

I couldn't help but be a little entranced by the warm yellow light of the sunset.

MC: He should be on his way there now...

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Night slowly falls, and I feel like it's the longest night I've ever experienced…

☆ NORMAL END: A Missed Opportunity ☆ "Be brave and step out of your comfort zone to explore a whole new world!"

❖ Choice C: Do nothing

Evan: How about it, (Y/n)? Or are you concerned about something else, perhaps?

It was only when I heard his voice again that I realized I'd probably been thinking about it for too long. I tightened my grip on my phone and hurriedly tried to explain myself.

MC: Sorry. I'd honestly love to go with you, but I think it's too short notice this time.

MC: If I were to attend a dinner party, I'd have to prepare an adequate dress, put on proper make-up, fix up my hair and much more…

The other end of the line falls silent. It was only after a few seconds of prolonged silence that Evan's voice came through again.

Evan: I should be the one apologizing.

Evan: The invitation I extended to you was way too abrupt and it has troubled you.

Evan: Even so, would you be willing to go out for dinner with me if it wasn't a dinner party?

MC: Huh?

Evan: I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow. Just treat it as an apology for the sudden request I sprung on you.

Evan: No need for any dresses or hair styling. It is just a dinner for us two.

Evan's tone was very light and had a faintly joyful lilt to it. It made me unable to suppress the smile that came in response.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

It felt as if I could still hear his gentle voice lingering by my ear even after I’d cut the call.

The sunset outside was a warm yellow, making my heart feel all toasty and pleasant.

☆ NORMAL END: An Ordinary Night ☆ "Your opportunity gradually slips away as you lay back and relax…"

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

MC: Is there anything I should take note of? You know, dress codes and the like…?

You'd only just finished speaking when you heard the small, yet short, chuckle coming from him.

Evan: Normal formal attire works just fine. Don't worry about it.

Evan: One of the attendees is an avid fan of antiques and is quite knowledgeable in that field.

Evan: I recall that you have a keen interest in these things, so I'm inviting you to attend.

MC: I see… but I'm no professional. Wouldn't that only trouble you?

Evan: You won't. I trust you.

The firmness in his words assured me, immediately appeasing my worries. I clutched the phone tighter and voiced my assent.

Evan: I'll come pick you up downstairs in two hours then.

MC: Yeah, sure.

Evan: I'll be seeing you later then.

It felt as if his gentle voice was still lingering by my ear even after the call ended.

A sliver of expectation arose in my heart. I couldn’t tell if it was the expectation for the dinner party, or if it was Evan who’d invited me to said party.

I put my phone down and went to my wardrobe to select my outfit for the night.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I dug out all the formal dresses I had within my wardrobe. After hesitating for a good long while, I finally went with a wine-red one-shouldered dress.

MC: Also, shoes, accessories, hairstyle and make-up… I’ll have to think about how to match all of these things with my outfit...

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I hurried back and forth to make myself look presentable. By the time I looked up at the clock, it was already nearing our promised time.

I returned to my full-length mirror, checking over the accessories and the colour of my lipstick that I’d paired with my outfit. After I’d confirmed that everything was in place, I put on my high heels and made my way downstairs.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━��━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I could see Evan’s car parked out front the moment I stepped out of the elevator.

Evan was basked in the orange light of the streetlight he stood under. His mouth curved into a gentle smile as he invited me into his car.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Evan: You're very beautiful today.

He turned his head to face me from the driver’s seat. Light seems to have settled within his orbs, reflecting the image of my reflection within.

Flustered, I broke eye contact with him, clutching at my dress.

MC: Thank you. You're also very...

I’d yet to finish when I felt a slight coolness at my neck.

I stiffened, my head shooting upwards.

Evan had his hand raised, tucking the strands of hair near my temple that had fallen out of place behind my ear, his cool fingers brushing across my neck.

Evan: Your hairdo is coming loose.

The night was akin to a dark-set heavy velvet, yet the smile reflected within his eyes was crystal clear.

MC: Thanks…

I could subconsciously feel the tips of my ears grow a little hot. I lowered my head and turned my attention to the unwitting seat belt.

Evan: Do you need help?

MC: No need. I can do it up myself.

I struggled for a bit before buckling my seatbelt in, leaning back against the chair, and letting out a soft sigh.

The hair he’d tucked behind my ear for me earlier fell back down again.

A faint smile played at his lips as he started the car back up.

I collected myself, turning my eyes towards the window and gazing outwards.

I threaded my fingers through my hair and touched the shell of my ear, only to find that the burning had yet to cease.

❖☆————— ⊹ Oblique Curtains of the Night⊹ —————★❖

⊹ Next Part: (Chapter 1-2: Candle-Lit Game)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #陆沉 #Evan #For Night For Revolution #倾斜夜幕 #Oblique Curtains of the Night

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jilljoycearts · 3 years ago

Text

About the situation with the previously mentioned reposter, reposts in general, and the fandom. This is mostly about the russian part of the internet, the dark and fearsome place.

This post is very long, so I’m hiding it under the cut.

To sum it all up:

If you see drawings (fanarts) for the game Enderal and for the rest of the SureAI games on the russian social VK, published not by the authors of the drawings or not by their art groups, pages and communities, then they are placed against the will of these very authors.

About the rhetorics (mostly for the Russians that stumble upon this post): what people on VK call repost (share button) is an actual reblogging or retweet. In fact, a repost is re-uploading something not by its owner. Now let's start. The retelling is quite detailed. Also, a warning: although I can retell this whole thing in english from scratch, the post is translated from russian with the help of almighty google. I don't want to bother much with this and spend my energy on it. Most of the mistakes I still fix, but the sentence structure and phrasing might seem weird.

The man (hereinafter "character T"; we do not mention his name because he is only interested in your attention to his person) took under his wing a long-abandoned community (Enderal themed), asking to be a moderator. For several months he was posting stolen drawings (without permission and credits), until his vanity drove him into a trap: with a request of "reblog for reblog" (wanted to promote his own fan-creation) he messaged a small russian community of artists interested in the SureAI games. Naturally, seeing his reposting activities, everyone was utterly indignant. He was incredibly lucky that my drawing was the last one published on the dash of his community. Again, no credit. I left a comment urging him to remove the stolen things and explaining the common truths. To which no one answered, but suddenly a link to my tumblr appeared. I wrote another comment telling to delete again, and again no one answered me. When he had to start talking to me, Character T decided that it was a good idea to load a girl (who was so lucky to know both of us a bit) with the work of a negotiator. I leave it to you to judge the "honor and dignity" of this character and his decision. I scroll forward: he agrees to delete my work, while rolling out a post consisting of articles of the civil code, in which he puts the meaning “I reposted, am reposting and will continue that, because the law allows me”. At the same time, the negotiator girl gets tired of working as his secretary. I already intend to contact him personally, but I find myself in his blacklist. It would seem, "Well, calm down, hedeleted yours." But his intention to repost further stunned everyone. Naturally, the time has come to inform the foreign authors about this chronic stealing.

A new location was unlocked in our amusing adventure: a server of the game developers SureAI on Discord. There, one of the artists from whom he stole called him out, without mentioning the names (yes, the character T was active there, whilst annoying the local inhabitants). He responded after a while, again rolling out his cart of articles on the legality of reposts. He also managed to threaten me personally with something. In general, he was kicked from the server of the developers for lack of culture and propaganda of copyright infringement. Further, another foreign author tried to contact him personally, but in the same way received a cart of laws. In the meantime, the English-speaking part of the fandom artists decided to write an official letter of complaint, attaching all links to posts to be deleted, and listing the authors with whose content the character T is strictly prohibited from interacting in the future. This letter was tried to be sent by a German artist, who specially registered there, but she stumbled upon some tech difficulties. Firstly, she was blocked by the owner of the stealing community, where the character T was appointed as the moderator. Her page was empty, the name was not Russian - he thought it was a bot, I can understand that. She then dropped the complaint letter to the support of VK social itself. Even tried to message the stealing community specifically but another lag made it impossible. (and this was required according to the new "rules" of the character T, according to which it was decided to play. "So that your complaint was considered ..." and so on.)...

Sensing something is wrong, character T made an attempt to contact some Russian-speaking authors himself in the meantime. And they told him the same -- that he steals, and not “shares” for some “purpose”. And here comes an interesting thing: the phrases "well, something needs to be posted to fill the community" and "but I am not on their Facebooks, I found it on Yandex"(that's russian google). That is, our drawings turned out to be just a filler, because something needs to be posted. Searching by image is difficult, but he still has to post! Something. Anything. What for? I have an explanation and an answer to this, but since this is the purpose of the character T - to draw attention to his fan-creation, I will not mention it 👌🏻 Another of his phrases was that due to the increased attention to his community now he HAS to credit the authors 🤦🏻‍♀. In general, he banned the Russian-speaking artist, whom he contacted and received a well-scented bucket’s content on his head (and well-deserved of course).

Now let's return to the official letter of complaint from foreign artists, which never reached the stealing community, and after all it was sent by the Russian-speaking author L. This time the character T was able to read it, but as expected, he refused to remove reposts, said that the artists were arrogant, accused of gatekeeping and again expressed his intention to repost not only without permission, but also against the will of all these fandom authors (38 people). After all, he has a great goal - to popularize games and the universe in the ru-segment.

The same or the next day the owner of the stealing community contacted me (who had previously lost interest, abandoned it, and a year later gave it to the character T). The owner asked what was happening, I explained, and passed on the letter of complaint from foreign artists, which the German artist could not send because he blocked her. That I explained to him too and he unblocked her. No reaction to my explanations abot the character T followed, but we’ll come back to that later.

And now we decided it’s time for our last resort -- we contacted Nicolas (the main screenwriter, the owner of the rights to this universe and the main figure of the fandom as a whole). Here I will digress from the main line and note that interested people have dug out both the provisions of the Berne Convention and the laws of the Russian Federation, which the character T chose to ignore in his activities, hiding behind only those that are convenient for him. Now let's return to Nicolas, who had to take a break from vacation because of this circus. As it turned out, character T, sensing the smoke, came running to him first. But alas, Nicolas was on the side of the authors (who would have thought). As a result, we almost decided that hurray, it helped, because posts with pictures disappeared from the wall of the stealing community, and character T even disappeared from the list of moderators (I will return to the stage with the owner of the community: I assume it was his work). But it was clear that it was too early to celebrate the victory.

Change of location: again the server of the developers on Discord. After the kick of the character T, three days later, a brand-new account appears, which broadcasts about the character T in the third person using Google translate “ if he had not been pressed upon, he would repost peacefully in his community of a thousand subscribers. And now he will attract some audience of a dozen more groups and will repost there too”. Naturally, without direct evidence of the second coming, no one have kicked him yet.

On the same day, the VK support told me that the most effective weapon in our case is the DMCA form. This is inconvenient, but it works. Moreover, the stolen has already been removed from the stealing community.

Then people came across the news - the stealing community advertised a new community of the character T, which was shaped exclusively for reposting other people's drawings (and there were already several works, including mine). The adv post called to support the character T “and his work”. Naturally, in the comments, I and other people urged not to support this. We even managed to explain the situation to some random person. After that the post was deleted. We don't know who deleted the post (still the character T or the community owner).

At this point, I ask Nicolas to message the tharacter T again using the simplest words that reposts cannot be allowed without permission. At all. Even with links attached. Doesn't help because the main now-not-stealing community shares a new post of the new one stealing community again. That is, even the main copyright holder and owner of the entire thing is not a figure of authority for the character T. Summing up -- “I will “popularize” your fandom against your wishes. The laws allow me. "

But after a while, the reblog from the new community is removed from the main one.

And again, the change of location: to the discord of the developers, where the character T himself comes back and writes something (under the new name ofc as his old account is banned). He declares that he will now repost to some huge audience of 300k people (before that there were 200, and even before that 100, yeah), he is outraged by the complaint letter from the authors with the ban on reposting, he will deliberately not credit, and also he wants to reupload my fanfiction somewhere. After that, he was kicked again 🥾.

Naturally, the entire audience is shocked, the character T literally became famous and crowned himself with a clown wig in just a few days, and now the entire fandom and the informed ru-segment hates him. The retelling is over.

Almost. Now I thank google translate for the help above and I'm gonna retell even more without it as this information is rather new. He wrote his own “explanation post”, where he somehow found relevant addressing the sexuality of one of the authors who called him out, called Nico indifferent and passive regarding this situation, insulted literally everyone but him, the white knight, whom we all should be grateful to for his will of promoting our content. I facepalm very hard. And he reposts art to some small communities but no one gives a shit (surprisingly so, huh?). He adds the links to the authors. Now I don’t want to give him any attention anymore, I have some work to get done.

Here comes the part about the and for community itself (google translate helps me again):

For the artists:

For the people registered in VK there is a "Nemesis" algorithm (dropdown - report - copied content). It will want a link to the previously published content on the VK as a primary source. Its effectiveness is still in question, but if someone tried it, then share your experience. For the rest, there is a dmca form that wants passport data (the only one I know of that asks for it), which I personally do not want to share, but in general... It's up to you to decide. Advice: Include readable text with @ of your page, community or yourself in your watermarks. Thus, an adequate person will always see where to go for the primary source.

For the readers/viewers:

Fandom existence is based on respect for other people's work. This work is the reason fandoms exist. If you like the drawing, then praise the author, support them in accessible ways (like - comment - subscribe - send a link to a friend(reblog the thing) - give some moneyz). People will be pleased, honestly. And if you disagree with something or you go "Ew" for other reasons, then just walk by. This is, in fact, all that you can do. If you have ambitions, ideas and “I need to fill my dead community with something” (you are considering taking the author's drawing and placing it somewhere yourself), then you ask for permission and accept any answer. There is no other way. Otherwise it's a violation of the law.

Why reposts (= re-uploads) are harmful I think there's no need to mention, but still:

First of all, it drives away traffic from the authors. It doesn't matter if fanart can be monetized or not (spoiler alert: it can). Example: If a figurative reposter hadn't taken away figurative content, then a potential viewer interested in this content would go to search for it himself. And would have found it posted by the author. And then it is already possible to take a closer look at the other work as a whole, and even give the author money so that they draw something personalized for this viewer personally. That’s an example. It seems to be clear. Artists on the Internet care about their traffic, which is responsible for audience growth and all subsequent opportunities. This is the basics.

About monetizing fan content.

It depends solely on the developers / authors of games and books (original owners of all rights). Sometimes the ban on monetization hangs for some time after the release of the game (as was the case with Hades), sometimes you can sell keychains / posters / whatever with fanarts on them right away. And sometimes you can't, everything is individual here. Again, I think it is clear that if a viewer finds the original image posted by the author themselves, then this viewer has more chances to buy merch with this image. After all, the author will definitely add that the drawing is available as a merch. Reposter -- never. He does not know that, he found it on Yandex/Google.

Specifically about me and my community:

You know that my main audience are not russians. I have already abandoned my russian community once. Would I want to disappear from there again? So far, there is no such desire. People I have there are nice and friendly, despite the small number. How much do I really care about reposts of drawings on an objectively dying or already dead fandom? I'll leave it to you to decide. I have been here since the 2016-17, with me the fan activity started, and with me it will end. Everyone who is interested in SureAI games knows me. And although I have the permission from the devs to monetize fanart and fan content in general, it is obvious that $20 from posters and magnets every few months is not my motivation. I am here because I love the game universe and its characters. I make my own thing, quietly rejoicing, and I don't look around much. Reposts are evil on a different level, and not on this one. Does T's intention of re-uploading my fanfiction or even rewriting it somehow thrills me? I don’t care at all. Let him read a well edited and thought-through text for once. But I doubt it will help a little.

In general:

My subscribers / readers / followers know where to look for my updates. A thinking person that sees a repost will go and find the author themselves. Be it pictures that they see, text or something else. Those people who don't think are obviously not interesting for me as an audience. Other authors share this position.

Finally, end of this text. It has taken me 4 hours to write this all in russian, maybe another one to edit the google output and add more things AND almost one week of my time to deal with this all (and don’t forget other authors involved, they spent a shitload of time on it too). From now on my position is “time is money” and if the character T resurfaces he’ll have to pay me for the attention he seeks, lol

#enderal #sureai #art theft #reposters #5 pages on google docs #goddamnit #nehrim

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sol-korolevas · 4 years ago

Text

DISCORD BLURB REQUESTS;

the darkling x reader & nikolai x reader

decided to upload them onto tumblr dot com for archiving purposes. :3c most of these are nsfw

—“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.”

His touch waxes desire into your skin, igniting warmth through your bones. But it’s not enough, and you know he’s doing it on purpose. The Darkling is a man of insatiable greed, which is why he has you underneath him, limbs chained, and skin littered with countless markings of his own making.

Though your body aches, it’s the fire within that burns you from the inside out.

A soft whine escapes your lips as he brushes his knuckle against your nipple, a smirk playing on his face. You arch into his touch and you hear a low growl rumbling out of the Darkling’s throat.

His hand travels lower, down your stomach, your hips, lingers - much to your frustration - at the dip between your inner thighs.

So close, but not enough.

“Stop teasing,” you say, your own voice a low and needy growl. Your jaw tenses as the Darkling tuts, before leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“I’m not going to touch you unless you beg,” he whispers, moving his hand back onto the plane of your stomach. “You know how to beg don’t you, *volchitsa*?”

A wolf never grovels, never closes her eyes in the face of her enemy.

But tonight, under the covers of darkness and darkness himself, your body trembles and you relent.

“Please, I need-I need—” your voice cuts off when you feel his cold finger brush against your clit.

“And? What do you *need*?” He’s swirling it, just by the tip of his finger, a ghost of a feeling that forces you to gasp and arch forward again despite the restraints.

“Please, touch me, fuck me; I want- no I need - you,” you say, letting out a groan as you feel his fingers stop.

You hear him chuckle and you feel him press his lips once more on your cheek.

But through the tether between the two of you, his own lust intertwines with yours. And it has grown the moment you answered him.

“My little wolf,” he purrs as he slides a finger into your wet heat. “I’ll need to hear more of that from your mouth for the rest of the night.”

—“For the love of fuck.” “Yep, that’s me. I love to fuck.”

—“Somehow, i always seem to end up here. With you.” “Soulmate shit, it’s hardcore as hell.”

Tonight, it isn’t Tolya’s snores that woke you up.

It’s the feeling of someone pressing to your backside, leaving no room in between your bodies that wakes you up. You know, by scent and touch along, who’s behind you, but before you sigh, you feel their hand pass under your cotton shirt.

“For the love of—” you stop as Nikolai laughs softly, rolling a nipple between his fingers. You try to talk, but he shushes you with a light pinch. Just a foot from where you lay is Tamar, who could see everything that is happening should she wake. But before you can attempt a protest, you feel Nikolai squeeze your breast. “—Fuck.”

You realize he’s having a grand time behind you as he laughs quietly, his hair tickling your neck. Nikolai never made such a daring move on you, especially when he knows very well what will happen should even one of his crew sees. Yet, it’s also quite like him to attempt this.

And now, you’re torn between your lust and embarrassment.

“Yes, my dear Sun Summoner, I do love to fuck,” he says, rolling his hips against your ass. You attempt to grind back, feeling his cock growing hard through his linen. He came to you wearing almost nothing, not even his coat.

But, you have to give it to him for his preparedness. So you angle your thrust back and hear, to your delight, a choked groan slipping out of his mouth. The same mouth that had licked you until you were crying out his name a few nights prior.

But when Tamar shifts in front of you, you flinch and shield your heated face with your hands. Behind you, Nikolai moves his attention down to the seam of your trouser.

“Now, now, where’s the bold little [Name] I know so well?” Nikolai asks, hot breath fanning across your ear. He then presses an open-mouthed kiss onto the delicate shell, before nibbling against it. You can feel his grin when you tentatively slide your hands down. “There she is,” he says, with enthusiasm lacing each syllable.

You begin to force yourself to relax into his touch as he moves his hand in a circle against your stomach. But then you become impatient, hand pushing his own down to where you want it the most.

“This is the second night in a row,” you murmur, sighing as Nikolai tugs your trouser down. You’re already wet; you don’t need him to prep you, you think, as the feeling of his cock diminishes every other desire for fingers and tongue. “That I always end up here, in this position, with you.”

You feel movement as Nikolai frees his cock. He slides down a little, hand smoothing down your arm as you wait. Somehow, the realization that you’re going to get fucked amongst a room of sleeping crew members only makes you want it more.

“You’re the one person I’ve always wanted,” Nikolai says, kissing down your spine. “I think we’re soulmates right? It has to be why we’re always like this at night.” He slips a hand underneath your upper thigh and parts your leg.

Your fingers cling onto the material underneath. “That’s not an excuse for your lewdness.”

A breath hitches within you as you feel his cock brush against your heat. You attempt to push against it, giving Nikolai silent permission to fuck you already.

“You’ll need to repeat three phrases of ‘I love you, Nikolai’ before I fulfill your desire, love,” Nikolai says, nuzzling against your flesh.

But the idea of doing what Nikolai asked feels much harder than it should be. Tamar’s face is still facing yours when you look at her.

Oh, you think, she’s really going to be mad in the morning.

“I love you, Nikolai,”

With one swift move, he pushes in, bottoming out with a guttural grown. You almost cry out in surprise at his sudden action. Nikolai shushes you again as he places his hand on your waist.

“I love you, Nikolai,” you repeat, fingers digging into the ground.

His thrusts are short and shallow - tossing between taunting and keeping quiet.

“I love you—” you’re interrupted as this time, his cock slides deep into your heat. “—Nikolai.”

Next time, you’ll be the one who’ll surprise him.

—“I really don’t care. You still look hot and i’m trying not to kiss/fuck you senseless right now.” “No, I'm not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

The thick curtains obscure most of the sunlight streaming in. You cannot even tell if it’s morning outside until you feel Nikolai stir beside you.

To your amusement, servants have come and lit the candles, just as you prefer.

Both of you are still very much naked and very much awake, but only you are making a move to rise.

Immediately, two strong arms pull you back, easily bringing you flush against his chest as he presses a kiss on your forehead.

“Saints it’s too early, the sun isn’t even out yet so neither should you,” Nikolai says softly. He groans and wraps his arms around you, keeping you from escaping. You crane your neck best you can, only for Nikolai to brush his knuckles against your stiffening nipple.

You twitch, body squirming at the sudden contact. The blankets move away, revealing the expanse of skin all the way to your knees. And if you try, you can feel his cock stiffening again, just with a little—

“Nikolai!”

Before he can bring himself to hover over you, you push back against him until he’s lying down on the bed again. A smirk plays on your face as you straddle him, tongue licking your lower lip.

And like the arrogant King he is, he has his arms folded underneath his head. “My lovely volchitsa, I thought you wanted to rise early?”

It’s rare he uses your nickname, but it means he’s looking forward to *something*.

You know what that something is. And so you push back and align yourself with his cock, the previous night’s activity still present, sticky and tantalizing, against the flesh of your inner thighs.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, nudging the tip against your lips, teasing him. “You’re underneath me right now and I want to fuck again until we’re both senseless.”

Your mouth splits into a feral grin, all teeth glistening white and ready, as you slide down. A loud groan escapes you as you begin moving, feeling the rush of lust compelling you to toss aside all rational thoughts. Nikolai’s moaning lingers in your ear - as lewd and lascivious like you wanted - with his hands gripping your waist, keeping you above him.

His cock’s always nice, always filling you up and—and—

“I’m going to come,” Nikolai says, mouth parting.

You’re about to chide him for not lasting long before you see the beautiful blush spreading across his face. Or feel the way his hands tighten, nails digging into your skin as he starts picking up pace, fucking into you faster.

And a dark thought enters your mind, enabling you to slow down your pace. You press his hands against your waist and watch as his jaws tense and the skin between his eyebrows pinch.

“[Name], what are you—?”

You stop him by reaching down and pressing an open-mouth kiss on the corner of his lips. “Nikolai, *you* can only come after *I* do.”

His shoulders relax and he grins. You let his one hand move down until his thumb is rubbing at your clit, causing you to moan. Saints, Nikolai knows exactly what you need to satisfy you.

“Is this what you want as well, love?” he questions, flicking at your clit without stopping. “But I wager you want more, I wager you want to come with a little more than just my thumb?”

You don’t even bother to respond. A strangled cry slips out of your mouth as you begin to move again, that last rope of control snapping inside you.

“I fucking hate everything about you.”

“I would like you to be by my side.”

The Darkling’s stormy gaze lingers on your face. You feel more trapped than ever with his presence. Nothing more but a chained wolf; nothing more but an animal trapped inside the flesh cage of a body. As you’ve decided to be, as your mother wants you to be.

“I hate you,” you say, voice low, teeth baring into a silent threat. A promise forged in violence and bloodshed. “Everything, fucking *everything*; I hate you so much.”

Metal chains clink together as you move forward, an urge to lunge at his pale throat clawing through your ribs. Your breathing is coming out in rapid pulls and exhales and you think your chest is about to burst with the amount of fury rumbling within.

And yet, the Darkling remains calm and still, his cold gaze trailing from your arms down to your body. A sigh, worn and weary, slips out of his mouth as he kneels on one leg. He’s close, you can feel the power — the suffocation it brings makes you gasp for breath.

Through it all, still, you still feel the pull towards him.

“Stop this,” you tell him, just as he cups your cheek with his hand.

He cannot be soft towards - he cannot be anything but cruel and merciless.

And yet, as he tugs on your collar and trails his hand down your arm and teases the flesh of your neck with a brush of his fingers, you realize you would rather fall back to the old you he had nurtured.

“Despite everything, *volchitsa*, you’re still eager for me,” he mutters into your skin, igniting the familiar warmth from within you.

You can be that, you think. You can be that, or you can continue to crave defiance and blood.

“Try to stay quiet, understand?”“I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

“—and then I had to use my thigh strength to grip onto the back of the whale and plunge a spear into its spine.” Nikolai makes a motion to show you what he did.

You laugh and applaud, before pushing yourself away from the ship’s railing.

“So, Lady Sun Summoner, how was my story?” Nikolai asks with a large grin on his face. “Was it as dashing and heroic as the tales told in storybooks?”

“Hm, perhaps, but—” you pause, leaning against him. “—I think you deserve another reward, from me this time.”

Nikolai huffs, opening his mouth, before closing it. His eyes widen and you catch a glimmer of understanding as he pulls you flush towards him. “I knew you had something in mind when you gave me that look of yours.”

He kisses you, deep and full, on your lips.

Eventually, you pull away and lower yourself. Nikolai watches, mouth lingering on a smirk, his head moving only to take a look at the entrance to the deck below.

You press a finger to your lips. “Try to be quiet for me, okay?”

And in a swift movement, you have his cock out, its appearance causing your jaw to slacken.

But because you’ve never taken a cock ever into your mouth, you start with a lick to the underside of his crown. Nikolai hisses and grabs you by your head, muttering a curse as he looks at you with need.

A smirk curls onto your face as you give the tip of his cock a kiss. “So sensitive.”

“This is, quite frankly, the first time someone has taken my cock in their mouth.” He lets out a breathy laugh. You don’t hear any embarrassment in it, but you still giggle.

“Hollow your cheeks, love,” Nikolai then adds as he taps your cheek. “And don’t use teeth.”

You do as he says, making sure to keep your teeth from touching his cock as you slowly inch it into your mouth. Nikolai’s hands are gripping the side of your head like a vice, even more so as you lightly squeeze the base.

He’s long and thick and you figured you cannot have him all the way in.

Your tongue swipes at the underside of his cock, tasting the flesh, letting it pulse against you. Nikolai’s hips are moving, bucking forward. Finally, you begin to move your head back and forth, while your hand continues to twist up and down what your mouth cannot take in.

“Fuck, fuck, [Name], where did—*shit*!” Nikolai’s moans and curses only makes you eager to move fast. Though he’s bucking his hips like a mad dog, you eventually realize you can control your movement easier by yourself.

All you need to do is groan, allowing the vibration to build against his growing pleasure.

You can touch yourself - you want to - but tonight’s for him.

Hair is sticking to both of your faces as Nikolai bites his lip. For a fraction of a second you think he’s not going to make any noise at all. But then, just as you feel something salty and warm flood into your mouth, you hear a guttural growl slip out of him.

He slumps down, body trembling, but face looking satiated.

“My dear [Name], you just made me a very happy man,” Nikolai tells you, brushing a hand through his hair. He then leans forward and takes you onto his lap. “I want to make it up to you.”

You laugh, brushing away the cum with your hand before licking it off. Nikolai’s eyes linger on your face, darkening with desire again. Then, you kiss him on the lips, allowing him the pleasure of sampling himself through you.

“I’ve always wanted you to fuck me with your tongue,” you tell him, quietly.

#the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #the darkling #general kirigan #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix

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lake-arrius-caverns · 4 years ago

Text

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 13: Three’s A Crowd

hey just a PSA that since i’ve fallen behind (this chapter is ridiculously late) i’m going to take a short break from posting for a while to work on building up a buffer! (join our discord and bug me to write pls)

summary Fahjoth is hopeful that tensions between Julan and Ribyna will settle, but their animosity risks a guild assignment going pear-shaped.

content warnings violence, blood, minor character death

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

————————————————————————

He stood quietly awaiting a response after rapping his knuckles on the door, but only a heavy silence greeted him. Frowning, Fahjoth tried again, a little more forcefully this time. This was the right room, wasn’t it?

The third knock finally yielded a result. From within the room came a low, long groan, and Fahjoth took that as his cue to open the door a sliver and peer inside.

“Rise and shine,” he called, trying to hold back a grin at the state his friend was in. Julan was slouched on the bed, fully clothed and burying his face in his hands. “How are you feeling?”

“Ugh… fantastic,” came Julan’s gruff response. “Why did you let me drink so much?”

“You’re the one who kept asking for more! Want me to stop you next time?”

“Yes.” Julan paused. “Maybe. I don’t know. Sheogorath, it feels like my head’s about to explode…”

Fahjoth chuckled, pushing the door open a little more to step inside. “Are you up for training today? Or d’you need some time to, uh… recover?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine,” Julan insisted, hauling himself to his feet and staggering slightly on the spot as he fought to balance himself. “So how come you’re looking so fresh this early?”

“Early?” Fahjoth repeated. “Mate, it’s gone midday.”

“It has?” Julan squinted at Fahjoth as he rubbed his head. “Gods… alright, there’s no time to waste then. What’s the plan?”

“Well, I thought maybe we could do something a bit more practical today,” Fahjoth started. “How d’you fancy taking out a bandit leader?”

“Bandits? Sure.”

With no sign of Cosades to be seen that morning, Fahjoth had stopped by the Fighters Guild to find something, anything to keep him busy and to keep the gold coming in. While the prospect of facing an entire gang of bandits by himself was daunting, he was a little more confident that he and Julan would be able to deal with it together. And having Ribyna tag along couldn’t hurt, although he hoped that she and Julan would be able to put their differences aside for the time being.

Julan continued to chatter as he sat back down again to pull on his boots. “D’you do this sort of thing regularly?”

“Sort of.” Fahjoth leaned against the doorframe, waiting and watching idly. “I’ve done a few jobs for the Fighters Guild to earn a bit more gold. Nothing this big before, mind.”

“The Fighters Guild? You’ve never mentioned that. Fighters… they’re alright, I guess.” Julan suddenly looked up, eyes wide. “Hey, have you ever seen a Nord hit himself in the face with his own hammer?”

“No?”

Julan sighed, a grin growing on his face. “Well, me neither, but I live in hope.” He stood up and approached the doorway, patting Fahjoth on the shoulder as he reached him. “After you.”

Fahjoth laughed as he headed out of the cornerclub, feeling an odd excitement begin to quiver somewhere in his gut. Or was that nervousness? Whatever it was, the feeling intensified as he stepped outside and came face-to-face with his twin, who was leaning against the wall and looking bored stiff as she waited for them.

“About fucking time,” Ribyna muttered, and as Julan stepped out after him, Fahjoth heard him falter. His good mood instantly took a nosedive; he had been hopeful for a few more moments of peace at least before the hostilities began again.

“Are you still up for coming with us to Suran, Beebs?” Fahjoth asked, in an attempt to ease the tension.

“Why the fuck else d’you think I’d be stood here like a lemon waiting for you?” She jerked her head towards Julan. “The question is whether drunk tank here can cope with it.”

Julan frowned. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that? You got pretty hammered last night.” Ribyna’s voice was casual, but the glare she fixed Julan with was hard and cold. “You almost drank a hole in Fahji’s coin purse.”

“What does that even—”

“Guys!” Fahjoth said abruptly, rubbing his temple as he spoke. Better to nip this in the bud before it became blown out of proportion. “Let’s get going, shall we? It’s a fair way to Suran. It’d be nice to get there before it gets dark.”

Neither Ribyna nor Julan continued to bicker, but the scathing looks they shot at each other instead left Fahjoth’s nerves shot. Julan’s eyes eventually met Fahjoth’s own and he began to look quite guilty.

“Sorry, Fahjoth,” Julan said. “Go ahead.”

Fahjoth flashed Julan a small smile of appreciation before setting off out of town. The balmy afternoon sun warming the top of his head offered little comfort as he dreaded having to break up fight after fight between his two companions, an outcome that was looking more likely by the minute.

——————————————

The journey to Suran passed mostly in a very strained silence. Fahjoth would make conversation with Julan or with Ribyna, but never both at the same time, as they seemed to be doing their best to ignore each other. Fahjoth wasn’t sure whether he preferred that over the snide comments and defensive retorts.

His contact in Suran, Serjo Avon Oran, resided in what was possibly the grandest house Fahjoth had ever set foot in. Delicate steps and care to avoid breaking or dirtying anything led the three to Oran; on speaking to him, Fahjoth learned that the bandits were occupying a cave among the hills to the northeast.

“Be careful,” Oran had cautioned. “Nasty piece of work, those bandits. But take out their leader, Daldur Sarys, and the rest should scatter. Good luck.”

With this advice in mind, Fahjoth was thoughtful as they exited Oran Manor and stepped out into the cool Suran evening.

“I felt so weird being in a house like that,” Julan remarked. “I was expecting someone to yell at me for trailing muck all over their floor…”

“You know, you were trailing a lot more than muck in there,” Ribyna replied. She sniffed, looking down at Julan’s boots. “Is that guar shit?”

A momentary flash of alarm crossed Julan’s face and he hastily lifted up his foot to check the underside of his shoe, only to scowl as Ribyna in turn cackled like a hyena.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s winding you up,” Fahjoth said with a sigh. “Right, well, if you’re done, shall we get going? We’re losing daylight. Unless we got a room for the night and headed out first thing.”

“Oh no, I’m not hanging around any longer than I need to!” Ribyna insisted, already turning on her heel and strolling out under the town’s entrance archway. “We’re going. What are you? Men or scribs?”

“You know that shit doesn’t work on me!” Fahjoth called, but nonetheless he followed suit, glancing back to ensure that Julan was following.

“Well, come on then! You and Guar-Boy better get a move on, or those bandits will have died of old age by the time we get there.”

Fahjoth said nothing, merely trotted along in Ribyna’s wake with an exasperated roll of his eyes. Likewise, Julan was quiet, but when Fahjoth risked a peek back at him, he caught him furiously mouthing “Guar-Boy?!” under his breath.

The road to Saturan was pleasantly empty. With the shadows cast by the sun growing as it sank behind the hills, plunging them into the bitterly chilly shade, Fahjoth was grateful that they encountered no trouble along the way.

By the time they located Saturan, dusk had come and gone, leaving only clear dark skies glittering with distant stars overhead. Fahjoth shivered as he stared at the cave entrance, the dilapidated wooden door concealing the unknown that lay within. He took a few cautious steps closer and gently pushed the door open, wincing as the hinges emitted a slight, shrill creak. The inside of the cave stretched further in than Fahjoth could see, its earthy tunnels lit by bracketed torches propped up on long iron poles jutting up from the ground.

The entrance cave meandered on for a short distance, descending deeper into the hill until opening up into a much larger cavern. The path was supplemented by a rough wooden boardwalk, its far end strewn with crates and candles and a ladder leading down to the lower levels. Fahjoth scuttled along, taking care not to hit his head on the low-hanging stalactites until he reached the crates, and beckoned Julan and Ribyna along behind him as he tucked himself behind one. Here, they looked down upon the lower boardwalk, where a few others paced back and forth, carrying boxes and sacks of loot back and forth. Fahjoth’s gaze was fixed down below, but he heard Ribyna and Julan settling down and crouching on either side.

“So, these must be the bandits,” Julan whispered. “Have you got a plan?”

“Sort of,” Fahjoth answered. “We need to get to the leader, somehow. Daldur Sarys. If we can take him out with a sneak attack, the rest should scatter like Oran said.”

“Right! So… how do we get to Sarys? Which one is Sarys, anyway?”

Fahjoth paused, frowning as he stared down at the bandit activity below. Truthfully, it was impossible to know exactly who their target was; all they could do was hope to hear his name brought up in conversation and go from there. But how long could they stay put, before someone discovered them and raised the alarm?

As Fahjoth pondered this rather pressing dilemma, he became aware of a soft rustling and clinking coming from his left. He glanced over, his heart beginning to hammer as he watched Ribyna idly rummaging through one of the crates.

“Oh hey, look!” She held up what seemed to be a bottle of sujamma, admiring it in the soft orange light of a nearby candle. “There’s loads of this shit in here! We won’t have to buy drinks for like, a week with this lot.”

Like Fahjoth, Julan’s agitation was evident.

“Put that down, they’ll hear you!” he hissed, lunging for the bottle. Though he made contact, Ribyna refused to relinquish it, keeping a firm grip on it herself.

“Piss off, Guar-Boy, get your own!”

“I’m not trying to steal it, you s’wit!”

“Oh yeah, right-o! I bet you’d be happy to guzzle this whole crate by yourself, you fucking alchie!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! Let go—!”

With one sharp tug from Julan, the bottle was wrenched from Ribyna’s grip. But Julan, not expecting Ribyna to let go, toppled back and hit the boardwalk with a dull thud. His elbow struck the wood and the bottle was flung from his grasp, sailing over the side of the boardwalk and crashing against the wooden deck below, shattering on impact and splattering its sweet, frothy innards in a graceful explosion of liquor.

“Shit—!”

Fahjoth ducked back behind the crates, keeping himself as low to the ground as possible as he reached out towards Julan and hauled him back to safety as soon as he felt their hands meet. As the three huddled together, their breathing laboured with the effort of remaining as silent as possible, Fahjoth strained his ears to listen.

It was quiet. Far too quiet. The sounds of activity below ceased entirely as all bandits froze in their tracks.

“What the hell?”

Over the sound of Fahjoth’s own rapid heartbeat reverberating in his head, he listened to the soft creaking of the wooden planks beneath the bandits’ cautious feet becoming louder as the seconds ticked by. They couldn’t remain there for much longer.

“Fahjoth,” Julan whispered, “we have to do something.” He paused to listen for a moment before continuing with the same hushed urgency, “If we all rush out at the same time, maybe we can catch them off-guard.”

“Yeah. It’s our best chance,” Fahjoth agreed. “Alright... ready? One... two... three!”

Julan led the assault. He vaulted down the steps and engaged with the first bandit, an Orc who was unlucky enough to be standing closest. As Fahjoth followed suit, from his periphery he saw Ribyna leap over the crates and land on the lower boardwalk where she lunged at the closest bandit. The force from her collision knocked them both clean off the edge, causing a loud squelch as they landed in the muck beneath.

Fahjoth drew his weapon as he charged forward and the Redguard bandit in front of him scrambled back for distance, reaching for his own axe. But Fahjoth was faster, and the Redguard hollered as his hand was struck with Fahjoth’s sword, leaving an angry, weeping welt across his knuckles. With the blade sailing ever closer, the Redguard threw up both hands in an act of surrender.

“I yield!” he cried, and Fahjoth ceased his attack. There was no way he could kill a surrendering man... But his sword hand did not waver, and after a second he spoke the first thing that came to mind.

“I’ll give you one chance,” he said, his voice heavy with threat. “Your group’s done. Get out.”

The Redguard needed no encouragement. Edging around Fahjoth’s sword, he broke into a sprint up the steps and fled, his footsteps echoing down the cavern until the creaking of the door in the distance announced his departure.

As he caught his breath, Fahjoth glanced around to see how his companions were faring. His eyes fell on Julan; his sword was slick with blood and his opponent had dropped twitching to the ground, and a surge of admiration welled up in Fahjoth’s chest. He opened his mouth to call over to him, but the air froze in his chest as a shadow caught his eye.

A hunched figure crept closer to Julan, the glint of a blade flashing in the candlelight as it was drawn from its sheath.

“Julan!” Fahjoth yelled, kicking off into a mad dash back up the boardwalk to his friend. The figure, a Dunmer, recognising that his cover had been blown, fully brandished his weapon and rushed towards Julan as well. As Julan raised his own sword, Fahjoth caught up with the bandit and threw himself legs-first at the bandit’s ankles.

A burning pain radiated out from his shin as the bandit’s foot collided with it. Fahjoth skidded to the ground, but his effort had been enough. The Dunmer, tripped up by Fahjoth’s sliding tackle, stumbled forward — and directly into range of Julan’s shortsword. Julan lunged, impaling the bandit clean through the neck. With blood dribbling from his gurgling mouth, the bandit crumpled to his knees, and after a hard kick to the chest from Julan, he dropped to the ground and fell still.

With his leg throbbing, Fahjoth struggled to get his feet, but Julan was quick to approach and offer a hand which he gladly accepted. But before he could say his thanks, footsteps at the end of the cavern alerted them to the arrival of two more Dunmer.

One of them, donning thick chitin armour, stared at the scene in shock before his angular features twisted with rage.

“You’ll regret killing my people, you n’wah!” he hissed, drawing a glimmering sword as he stepped closer. Behind him, the second Dunmer — donning the elegant robes of a mage — raised his hands as he prepared a blistering fiery spell. Julan prepared his own spell in retaliation, but before the mage could attack, a dark figure on the ground beneath the boardwalk suddenly lunged at his legs.

The mage howled as Ribyna plunged her dagger into his knee, and as he was rendered lame and unbalanced, she grabbed his robes and dragged him down to the ground with her. The head bandit — Daldur Sarys — snapped his head around in alarm, and Fahjoth took his opportunity.

He struck at Sarys with his sword, but Sarys faced him in time to block it with his own, the hilt vibrating in Fahjoth’s hand and the blades screeching as they clashed. As Fahjoth jumped back to avoid Sarys’ retaliation, Julan’s voice rang out from behind.

“Fahjoth, get down!”

Without hesitation, Fahjoth ducked.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as a crackling energy sailed overhead. He risked peering up in time to witness a bolt of electricity crashing down on Sarys. As the magic jolted through his body, he gave a choked gasp and stumbled back, and Fahjoth took his chance. He whacked at Sarys’ sword arm, and — as he drew a deep breath and steeled himself — slashed his blade across the bandit’s throat.

With a deep laceration in his neck now gushing blood, Sarys began to stagger on the spot. A weak glow illuminated his hand as he tried desperately to heal himself, but the damage had already been done. Unable to breathe, and with his own blood generously painting both himself and the wooden planks beneath his feet, Sarys could only remain standing for a few seconds more before his legs gave way beneath him and, like the rest of his comrades, he collapsed.

With the silence in the cavern now punctuated only by the sound of their ragged panting, Fahjoth turned to face Julan, taking deep breaths in an attempt to force his heart rate back to normal. The pain in his leg now pulsed much more noticeably than before.

“I think that’s all of them,” he said, limping to meet Julan and weakly wiggling his sword to shake off the blood. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Julan answered. “What about you? Is your leg okay? That fall looked nasty.”

“It will be,” Fahjoth replied, but before he could continue, a noise behind them caused them both to whirl around in alarm. Fahjoth’s heart hammered again, but it calmed as soon as he realised it was just Ribyna, wearily clambering back up onto the boardwalk from the muddy cave floor beneath, splattered from head to foot with a grim combination of muck and blood. Fahjoth started towards her and offered a hand to help her up — which she ignored entirely.

“Beebs! Are you alright—“

“No thanks to you.”

Fahjoth paused. “What d’you mean?“ She had since got to her feet, but as Fahjoth tried to reach out to her again, he faltered as she smacked his hand away. “Ribyna, what’s the matter?”

Ribyna didn’t answer. Instead she gave a derisive scoff, turning away from Fahjoth and making a half-hearted attempt to clean the grime off her leathers. Confusion gave way to a prickling anger as Fahjoth’s blood began to boil.

Before he could stop himself, he had snapped back.

“What exactly is your problem? I mean if it wasn’t for you fighting with Julan, none of this would have happened in the first place! What the hell were you thinking?!”

Ribyna let out a humourless laugh. “Oh yeah, that’s right! Go on, blame me instead of your new best mate who can do no wrong!”

“What?” Fahjoth’s mouth dropped open as he stumbled over his words. “W— where’s this coming from?”

“As if you need to ask! It’s like he’s the only one who matters now!”

From beside him, Fahjoth noticed Julan bristle and take a breath as he prepared his retort. Fahjoth held up a hand and shot him a pleading glance — a silent request to let him handle this situation, which Julan thankfully obliged.

“Beebs, you’re being ridiculous—”

“Am I, though?! Ever since he joined us, you’ve been siding with him and defending him all the time!”

Fahjoth frowned, his frustration from Ribyna’s behaviour over the past few days finally bubbling over and spilling out. “Because you’ve been treating him like shit!”

“He treated us like shit, Fahjoth! Or have you forgotten already?!”

“I apologised for that,” Julan interjected with a frown.

Glancing between Julan and Ribyna, Fahjoth nodded. “He did apologise for that, Beebs.”

Ribyna cackled again, a rough, unpleasant sound devoid of any mirth. “There, you’re doing it again! Well, d’you know what, I’m done. I’m fed up of you picking this random guar-fucker over your own fucking family.”

Fahjoth stepped back, Ribyna’s words hitting him like a punch to the face as a wave of unease washed over him. “But... I’m not—”

“Save it!”

She turned away, and Fahjoth’s stomach churned as he noticed an unmistakable dark red stain oozing from her hairline, just before her temple.

“Ribyna? Did you— are you hurt?”

He stepped closer again and cautiously touched her shoulder, but another hard strike from Ribyna sent him recoiling instantly.

“Ribyna—!”

“Fuck you both. See you ‘round.”

Ignoring Fahjoth’s cries, Ribyna wheeled around and stormed off with a distinct unsteadiness in her steps. His gut twisting and a cold sweat settling on his skin, Fahjoth continued to shout after his twin long after her angry footsteps had receded into silence.

“Ribyna!”

With nothing answering him but the gentle dripping of water from the cave roof, Fahjoth dropped his head into his hand and sighed. Things had been tense with Ribyna lately, but he hadn’t anticipated such a blow-out. He hadn’t realised she still held such a grudge for Julan’s attitude on their first encounter. Why couldn’t she have just talked to him about this? He was used to her stubborn reticence, but it was still incredibly frustrating.

“I’m sorry.”

Fahjoth turned around. Julan was standing there, looking almost as wretched as Fahjoth felt.

“What are you apologising for, mate?”

Julan wrung his hands, dropping his gaze. “I just… I feel like this is all my fault.”

“Hey, don’t be daft!” Fahjoth took a few hasty steps forward until he was close enough to rest his hands on Julan’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault. Ribyna is just…” He grimaced, shrugging as he wondered how best to explain. “She isn’t the easiest person in the world to get on with. She doesn’t really… make friends very easily.”

“But my point still stands!” Julan protested. “Me being here is just causing you problems. You wouldn’t be fighting with your twin if it wasn’t for me.”

Fahjoth scoffed. “I wouldn’t be so sure. We always squabble over… pretty much everything. But— look…” He gave Julan’s shoulders a squeeze and crouched the few inches necessary until they were at eye-level with each other, trying to convey his sincerity with a small smile. “I promised I’d help you train, and I’m sticking to that. Whether that’s with or without Ribyna. Okay?”

Julan managed a weak smile in return. “Okay.”

“Anyway, you’re not just causing me problems!” Fahjoth continued. “Look at what we did today! I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, mate.”

“You probably would have. But thanks.” Julan’s smile gradually became a grin. “We do make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

Fahjoth’s smile widened. “Damn right we do!” Without thinking, he pulled Julan into an enthusiastic one-armed hug — only to panic as he realised what he’d done. Had he crossed a line? He didn’t know what Julan’s stance on physical contact was; what if he was offended?

“Sorry, I just—” he began babbling as he backed off, but Julan simply laughed and patted Fahjoth on the shoulder in return.

“It’s fine,” he said. “So… shall we get going? I could kill for a mazte right now!”

Fahjoth raised a brow, glancing around at the bloodied heaps of bodies dotted around the cave. “I think we already did, mate.” He flashed Julan another grin and set off, limping out of the cave while frequently looking back to ensure that Julan was following. “I think we’ve more than earned that mazte.”

“Hah, you’re right.” He glanced down at Fahjoth’s leg, noticing his awkward gait. “Are you sure your leg’s alright?”

“Oh, it’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Fahjoth replied, waving Julan’s concern aside with an airy flick of his wrist. “It’s just a bit bruised, I think.”

“As long as you’re sure. You know, that was an impressive tackle.” Julan paused, a thoughtful look on his face as he trotted along beside Fahjoth. “I heard you letting one of them go.”

Fahjoth faltered, his grin slipping away to a wry smile. “Yeah… he was yielding. I couldn’t bring myself to kill someone after they’d surrendered.”

“You’ve got better morals than half of Morrowind then. At least.” For a moment, Fahjoth wasn’t sure whether that was meant to be taken as a compliment or an insult, but Julan continued, “Oh, I’m not criticising! I think it’s nice. Just… be careful, okay? I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

A curious feeling settled in Fahjoth’s stomach. He glanced at Julan, the earnesty on his face clear to see even in the low light of the nearby torch flames, and instantly Fahjoth felt a rush of gratitude and affection for his new friend. The idea that another person cared that much about him warmed him from the inside out, even as they stepped out into the chilly night air.

“Cheers, mate,” he said, clapping Julan on the shoulder as another smile lifted his cheeks. “Let’s go tell Oran the good news, then go get those drinks.”

Julan grinned back, lightly bumping Fahjoth’s shoulder with his own.

“Sounds good to me.”

#oc: fahjoth #oc: ribyna #julan kaushibael #Morrowind #dunmer #nerevarine #dunmer oc #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fanfic #tes iii: morrowind

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