#doing my best to not cut any more than necessary and not let anyone else touch it

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Bind

Astarion x Nonbinary! Reader - drabble - 1.3K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: discussion of gender, body dysmorphia, improper binding, Astarion being the big softie we all know he is, hesitation, fear, kissing

---------------------------

Astarion kissed you fervently, as if you were his only lifeline to this reality. You kissed him back, but the panic creeping over your skin was becoming difficult to ignore. It felt like ice clawing its way up until you were devoured. He moved to start kissing your neck.

You let out a shaky breath, “Stop…” you mumbled. 

Astarion continued, so lost in you all he could hear was your erratic heart beat.

Tears feel from your eyes, the ice settling in you, making you freeze. “Stop…” you choked out.

Astarion kissed down your chest but looked up at you when he felt you tense. His eyes dulled quickly, becoming soft and round instead of sharp and lustful. He backed up, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

“I said stop…” you sniffled as you sat up and scooted away from him, wrapping your arms around your legs that were pulled up to your chest. 

“Little love, are you alright? Did I hurt you? Scare you?” his eyes flicked back and forth between yours, searching for any answer. 

“I… I’m fine…” you said, wiping the tears away just to have them be replaced by new ones. 

“Obviously not, what is it my sweet?” he said, sliding his shirt back on. 

“I… don’t know how to tell you… I’ve never really talked about it before…” you said, looking at the floor.

Astarion stayed quiet, waiting for you to speak. 

“I… don’t always feel like…. Myself.” you shook your head, no that wasn’t getting your point across. “I mean I don’t always feel like a woman… or a man… I’m something else, something I can’t define…” you wrapped your arms around yourself even tighter. Your eyes met his after a moment. 

His face was so soft, so sweet and understanding. “Alright.” he smiled softly at you. 

Your eyes widened, “What? That’s it?” you said in shock.

Astarion chuckled, “That’s it. I love you, I don’t care what you identify with as long as you are happy.” 

You loosened your grip, fingers finding the buttons of your shirt. You undid them one by one before Astarion softly held your wrist, “That’s not necessary, pet. We don’t have to do anything.”

You kissed his palm before continuing to unbutton your shirt. When you pulled it apart, Astarion saw gauze and immediately thought you were hurt. You smiled at him to reassure him.

“I bind my chest… it makes me feel… more like me.” you nodded, content with your explanation. 

Astarion gently moved your shirt a bit, he noticed the irritation from the bandages on your ribs. Red and angry. “Can you breathe?” he asked cautiously.

You sighed, wincing slightly as the bandages did hurt. They were crushing you. Having them on all day while adventuring was leaving you with cuts and burns but you would rather endure than not feel like yourself. “Yes… it's not always comfortable but… I can’t compromise.” 

“Do you want to take them off?” he asked, the burning skin of your ribs keeping his eyes entranced. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing once more. You had never shown anyone your chest. You thought about it for a moment. You trusted Astarion and you could tell he saw your pain and just wanted you to relax. You nodded slightly, undoing the two safety pins on the side of your chest. You slowly unraveled the bandages, feeling relief. You held the gauze to your chest, looking up at Astarion. 

His eyes were already on your face, “Do you want me to turn around? I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” he said, already shifting himself around.

You stopped him, pulling him so his knees were against yours. You held his hand to your still covered chest. You didn’t know why this all felt so scary. Astarion and you hand’t gotten off on the best foot but that might as well have been eons ago. Now you held a mutual love and respect for one another. So why were you afraid?  You dropped the last of the gauze, your chest fully exposed to him. You watched his reaction, waited for him to do anything.

He reached out, waiting for your ok to touch you. You nodded at him. He gently thumbed over the reddened skin, pulling back when you let out a hiss. Something clicked in his brain, you could see it on his face. He scurried over to his desk, rummaging through the various bottles he had atop it. 

He walked back over to you before sitting down with a proud smile on his face. 

“Whatcha got there?” you asked with a soft smile. It felt good to be uncovered, to be vulnerable with him. 

“A personal concoction. Balsam ointment, potion of healing, and rosemary.” he said as he unscrewed the lid. He took a generous dollop, moving towards you. He waited for your approval, you nodded. 

You had to restrain yourself from moaning out, the cream felt heavenly. Your chest felt warm but in a delightful way, unlike the usual painful heat from the friction of the bandages. 

“Balsam for the burns. Potion of healing for the cuts. Rosemary for the inflammation.” he said as his fingers worked deftly. 

You shrugged your shirt off completely, letting it pool behind you on the floor. His fingers stopped working for a moment. Your eyes instantly searched for his, unsure what he could be feeling at this moment. 

“So beautiful…” he whispered before his fingers continued their delicate work. 

He was so soft for you, and only you. You caressed his cheek, pulling him softly by his chin before placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Thank you.” you whispered to him.

“For what my darling?” he said, kissing your cheeks before applying just a bit more cream to the most irritated areas. 

“For everything. For accepting me. I know it might be strange and difficult to understand…” you said before he cut you off.  

“You are quite strange, but not for this.” he teased, “This is who you are.” he said nonchalantly. 

You hugged him swiftly, careful to not let your ointment covered chest make a mess on his shirt. He hugged you back before leaning back to kiss your cheek. “You need to rest.” he said as he pulled out a blanket he kept in his tent specifically for your comfort. 

You reached for your shirt. “You don’t have to put that back on if it would be more comfortable for you.” he smiled at you.

You breathed a small sigh of relief. You slept like this in your own tent, needing time for your chest to be unrestricted. “Thank you.” you got comfortable on his bed roll. He draped the blanket over you, watching you fall asleep quickly. 

He got to work quickly. Gathering bits of fabric from here and there. Finding the right thread. Embroidering his initial in the corner. He pulled back after working for gods know how long, it was like he was in a trance. He looked at his creation. A binder but a properly fitted and carefully made one. Much better than wrapping yourself up every day. This should keep your chest flat without cutting or burning you. Let you breathe.  Astarion worked through the night, making multiple binders for you. Before he knew it, he heard your groggy voice.

“Star?” you asked, rubbing your eyes so they could focus on him. “What’s going on?”

Astarion quickly bit the thread off before holding up his fourth creation of the night. “I made these for you. They should do exactly what the bandages did, just safer.” 

You sat up, suddenly very awake. You took the item from him, amazed at his thoughtfulness and care. You held it up to your bare chest. Tears stung your eyes in the happiest way. You pounced on him, kissing over his face incessantly. You heard him giggle and it filled you with love, this man was yours until the end and gods were you overjoyed by that simple fact. 

Astarion wrapped his arms around you, holding you close before he rested his forehead against yours. “Love you my dearest little love.”

You smiled, kissing him softly.

-------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! Hope this is a good one! I very recently came out as nonbinary so this was a bit inspired by that. I think I wrote it to convince myself it's ok to buy a binder. IDK sorry that was a bit personal lol. As always thanks for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! XOXOXOXOXO!!!!!

[wouldvelovedmewheniwassoft]

help keep a queer disabled system couple from breaking NC with my rapist ❤️‍🩹

(CW: parental abuse/familial trauma, death from cancer, alcoholism, domestic violence, homelessness, sui + hospitalization, incest/rape, victim-blaming, abandonment + gaslighting by a toxic friend, harassment involving police, disordered eating)

please don't tag my post. proof of situation provided in imgur album.

i've held off on publicly asking for help beforehand, as i know there are many people in more dire circumstances right now. but i'm at a point where it's absolutely necessary.

i moved out of state to live with my partner system (we both have DID) in March of this year. we already planned to live together, but circumstances forced me to escape and go NC (no contact) with my remaining family for my safety.

i lived in my childhood home for my whole life until this year. my parents and extended family have always been abusive, but things escalated after my mom passed from Stage 4 lung cancer. my father started deteriorating after her diagnosis in 2018, and since her death in 2022, our relationship is no longer salvageable.

his alcoholism worsened significantly, resulting in multiple instances of him driving home drunk, collapsing, and almost being charged with a DUI. he hasn't hit me since i was 13, but he's acted domestically violent by slamming and hitting things whenever i've angered him. he threatened me with homelessness twice for being suicidal (once after a four day hospitalization, once after an attempted overdose), knowing full well i had no resources at the time and would've ended up on the streets. i attempted to escape last year, but my paternal aunt purposefully sabotaged it, forcing me to stay in an unsafe situation and suffer quietly. my mother's family abandoned me in 2020, and they no longer accept me (specifically for being queer/trans, disabled, and a vocal leftist), so they wouldn't help even if i wanted to resume contact.

it took over a year to move out due to my father controlling every aspect of my life with the justification of me being disabled. i tried to get his blessing for me to move in with my partner; but he refused to let me leave him, and he made it clear his disapproval of my relationship was because he didn't want me to have any autonomy outside of him.

the breaking point came after three days of nonstop verbal and emotional/mental abuse from him over an argument he started; everything culminated in him raping me while i was incapacitated. both my best friend of three years and their partner offered for me to crash at their apartment while my partner planned to get me. they also escorted me to a sexual assault center in my state to get a rape kit done.

i burned nearly every bridge in the process, as the people who could help me sided with him. but i didn't anticipate my friends to abandon me, too. they spent my last three days with them coercing me into changing my escape plan and dismissing my visible distress at how doing so would jeopardize my safety. less than 12 hours before we left, my best friend abandoned me via text, saying they'd refuse to help me if i didn't get police involved. anything i said in response resulted in gaslighting from them, mainly using therapy speak of "boundaries" and "triggers" to justify their actions. i cut contact with them after my partner told me they planned to drop me from the start (they told my partner this in a phone call while i was out) and discovering a cruel vague post they made after i last texted them. the last time i ever reached out was to send them money to get through their own situation.

since then, my partner and i have struggled financially. they're currently one write-up away from being fired, and their supervisor has always been volatile, so confronting him or going to anyone else at their job will do nothing. they've gotten help from their grandparents, but they're similarly abusive and unaccepting of them for the same reasons, so it hurts them to beg them even if they're unable to go NC right now.

i'm unable to reapply for disability, and previously lucrative sources of passive income have currently dried up. i'm waiting for orientation to be scheduled so i can start my new job, but we've financially suffered in the meantime. my account was charged off, and i only just now paid off a month's worth of PayPal debt; most of the debt came from paying off medical bills after i was injured in late April (currently contemplating pursuing legal compensation but nothing's set in stone).

i had to break NC twice for my father to help, but it's been triggering both times. i had to block his number before due to him harassing me via call/text, and he made me talk to police twice by falsely reporting me missing.

i cannot risk breaking NC again if my future job falls through or my partner loses theirs. we both had to skip meals several times within the past month to keep from buying food, so it's gotten scary already.

anything you can send helps. if you're unable to, PLEASE share this wherever you can. i also do writing commissions, so DM me to know my rates and what i'm willing to write.

ca | pp | vm

imgur album

(edit 6/18/24: created a new imgur album link; had no idea why the first one was inaccessible, but hopefully this is better formatted and contains additional context)

[2sgf]

Solstice ☀️ Sol ☀️ Sunny

he/him ⭐ they/them ⭐ she/her

28 years old ; tme two-spirit first nations wo/man

@mermen is my moonlight 🌙

★ minors do not follow or interact thank you

☆ white supremacists, transmisogynists, sex bioessentiallists, TERFs, and anyone who follow these kinds of beliefs will be blocked

★ if you notice i've interacted with anyone who follows the above ideology or they have interacted with me, please let me know! i might have not noticed

☆ feel free to dm me any donation posts or anything else you need boosted. i will do my best to boost it during the day.

★ i always read abouts, carrds, rentrys, & pinned posts! i might forget to like posts after, or might unlike them after some time to keep my likes clean

☆ i try to keep others' blacklists in mind but if i forgot to tag something, feel free to send me an ask or a message! i will do my best to remember but the dissociation might fuck with me so if it's something important but niche you need tagged, i might need multiple reminders so just unfollow if you're worried about it...

★ disabled, neurodivergent polyfrag system

☆ remade on july 18th 2024

art blog: @solsunbeam

more about under the cut! ^^ not necessary to read

☀ my socio-political beliefs: land back, pro palestine, anti-colonization, harm reductionist, anti-canada and anti-usa, anti capitalism, defund & dismantle the police, prison abolitionist, anti child family services, pro family reunification, better funding for social services, pro universal healthcare (including mental health resources, optometry, AND dentistry), antipsychiatry, pro universal basic income, decriminalize drugs, sex bioessentialism is rooted in white supremacy, and may all the catholic churches burn down thank you

☼ i don't 'debate' any of the above with anon asks. if you want more info on why i hold these beliefs, you can ask me privately via message. though, i may block you if your vibes are bad. if you deeply disagree with the above, then i rather you block me than try to convince me otherwise. i'll save us both the time and just block you.

☀ in general i block whenever i feel i need to

☼ i occasionally post about the above, but this blog will also contain a mish-mash of my interests, personal posts, fashion pictures, nature pics, and like.... idk whatever ✌🏽

☀ mutuals this is your sign to ASK FOR MY DISCORD! come. enter my dms. let me send you pictures of my cats.

☼ interests: poetry, art, films, fashion, video games, animation, plants, comics, child welfare, trauma recovery, disability rights, tarot, witchcraft, the occult, linguistics, lolita fashion, and all kinds of other stuff

☀ video games: kingdom hearts, fire emblem, legend of zelda, animal crossing, final fantasy, supergiant's hades, minecraft, mario bros, pokemon (mostly gens 1-5), sonic the hedgehog, undertale, deltarune, // anime/manga: witch hat atelier, dungeon meshi, sailor moon, revolutionary girl utena, yugioh duel monsters, card captor sakura, madoka magica, hunter x hunter, ghibli movies, and other stuff lol

☼ alters may or might not tag their posts as [alter name].txt feel free to refer to them as their name! but we all respond to the collective name as well <3

☀ my final message...... peas and lov on planet erth....... goodnight

[fallenclan]

you mentioned something about your "notes" before, is there any chance we could see them if they're not spoilery?

they're not especially interesting, just the outline of what i wanted the comic to be, but sure :) i'll put them below the cut

Osprey: Feather?

Osprey: What’s wrong?

Feather: (pause, then crumbles) You’ve always been able to read me better than anyone else. It’s just…

Feather: [sigh] What’s the point? Nobody wants to believe me, I know that. 

Osprey: I’ll always want to believe you. Try me?

Feather: (stressed smile, but relieved)

Feather: It’s been going on for moons. Ever since Ravenstar became leader…

(big camp view to indicate time passing)

Feather: That’s everything, I think. I just- don’t know what to do.

Feather: I can’t go throwing out baseless accusations about Ravenstar--the clan loves him. He was chosen by Starclan. Nobody will believe he’s the reason I can’t speak to them.

(view from entrance) Osprey: You need to find the final cat, then. Someone with a strong connection to Starclan.

(cat silhouette) Feather: Yeah. I just don’t know where to start. Or how to do it without Ravenstar suspecting anything.

Feather: I know what he’d do if he knew. I have you to think about, and Snowkit and Harekit.

Osprey: Whatever you need, I’ll do everything I can to-

(stops)

(turns)

Honey: I think… I might be able to help you.

TO BE CONTINUED

(paws padding along)

Feather: Stay quiet. Try not to act out of place.

Dark: (glances back to Honey. She looks determined)

(exiting camp)

Feather: (thinking) Almost out of camp. Then we’ll be-

Raven: Ah, Feathersight.

(he and Flamefall are sitting just outside camp, as if having a chat)

Feather: Ravenstar. Good evening.

Raven: Going out for herbs?

Feather: Er- borage. Yes. And Honeysong is helping us carry.

Raven: (stares)

Feather, Dark, & Honey: (stare back. Feather is sweating so bad)

Raven: Well, don’t let me stop you. Best of luck.

Feather: Thank you, Ravenstar.

(they pass by them. Ravenstar looks unperturbed. Flamefall frowns.)

(wide shot of fallenclan territory. They traveling. roadtrip)

(they descend down into the Cave)

Dark: You’re lucky y’know, most warriors never get to go to the Glowcave. Even I’ve only been twice.

Feather: Once.

Dark: That you know of. Anyway, can you really see ghosts?

Honey: All the time. When I was a kit, they were so vivid that I thought they were real half the time. Now they’re always wispy and faded like the wind is tearing them apart. 

Feather: (pauses, looking forlorn and troubled)

Feather: (looking forward) This is it.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

(all 3 standing looking at the shrooms. establish)

Feather: Have you ever seen Silverbelly?

Honey: The dark bengal molly with the scar on her shoulder? Yeah, she hangs around the medicine den a lot. She’s my great-grandmother, right?

Feather: That’s right. She was…

(he trails off, trying to find the right words. fails)

Feather: She was a great cat. Fallenclan misses her.

Honey: (looks sadly at him)

Dark: So, what now?

Honey: We’re supposed to drink the water, right?

Feather: No, that’s usually only necessary for leader ceremonies. Normally they just… appear.

Dark: Like that?

(shakey, shadowy form stands over the water)

Feather: (eyes widened) Stars…

(zoom on shaky form. Big big eyes)

Honey: She wants us to drink.

Dark: What? How do you know?

Honey: (steps up and drinks the water)

(shadowy forms explode out of every crevice, screaming and incoherent)

Shadows: (very glitched and broken) STOP HIM! STOP HIM!

Honey: (terrified)

Feather & Dark: (terrified. Feather curls around Dark as if to protect him)

Shadows: STOP HIM! ONE MORE! ONE MORE!

Honey: One more?

Shadows: ONE MORE! THE LAST ONE! BEFORE WE CAN’T-

(shadows dissipate)

Feather: Stars, I… I could barely understand them.

Dark: Did they say…

Honey: One more. The last one.

Honey: There’s another cat.

[fandoms-in-law]

Diving Down

A continuation sort of of this au idea

Summary: Some of the party find out Steve's a mermaid through S4

Author's note: I'm trying to get the scripted fics from my notebooks typed up this weekend but can't figure out how to carry this on later so it's open ended for now.

/\

“I’ll dive down.” The decision wasn’t one Steve was focusing on. It was logic, cold and necessary now they knew the gate was at the bottom of the lake. He didn’t wait to argue at all, just threw his jumper off while speaking, dropping his jeans and diving in.

Nancy of course had tried to argue anyway and he was glad to not hear anything she started to say until he’d let himself flip through the movement encouraged by his legs fusing into the tail. “Steve – We should have – What?”

Popping back up on the boat he took the torch Eddie had wrapped in a plastic bag from his stunned friend. “I said I’d dive down, stop yelling. It’ll help if something down there tries dragging me through.”

“You have a tail?” Robin asked, equally stunned. Out of everyone she was the most likely to know, but he’d expected he to have either forgotten or dismissed the comment during Starcourt as a joke.

He looked back into the water and shook his head. “Long story and there’s a gate to a hell dimension to check: Not the time for this.”

Steve dove down, leaving everyone in the boat sharing looks of confusion or stunned bewilderment.

“So you didn’t know Steve’s a mermaid? Or is the surprise being played up just for me?” Eddie eventually asked, breaking the silence.

Nancy turned a glare on him snapping, “No!”

“He mentioned it once last time this happened. Should’ve known he wasn’t lying.” Robin admitted, shrugging, but focusing on the water her best friend was under.

Watching from the shore, Max dropped the binoculars as Steve got off the boat, looking at Dustin expectantly as she asked, “Steve’s a mermaid?”

“What? That was something from the gate!” He immediately protested, squinting over the lake before trying to snatch the binoculars.

“No. That was Steve getting a tail and diving down.” She insisted, waving out where once again they could see the tail vanishing into the water and keeping the binoculars out of his reach.

“Let me see!” Dustin tried to snatch it again.

She glared, crossing her arms in a gesture very similar to Steve. “He’s underwater now Asshole! You won’t see anything.”

/\

After the Hawkins group managed to regroup Steve stood with arms crossed, watching them all and preventing any next steps planning being done. “The only one who didn’t stand a chance of seeing was Erica but just so it’s plain, I’m merfolk. If you tell the government or even anyone else in our group or especially my family that you know I will be murdered.” He stated, more seriously than most of them had seen.

“Steve, don’t-” Nancy huffed, already turning away and grabbing her notepad to try and make them plan.

He glared and that was enough for everyone to pay attention. Nobody had seen him get angry at Nancy, not enough to cut her off. “Not an exaggeration. My father will kill me if he realises anyone else knows. Do Not Tell Anyone!”

“Okay, but do we need to, like, get you away from your parents after defeating Vecna and clearing my name? Should that be the next fight on our list?” Eddie asked, looking concerned.

“He won’t do anything as long as nobody knows. I got the pool. That’s more than Mom ever got. So no. Let’s focus on things we can actually fight.” Steve repeated.

[claudemblems]

Patching Your Wounds | Kaveh

"You're injured."

Kaveh's face fell as he gazed upon your hand, the skin littered with dozens of bloody cuts and scratches. How you got them, he didn’t know. All he did know was that the sight broke his heart.

"Kaveh, I'm–"

"Don't 'I'm fine' me," he said sternly, his voice coming out sharper than he meant it to. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before trying again. "You're not going anywhere until this is taken care of. Sit here. I'll be back with medicine and bandages."

You didn’t have the heart to refuse him, not when he looked at you with such sorrow in his eyes, so you opted to make yourself comfortable while you waited.

Less than a minute later, Kaveh returned from the bathroom with all the necessary supplies in hand. He crouched down on the wooden floor beside you, motioning for you to give him your hand. You did, and he gently took it into his own, assessing the extent of your injuries. He frowned slightly, and a twinge of guilt pricked at your heart.

But Kaveh didn't speak a word, probably because he knew his concerns would come off as a harsh scolding instead. So he silently began his work, first disinfecting the cuts and scratches before treating them with antibiotics.

"Some pesky treasure hoarders decided it would be a good idea to try to jump me," you began, choosing your words carefully. It wouldn't be wise to mention any details that might make Kaveh even more anxious. "It would have worked on any average civilian, but I'm a seasoned adventurer. Their plan was doomed the moment they underestimated me."

"And what were you doing that led you to be in an area filled with Treasure Hoarders?" 

"Uh…just some adventuring stuff. Look, Kaveh, I wasn't in any real danger, okay? I only left with some scratches."

"Scratches that armed strangers left on you!" Kaveh closed his eyes, biting back all the emotions threatening to burst. "I'm just…worried about you, okay? Whether your injuries are miniscule scrapes or cuts, they’re a visible reminder that I wasn't there to protect you. I let someone else hurt you. I let someone mar your skin with wounds that have to heal. I should have been there to whisk you away to safety, but I wasn't. And for that, I'm incredibly angry at myself, and I'm sorry to you that I wasn't there when you needed me."

The sadness pooling in Kaveh's eyes made yours sting with tears. With your free hand, you pulled his head against your chest, fingers gliding through his silky strands of hair. "Even if I had far worse injuries, I would never blame you, Kaveh, and you shouldn't blame yourself either. Unexpected circumstances are bound to happen, and we should be glad that I only left with a few scratches on my hand."

"...I know you're right, but in a perfect world, I'd never let anyone with ill intentions lay a finger on you."

"And the world we live in will never be perfect, so we should be prepared for whatever may lie ahead. We'll both end up with our own bumps and bruises, but they're a testament that we made it out alive. We can always patch each other up afterwards."

You felt him relax against you, his quick heartbeat finally beginning to slow. "I just don't ever want to see you hurt..." he whispered, wrapping an arm around your middle. "You are the best gift I've ever received, and if anything were to happen to you, my life would lose all its meaning. I could never continue on without you by my side, so please, look out for yourself, My Treasure."

Your heart skipped a beat at the pet name, one that Kaveh reserved only for the most intimate of occasions.

"I promise you, Kaveh, that I'll never leave before it's my time." You held him tighter, placing a kiss atop his hair. "I'll make sure you will never have anything precious torn from you ever again. And I'll do everything in my power to replace all the grief of your past with a future of never-ending happiness."

Kaveh pulled away to meet your eyes, one of his signature bright smiles gracing his lips. “My Love, you’ve already made me the happiest man in all of Teyvat just by being mine.”

Heat rushed to your face as you buried your head in the crook of his neck. “You sure know how to say such pleasing words.”

Kaveh chuckled, lips pressing against the crown of your head. “What can I say? You’ve made me quite the hopeless romantic, Darling.”

“All these pet names at once are going to make my heart burst.”

“Oh, that just won’t do. We still haven’t finished patching up your other wounds. How would I patch up your heart as well?”

You thought for a moment before giving Kaveh a cheeky smile. “Maybe a few kisses would suffice.”

“Oh? Well, that I can do. Let’s get you bandaged up right away so I can administer the rest of the medicine. Don’t worry, the healing properties of the kisses can be felt immediately. So the sooner I can kiss your symptoms away, the better!"

And you received many kisses that night, even long after your heart returned to normal.

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this as a part of my falltober fics, I hope you like it!

It is a Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x gn!reader imagine.

Thank you @famfan-1034 for proofreading!

Day 3: Pumpkin carving

Warnings: mentions of blood

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw was a goofy man, at least when he felt like he could be.

Bradley could be really funny when he wasn’t confronted with work or his past, if you knew his father you would see how similar they really were.

It wasn’t only their love for Hawaiian shirts or that strange mustache they shared, they were both happy to be more goofy than necessary when their loved ones were around.

You had met at work, because you were a secretary to one of his superiors, but it was clear that you wanted more from each other than just a professional relationship.

When he took you out on your first date he behaved like the aviator he was trained to be.

He had acted cocky and strong, but a few dates later he had shown his true colors and let his guard down, allowing himself to become goofier with time.

You had loved that even more than the strong man he wanted to portray.

He made you laugh and that was worth more to you than any tale of heroism you had heard out of his or anyone else’s mouth.

So your relationship blossomed, and before you knew it almost a year had gone by and fall was at your doorstep.

It was special for you because you had moved in together not long ago, and fall was your first chance to decorate the apartment to make it look like a home, your home.

Bradley left you free reign over the ornaments and decorations, not being too much of a fan of interior designing.

When Bradley came home with two pumpkins in his arms and a broad grin on his face you were so excited, because it was something you two could do to make your home more homely.

You immediately pulled out the best knives you had and you cut the hole for the top first, spooning the insides out onto a piece of newspaper before starting the real work.

Bradley was in a really good mood and while you were rather focused he definitely wasn’t.

He was excitedly cutting away at his pumpkin while he made jokes which sometimes got your eyes to roll in amused annoyance.

“What do you call an athlete pumpkin? A jock o’lantern,” he said as he exchanged the spoon back to the knife to begin to carve his face of horrors.

He looked proud of his joke so you laughed at it, loving how his eyes lit up at your reaction.

It only encouraged Bradley further and he talked while you worked, making eye contact with you far more often than he should have.

He was just cutting the mouth to his monster when his eyes lit up again, looking over to you as he began talking.

“I’ve got another one,” he grinned, and you set down your knife to listen to him.

“What did the pumpkin say to the pumpkin carver? Cut it out,” he said before his face fell and paled and a tiny ‘oh’ left his lips.

You immediately reacted and looked down at his hands, one of which had part of the kitchen knife stuck in the pad of his forefinger.

You rushed to the kitchen retrieving a towel and wrapping it hurriedly around his finger, hearing him wince even though he put on a brave face.

You cleaned the wound without making a sound and were relieved to see that it wasn’t as bad as expected, a small smile crossing your face as you asked Bradley if he was okay.

It took a moment for the blood to return to his face but when it did Bradley sent you a weak grin, nodding shortly.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter and lowered his head to talk to you, his playful manner returning to him once again.

“I think the pumpkin had its bloody revenge. Maybe we should call it Chucky, the orange beast. Now that it’s tasted blood it will stop at nothing, watch out,” he chuckled, and you did too.

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[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 49

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst ➻ word count: 19.7k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, talks of abuse & violence, minor violence, smut ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act seven ➻ part one

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What rots away at your insides in the days that follow is nothing pretty — a deep profound obsession that drives your hatred towards a particular man into the skin until it sits engraved there, with wounds oozing blood all the while.

“Have you seen Nightingale around?”

Soojin jerks her chin up at the sudden interruption of your voice cutting through whatever pretty silence she constructed for herself. You feel bad, though only mildly, for disturbing her without warning. It’s become somewhat common to find her in the mess hall these days, with Luca off to the side with the two resident Berserkers. Your stare lingers on Mingi for a few more seconds than necessary. The last conversation you shared with the man rings in your ears like it was mere minutes ago and not several days.

“Um, training room I think? That’s where he’s been hanging around at least.” Soojin passes you a little half-hearted smile. You don’t doubt that your discomfort and likely unabashed anger is on full display to her; however, she opts not to ask further about your reasons for asking, so you deign not to say anything other than a quiet ‘thank you’ and nod your head.

Mingi shifts where he’s kneeling close to the child. His gaze finds yours the second you turn to head out, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to return the fierce eye contact for several seconds. You let it stagnate for too long, apparently, because the Berserker stands without warning and moves in your direction. You don’t consider your next move to be one of avoidance, though it must look like that to anyone else aside from you with how you retreat the way you came and head for the arched doorway leading out. Mingi persists still.

“Ghost.”

“Yes?” You only stop to turn when the two of you are far enough away from both Soojin and Jongho.

“I hope what I said to you the other night hasn’t been on your mind too much.”

“…Hardly.” Something else has been in its place — a messy conglomeration of anger, frustration, and other emotions you haven’t paused to address internally yet. You got to see the full picture Mingi had been painting for you that night days later in any case.

“That’s—” he inhales sharply and goes rigid for a moment, so still that you almost think someone has crept up behind you to interrupt the conversation but it’s still just the two of you near the edge of the room. A noise of realization slips from your lips. How hard is it to lie to a man who can feel every bit of the emotions radiating off you in waves?

“I understand what you meant now. I do.”

“I had wished to apologize and to… to let you know that what I said was untrue. I apologize for misleading you.” Mingi’s expression is surprisingly genuine in comparison to his words, though you know you won’t find whatever sincerity you seek in his tone regardless.

“I don’t believe that,” you start in a whisper, “and I doubt you do either.”

Mingi’s full lips twitch into what seems to be a fight against a smile.

“Ever so perceptive.”

“Were you ordered to apologize?”

“No.” Mingi smiles truly now. Without showing his teeth in any fashion, the gesture comes across as more terrifying than reassuring. “What I said to you was my personal opinion. I cannot be crucified for an opinion. I’m telling you that I was wrong because my opinion has changed. Although, perhaps there is nothing and no one more dangerous than a woman scorned.” You duck your chin as you laugh, trying to hide the noise behind your hand, though when you look back up at Mingi, he is chuckling too. “Yunho told me that once, you can blame him.”

“Noted. I’ll be sure to file a complaint. In the meantime—” Mingi raises his eyebrows at you as though echoing a silent question “—thank you for looking out for me. All is well between San and myself now.”

“But not you and the captain.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You get this certain look about you when you’re pissed at him in particular.” When Mingi grins at you next, you can’t keep your laughter in any longer. “I don’t know if it’s of any consolation to you, but if you do wish to speak with the captain, he has not been inviting any guests to the bridge these days aside from myself. So while there wouldn’t be total privacy, there would be some level of it at least with the lieutenant’s absence.”

“If I didn’t know better, Mingi, I might say you are trying to start a fight.” You keep your tone above the belt so to speak — kind enough to imply simple jokes if Mingi chooses to read it as such. The Berserker glances over his shoulder then over at you briefly.

“It might amuse me thoroughly to see you swing a few punches at him before having to intervene,” he says under his breath, and as surprise starts to hit and drag through your body, the man turns his back to you to walk back the way he came. Mingi at least seems to understand you on a fundamental level; in a regard to how you expunge your feelings with some form of confrontation, and perhaps you and the Berserker share overlap in such areas. He has been no stranger to confrontation himself in the past. The arena itself is the perfect example of such a thing, where he was driven by a simple desire to do something. Feel something, do something in return. Eye for an eye in a strange sense — you made me feel this way so I am doing this to you as a response to those feelings. He’s far from unintelligent by any means; if anything, Mingi is a lot smarter than all of the people you share the ship with.

Rather than complicating matters with seedy lies and interweaving half-truths to make things seem more honest than they are, Mingi allows for the perspective of “one plus one equals two, so why complicate it beyond that?”, and he pushes a compelling argument into your hands. The temptation of whacking your captain across the face is a delightful one. Even if there wasn’t an abundance of anger stirring in your gut because of his actions, you think he has fully warranted several punches just on account of his existence.

Simplifying things in such ways, however, is far from your forte.

And there is still the desire to address the sea of lies and half-truths Nightingale presented to you when you asked rather straightforward questions upon first meeting him. You could gain absolutely nothing from this confrontation or you could garner more ammunition to fire into Hongjoong when you inevitably seek out that fight.

Finding the man you’re after is indeed as simple as going to the training room, though the sight that awaits you beyond the door is not at all what you were anticipating. You’ve been in the room several times by now, becoming quite familiar with the layout of everything inside, and even though you have been slacking since you got back from Rathmos, you cannot imagine the room to have changed so much in such little time. Nightingale finds you, instead, frozen by the door with what can only be rampant confusion on your expression.

“Don’t give me that look, it’s only temporary. Need a firing range somewhere to keep sharp.” He motions behind him with his prosthetic arm, tilting his chin in a way that makes the choppy pink strands of hair atop his head flop around. “You’re welcome to use it as you see fit while it’s up though.”

With the explanation, the sight before your eyes makes much more sense. Haphazard targets that look to be crude metal cut-outs of vaguely human form now occupy the far end of the training room, where the (albeit very minimal) row of training dummies used to sit against the wall. Those have been moved as well, brought forward some to spread throughout what Nightingale has added.

“Is anyone aware of your interior decorating skills?” you ask as you push further into the room.

“Ha ha, no one mentioned that you’re the funny one around here. And yes, I was given permission to do as I please while I’m here. Thus—” the man waves a hand through the air in a rather dismissive fashion, tacking on a forced smile at the end of his response. Pressing your lips into a thin line, you return the gesture. “If you’re gonna just stand there, get over here and join me. Clearly you have some reason for being here.”

The bounty hunter extends a hand in your direction, fingers clasped around the barrel of a pistol, and he presents the grip to you without waiting for your agreement one way or another.

“I do want to ask you a few questions, yes.” He doesn’t let go of the weapon immediately, even after you try to take it from him. You still find it wildly unsettling to look at that fake eye so you dip your chin and clear your throat. He lets go seconds later without pushing the topic further, passing the metaphorical ball back into your side of the court for the next play to come. “Starting with an explanation of what your relationship towards Hongjoong truly is.” Part of you is nervous to ask such a thing because the man is full of so many unknowns, and in your mind’s eye, you could be traversing into very dangerous territory. Without knowing for certain that your safety is guaranteed in his hands, you’re left to eye the pistol that he takes into his hands and weighs carefully.

As though offering up a warning of your own, you take aim at one of the mangled metal targets and press your finger over the trigger, letting the gun fire its bullet forward. It hits as intended, and if the head had features attached to it, your bullet would have landed between its eyes. Nightingale huffs out a laugh through his nose.

“Now you know, huh?”

Again, you fire; this time at a different target though with the same intention. When your bullet lands again, you lower the pistol to your side and look over at the bounty hunter.

“Why did you lie?”

“Why are you believing every word out of San’s mouth?” he counters just as quickly, but it doesn’t catch you off-guard the way he clearly intends for it to. “He’s the one who talked to you, no? I doubt it was Seonghwa given how much he wants to avoid what Hongjoong and San both did back then, and it certainly wasn’t the man of the hour himself. So why are you hanging onto every word, taking every little thing San is telling you at face value?” Nightingale’s fake eye is oddly expressive for all the tech and hardware glowing through the sclera. “Did he not tell you how he manipulated me? What game did he play to do so, I truly wonder, Ghost? How did he tell you? Were you in bed? Were his hands on you, telling you foul and hideous words with his lips but touching you so gently with his fingertips?”

He succeeds now in pushing discomfort far into your veins. You lift the gun in your hand a second time if only to distract yourself from his words but he’s already accomplished his goal.

“He explained very gruesome details about it all,” you say through gritted teeth, “but it would be odd to lie about that.”

“But not impossible, no?”

You draw your lips together until your teeth start to ache from the pressure you’re putting against them.

“My eye was taken by your captain, Ghost, but my arm — my arm was taken by your captain’s dog.”

Your finger fumbles on the trigger at the shock revelation, and you don’t have the mind to correct your angle before the gun is firing off a shot into the wall adjacent to one of the targets. Nightingale lurches forward, artificial fingers pressing down hard on the barrel of the gun to lower it once more.

“Try not to go blowing holes in your captain’s ship unless you want the same done to you,” he offers. His hand stays attached to your gun, and now you can’t rip your gaze off the prosthetic. When your gaze flits up to his face, you take in the sight of his wry smile and that glowing eye. “Though I suspect San would sooner die than harm you. Suppose that’s where we differ.”

“Why do you still willingly work with Hongjoong? He takes your eye and your arm, but you still do favors for him?” If it were you, you would either swear to kill the man with your bare hands or put as much distance between you and him as possible.

“There’s more I need out of him yet, and he’s willing to make deals according to his needs. No one aboard this ship can compete with the services I offer.”

“What if he asks San to kill next time? Then what?” It seems bizarre that Hongjoong would allow a person whom he clearly considered an enemy at one point to lie so comfortably amongst his crew. That is, if Hongjoong’s claims about how desperately he wishes to protect his crew are true, and you think you can at least find credibility in that. If nothing else.

Nightingale flicks his bangs to the side as he jerks his chin upwards and grins in full at you.

“That’ll be the fun part.”

“Fun. You have a sick definition of fun!”

What you get in return is a half-hearted shrug that tells you the man does not truly care in the slightest.

“San pretends to be torn up about the things that happened between us,” he continues, and this at least doesn’t come as a surprise. “I think there is some sliver of the man that does feel guilty about it but maybe that’s hopeful thinking on my part. I’m not sure he’s capable of guilt at all.”

“He is. He is, he’s not—”

When your words falter, Nightingale looks towards you with raised brows and wide eyes, but the smile on his lips persists still. It makes your skin itch and burn with discomfort.

“He’s no monster. He’s capable of feeling things, and guilt is among those things.”

“He knows that the order to kill could come any day,” Nightingale speaks as though you didn’t interrupt in the slightest. “So he doesn’t let himself feel that bad. Pretending is easier anyway, no?”

In a stroke of what might be pure foolishness, you allow yourself to be vulnerable before this man here and now.

“How much of a hand does Hongjoong have in the things San does?”

“What do you think?” he asks in turn, and that grin finally drops.

“He’s admitted to me that he wishes to be Hongjoong’s weapon and nothing else,” you whisper.

“Do you feel safe with San?”

“I do. Doubtlessly.”

The corner of the hunter’s mouth twitches a bit at that. “I did too, at one point. Until San asked to take me to the brig one day. Even when I was fully in the mouth of a monster, I did not feel it. Not until he clamped his jaw down around me.”

“I run the risk of sounding delusional, but that’s different from the position I’m in now. I’m part of the crew. You said you aren’t and never were, so you were someone on the outside, someone with a rival crew, someone who posed a threat to this crew.” You gleaned that much from San’s distorted story and can only hope that it’s the truth. “I’m not like that nor am I in that position. My loyalty is already set in stone.”

“You’ve been taught well already,” Nightingale all but sneers back at you, but it devolves into a laugh seconds later. He doesn’t allow you the chance to ask what that means either. “Your loyalty is to San, but you have to realize by now that by dedicating yourself to him, you are dedicating yourself to Hongjoong too.”

“Truth, respect, and loyalty,” you throw out. “That’s what Hongjoong demands, but that doesn’t mean he should be allowed to get away with heinous things.” Nightingale hums.

“It’s easy to mistake leadership for coercion if you do not believe in the man leading you. Do not forget the company you’re keeping here, Ghost, or what marks have stained your ledger red with blood.”

“I would be first to admit that my morals aren’t all there.” Taking a deep breath, you do your best to put to words what it is that has been irking you so much about the man in command. “But doing these things to people he claims to care about — that’s not an issue of morality. He keeps telling me that every little thing he does is for our sake, that all his misdemeanors against me have been to protect his crew, so it seems like a contradiction to let him harm them just as much.”

For all your passion in saying that, Nightingale just shrugs.

“Could you at least tell me your real name?” Your ploy to fish for more information ends in disappointment.

“No. I won’t give it to you.”

“Why not?” The unfortunate side effect of pushing more feeling into your tone is that you end up sounding like little more than a petulant child who isn’t getting her way.

“I’m certain you can figure out why I’m not quick to trust others, especially those close to Hongjoong.”

“Hongjoong already knows these things about you though, I’m sure! What’s the harm in telling me now?”

“It’s about the concept of trust, and you don’t have mine.” As you scowl, Nightingale pulls the pistol fully from your hands. “I don’t have a crew now because of what your captain did to mine in the past. Every last one of them became fragments of debris in space. My trust is hard to come by and even harder to earn.” He waves his free hand towards the exit. “Now shoo so I can focus alone.”

There’s the distinct feeling sticking to your gut as you leave that you have upset the man in some way, whether on account of your questions or your answers to his own questions, but it’s also paired with the sick churn as you feel his eyes on you as you go. You wonder with which hand Hongjoong had taken his eye, and in what manner he went about doing so. Further, imagination takes over to wonder how San took his arm — what they talked about, what they did beforehand, how it all went down — and fills you with sick curiosity. You wish to know the ins and outs of how things turned out the way they did if only to know how to avoid the same fate for yourself later down the line.

That is not a privilege you get to have, however. Aware of that fact, you move on to other, much less pleasant business by your standards. It takes you to Minho’s door, and you barely get the chance to knock even once before it’s sliding open before your eyes to reveal the doctor on the other side.

“I was about to come get you myself. Here I thought you were being difficult again.”

“Justifiably, I’d say,” you mutter, stepping past him to get in the room. You certainly have no desire to do this presently, but Minho cornered you last night after dinner and all but demanded that you see him for another session.

“Hm, how has your day been so far?”

You hum as your head tilts from side to side in a nonverbal response to his question. He moves for that cursed table with the chessboard atop it immediately, but you choose to hang back and glance around the room as though anything will have changed since you were last here. And truly, nothing is inherently different about the décor of the room. What does catch your eye is a thing much more insignificant by all means — the bottle of pills sitting atop his bedside table. You have seen him with it before, seen him take pills from the very same bottle, and that alone should not be cause for concern.

“Ghost.”

Your gaze lingers in place even as your body twists to face the doctor. It’s the exact same bottle, and the pills must surely be the same inside as well, except when you saw him days ago, it was barely used. There had to be only a few taken out at that point. Now the bottle sits close to empty, with another identical container filled to the brim with more capsules right beside it on the table. Feasibly, there’s no way that he could have taken all those pills in such a short amount of time.

“Y/n, the sooner we talk, the sooner you can take your leave.” When you finally rip your gaze off the bottles and turn to Minho, it’s just to find that he’s looking back at you with such an intensely heated glare that you almost feel like a child being caught doing something wrong. “Come sit. We will not play today.”

“Um, have you been well too?” you inquire through the sudden tension hanging in the air. Minho offers nothing but a sigh, leaning back in his chair as you sit down across from him. “Or… I mean, your day, has your day been okay too?”

“It’s been fine, thank you.” The man smiles at last, and that gesture provides some relief for you. Not enough, it seems, because your gaze flicks back over to that nightstand and what sits atop it within seconds. “Are you distracted today, Ghost?”

“A bit.” It’s said through a whisper, and Minho’s stare makes you want to challenge him further but you decide against it. “What is it you wanted to talk about today?”

“You seem to suffer from PTSD,” he states almost out of nowhere. Something about both the suddenness and the bluntness in his tone makes you scoff. It’s akin to one of the very first things he said to you though, and the sense of familiarity with what he’s said makes you recall that now.

“Of course I do.”

“What do you mean by that?” He has that pad out once again, opened over his knee where he crosses his legs, and you see his pen move down to the tablet before you can even offer up a response.

“Looking at my history, wouldn’t it be a bit obvious for me to have PTSD?” Something about how methodical the man is in writing down words unbeknownst to you makes you violently insecure all of the sudden. You feel seen in an uncomfortable way, in a way you do not want to be seen, though he perpetuates the discomfort by shifting to look you in the eye.

“Only depending on who you are. There are those who wouldn’t, though they would fall under a different umbrella.”

“Something worse…?” you trail off without being able to finish the thought, mostly because you fear falling into that category yourself.

“Nothing worse. Nothing worse. We don’t use terms like that. While symptoms can have levels, the disorders themselves differ in severity. It is better to address them in tentative terms. Nothing is worse in this room. We are talking about you and you alone. No comparisons, no parallels, no odd faux psychology test meant to tell you whether you have the same mental disorder as some planetary celebrity.” Minho looks down at the screen below him, eyes scanning over the contents of whatever sits there, and you find yourself grossly curious about what he’s writing about you. “Yunho made heavy note of your trauma response and the symptoms you struggle with on a day-to-day basis. I’d like to hear it from your lips. Can you look back and pinpoint a particularly traumatic event in your life?”

In retrospect, there are plenty of moments you could bring to light now. Starting all the way from childhood and moving up until recently, for that matter, you find it difficult to count the memories of your childhood that you do not have. Even so, in the military, you have clear and distinct memories that jump out to you; however, the fog of not being able to distinguish the minute details of what’s accurate and what was fabricated by two men who suffered the same fate.

“I was a slave before joining the military. I imagine that would be a rather traumatic experience.”

“You imagine? That time has not been recovered in your memory yet, is that correct?”

“I have yet to remember it, yeah, but I’m sure that caused some extent of damage to my brain along the way.”

“If I may be so bold,” Minho starts, leaning forward in his seat and over his knees in a way that forces you to make eye contact with him, “I am of the belief that the most prominent event was the night you killed the King of Eros. Would it be alright if I asked you to recount what happened then?”

Your fingers clench and unclench against your thighs and releasing that grip feels close to an impossible feat. Minho notices the sudden increase in your breathing patterns, along with your frantic blinking as you entertain the mere idea of telling him such horrors.

“There are many ways in which I can offer you support, should you need it. Encouraging words, eye contact, I can even put a hand on your knee or hold your hand if need be — and you can allow yourself to be emotional here. This is a safe space.”

“Can you not speak down to me in such a way?” It’s an inaccurate judgment of his actions, and you are well aware of that fact. The words push their way out of you before you can stop them, even though you don’t believe them either — at least not fully. He is simply a man doing his job: the offer to assist you is part of the work asked of him.

“Why do you feel as though I am speaking down to you?”

You gnaw at the inside of your lip.

“Is it because of our last session?” Minho unfolds his legs and lays his tablet down atop the table between you two. “I will not bring that into conversation today, you need not worry about that.”

“It makes me nervous,” you admit through your teeth.

“Yes, I gathered as much. To put it bluntly and risk your ire further, you tend towards lashing out when you start to feel anxious. A completely normal, human reaction! Don’t get me wrong; nearly every person in the universe does so as well. I am genuinely trying to help you here, Ghost, but I can only do so if you let me in to some extent.” The doctor extends a hand across the gap between the two of you, palm up to the ceiling, and you blink between him and his hand several times before finding your voice again.

“That night, I waited until my team was asleep, pretending to be so myself, and when I thought the coast was clear, I got up and left our cabin. Jisung followed me out. I told him I would finish the job he started so that no one else would… fall victim to whatever it was he wanted. I asked him to take responsibility, to do it himself and stop me, but he didn’t. Instead, he told me that I could do it myself if I wanted to save Hyu—our team so badly. I went to the king’s quarters myself, alone, killing any and every guard I saw along the way. When I reached the king’s chambers, I slit his queen’s throat in her bed right beside him and then I waited. And waited.” Minho’s hand doesn’t waver where it remains above the chessboard. You hone your gaze in on his fingers rather than his face, solely because of the overwhelming sense of dread swarming your gut as you pour yourself out to this man. “And I waited until her blood soaked the sheets enough to wake him. Then when he finally woke, I climbed over her dead body and I reached into that man’s chest to break it open and squeeze the life of his heart. Once I had done that, I gathered what documents I could and what I thought was important at the time before going back to the cabin I shared with my team. Soojin took me to the bath and tried to get the blood off my skin and out of my clothes. Jisung stood above me and lied to them, claiming he told me not to do anything, that he had nothing to do with it, and that I ruined his plans. He put his hands around my throat and pushed me under the water with the intent to kill me.”

“Do you remember how you felt the exact moment you killed that man and his wife?”

“I felt powerful.” Perhaps such an admission makes you sick and deranged in the head but it does come from a place of honesty. “I felt afraid at the same time. I think I’ve only ever felt that once before, and it came long after that night.” You have a clearer memory of that instance — a day when everything that could go wrong happened to shatter around you all at once. San getting shot, Hongjoong pushing your hand through a door, saving Soojin and Luca, San almost dying, your hand going through a man’s chest and squeezing around his still beating heart.

“Power and fear have more in common than you might imagine,” Minho whispers as he finally pulls his hand back into his lap.

“All my time in the military, I was heralded as some sort of prodigy thanks to my skill with guns. Be it pistols or rifles or snipers, I understand them on a fundamental and mechanical level, to the point where I could tell you how far a bullet will travel before it begins to drop. I could tell you in numbers how much force is behind the recoil on a sniper or how a silencer affects the handling of a gun. I never felt powerful with that knowledge though. Not enough to feel fear in the same breath at least. But for the life of me…” your breath stutters momentarily, just enough to let you think over what you’re trying to get at, “I cannot explain how I can do such a horrific thing with apparent ease.”

“Does that make you afraid of hurting those closest to you? Those you care about, those who trust you, who put their faith in you and hope their survival is guaranteed in their hands?”

“No, I know I wouldn’t hurt them in any way.” You push force into your tone intentionally, with the hope to squash what it was he was implying you would do the last time you sat in this chair across from him. He does not give the reaction you hoped for, however — an acknowledgment of your forced honesty — and rather, you get a cat-like grin that pulls the corners of his lips upwards until it’s unsettling to look at.

“Do you fear yourself, Y/n?”

“Not in the sense that — I don’t fear that I will physically hurt the people close to me because I have a power I don’t fully understand. But sometimes I can’t shake the feeling of a heartbeat that is not mine on my fingertips, or I can’t unhear the sound of a thumping heart beating in my eardrums.”

“You fear becoming a slave to your own capabilities,” Minho concludes for you. Part of you is wildly grateful he took it upon himself to finish the thought because admitting it would only add to the weight bearing down on your shoulders now. “You fear becoming a monster.”

Pressing your lips into the thinnest line you can manage, all you can do is offer a series of meager little nods to confirm his suspicions.

“Y/n, tell me, when something you consider to be bad happens, do you hear and feel that heartbeat?”

“I imagine I do, but I’m certain I mistake it for my own from time to time.” Your fingers draw the fabric of your pants into your palms again, squeezing tight until you can feel your nails biting skin through the material. “Is there a word for that? Some diagnosis out of one of your long books and manuals?” You did not intend for so much sarcasm to push through your tone but it slips in nonetheless. Minho doesn’t so much as bat an eye at the attitude you send his way and instead pauses as though he is truly mulling over your senseless question.

“We in psychiatry ought to aim to help patients adjust to their current mental states. If the bad outweighs the good, then we determine treatments accordingly. If there are goods that cannot be had outside of that mental state, then we ask the patient to determine what’s best. Within reason, of course, we ought not to let anyone harm themselves with their own decisions, intentionally or otherwise. However, more often than not, the patient is the one best suited to figure out the right dosage of medications or treatments or therapies needed in order to maintain a good and healthy life. In my seat, from where I stand on this side of the dilemma, it is easy to preach to you, the patient, about how you should choose. How you lead your life, what medication you should take, to slap labels on you and tell you that definitively this — whatever the diagnosis we find is, I mean — is what is wrong in your head. Manual after manual, book after book, the list of articles grows day by day with new names for things that perhaps do not even need a name. Y/n, I will not place a name to whatever it is you are suffering with on any given day. Each individual case, patient, person should be treated separately, without a manual or an article or some doctor halfway across the universe telling me that there’s some title to slap on you. What you are is a human being who deserves the respect of being treated as such, not just another tick mark against the name of a disorder that may encompass your symptoms at a given point in time. Is that agreeable to you?”

This time the sigh you let out is one of pure relief, and the lingering discomfort you felt from being in this position with the doctor dwindles further.

“Refreshingly agreeable, yes.”

Minho dips his ear to his shoulder as he smiles less crudely than before. “Then, shall we dive deeper into that head of yours now?”

•─────⋅☾⭒☽⋅─────•

“I don’t want to go back after this.”

You look up from your bag to face the man who’s just spoken, and when you lay your sight on him, he’s sitting at the edge of one of the beds.

“Sorry?” you echo mostly out of confusion.

He lifts his chin and finds your gaze with wide brown eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you would resort to saying that he looks innocent of all wrongdoings in life.

“I don’t want to go back to Eros. Don’t want to report to some stuffy military official, don’t want Hyunwoo to give us a lecture about how we weren’t the perfect little soldiers, don’t want to keep doing things for people I don’t give a fuck about.”

Setting your bag aside, you move to sit on your own bed and face Jisung only after curling your fingers around the edge of the mattress to ground yourself. What version of Jisung will come out of this conversation is an absolute mystery to you as of yet.

“Aren’t you sick of it, Y/n?”

Despite the urge to shrug and wave off the question, you at least know better than to risk upsetting him this early.

“Defecting would be worse for us.”

“Us? So you feel the same?”

“I’m entertaining the idea for the sake of this conversation, Jisung,” you state in a rather flat tone. The mattress dips a bit further under your grip. “I’m content with the way things are. Who else is there for me to be loyal to? I’m well fed, taken care of, have protection—”

“All of that is only guaranteed if you give your loyalty and freedom in return.”

Your lips draw into a frown.

“Deserting is a good way to make sure freedom is never an option for you, Jisung. We have to stay until we’re twenty-one, those were the rules when we entered this line of work.”

“Letting fourteen-year-olds decide their own fates for the next seven years is bullshit too!”

“But it was a stipulation you knew upfront,” you counter. In a twist of irony, you’re the one losing patience here first. “I’m not saying that it’s ideal or fair, but risking the rest of your life because you’re tired now isn’t ideal either. We could wait, Ji… wait until we’re of age and can leave freely. I don’t want to be in the military forever either but I don’t want to lose the rest of my life because of a lack of judgment as a teenager.”

“You willingly lost the first fourteen years of your life because of the military too, Y/n!” Jisung gets to his feet now, in a flash of anger, and you glare his way with waning amusement. “You’re gonna give them more of those years too? Risk dying for them? Just to possibly guarantee some shred of faux freedom that they dangle in front of your nose?”

“Ji—”

“They make you stay on Eros after you leave, you know that right? You can’t even leave the system, let alone the fucking planet! That’s freedom to you? You don’t have to work for them anymore, sure, but you’re stuck under their noses so they can keep you pressed right under their thumbs for the rest of your life anyway.”

“Hyunwoo would throw you to those so-called rats for even entertaining the thought of treason! Do you think I want to see that happen? You’re one of us too, Ji, you are part of our team. Our team is our family. This is who we have. We agreed to stick together, we decided this for ourselves, and we committed to this together. I’m not doing all this shit because I love the man we have to call king, but I am doing it because it’s for the good of the people I care about. I had imagined you thought the same?”

“Those people would sell you out for a paycheck, Y/n. If I commit treason, then they’re throwing you in my court. We don’t have the golden ticket as they do — I’ve killed too many innocent people, and you’ve been a complicit player in my crimes for too long.”

You move to get up from your seat as well but Jisung crosses the short distance between the two beds before you have a chance to get balanced. It doesn’t keep you from being the one to make the first move, however, and you swing the back of your hand across his face without hesitation. Still, you knock yourself right back to where you were seconds before, pushing a wave of shock through your system in the same breath. Jisung remains frozen in place, no doubt out of disbelief.

“You want me to martyr myself for you so desperately that it’s made you beyond delusional. I’ve been loyal to you partly out of pity, you idiot, because without me, you would have been strung up in the streets by now. I know my place in our team and in our department. You play with your little toys, and I make the kill shots. Part of me believes that you only kill those innocent people in my name because you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that I need to be protected. I protect you. I protect myself. And I will protect our family when the time comes. You decide now whether you’re included in that group of people or not.”

“And I will do whatever must be done to get us both out. You’re the coward. You’ve let them taint your mind and make you believe that leaving is a crime.” He drags his fingers across your cheek, pulling your chin up to look at him better, but all it does is earn him a glare. “You’ll see it one day, little lady. I promise you that much.”

The man before you has never taken responsibility for a thing in his life, though. Asking him to do so now would be an impossible feat at best. In fact, if you were in the business of making wagers, you would bet that Jisung would only admit fault at death’s doorstep.

•─────⋅☾⭒☽⋅─────•

“I can’t believe we’re losing so badly to a child,” you say under your breath even though said child is staring right at you from across the table. Jongho shakes his head almost imperceptibly as he looks over the cards in his hands before placing them face down on the metal with a shaky sigh.

“This is the fourteenth time in a row, and I’m not even trying to let him win against me.”

“Fourteenth?” You glance down at your own hand but the sight is dismal at best. There is much on the line, however, and it sits in the center of the table between the three of you now. The last handful of gourmet chocolates that Jongho had been stashing in his room all this time without even mentioning their existence to you. You’ll be damned if you lose out on some fucking chocolates to a child, even if he is a master at the art of poker. “My hand is terrible. I can’t even lie about it, it’s so fucking bad.”

“Be glad you can’t see mine because I don’t think either one of us is walking out of here with even a tin foil wrapper.”

Luca raps his knuckles against the metal table and drags your focus back over to him. He lays his own cards down on the table with a growing smile, gesturing to Jongho in a way you still don’t fully understand or know how to read yet.

“He said we can team up against him and split the chocolates if that gives us a better chance,” Jongho translates to you moments later.

“Oh my god, he’s gotta have a flush of some sort in that hand.”

“I’m not splitting the chocolates. They’re my chocolates!”

You sputter over air at the adamant defiance coming from the man and whip your head in his direction to stare him down. He’s insistent on not looking back at you, much like a child acting as though what he cannot see cannot hurt him. You’re of half a mind to whack him upside the head but you also don’t need to be giving Luca any bright ideas either.

“You’re about to lose all of them! Why not just settle for losing half!?”

“I have some pride, Y/n, there’s still pride left in me even after all this!”

“You’ve lost fourteen times in a row to someone who is less than half your age. There is no dignity or pride or anything left! This is about getting even just one chocolate!”

“I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

“When he pulls out a straight flush—”

Luca grins from ear to ear as he turns his cards over, and one by one you watch your hopes of getting even a bite of the sweet treat sitting in the middle of the table dwindle into nothingness.

“—and look at that, it’s even worse. A royal flush! How’s that pride now, asswipe?” You reach over to pinch Jongho’s earlobe between your fingers, yanking him down a bit as you tug on the skin.

“In one piece because I didn’t split shit with you!” comes his equally immature retort. You’re only interrupted by Luca knocking on the table once again. Except when you both look up from whatever petulant fight it is you’re having, it’s to witness an almost pitiful scene of Luca placing a chocolate between the two of you. He makes a few gestures in sign language that you vaguely recognize but still wait for Jongho’s confirmation to come through. “…he said we can split the chocolate.”

“This is so embarrassing. Where did you learn how to play poker this well?”

Luca offers up a shrug and nothing else. He’s quick to take the bowl of remaining chocolates into his little hands, however, and hops up from the bench seconds later. Before completely turning away from the two of you he bows at the waist, smiling with both rows of teeth on full display.

“Thank you,” he says with one hand before using the same one to wave goodbye. “See you at dinner.”

You aren’t cruel enough to not return the kindness to him, but you do keep Jongho’s ear firmly pinched the whole time.

You release your grip on him at last once Luca is fully out of sight, letting him finally sit back on the bench more comfortably.

“It’s about time for his meeting with the good doctor,” Jongho explains as he rubs at the reddened skin you left behind. “They’ve been meeting every day since Minho got here I think.”

“When you said he steamrolled you in cards, I didn’t think you meant he was good.”

“Yeah, well,” Jongho sweeps the wrapped chocolate over to your side of the table, “I warned you.”

You scoff at nothing in particular as you do your best to delicately open the sweet, pressing down on it with your thumbs until it snaps down the middle.

“You shouldn’t have bet every bit of your good chocolate if you knew we would lose that spectacularly.” With a sigh, you pass over half of it to Jongho before popping the other into your mouth. “We can get more once we land though, right?”

“Yeah, but god knows what they sell down on Gorgon… I’ve never been myself.” The Berserker nudges you in the side with his elbow as he chews. “Have you?”

“Been to Gorgon? Can’t say that I have either. Nothing I’ve heard about the planet is particularly—” you wave a hand through the air to accentuate your point as your expression turns into a grimace “—pleasant, I suppose?”

“No, but Vida in general is nothing pleasant.” Jongho frowns when he looks down at the table with cards strewn across the surface. You press your lips into a thin line. It isn’t all too difficult to realize why he’s saying such a thing — not when Auriga lies within the same system and several thousand kilometers away from where the ship is drifting onward to its target. Even at such a distance, it’s enough for discomfort: a concept you understand wholly because the mere thought of being in Aurum made you ill. Mingi, too, may understand this feeling on a fundamental level the way you do. It’s hard to forget the fallout that came from Wooyoung mentioning Kebos by word of mouth. “It’s uncomfortable but that goes without saying.” Jongho passes you a smile, one that comes as a result of sensing the pang going through your heart right at this moment.

“It brings back memories I’m sure,” you say under your breath. You reach a hand up over the table to lay it atop one of Jongho’s, pressing your fingers into the gaps between his fingers.

“Lots of unpleasant ones. But it’s funny to think that of all the people on this ship, all the criminals living side by side, the one who is probably wanted by the most amount of people there on Auriga is me. Every kind of person in my hometown probably remembers my title and remembers my name in some capacity. Captain has done a damn good job of avoiding Vida for so long. I know he wouldn’t bring us here without good reason, and I suppose that I can only be grateful that whatever he’s after isn’t on Auriga. Still. It’s tough being back here still.”

“How long has it been since you were last there?”

“Ten years. Actually probably eleven at this point.” Jongho exhales through his mouth. “I’ve been running from this for a decade, and it’s still not enough time to feel at peace with what happened. I thought that—”

It’s hard to look at his face, even the side profile that you’ve got an angle of, solely because of how deep his pain is etched into the features there.

“Everything is much louder here. It makes me think… I should’ve been gentler with Mingi when we were on Kebos, or even Seonghwa when we were on Dorado. Was it loud in Aurum?” His voice is barely audible by now. He turns his hand in your grip, shifting just enough for him to curl his fingers further around yours and cling to you in an act of desperation.

“Terribly so. Horrid, wretched, terrific loudness. It’s like deja vu but your body remembers the exact feelings of agony you felt when you were last there.”

“Yeah, I get it a lot more now that we’re so close to Auriga. And I know our reasons for being on Dorado were certainly not good ones — and nothing that happened there could even be considered close to decent — but at least there, I don’t know. Part of me felt happy to be back. I mean, I worked in some random dive bar there for two years after leaving Auriga, and that’s where I first heard of Hongjoong and his crew. That’s where Hongjoong found Seonghwa too. I was there the night Seonghwa approached Hongjoong and asked to join his crew, remember being in the back of the bar and watching it happen like it was yesterday. It felt like returning to the place where things started when I know in reality that place is home. I wonder if Seonghwa views the place solely as something tied to the worst parts of his past or the start of his future.”

“I think that one day… you can see Auriga as the place where your future started too.”

“What place is that for you?”

“In a cramped box in the cargo bay?” you offer, partly as a joke but also because you aren’t sure what else to choose. Jongho snorts.

“We would’ve started the same then.”

“When you joined — or I guess, snuck aboard rather — was it on Dorado?”

“Oh, yes, but probably not when you’re thinking. I didn’t try to follow them that time I saw them meet. And Hongjoong avoids going there unless absolutely necessary. We’ve been back maybe three times max in all my years of being here. It was several months later that they returned briefly for business to get a few more hands on the crew for an operation. Captain and Seonghwa came through the bar I worked at, and I overheard them talking about going to Aegos for a quick warehouse raid, so I smuggled myself into cargo and they brought me aboard. You’ve heard that fun bit though.”

“San was the one who found you too, right?”

You don’t get a response straight away; instead, Jongho inhales and puffs his cheeks full of air as he looks towards the ceiling.

“Yeah,” he says after the silence starts to drag, “yeah, but he was very different back then. I don’t think I mentioned that last time I told you about being a stowaway.”

“How so?”

“He knew I was there for a while, maybe three weeks? Rather than getting me out, he would come through the cargo bay and taunt me. For the first week, he would bring a gun down there and shoot into the boxes around me, threatening to kill me. He knew where I was but he would avoid shooting me because he — wanted to see me come out? I think that’s what it was. He wanted me to come out and beg for my life. He got in trouble for damaging the goods, but what’s even more strange is that when Hongjoong came down and confronted him about it, he had the chance to out me. Instead, he said he was bored and needed target practice. Week two, he would sneak into the cargo bay and at that point, I had gotten out of the box I crammed myself in and made myself a little cubby down there to stay hidden. San would come in silently and scratch at the walls of the boxes around my hiding place. Some days he would sit at the entrance and stare at me through the darkness without saying anything. It was fucking creepy as hell, but when he finally started trying to speak to me in week three, I realized that he just… didn’t know how to communicate well. I remember feeling almost nothing from him at the time like he had no emotional aura whatsoever, and that freaked me out more than anything. It was like dealing with someone who hadn’t had a normal human interaction in his life. He wanted to help me but he wanted to make sure that he could trust me first. So he would threaten me and try to scare me to see if I would snap.”

“He wanted to protect his crew…” you mutter, and Jongho shifts to nod several times.

“San was their first — Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s very first crewmember. As much as Seonghwa is so prominent in the decision-making and plans that Hongjoong makes, San is right there alongside both of them. He’s so much more crucial to so much of what we do as a crew than anyone likes to let on. San will deny it outright if you ask him, and Seonghwa will try to cover for him to keep scrutiny off San, but Hongjoong never fails to remind us that San has the same authority as Seonghwa does in many circumstances.”

“Were you the second then?”

“No, I was the fifth. But something happened one of those nights while I was down in the cargo bay, and the other three crewmates who were there at the time never showed up again. I’ve got no clue what happened to this day, and nine years have gone by without me even daring to ask. I do remember an awful smell wafting down the corridors, and I remember smelling it for a long time even after I officially joined the crew.”

“You never asked about it?” you inquire, but Jongho just throws up a shrug and shakes his head.

“I think the only reason Hongjoong didn’t kill me on the spot for being a fuckin’ stowaway is because something happened to those crewmates. I was never gonna push my luck asking about it.”

You hum, crossing your forearms on the table. Your thoughts are running wild with theories and questions about what could have happened that night Jongho speaks of as you rest your chin atop your arms.

“How did he find out you were there? Was it San?”

“I think he started to notice how often San was going down to the cargo bay, especially after those three disappeared. There was no one else for him to keep track of, and he had already warned San off going down there weeks prior, so it was pretty much inevitable that he would eventually come down at the wrong time. And he did. He saw San talking to what looked like a wall of boxes, and San scrambled to cover for me and say that it was nothing. By then, he’d agreed to help smuggle me off the ship at the next stop on Mensa. It was the day before landing that Hongjoong caught us, but it turns out he knew I was down there the entire time because San had told him I was there. Hongjoong didn’t give him any orders solely because he wanted to see how San would handle things himself. San almost killed me in a panic because he thought he did something wrong in Hongjoong’s eyes by sparing me, but Hongjoong said he never intended to hurt me. Even gave me credit for having the balls to sneak onto his ship, though he wasn’t very well known back then. I got an ultimatum similar to the one you got, I imagine. Carry my own, I could stay.”

“Yeah, that sounds quite familiar.”

“I didn’t want to stay though. Told him outright too.”

“Huh? What?” Jongho laughs as you reel on him. “You really did have balls back then. He throws a hissy fit and a half every time I so much as disagree with him.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to get to Mensa. Since that’s where Hongjoong was headed, I told him I’d be off at the next stop. And you know what he did?”

“Something stupid?”

“Changed course to fly to Yuki hours later and said that because I decided to smuggle myself onto the ship, I wouldn’t get what I wanted right away. I would have to either wait for the next chance to get to Mensa or I would get off at the next stop and find a way there myself. Funnily enough, I ended up sticking around. Only thanks to San! He still holds that over me too.”

“Has Hongjoong ever gone to Mensa since?”

“Not even once,” Jongho answers the question without having to think twice, and it does leave you to wonder how often that eats away at the corners of his thoughts. “As much as I harbored a nasty grudge towards him at first for changing course, it changed as time went on and I became actually rather grateful he did. I wasn’t even close to ready to face what I was after on Mensa, and even now I don’t want to. Maybe after I’ve made peace with what happened on Auriga, I’ll be able and ready to go there.”

“I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to set foot on Eros again. Bounty not included.” Jongho cracks a smile at that, leaning over to nudge you in the side with his elbow. Granted, Ghost of Eros doesn’t hold nearly as much vitriol as Traitor of Auriga, and you aren’t dense enough to ask what he did to earn such a title right now anyway. If anything, you hope he can find some ounce of comfort in the knowledge that he isn’t alone in feeling the way he does, and that not being ready to face such a massive part of his past is nothing to be ashamed of. “It sounds like things were a lot different back then.”

“They were. San has gotten softer over the years, Seonghwa has gotten a lot colder. From the start, his emotional aura was so hectic in ways I’d never experienced with Elitists. As time went on, he gradually mellowed it out and got it under control. I can’t tell if he simply learned how to play the part so well that it’s indistinguishable now or not.”

“Has Hongjoong been this way forever then?”

Jongho purses his lips. He’s quick to busy himself with the cards on the table, pulling them all into a pile to organize nicely, and it implies that you may be toeing an unspoken line here.

“Hongjoong is Hongjoong. That’s all there’s to say about it really. Everyone’s changed in some way over the years. Mingi and Seonghwa the most, I think. Wooyoung and Hongjoong the least.”

You wish you could know who Seonghwa was before Hongjoong in many ways, but that is simply asking for the impossible. With a sigh, you push yourself up and away from the bench to get to your feet.

“I gotta wash dinner dishes, so I’ll see you later?” Jongho hums without looking back at you, and you lean over to pinch the underside of his bicep in retaliation.

“Ow! Hey, would you quit abusing me?!”

“Would you quit ignoring me?!” You pinch harder just to prove your point, earning a firm whack across the thigh as Jongho swings an arm back at you to counter your childish attacks.

“Yes, I’ll see you later, woman! We fuckin’ live together, it’s not like you’re going off to war,” he grumbles. You let out a dramatic gasp, one far from needed but very much so worse egging Jongho on a wee bit further.

“I’ll start one with you if you’re not careful, you little shithead!”

He fully turns to smack you now but you’re almost just out of reach, leaving his hand to glance across your ass instead of your thigh this time, but you severely underestimated the amount of force behind his swing because it stings.

“If you get an earful from San tomorrow because you hit my ass too hard, I’m gonna have no sympathy!” you shout over your shoulder, and Jongho returns your quip with an audible gag.

You aren’t expecting anyone in the kitchen when you walk in, which is partly why you’re still laughing to yourself as you cross the threshold, so finding the silhouette of another person in there already when you arrive is nothing short of shocking. You cut your laughter short with an inhale as you take the figure in, a quiet apology falling from your lips before you can contain it.

“No need to apologize.” Seonghwa’s hair is neat today, parted down the middle and longer strands pushed to sit behind his ears, but those dark purple, almost bruise-like circles still remain under his eyes. “I slipped in earlier, I’m sorry for not making myself known — I didn’t want to interrupt your time with Jongho and the child.”

“Ah…” you exhale, unsure of what else to say to the man.

“I already took care of the dishes, so you’re off the hook for today. I came to prep breakfast for tomorrow.”

“You’re cooking in the morning?”

“Yes, with Wooyoung. He asked to help.”

Even with the easy out, you don’t move from your spot by the sink. Seonghwa doesn’t budge either, clearly waiting for you to make the next move or say anything that might dispel the awkwardness now hanging in the air. It hasn’t changed, you note, that tension lingering between you two. Talking through what happened, discussing his mother, fucking each other in the presence of your own lover — it resulted in a cold shoulder and the same icy air as before. So what good was it all for besides fulfilling some cheap desires of the flesh?

“I spoke with Nightingale a couple days back,” you blurt. Seonghwa pauses with his hand flat against the cutting board.

“What about?”

“He told me that Hongjoong took his eye. That San took his arm.”

Seonghwa’s eyes flash with thinly veiled anger, and through the exhaustion, you’re able to catch the glimpse of frustration on his features.

“Some would say that it was San who did both.”

“Some,” you echo, and that’s when Seonghwa catches himself in the midst of his rage and pulls his focus away from your face. “Hongjoong, then.”

Seonghwa scoffs, “Don’t overanalyze what I’m saying, princess. I’m shocked Yeon—Nightingale was willing to pass any blame onto our captain’s shoulders.”

“Am I knocking on a door I shouldn’t even be in front of, pretty boy?” you ask next. The man waits for the words to seep into his skin and settle there before deigning to respond.

“You’re making a home in a house that does not belong to you, though that is not entirely your fault. San has let you in. Now Nightingale has pulled up a chair for you at the table. I suppose all that’s left is for either Hongjoong or myself to open all the closet doors so that the skeletons can fall out.” He squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that it’s painful to even look at. When they snap open again, there is far more ferocity behind his gaze than before. “But yes, this is one of those things I would not wish for anyone to know. Yet if not for those things, how would he have become the Scourge of the Black Sea? Where would his Lieutenant of Death be?” Disgust on his tongue and in his words, you find yet another version of Seonghwa that you’ve not laid eyes on before.

One that despises the man he loves.

“Seonghwa…” A simple utterance of his name nearly breaks his shaky composure. His next smile is a pained one. “Please talk to me, please tell me what’s going on with you these days. Every day you seem worse than before…? Are you not sleeping well? If you truly can’t speak to Yunho, then at the very least I can. Or Minho can. Someone else can if you are in need of help, Seonghwa, you’re—”

“It’s all catching up to me.” His tone cuts through yours, and you’re almost grateful because you weren’t wholly sure where your train of thought was even headed. “All at once. I thought — that I was already past the limit, that I already broke enough. At no fault of yours, Y/n, there are things I had thought that I came to terms with that are now rushing back in ways I am not ready for. I am uncertain if I will ever be able to mend my relationship with Yunho, Nightingale being among us is bringing back wretched ghosts of the past, and Hongjoong is so sickly engrossed in a game that I can’t stomach watching him play any longer. It used to be that I thought Hongjoong was draining me of my life in a twisted way because he wanted me dead but now I—” when his breath catches in his throat, a tear rolls from the corner of his eye and down the slope of his cheek, “—I must truly be a fool. I must truly have lost my mind after all this time. Whether the man I see in the mirror is a monster of my own creation or the expectations I fought to meet to be my captain’s lieutenant, it does not matter. Because regardless, I can’t distinguish Seonghwa from the Lieutenant of Death anymore. I’ve played this role for so long that it’s consumed me. How am I supposed to come to terms with that?”

“Hwa…”

“Y/n, I do not need anything from you, I promise. I will not try to take more than what I’m given again. And I-I am so deeply sorry for pushing myself to accept San’s offer because it was — it was something I wanted so desperately, please do not take my words for anything else because I did want to be there. I was happy to even be considered for such a thing and yet I could not take my mind away from a past that is long gone.”

When your expression contorts, Seonghwa reaches a hand in your direction. You disrupt his path to your arm by laying a hand down on the counter and squeezing it into a fist.

“Whenever we speak, you say these sorts of things. That I’ve done nothing wrong but we can’t be close again. That you want me and it’s okay for us to want each other, but your want is only a result of chasing something from your past. You want to hold me at arm’s length so desperately but you agreed to fuck me? Knowing what happened the first time around? Did you only fuck me because it reminded you of Hongjoong?”

“Y/n, do—”

“Because you couldn’t keep his name out of your mouth when you were balls deep inside me, then had the audacity afterward to chastise me like I was a child for wanting to understand San better! You treated me no better than a warm hole to fuck, and I’m sorry but the adoration I felt from you that night did not feel directed at me in the slightest. I’m thrilled that I could be a fitting substitute for you, Seonghwa—” sarcasm drips from your tone like venom at that “—and I was never after anything more than pleasure but I cannot be faulted for feeling slighted when it was clear that I was a placeholder for someone else in your head. Perhaps the fool is me for hoping that being intimate again would do anything for us because whenever we try to talk through things, you put up a wall that’s impossible to climb and — and I’m still attached to you, I still care for you, part of me still loves you which is why it’s agonizing to watch you try to give your heart to a man who clearly does not have the same care in return!”

“You were never after anything more than sex but you hoped it would change things?” Seonghwa matches the fire in your tone with an anger of his own as he steps towards you. Brows drawing together quickly, you watch his face turn into a scowl before he continues speaking. “How fucking hypocritical. I could tell you everything but even that wouldn’t make the slightest difference in the long run. You’ve planted yourself so deeply in hating Hongjoong that the moment anyone shows an ounce of care towards him, you consider them to be stupid fucking idiots. I’ve dedicated my life to this man, Y/n! I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like him! He gave each person on this crew a safe space and a home when they had nothing and no one to turn to. Yes, I’ll admit it if you truly wish to hear the words from my lips — the whole time I fucked you with San, I was thinking about Hongjoong. I was thinking of when San and I had Hongjoong in the same position you were in years ago, but you sat there above me and looked down at me with a hatred in your eyes that you reserve for Hongjoong alone. So don’t pretend to be some sort of saint when you were doing the exact same thing as I was. Only one of us had good reason to do so, what’s your fucking excuse?”

You push away from the counter to try to escape the conversation, stumbling over your own feet. All it does for you is corner you further, pressed up against the metal as Seonghwa closes in on you. It’s a sick game of chase that you can’t get away from thanks to both his height advantage and the ease with which he clears the space between you.

“I would tell you everything of the things Hongjoong has asked his two hands to do in his place over the years, and you would be horrified by every bit of it I’m sure. But I will not give you reasons to justify your disdain for him. You do that well enough yourself.” Seonghwa’s voice drops to a whisper as he traps you between his body and the metal counter. His hands come down on either side of you right as you try to move to the side, and your hopes of escaping now are hopelessly foiled. “I hope you hate him even more now, Y/n, knowing what he had San do to Nightingale. I hope Nightingale lied so nicely about his part in things, about his hand in his own destruction, that you’re blinded by your hatred. I pray that you fall apart at our captain’s feet so gloriously that no one can pick up the pieces because then… then maybe you would understand me. Hate him to the point of obsession as you’ve clearly already pushed yourself to that point. Did it feel good imagining his dick inside you instead of mine? When your hatred turns to infatuation, I’ll be sure to tell you all the ways in which Hongjoong has orchestrated the destruction of your psyche since your arrival here.”

“If your aim is to become a monster, Seonghwa, then you are doing a fine job at it,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“Isolating yourself in San’s corner of this crew is a foolish and dangerous mistake too.” The words bring a scoff from your lips instantly.

“Why? Because he’s on your level? He has as much power as you do? Or because he’s known of your being a Siren all this time? Because that’s another tally of things you lied to me about! You wonder how things could possibly fall apart between us when so much of what we built ourselves on was a lie, when I poured my heart out to you about how I truly felt about San, you stood there and said nothing of any of this!”

“And I told you that I still loved Hongjoong.”

“After lying to me about it the first time we discussed it!”

“I guess we have that in fucking common then, don’t we? Lying about wanting our captain? Was it between your friends’ deaths that you were first dreaming of wetting the captain’s dick?”

Seonghwa’s body lurches as he’s thrown away from you, and he brings a hand to cradle his jaw almost immediately. Your knuckles burn from the impact you’ve just caused — a firmly planted uppercut to his face in a blind rage that you barely process. His words sit heavy at the forefront of your brain all the while, as your chest heaves with adrenaline that won’t settle. The first angry thought to arise is one that almost makes it past your lips. Something petty and nothing kind in the slightest, a dig at him aiming to accuse him of jealousy, but you withhold it now.

“As much as I am angry with you, trust and believe that I am far more disgusted by myself, Seonghwa.” With a flick of your wrist, you shake out your aching fingers by your side. “To taunt me for it is a new low for you, however.”

“And I hate myself for many things, Y/n, but I would not have you hate me for those same reasons. That is why I do not wish to share those things with you.” He pulls his hand away from his face, brushing over one corner of his lips that now sits split and glistening with blood from your thrashing. “I do love you though, for whatever that’s worth. I’m sorry that’s… I’m sorry.”

Unspoken words, empty promises. You wish he would choose some level of honesty about why he’s feeling this type of way towards you now. Whether it comes from a place of bitterness or jealousy or that disdain for himself that he just mentioned to you. You don’t care which it is; having some fraction of truth from him would be better than what he’s presenting to you now.

You feel violent again. The crawling urge to hit something or ram your head into a wall — whichever will hurt you enough to push the thoughts right out of your brain.

“I’m sorry too,” you say instead, quiet and reserved in comparison to what you just did not too long ago. Seonghwa lets you pass without issue this time as he settles back against the closest solid surface and nurses his lip further. You wonder if he will add this to the list of reasons as to why he loathes himself so wholly and completely.

There’s one thought on your mind as you leave the mess hall, heading in a direction that is opposite to initial instinct. Perhaps a bit predictable in the route you’re now taking to reach the bridge, it doesn’t stop you from continuing on said path. Alongside that, you have the intent to put your lingering anger to use, along with the concern that if you go back to your room and see San there now, you might unintentionally sling your anger in his face without him doing anything to warrant it. You can only hope to find the man you’re after there, and the mere realization that you’re chasing him down with Seonghwa’s accusations burning hot at your heels only serves to deeper your rage to a point of no return.

Hongjoong is both right where you expect him to be and where you want him. Your steps are slow as you approach his makeshift throne at the center of the bridge.

“I know what you did to Nightingale.” There is no use in announcing yourself in any other way; the sooner you address this and hurl your disdain at the man, the sooner you can return to the pleasantness that is your room. But Hongjoong simply turns his head towards you and stares. “Everything Seonghwa said about you was the truth. You aren’t capable of any sort of remorse.”

When the man doesn’t respond, you let your gaze flit to the figure at his side. Tall form, lanky build, kind features, and a gentle expression of confusion on his face, but not an ally right now. This is not Seonghwa (though you aren’t even sure he would be an ally to you at this moment either); this is Mingi, and should you earn the ire of your captain here and now, it might reward you an early grave. If it were San by his side, you wonder how different things might be.

“I believe you are recalling what San did to Nightingale.”

“What you ordered him to do.”

Hongjoong’s lips twitch in amusement. He shifts in his chair and folds one leg over the other while regarding you with the same humiliating expression, one that tells you he finds your outburst more humorous than serious. If not for the Berserker by his side currently, you aren’t sure you would be able to keep yourself from stepping up there to deck the man in the throat.

“I told him to keep Nightingale occupied. How he chose to exercise that order was up to him.”

“You murdered the man’s entire crew before taking his arm and eye. After subjecting him to psychological torture for months!”

Hongjoong stands abruptly, bringing your thoughts to a stutter that reads in the way you step backward once.

“Tell me you were so disillusioned by my hand of kindness, Y/n. Tell me you truly believed I was a gracious man. Tell me you painted an image of me in your mind that was benevolent, so that I may bask in that glorious misconception while I pleasure myself by my own hand at night.” The words revolt you so much that your face contorts and nausea creeps into your gut. You can’t bring yourself to conceal the emotions either, and Hongjoong takes them into his palm instantly with glee. His lips twist into a sadistic grin that showcases a row of white teeth. It twists instantly into something horribly childlike: a pout that pulls the corners of his mouth down and makes his eyes turn doe-like. “You do this to yourself, resisting and playing games like this with me. Submit to me, Y/n, so that this may be easier for everyone involved. San told me he warned you, told me you now know that he has gone to great lengths to defend you from my ire, but what more can I forgive? I have demanded respect from you—” his arm shoots out to point one finger towards your face “—respect that you swore you would give! Yet here comes our righteous savior with her sword of mercy intent on murdering me atop this hill I stand on, for what?”

This is far from the first time Hongjoong has been angry with you. Yet this time his rage takes a different tone: a calm storm that sweeps up everything in its path without cease. His tone carries weight to it too, and a loudness that makes your ears ring. His hand remains stagnant and extended as he continues with his tirade.

“For what? So that you can save these people? Rescue them from me, Y/n, I beg of you, see what good you can do for them. When you return to me in two days' time with blood on your hands, I will share no sympathy.” His hand careens toward his own chest, stabbing hard at his torso, yet even that doesn’t seem to phase him. “You come before me to spurn my name, to excuse the choices your beloved lover made, but that man is my dog! Do you wish to know how I made that of him?”

You shake your head, indignant in your silence. He does not accept your refusal.

“I made him kneel, Y/n! And I will do the same to you if you refuse to treat me as your captain.” Hongjoong turns back towards his seat and flops down on it rather unceremoniously. You only dare to lift your chin and look at him once you see one of his legs fold over the other in your peripherals. “Should I treat you like a dog too, Y/n? You sure do seem to love barking.”

The grin he gives you is borderline maniacal, and even though there usually isn’t much of a difference in your heights, he uses his leverage even while seated over you now to his utmost advantage. Leaning over the empty space between your bodies, Hongjoong reaches a hand towards your face — a sweet illusion that diverts his true intention of dipping that same hand down to clasp around your throat before you can think to act. His smile drops into a scowl in the blink of an eye.

“I do wonder — if I put a collar and leash on you, would you finally behave as intended?”

You can hardly breathe with the grip he’s got on your neck, and he only squeezes tighter as he continues his tirade against you. For every inch of flack you have given this man about his title as the Scourge of the Black Seas, you find yourself wrestling with a deeply seeded terror in your gut now. That he might actually have had enough, that even being a Siren is not valuable enough, that he will kill you where you stand now.

By the grace of whatever outer being is watching over you, Hongjoong decides to spare you and throws himself back in his seat once more.

“If she will not do so willingly, make her kneel, Mingi.”

It seems harsh to think of the man who has extended a hand of comfort and kindness towards you so often doing such a heinous thing. Mingi seems to agree with that sentiment judging by the look of horror that sweeps over his face.

“Insurrection is intolerable amongst this crew — I have warned you time and time again. Do you think I would so easily allow another mutiny to happen right under my nose? I will snuff out whatever flame you are trying to light with this pathetic show, Y/n. Whatever seeds you tried to plant in San’s mind will not take root.”

Mingi takes a step down from his spot on the platform, and your heart plummets to your toes.

“Mingi…” you trail off as you stare at the man’s face, desperate for any sort of reprieve from him.

“Do as asked, Ghost. I do not wish to use force on you.” He shakes his head slightly, as though a warning to stop things where they are now, but you cannot accept that defeat so easily. It is simply not in your nature.

“If Seonghwa were here—”

“Seonghwa would whisper pretty words in your ear as he pushed your face into the ground with his boot, princess!” Hongjoong hisses through his teeth. Fitting how he did something so similar not long ago. “You think these men have more loyalty to you than to me? That giving them your body is enough to martyr yourself for their faith?” Mingi lays a hand against your back and shoves you forward as gently as he can manage. It still manages to send you stumbling solely because of how distracted you are by Hongjoong’s words. “You have humiliated yourself enough before me. Consider this not a punishment but merely an extension of that kindness you believe I have.” Mingi’s presence at your back urges you to take steps forward until you run out of space before those steps leading up to Hongjoong’s seat at the helm. It appears that the Berserker is trying to make this pass as quickly as possible, either for your sake or for his own, because a sharp force hits the back of your knees and effectively sends you to the floor in front of your captain.

It is still humiliating, despite what Hongjoong says, and your retaliation is swift. You lean forward to angle your body over the stairs and hurl the saliva that has gathered in your mouth at his shoes. You consider yourself lucky to not receive the sharp steel toe of that boot on your jaw in the moments that follow. What he does do is almost worse, however.

Sighing, Hongjoong props his elbow up on one of the armrests and lays his chin atop a closed fist. His pose exudes a nonchalance you know is merely a farce. Then he extends the shoe you just spat on towards your face and jerks his chin. The gesture seems not to be meant for you as it is Mingi who shoves you forward once more.

“I tire of playing these games with you, Y/n,” Hongjoong starts, pushing his boot into your cheek. The leather is warm on your skin in a way that disgusts you more than the feeling of having your spit wiped across your face. The wetness of your saliva lingers there and drags over your skin as the man wipes himself clean like that. You have never felt lower on the food chain than you do now, before this cruel and sadistic man who grins down at your agony with no sign of remorse. “How far one can go versus how far one should go… I do not see a difference between the two. Whatever I do, it is done for the sake of my crew. You have been given chance after chance to simply accept that. Was killing Hyunwoo not enough of an example? Or forcing you to let go of Jisung?”

Your hands tremble against your knees. He twists his unoccupied arm in a way that showcases the back of his hand to you. Rings adorn his fingers, but that isn’t anything out of the ordinary in your eyes. The gesture is nearly lost on you. Yet just as a retort is bubbling up inside your mouth, your gaze catches on a glint of one of the metal rings. One you recognize, one with a white gem inlaid at the center. It’s the same one that sat on his hand when he pushed your arm through a door.

“I can have you be treated the way Nightingale was when he refused my offer to join this crew and fall under my command. But for San’s sake, I wish to remind you that there are people other than yourself who will suffer on account of that decision. You are the one who came into the care of criminals and pirates, dear. You should have left your expectations in that seedy box of threads you were rotting away in.”

“You made me drop Jisung!” Your wail comes out strangled as the realization sinks beneath your skin and takes hold.

“I freed you of that leech of a man, and the sooner you see that the sooner you will be free of those unimportant figments of your past.” Hongjoong lunges forward all of a sudden, planting both his feet on the ground with a loud thud. When he bends at the waist, he leans between his legs to angle his face in a way that makes him look more insane. “I will dismantle you from the inside out if that is what it takes to demand your loyalty, but I suggest you not keep me waiting that long.”

“Do you even intend to stop at Kebos or was that another pretty lie meant to make me docile?” you spat out at the captain. He laughs in your face.

“What does it matter what my intentions are?”

“You’re — you’re a sick bastard.”

Hongjoong extends a hand to you, taking your cheek in his palm and dragging his thumb over the wet trail he just wiped onto it. His expression is almost fond for a moment, a sort of sympathy in his eyes as he takes in the fat tears welling up and threatening to spill over.

“Look at me.” Carefully, he twists your chin towards him. His thumb traces along the line of your jaw until it rests on the other side. It’s sick, how you find comfort in that subtle touch that holds nothing more than a faux mercy meant to appease you. He pulls you ever closer until you are forced to lay your hands on his seat, left with no choice but to grip the small fragment that he isn’t occupying between his spread legs. Your gaze flits down to the soft pink of his lips, the gentle curve to them now that they’re resting in a neutral expression, and how the tip of his tongue pokes out to wet them for only a second. “Listen to me.” You have no choice but to do as told. His fingers pinch inwards until they’re no longer resting against your jaw but now dipping into the flesh of your cheeks and gripping hard enough to make your mouth pucker. “Call me whatever pretty names you like. Curse me and spit on my feet if you so wish. Whatever hatred you harbor against me only pleases me further. You may hate me, Y/n, but you can not disrespect me. I have killed my own men for less. Siren or not, San’s lover or not — your timer ticks ever closer to zero so long as you continue with these charades. I will have you obey, and you will respect me all the while. Do I make myself clear?”

You swallow and nod roughly to the best of your ability, but it isn’t answer enough for your captain. He grips your face tighter.

“I will not hesitate to humiliate you further before the whole crew if I must, Y/n. We can make a spectacle out of it. I would quite enjoy it, in fact. Now, do you understand?”

Bile climbs up your throat.

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” The syllables come out enunciated, and his underlying anger makes spit fly through his teeth.

“Yes sir.”

“How quaint,” Hongjoong laughs as he pulls his hand up from your cheeks to your hair, digging hard into the roots and yanking you back from your perch. “I was only looking for you to acknowledge your captain by his title. But sir? Don’t be fucking presumptuous.” He thrusts his hand against you hard enough to throw you back, and you land at Mingi’s feet where he still stands a little ways behind you. A flare of panic arises in your gut as you process his presence and the knowledge that he is hearing every word from Hongjoong’s lips. “Take a long hard look at yourself, Y/n. A woman who was just on her knees before me. Pliant, obedient, with no control to call her own. Isn’t that where you belong, Y/n? My pretty weapon, my pretty Siren, my pretty treasure.” Treasure. It feels wrong to hear him say that of you. It is not a title meant for you, after all, not in the slightest. “Now escort her out and fetch Yunho for me. I wish to have him in my room.”

Mingi answers the call without hesitation. His fingers close around your upper arm, and he hoists you to your feet in the same movement, gripping you with enough force to bruise. Somehow, it feels as though he is saving you in some odd and twisted way. He pulls you from the bridge with a sort of haste that doesn’t leave you any chance to look back over your shoulder at your captain. You are thankful for it. He only slows his steps once the two of you are far away from that room, yet his hand doesn’t leave your arm, grip only lessening slightly.

“Ghost.” His tone remains soft despite how it cuts through the palpable tension. “I apologize for being present for all of that.” A laugh escapes, one that sounds awfully dry.

“What can you do? Say no to your captain?”

“I will not speak a word of it to anyone. Nor will I share any of the contents of what he said to you.”

Ah, yes. The bit about you being a Siren, most likely. Unless Mingi has also been made privy to the ins and outs of who is what here on the ship too.

“He means w—”

“You do not need to defend him to me, Mingi. I understand your bond with him and what he means to you. I only ask that you understand that it is vastly different for me.”

“Why do you stay? If you do not wish to be under his command?”

“I made a promise to someone dear to me that I would not leave.” Wooyoung, Seonghwa, San. But why are you here? Solely to help a man you despise achieve his goals?

“And that is enough to subject yourself to something you do not feel good doing?” For a moment, you believe the man to be mocking you before you catch his tone and find genuine confusion in it. He is merely asking a question — nothing more, nothing less.

“That’s love, Mingi. Love and devotion both.” The Berserker stays quiet for a few more moments.

“…I see. Thank you for telling me.”

You let him guide you the rest of the way through the corridors, pausing as he does when he stops you both in front of a door that is not your own. His hand falls away from your arm as soon as he knocks, however, and the two of you nearly look normal standing outside waiting for Yunho to come greet you. The healer looks tired like you’d just woken him from slumber when you came calling for him. You opt to be the one to break the news to him.

“Captain wants to see you in his quarters.”

“He wishes to — what for?”

“He wishes to have you in his room, Healer,” Mingi clarifies for you, leaving you to roughly swallow around nothing and avert your eyes from the man’s face. “Promptly.”

“Ha… of course he does.” You hear the conflict in Yunho’s voice and glance up quickly to catch the tail end of his grimace. He nudges his way past you without bothering to even collect shoes from his room.

“Don’t listen to him,” you say through your teeth, as though it’ll have any impact. Yunho pauses.

“You of all people should know that that is quite impossible to do, Y/n. Would you deny San?”

Love, as it turns out, is the cruelest master of all.

“As strange as it may seem to you, I have been waiting for him to ask after me desperately,” Yunho continues, though his tone holds more shame than anything positive. “Maybe if only to prove that he still wants me in some capacity. Please do not tell me to leave him alone. Do not judge me or spurn me for going to him. You would do the same if you were in my shoes. If he needs me, then I wish to be there for him. Not because he is my captain but because… well, I’m sure you know why.”

She wields a knife so sharp that one slight cut would have you bleeding out across the floor in mere seconds.

Yunho steps away without another word and leaves you at Mingi’s side in the hallway.

Love and devotion both.

“Today… Ghost, today you made a very patient man angry.”

“That is what you consider a patient man?”

“Ask yourself what your defiance is really for, and why you find it necessary at all.”

“For the sake of the people I do care about, Mingi. I don't have to accept shitty leadership and the hand of a cruel and manipulative man when I know they’re suffering too.”

Mingi draws his lips into a delicate frown. He shakes his head.

“They are all happy under Hongjoong’s leadership, Ghost. What he does beyond being our captain… I cannot account for that, or for what suffering he has put Lieutenant and Healer through behind closed doors that do not involve him acting as Captain. But whenever he wears that mantle, everyone is content. It may seem egregious to you, I understand, but I am sorry to say that of everyone, you are the only one to be suffering.” Mingi buries his hands in his pockets and eyes you without saying anything for several seconds. You shift under his gaze, arms coming up to hug yourself. “What are you trying to save them from, Ghost? The suffering you’re inflicting on yourself? You saw what you did to Spectre that night you were arguing in the hallway — that was you, not Captain.”

“I know that. I know where his loyalties lie, it’s not that—”

“Then why are you trying to fight it?”

“I can’t just — j-just leave?” Your voice turns choked midway through the sentence, leaving you to fight the sudden tightness in your throat and chest.

“You could though. That love and devotion you speak of… I understand that I do not feel it in the same manner that you do, but if you are genuinely so miserable here under Captain’s command, would those people you love and who love you in return truly want you to remain in a place that makes you feel that way? Would they not wish for you to go find your happiness elsewhere? Even if it came at the cost of losing you, does love not beg for sacrifice?”

“I am too selfish for that, Mingi,” you whisper. Mingi pulls a hand free of his pockets and reaches out to lay it on your bicep, over the place where he gripped you so harshly earlier. His touch is gentle now, and he drags his thumb across the abused skin like he hopes to heal the damage he caused.

“I do not wish for you to leave either, Ghost. Our crew has changed in many ways since you arrived, and your fight to allow me my sense of freedom did not go unnoticed by me. I trust our captain with every fiber of my being, as does everyone here on this ship, and perhaps we have grown too complacent in allowing some of his more cruel acts of justice. That does not equate to us being miserable and suffering under his hand though. People make mistakes. Captain does feel guilt, and he does feel remorse over his actions. It’s just that he does not let you see that. Please do not judge him too harshly for the things that he does. Please understand that he is trying to protect the crew, his people, and his family all at once. The more you resist, the more you try to do what you did with Spectre that night, the more agony and strain you are placing on all of us. You do not have to agree with us, but please at least respect that this is our happiness.”

You offer up a series of rather pathetic nods but deep down you do understand every word he is saying. You cannot find the line between truth and a distortion of it for the sake of Hongjoong’s manipulation, but you decide (albeit questionably) to take Mingi’s words at face value. If he is lying to you now, or if it is all just a product of Hongjoong’s convoluted tactics, you will have to deal with those consequences later on down the line. Mingi squeezes your arm gently.

“I hope you are able to find your happiness too, Y/n.” In the back of your mind, you think perhaps Mingi is too kind, and he leaves you at the doorstep to your room without saying anything further.

It catches up to you the moment you lay your hand against the touchpad outside your door. Limiting the series of very unfortunate events to a simple… it is both generous and inaccurate on many levels.

San is where you expect him to be upon opening the door: propped up against the pillows with the lamp on and a tablet in his lap. You can’t see exactly what he’s doing but you do hear some residual noise coming from the speakers. He glances up to pass you a smile. Neither of you says a word. You wonder what emotion paints your features. You wonder what is going through San’s mind as he sees you. You wonder whether there will be a day when you wake up in the same bed as he and his loyalty will outweigh his feelings for you.

You wonder a lot of things it seems, and none of them are pleasant.

You take the fast track to the bathroom without bothering to wait around for San to speak. It’s as you’re splashing your face with freezing water and trying to rub away the lingering residue of both saliva and Hongjoong’s boot that he makes an appearance in the doorway.

“Is everything okay, love?”

Heaving a deep breath, you brace your hands on the counter and look up from the sink to find him in the reflection of the mirror. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest and dressed for bed as usual. Your gaze catches on yourself in the glass. Bloodshot eyes and tears rushing to join the water you splashed over yourself. The lie on your lips dies as you see yourself.

“I cannot bear to be humiliated by the captain any longer.”

When your lip wobbles, he shushes you and moves to join you by the sink. You don’t move as he twists the handle until the water stops or when he grabs for a towel. There aren’t any words exchanged while he pulls the towel over your face and sops up the mess you’ve made, but frankly, you aren’t sure what else you could say to drive your point home. San seems to be biting his words though, and it only takes one look at him to know that he has a great deal he wishes to say. He waits until he’s dried everything in sight that’s been touched by water to turn to you, setting the towel aside in favor of taking your face into his hands.

“I warned you so kindly, Y/n. Please do not do something that both of us may regret. Isn’t it easier to just do as asked?” His thumb glides over your cheek where he cradles you so gently.

“It’s pretty clear that I have a bad track record of doing that.”

San lets out the air from his lung and leans back to look to the ceiling.

“Back when you first joined us, back when we were in Echidna, you asked to be treated this way. You asked to be a weapon for Hongjoong. If that is not what you want any longer, then you only have to tell him as much. You have never asked to be anything different, have you?”

“There’s not one position on this crew that would see me getting treated fairly!”

He remains silent as he brings a hand down to clasp over yours and leads you out of the bathroom. You let him do as much without complaint mostly because you’re fighting to keep your breath from spiraling out of control and into hysteria.

“Come on, star, let’s lay down, yeah?”

It almost feels like any other night the way you crawl into bed with his hand resting at the small of your back before he slips in under the covers right behind you. He pulls the covers up over your body as you turn over to face him. The fight you’re trying so desperately to win slips through your fingers the second he pulls you into his chest and wraps a warm hand around the back of your head where your scalp is still stinging from the abuse Hongjoong put on it earlier. The tears come more freely then, and as your body shakes in San’s hold, you cry into the fabric of his shirt without relent. The comfort he offers is enough on its own, and you curse yourself for craving something more, something physical in place of kind and reassuring words.

“Please just try, my darling,” he whispers against your hair.

“I’m terrified of waking up one day to you asking to take me to the brig,” you choke out through sobs. Even though it’s muffled by his shirt, San still hears every bit of your words. You can tell that much by the way his grip tightens on you.

“I promise that won’t happen. I will fight that with all my might if I have to, I will not allow that to happen.” You can’t seem to find reassurance in the words at all though, and a burning pain sears its way through your chest as you choke on your cries.

“Why did you tell me that story? Why would you do that, why would you say that, why, San?”

“I wished for it to be — I didn’t want you to find out through someone else. I needed you to hear it from my lips before anyone else’s.”

“Why did you have to do that? Why, when he’s not even staying with us forever? You could have kept it a secret, you could have not told me, and I would never have known. Why did you have to m-make me—” a sob interrupts the thought, and you feel lips on your forehead, “—why did you have to make me doubt your feelings and intentions?”

“I’m sorry.” His breath is hot. When you try to lift your chin, he refuses to let you see his face. “I’m so sorry.”

His hands glide down from your head to your hips, and it’s with a gentle sort of coaxing that he maneuvers you onto your back. You cling to him desperately, leg pulling up to hook around his body so that he cannot even think to leave you now. The gesture urges him between your legs as you succumb to the desperation you’re feeling for something more. The tears fall more readily like this. You sling an arm up over your face to both shield yourself from view and to sop up the liquid with your sleeve.

“Star…”

“Please tell me you love me, even if it’s a lie.”

“I do love you,” he cries as he pushes hair from your eyes. “Are you sure you want me to…?”

“Please, San, I need you — I want t-to feel you.” Your hands can’t find a place to rest, jumping from his arms to his collar to clasp around the back of his neck like you’ve done so many times before by now. You know how San loves and how that love manifests; at least, you imagined that you knew all this time and now you’re faced with a crushing reality that that might not be the case, yet here he kneels, ever so desperate to prove his adoration to you now in the way he knows best. It makes you feel less torn about wanting him even while your heart is wrecked with emotion.

“I’m sorry, star,” San murmurs into your skin. He leaves a path of wet kisses along your arm, and when his cheek brushes along your skin, you feel a moisture there that is surely not from his lips. It pains your heart tremendously to have him crying above you like this, but deeper than that, there is some sick and twisted part of you that finds joy in the fact that he is feeling the pain you’re experiencing now, that he is tasting the bitter medicine of what he wrought on you. Perhaps you do understand Wooyoung better than you thought, perhaps you can feel the way Seonghwa ripped his own heart out to become a monster for the man he cherishes, why Yunho still chooses to walk into the lion’s den with his head held high — what kind of love hopes for suffering?

San moves down your body with kisses and tears both left in his wake. He whispers words into each bit of skin he can reach, tugging at your neckline to lay his tongue on your heated body before letting it snap back up into place.

I’m sorry.

I love you.

My darling, my star, my divine.

When he slips under the covers and takes your underwear to your ankles with him, his trembling fingers inch your legs apart to make space for himself there. He lays his tongue against you there too, at your most sensitive spot, and moans join the chorus of cries that won’t cease. Your body quivers at the stimulation like a chill passing through your whole system before he settles into a steady rhythm with his lips pressed into your sex and his tongue seeking something deeper. You feel his words again in his movements.

If he’s truly pretending, then you hope he acts the part for the rest of your life.

San pushes a finger against your walls alongside his tongue, and a second follows so quickly that you don’t have a chance to catch your breath. Desperate, you reach your unoccupied hand down through the sheets to find the top of his head. Your fingers tangle in his dark locks, and he moans into your cunt like a man possessed.

A moment of clarity pushes its way through the haze of arousal. San cannot be faulted for his loyalty, even if it pains you. You do not wish for him to suffer, not even for a second — if you did, then why would you have gone to such great lengths to keep him from doing exactly that time and time again? The man you truly wish to see suffer, the one you want to see in agony with his chest torn open, is none other than Hongjoong. At the end of the day, he is the cause of the cracks between you and San, the rift that grows too large to ignore now, and you wish to see him pay for it in full. A crueler thought enters your mind, but it cannot take a firmer root with San’s tongue pressing your further open to allow his fingers to curl deeper inside you.

Your nails bite at his scalp in ways that must sting and burn, but when you close your eyes, it’s Hongjoong’s face you see behind your lids and between your legs rather than your lover’s — a curling hatred that serves to deepen the pit already formed in your stomach. It disgusts you in many ways, makes you want to crawl out of your skin and scream, because as much as you despise him and everything he stands for, there will always be some part of you longing to satiate the curiosity for good.

Hongjoong was above you earlier, boot pressed into your cheek as you sat on your knees before him with no relief in sight. How much would it take to reverse the roles and have him in such a humiliating and debasing position? Beyond that, if he made good on his promise, what would that look like for you? And how deep are you willing to submerge yourself just to find out?

Isn’t that where you belong, Y/n? My pretty weapon—

He hums against you, and your thighs tremble around his head. Your fingers flex and curl in his hair like a heartbeat. It’s rampant, a speedy ba-dum ba-dum that matches the one beating in your chest right now. You wish to know how his sounds too.

—my pretty Siren—

His tongue leaves you, fingers remaining firm in their place along your walls as he rolls the pads over your sweet spot. You do not need to see his face to know that he is smiling; the curve of his lips is pressed to your clit.

“My treasure,” comes a breathy exhale from the man under you.

—my pretty treasure.

It’s enough to make you come undone, back curling up from the bed as an orgasm rocks you from head to toe. Disgust joins the euphoria just as quick, before you’ve even come down from your high, and the realization it brings with it makes you want to vomit so badly that you gag around nothing. San is quick to move with concern for your well-being no doubt, and it allows you the chance to roll onto your side until the spasms pass and you can breathe easily again. You don’t move from the fetal position you’ve taken, nor does San try to make you. He simply adjusts himself to lay at your back and molds his body around yours with an arm draped over your waist and fingers wrapped loosely around one of your wrists.

It’s as you’re falling asleep that you feel the soft pressure of lips against your head, and the words that follow make the lump in your throat swell to a point where you fear you might choke around it.

“I promise you that my love has never been and will never be a lie, Y/n.”

It leaves more questions unanswered than the opposite.

His love alone isn’t everything, and there is no confirmation that nothing he has done has been done with bad intentions. Or on account of external forces or voices telling him to do things outside of his control. You can only wonder which parts aren’t included under that umbrella and ask yourself if it’s worth ignoring for the sake of what happiness you have.

Mingi’s words ring loud in your ears.

Ask yourself what your defiance is really for, and why you find it necessary at all.

You think, as the room begins to fade into black and sleep settles in, that your will to fight is nothing more than a dull flame about to be snuffed out for good.

•─────⋅☾⭒☽⋅─────•

“Now, we will be here for quite some time regardless of how long the mission takes. This is vacation time, free time, time to rest and relax off the ship before we head back out into the thick of things.” Hongjoong speaks from in front of the airlock, dressed in his more formal captain’s attire down to his steel-toed boots. “We’re offloading cargo as usual, and we’ll be staying in the city across the gorge for our entire stay, but you all are more than welcome to pick up goods as you see fit. It would be quite hard to run us totally dry of funds. As for the mission, I’ll be taking a few of you with me, and it may require us to spread our time dedicated to the mission across several days. We won’t begin until two days from now, however, and you all will still have ample time to relax like everyone else. Mingi, of course, I would like you to join me.”

The Berserker in question passes his captain a nod from where he stands at Hongjoong’s side.

“Jongho, you as well, I wouldn’t dream of doing this without you. And Yunho, you. You’ll be my right hand for this mission.”

Seonghwa is staring at the back of Yunho’s head so intensely that you think Yunho’s head would catch fire if possible.

The airlock rolls to the side, and for the first time in weeks, you see and feel the fresh air. Hongjoong moves to the side and motions to the door, lips still pulled tight into a smile that leaves you thoroughly unsettled. Seonghwa is the first to step out of the ship, with Nightingale close behind him, and everyone else is quick to follow. You remain rooted to the spot not by choice but on account of San’s hold on your hand as he stays put until the other crew members have made their way out onto the planet. You take it as an act of politeness until your gaze shifts to settle on both Mingi and Hongjoong, who have not moved from their spots either.

“And you, Y/n,” Hongjoong calls out through his ever-present smile.

You jerk your head in San’s direction in the hopes that you will see some sort of shock present on his features. Instead, you receive a squeeze around your hand and a nod that seems to be encouraging you.

“You will be my left hand for this mission. Let’s see how tight I need to keep your collar, shall we?”

You do not reward him with a retort today. San guides you out of the airlock and into the new air, both your gazes stuck to the scenery around you the second you step out.

The gorge ahead is beautiful beyond belief, and in the distance, you catch sight of your destination across the chasm. It’s a city built into the side of the cliffs with buildings of reds and gold that stick out starkly against the endless green around it. Green water pours from the sides of the rock in many places, filling the air with the noise of rain, and it cascades down into the lake of green far below where The Horizon is now docked. Your transport is not far from the station though it is surrounded by the hustle and bustle of workers and visitors alike who have docked just like you have.

Hongjoong’s voice rises once again from behind you, loud and clear to address the whole crew.

“And remember… gas masks stay on at night.”

────────────

a/n: i sat and stared at this for like 17 minutes trying to figure out what in the world to say after this doozy of a chapter! first, hi. hello. how are you. welcome to act seven. it’s pretty unreal to be at this point honestly.. i’m so excited though i hope you guys are just as excited!! let me know your thoughts feelings and etcetc the one question i have for you all: was san calling her ‘my treasure’ something fully intentional or just happenstance?

but also just from me to you.. i want to say thank you to everyone who still reads and sticks around and is willing to be patient with me as i write. that means so much to me, i’m so so thankful, and there aren’t words for how thankful i am that people are willing to still read my story!! so thank you!! 

next up on the docket is actually an interim :3 a hongjoong centered one :3 i know i said i was done with them but... brain worms win this time!

also! survey/questionnaire is still open here (of course not a requirement but it would be immensely helpful to me!)

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Let Me Heal You!- Natasha Romanov XFemReader!

Synopsis: Natasha won’t let you do what you do best, but that’s not a surprise.

Warnings: mentions of wounds and blood, stubborn Natasha, mutant reader, implications of torturous past, slight mind control, fluff at the end ofc.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: I think this is totally canon. Let me know if you want to see more Natasha! All likes, comments, and reblogs are welcomed!

© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved.

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

“Alright, the files have been uploaded. Everyone get back to the quinjet!” Steve went over the comms.

‘Oh thank god.’

You let out a sigh, relief finally started to come back as you finally threw the last few Hydra agents away, the relief gave your powers an extra kick knowing that they could rest soon. You really didn’t care where you sent them, they were just lucky to be alive.

You turned around and began to journey back outside to where the quinjet was parked. As you rounded the corner, you nearly collided with Clint. Instinctively, you threw a punch to protect yourself, and he instantly dodged it.

“Woah there, Y/n. We’re all on the same team now, right?”

You sighed again, “Yeah, we are. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to see you there. I’m on edge and I’d really like to get out of here.”

You didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary. You already knew that this place would mess with your head later and frankly, you were expecting that.

“Alright, no worries, we’re not too far now.”

He took the lead and you followed behind him. He navigated his way around each turn as if he’d been here before, you easily could’ve been the same way if you weren't so distracted during this mission’s briefing earlier in the week.

The pain and exhaustion started as soon as you saw the jet waiting for the both of you. You weren’t too worried about the pain or the cuts, you're an incredibly fast healer thanks to your powers. The only good thing that came from those experiments.

“Let’s go, I’ve got a padded seat calling my name.” Clint said, referring to the hours he had spent on the roof of a neighboring building to keep a look-out.

“I’m going, I’m going. You’re not the only one that wants out of here.” At this point, you were only a few yards from the jet but it still felt so far. “Are you alright? You don’t look too banged up.”

“I’m fine, just a few bruises.” He shrugged and walked up the ramp to the quinjet, instantly slumping into a seat.

You just nodded in acknowledgment, if there wasn’t anything for you to heal then you're good to sit too.

Only a few moments after you sat down, the rest of the team came from their respective areas and found their seats. Tony made his way straight to the front, still suited up.

You were guessing that he’s fine, just a little ticked off and ready to go back to the compound. You did a quick headcount, just to be sure no one is left behind.

“Everyone on and good? Good.” Tony instantly started the jet and initiated takeoff.

“How is everyone? Everyone doing relatively okay?” You asked, scanning over everyone.

Simple nods and a groan or two filled the jet, “No one is missing a limb right? That, I can’t fix.” You felt a little bit better about the situation when you heard a few chuckles.

It wasn’t much but some laughter helps.

You did another scan over everyone, this time you were sure to look extra hard at their injuries. Everyone had superficial cuts that would heal in just a few days and some bruising.

Your eyes landed on Natasha finally, You'd admit that you did look over her harder. It definitely wasn’t because she was your girlfriend and you wanted to tend to her first, not at all. But something was off.

She had her hand over her abdomen and was sitting at a weird angle. Her stoic spy expression was on her face, not a tired expression that she usually has after missions.

To anyone else, this is fine, she is fine. But you're not anyone. She may be a highly trained spy but she couldn’t get past you. You know her better than that.

You walked over to her and sat beside her, she shifted but it wasn’t to be closer to you. She moved to be sitting straighter but her arm didn’t move. Yeah, something wasn’t right.

“You are okay, right?” You asked even though you knew the answer.

“Yup, I’m fine.” That’s a lie. For a spy, you’d think she could lie to you better than that.

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m your girlfriend and it’s hard for you to lie to me. So, I’ll ask again, are you okay?” You were a little more stern this time.

She sighed, “I’m fine really, it’s just a scratch.”

“Uh huh, let me see it.”

“No.”

“Natasha.”

“I’m fine!” She kept trying to insist.

“Are you kidding me?”

She side-glanced at you, “What?”

“Something is wrong and I know it, so, you might as well show me now so I can heal you.”

“Y/n, I’m fine. Really.”

You sat beside her, staring at her face. You would’ve kept eye contact but she was staring ahead at the floor.

The one thing about her, you can’t break her. You know that for a fact, and of course, you know why. Your squinting glare, an attempt at intimidation and persuasion, did absolutely nothing. You weren't surprised though.

Neither of you moved from how you were sitting, and in no time you were all back at the compound.

As soon as you were safely docked, she instantly stood up. You noticed how she tried to hide a wince, and that's when you knew for certain that something was wrong.

Natasha was one of the first people off the quinjet, and if you know Natasha, which you do, you know that she’s going straight to her room to shower.

Well, she was going to try to. You used your powers to make her walk to the Med Bay.

“Really, Y/n? I am completely capable of walking myself.”

You continued to move her forward, “Oh I know, I’m just guiding you where you need to be.”

Natasha groaned the moment she realized where you were leading her. You opened the door and made her sit on an exam bed.

“Sit.” She tried to get up when you released your powers. “Stay.”

She rolled her eyes, “I am not a dog.”

“Good, then maybe you’ll listen better than one.”

Bruce walked in behind you, he had stayed behind so he could have the Med Bay ready for anyone that got injured on the mission.

“Let me see it.”

“Y/n, it’s nothing, it’s just a small scrape.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Then let me see it.” She didn’t move. “Do I have to do it myself?”

She finally gave up, “No.”

She moved her arm. And that's when you saw her suit ripped open and her side was bleeding.

“Nat, that’s not nothing! That’s a bullet scrape!” You moved towards her so you could heal her, but she put her arms up to stop you.

“Let me heal you!” You just wanted her to heal, or to at least stop the bleeding.

“No! I’m fine! Bruce, tell her I’m fine”

It definitely wasn’t the worst injury you’ve seen her come back with, but it wasn’t small either.

He looked around you and saw the wound, “Uh well-“

“Never mind!” She thought Bruce, a trained medical doctor, would side with her.

“Babe, please, just let me heal you.” You tried moving towards her again.

“Oh. I’m sorry, is this OUR wound?? No? Then stay out of it.” Why does she have to be so stubborn?

But you knew something you could say that would change her mind, “If you don’t let me heal you, then you won’t get kisses for a week.”

Her stoic face shifted into one of disbelief and concern, “Hold on now, no need to get carried away-“

“So. Let. Me. Heal. You.”

“Ugh! Fine!”

“Thank god! Now stop moving!”

You finally moved to her side, You looked at her and nodded so she could be prepared. Your healing doesn’t hurt but it’s still something to be prepared for. She nodded back, ready for it.

Nat wasn’t a stranger to your healing, almost every mission she came back from, she needed you to heal something on her.

Even more of a reason why you'd think she'd be more welcoming to your healing, but Nat would always downplay her injuries.

You placed your hand on her side, she winced a little bit when you added pressure.

You closed your eyes when you felt them start to glow, there was something about the glowing that you just never liked. You didn’t understand why that happens when you heal people.

Your hand began glowing against her skin, the tissue now fusing itself back together. You stayed like that for a few moments until you felt your powers calm to a stop.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw Natasha watching you.

You ignored her look as you looked over the once wounded area. Everything was fine and it was almost like she was never hurt to begin with. Though you have magic, it doesn’t prevent scarring. However, it does make it significantly better than it would be if she were to heal and scar on her own.

You backed away and grabbed a cloth, wiping your hands clean from her blood. That is the one thing you’d never get used to. And you never, ever, want to get used to it.

When you turned back to face Nat, she still had the same look on her face.

“You know, I like when your eyes glow when you’re healing.”

“What? Why?” you were so confused, you had never liked it.

She lightly shrugged, “I’m not sure, I think it just makes you that much more beautiful and unique.”

“Okay, I think Banner needs to check you for a concussion.”

“No, I mean it. I really do like it.” She put her hand in yours.

“Really?”

She nodded, “Really.” You smiled at her assurance. “Now I need to shower, care to join me?”

“Is that even a question? Absolutely.”

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @sgelessoanddoveykissing

[blackstarchanx3new]

How do you draw up your comics so quickly? I've been wanting to get into making comics myself, but it seems so daunting lol

Was hoping to get some tips on how you draw them so well and so quickly /pos /nf

Omf that's a tough one. My honest first response is "All I do is draw all day" so please don't hold yourself to my standards I don't have anything better to be doing.

Basically it's a mix of stuff:

My art style is simple/character designs are simple. Backgrounds are simple, overall.

STUFF BE SIMPLE.

"Gets the point across" tends to be the idea.

Anatomy isn't perfect, gradients are used a lot, shading isn't always present, I try to limit my color pallets to be pretty small.

I have a bunch saved onto the side bar in Clip Studio. And I have presets like the borders of the panels as a pre-set so I don't gotta make a new one over and over again.

Short cuts are NOICE.

Art wise:

I start with a thumbnail. Just getting the idea/facial expressions of the character down.

Sketching is 2nd step but I have no examples because I delete those pretty quickly.

More similar to this so line art is WAY easier.

I change the sketch's opacity to like 20 ish and a light blue to see it better.

Then I do line art and add a neutral color under it to make coloring easy. I change this to black after ward to fill any gaps.

Add color and ba-bam

I use "Color burn" "linear burn" and Multiply in the layer settings for shading. Just depends on the circumstance.

I guess smth else I do is go by "Chapter" or scenes.

Smth that's helpful for some is writing a script and then drawing your stuff based on that.

Often what I end up doing is writing a script but using it as a guide rather than a beat by beat thing.

Referencing manga for inspiration is smth I do a lot.

Smth I'd recommend doing is making a one shot or a comic you purposely make to be short.

Longer comics are daunting but the best way to deal with that is to complete parts of em. XD It's like going through a video game. Beating each mini boss gets you closer to the final. Like instead of one big project, see it as a bunch of smaller ones.

Smth I do to let off steam from bigger projects is making stupid shit like this:

Like there's no point to it other than to be dumb and funny.

Keeping the story entertaining or fun even while doing a part you don't want too.

Sometimes you will just have to chug through a portion you dislike but is necessary. But staying strong really helps.

Pop on a freakin' YT video and zone the hell out is what I do.

Your art doesn't have to be perfect every single time, my comics at least, are free so anyone who complains is a little bitch.

Just do what makes you happy.

Huge thing to consider: Your art doesn't have to be held to any specific standard.

You don't even have to COLOR that shit if you don't want too lmao. There's no rules. You can color a sketch and post it. It literally doesn't matter.

A specific standard of what every webcomic should be held to is a lie. It doesn't exist. Go feral.

Draw backgrounds. Even if you suck at em. It helps give the world dimension hah.

That's what I've been trying to do.

Use your comics as a way to experiment.

Ghost Soulmate I wanted to try out this weird painter style for the shading/lighting.

In FSR it was trying out a more anime style

Falling Cards is weird character designs + A FAR too ambitious story hah.

Bunny and Kitty was to see if I could do a shorter form story.

Biggest advice would be: Just try smth. You got no obligation to finish smth either. Just try it and see how it goes.

I'd recommend having an idea where your story is going before you start, but just starting ANYWHERE helps.

I tend to doodle my characters before I jump into their comic. Doodle them doing fun stuff before I go into the meat and potatoes of what I want them to do. I often have an ending in mind too before I start. You can fill in the gaps later.

Anyways that's all I got Idk if this was useful or helpful. X'D

[itsasweater]

I'm honestly not bothered by Portwell's shipping Mack and Gina because they are doing exactly what I expected lol. Portwell's have always been very transparent.

I remember posting on here during season 3 if people ship Gina and EJ because they actually like them or if they just did it because it kept Ricky and Gina apart, it certainly seemed like the latter to me. The reason for making that post was because I got the feeling that many Portwell's were just undercover Rini's shipping Gina and EJ together because of the same fact that it meant keeping Ricky and Gina away from each other. I got some responses to that post denying that was case and that they actually really did like Portwell for legit reasons, which is fair enough. However, after the season 3 finale and the way it ended with Ricky and Gina kissing, my suspicions seemed justified because Portwell's started posting the Rini finale kiss from season 1 comparing the two. Even that hqportwell twitter page was tweeting about Rini and Portwell's liking a bunch of Rini posts, the likes are visible to the public people if your account isn't private lol.

Also, after season 3 all I saw from Portwell's was that the show made Gina totally different from season 2 and that she was not the same. Mind you these comments were only made once she broke up with EJ and kissed Ricky, funny that. If you actually cared about Gina as a character and actually understood her you would realize she was not her actual self in season 2. I mean, Gina had a song called Balance in season 3 where she mentions that the real her is going to shine, not the old her (season 1) or the 2.0 her (season 2) but the combined version. Also Sofia even mentioned in an interview how Gina wasn't herself in season 2, she knows her character better than anyone else. Let's be honest, yall only liked her in 2b once she cut off Ricky because it meant she was no longer a threat to Rini. Even during season 3 I remember people shipping Ricky with Jet and Val but once the show started hinting at him and Gina again it changed, all of a sudden it was Ricky needs therapy before he is with someone else lol. If Ricky needs therapy before getting in another relationship because of his home life, why was it/is it not the same for EJ? Is his relationship with his dad not terrible and strained? He should be in therapy as well according to yall instead of being in a relationship. This way of thinking is also very dumb, to suggest that someone who needs or is in therapy can't also be in a relationship or in love.

So, this was a long way of saying that I'm not surprised that Portwell's/Rini's/Jolivia's are shipping Gina with Mack because they have always been very transparent. They don't care about Gina or her happiness, they care about her not being with Ricky be any means necessary. This was obvious by immediately blaming Gina for everything during and after season 3 while believing EJ handled everything perfectly. Once Gina was not paired with EJ anymore, propping him up or giving him more screen time they went back to hating her. I know it can be annoying for some people to see Gina being shipped with Mack but try not to let it get to you, they refused to see or just didn't understand the story the show was telling with Ricky and Gina since the homecoming episode. This fandom has a big media literacy problem.

While I love Rina, Gina is more than just who she is with. I think she is the best character on the show, she is super talented and a star. I'm excited too see the show finally dive into more detail on her home life with her mom and how that has affected her.

I seem to always go on a tangent and these posts end up being longer then I intended them to be lol My apologies. Thanks for reading all of this if you did.

[justmochi]

SLOGAN: Carats are the ones I’ve been waiting for all of my life.

OPENING MENT: “Hello Carats! I’m SEVENTEEN’s Rosie and we’re back once again in Carat Land. We have a really exciting night planned for you so let’s forget about our worries for a while!”

DEBATE NIGHT: Cold food VS Hot food

“Food always tastes better when it’s hot and fresh.”

“Cold food can get soggy and not taste as good as it did when it first was served.”

Pointing out a carat’s decorated ver3 lightstick

Songs that don’t suit the members

Rosie - DINO’s Last Order

TEAM V

Rosie said the group chat (Consisting of Rosie, Chaewon, and Yunjin) be lively when she sends hao’s antifragile practice.

Their trio name is ropurinz

All the members were squealing when Dino did shut down. The first time he danced to it, she nearly fell out of her chair. The second time, while everyone was squealing, Rosie just stood back and smiled at him.

She was proud of him!

Back it up (PERFORMANCE TEAM)

ate back it up choreo

wore dino’s anyone shirt

stylists just cut it up a bit

literally points to her shirt and then does anyone choreo

takes dino’s sunglasses and wears them herself

it’s literally a rave

the hottest rosie that anyones witnessed

when discussing unit reverses to give the other members time to change, they kept talking about rosie rapping

wonwoo: “she thinks she can’t rap but she can.”

“i am not a good rapper.”

hid behind dino with her hands on his shoulders as they showered her with compliments

except even he was complimenting her

teared up when seeing Woozi cry.

sobbed when hearing Carats sing To you

ENDING MENT: Did everyone have a good time? Are you guys tired of us yet? Do you want to go home? It has been so much fun spending time with you today. I’ve been using our time off to reflect and better myself for our carats. There may be times where I disappoint you, where I lose my way. But I ask carats to please be patient with me, stay at pace with me, and trust me. Please just always be by my side. And I know I say this all the time but I want to be an idol that you can be proud of. So I’m trusting you to tell me when I’m not doing well. Thank you for sticking with us all these years, there really is no one else like carats. And to my dear members, I love you guys so much. I can’t see myself living life any other life than this one, having 13 best friends by my side. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I will always follow you anywhere you go. And ummm, I’m not sure what else to say cause I still want to have words left for the next two days. So for now, make sure to take care of yourselves and live happily. Rosiehae~ 

jumpy baby during healing and fighting.

dancing with wonwoo

handed out peach snacks along with valentines day-like cards with sweet messages on them

SLOGAN: I love Carats. Carats are my life.

pointing to dino because their outfits match

OPENING MENT: Hello, I’m Rosie. It is day number two so let’s continue to have more fun, let’s not get tired out.

DEBATE NIGHT: Everything in life is 3x VS Everything in life is 1/3

vernon said he’s minimal which caused rosie to stand up with her hand raised

“I AGREE! 3x is more simple but then there’s ⅓…. Why is it necessary to use such complex math?”

Seungkwan: That’s just you, Jangmi.

“Real and True. But am I wrong?”

carats cheer for her

“3 times more sleep! 3 times more love to share! 3 times more video games! 

“I feel like there’s no winner in this debate, there are so many pros and cons to each topic.”

when talking about dino’s razor, rosie giggled while petting his chin.

TEAM T

teased last order by waving.

dino blushed and had to turn around

“I”ve had this prepared since the first time he performed it.”

“The song is so good!”

Dino: “But she won’t let me see it!”

Mingyu: “She won’t let anyone see. I don’t even think any of us has a video of her practicing it.

when it was rosie’s turn to answer, dino had grabbed her arm and told her that her shoelaces were untied. he tried to slow her down because he wanted her to lose.

had to hold onto seungkwan when dk did pink venom.

was laughing at hoshi’s hamtaro cover so hard that she started crying and had to lay on the stage to calm down

“i feel like hoshi just lost his dignity”

rosie thought the sunflower seed pillow was a penguin until he acted like he was eating it

teased last order a little bit more during back it up

grabbed dino by the collar of his jacket

feeling herself

winks galore

scrunchy face

brushing off her shoulders

hips don’t lie

ENDING MENT: Has it really been two days already? I really am the happiest when on stage, in front of carats and beside my family. It’s really crazy seeing these montages of us when we were just kids. I really don’t recognize myself. When I look at these pictures, [rosie looks behind her and up at the screen] I kinda get emotional. She was such a scared little girl that I wonder how I ended up this way. I really need to give her a hug and tell her everything is going to be alright. It will be rough but it will pay off in the end and she will be her greatest self and most importantly, happy. I hope these words can comfort you too in some way. If you or anyone is going through a hard time, I just have to tell you that you’re doing amazing and I see you. There will be many hardships throughout your life, but just remember that you are the brightest star. You are the most important person in your life and we all have to love ourselves. For the carats here and offline, we love you so much and no matter what you’re going through, we will always have your back. And I’m really surprised I haven’t cried yet because there’s no way that all these words are just spitting out of my mouth right now. So I’m gonna say goodbye for today before I jinx myself. Stay safe and healthy. Rosiehae~~

SLOGAN: Carats are the water that makes Rosie flourish!

OPENING MENT: Hello, I’m Seventeen’s Rosie! It is the final day of carat land. Are you tired yet? No? Good! Thank you for spending your precious time with us, let’s end on a high note!

DEBATE NIGHT: An eagle who can’t fly VS A sparrow that can fly anywhere

“What is a bird without its wings? It’s like Seventeen without Carats.”

everyone cheers for her.

the members praise her so much that she starts getting embarrassed

tries to hide under the table

TEAM T

dino and rosie had to answer at the same time

literally grabbed her by the waist so vernon could get ahead

doing everything for her to lose

tickling her so she fell to the ground

lays there and doesn’t bother to get up

“This is just straight-up sabotage”

“For this, you’ll never see last order”

team t lost

they saved rosie for last

jumping up and down for coups

hyped seungkwan up for the eve

poked wonwoo’s face glitter

“his backpack is so cute”

she got more nervous as all the members took their turn

THE8: “the long awaited, last order”

“well now i’m actually nervous. i don’t think i can do it”

Dino: “you can do it!”

Seungkwan: “rosie can do anything! don’t be nervous.”

her cover is an exact replica of dino

she got his facial expressions and hand gestures

dino didn’t really react the first time she did it.

he wanted to make sure he was paying attention to her every move

all the members stood to their feet when she was done

she was out of breath. and embarrassed

kneeled in front of dino out of pure embarrassment

DK: “don’t be embarrassed! it was perfect!!!”

can’t believe she just did that

and HAD TO DO IT A SECOND TIME

dino sat at the front of the stage to watch her do it again

he was smiling and clapping

rosie proving herself as a member of performance team

dropped to the floor again when she was done

dino kneeled in front of her while rubbing her back

Dino: “it was amazing! it was worth the wait.”

“i want to die”

Dino: “if anything, i should be embarrassed. i didn’t realize i made all those gestures.”

Seungkwan: “you do.”

“yes you do.”

“LETS GO!”

flexing her neck and cracking her knuckles before her part

spoiled some choreo for their comeback

pushed dino’s jacket off his shoulder

threw her gloves to carats

staff are not gonna be happy with her

ROSIE’S LETTER FROM HER MOM AND DAD: Hello, this is Rosie’s dad and mom. We haven’t been able to witness carat land for ourselves yet but I hope our precious girl (and her boys) knows we are watching online with a smile on our faces. Her old man’s korean is still pretty rough but I please bare with me here. We really can’t believe Seventeen is going into their 9th year. It really feels like yesterday that we were getting settled in Korea and sending our daughter off to train everyday. Thank you boys for always watching out for our babygirl. She’s turned out to be an amazing woman that our family and carats love so much. Members and carats, please continue to make music forever and protect our daughter throughout the rest of your journey. Despite what she may think and tell herself, your father loves you and is proud of you. You will always be our greatest achievement in life. Please stop saying sorry to me, I would much rather hear thank you from now on. That’s an order! From Rosie’s mom and dad who love her, seventeen, and carats very much.

the second they started showing their parents messages, she gasped and covered her mouth

teared up reading everyone’s letters to the members

kneeled on the floor with her hands folded

when it got to her parents letter, she swear she felt the whole dome spinning

laughed at her fathers handwriting

because she could tell when her father was writing and it switched to her mothers

her dads is so messy while her moms is neat

lost herself when he told her to stop saying sorry

couldn’t finish the letter and just broke down

she was still crying when they started doing their ments

there was a lot of pent up emotions so she just let it all spill out

as she did her ending ment, she took several pauses to cry and collect herself

even her makeup was running

dk and jeonghan helped clean her face up with tissues

didn’t care that the whole world was seeing her in such a vulnerable state

ENDING MENT: Wow. I really didn’t see that coming, the messages from our families. I feel like a crybaby right now ew. I probably look really ugly right now and for that I am sorry. I’m sorry you had to see me like this. I’m supposed to be a person you look to for strength, but even now I can’t be what you need. Just like you depend on us, we depend on carats love and trust between our members to keep going. I really love everyone in this room so much. It was so hard reading my dads message. The reason why I work so hard and exert myself is to make my carats and my family proud. Especially my dad. I’ve always felt so in debt to him, because our family stems from a line of doctors and I had to be the one to break that cycle. So I always feel guilty and sorry to him and even begin to question myself and my path. And he never expresses his feelings like he did in that letter so now I feel like my hard work has finally paid off. It only took almost a decade but I am content now. I love and miss you mom and dad. Carats, thank you for always sticking by our side and loving Seventeen unconditionally. I love you and I will keep working hard to make you proud. Until my last dying breath. We will see you in April. Rosiehae~

started crying again whens he said rosiehae

her eyes were so red and puffy

hugged each of the members during the encore

the tightest hugs ever

literally the grip is insane

its always awkward when she hugs the members but tonight was different

had a basket full of single preserved roses

handed them out to carats all over the dome

acted like she was going to give one to dino but instead through it to the crowd

did the fighting dance with vernon and dino

a night she will remember for the rest of her life

[archersgoon]

celie disillusionment arc real & true

The Celie disillusionment arc is my personal theory regarding Celie’s life over the next five-or-so years post-canon. It’s mainly the assumption that she’s going to have some sort of upheaval regarding the intersection of her sense of duty towards Lumatere (and Isaboe) and her own personal love for it (and Isaboe, and her family, and Froi in particular), and that this will lead to her souring somewhat on her role in Lumatere’s foreign intelligence and how it impacts her relationships with others. The key assumption I’m making here is that Celie isn’t aware of Froi’s previous role as an assassin, at least not during the events of the main series.

(putting the rest under the cut because it got away from me somewhat)

I argue this for several reasons. First, no one else in her family has been told explicitly. They suspect, Abian and August in particular, but to my memory it’s never explicitly confirmed for them. Regarding Celie herself, there’s this section in Ferragost:

This is pretty clearly not the statement of a woman who knows, first of all, that her brother is in Charyn in the first place, and second of all, that he nearly got killed as a result of this specific action. To be honest, given what she says after the highlighted section, it’s possible she’d think on it very similarly even if she was aware, although in that case I do think there would at least be an aside. Anyway, the implication here is that she is not aware of Froi’s recent actions, though I have no idea what she thinks he’s doing at this point in time.

From here, it’s reasonable to assume that she’s also unaware of his prior extracurricular activities with Perri and Trevanion. It’s difficult to extrapolate any particulars of her relationship with Froi, but she refers to him as a “brother of her heart” in Ferragost, and Abian refers to her feeling something like this towards him during a conversation with Isaboe in the main series, so I’m assuming that they love each other quite dearly, even if they’re not very up-to-date on each other’s lives.

The other relevant piece of information upon which the arc is based is this:

While Celie is careful not to include her own thoughts on the matter, she’s Isaboe’s man through and through, and as such does come off as backing her in this situation. The question I ask is this: what happens if the half-truth she gives Celie isn’t enough?

Isaboe is Celie’s closest friend. She gives her truths she gives no one else (except maybe Froi; see QoC chapter 10, although I am not getting into the implications of that right now, see this post). Their friendship is just different and more special than the rest of Isaboe’s friendships. It seems that if Isaboe was going to be completely honest with anyone, it’d be Celie. We know that’s not the case, but I don’t think Celie does. At least, she hasn’t really confronted what it means, that her best friend would (and does!) lie to her if she deems it necessary.

Anyway, with those establishing bits out of the way, let’s get on to the actual meat of the piece: post-canon Celie. From here on out I do a lot of speculation, you may very well disagree, it’s literally fine.

I mentioned it before (here) but what I basically think is going to happen is a gradual ramping up of Celie’s responsibilities as a spy in Belegonia. At the end of Ferragost she did technically come under suspicion, but given that they found nothing and people don’t really like Banyon all that much anyway, she can probably play it cool, albeit after a period of low activity to allay any suspicion. Once that happens, she’ll probably start passing information north on a very regular basis (maybe they’ll even give her someone else to work with). I mentioned it here, but post-canon Lumatere does gain something of an upper hand in their dealings with Belegonia, which could allow for more active moves on their (and Celie’s) part. I do think, at some point, she’ll be asked to kill someone. Probably not for a while, and it’ll be the result of very careful deliberation (well, as careful as they get – I’m not super convinced this is a strength of theirs), but it will happen.

While she works up to this though, there’s also the matter of Froi. Everyone knows about that scene at the creek. I don’t care; the Monts saw it, the Turlans saw it, the valley-dwellers saw it. Everyone’s going to hear about it. So, he was in Charyn, and Celie didn’t know. She’s quick on the uptake though, presumably she figures out he was sent to kill the king pretty quickly. Went off the rails, but I guess that’s just his loving nature! Not really the behaviour you’d expect from someone who’d been doing torture on the regular though, so at first I believe she doesn’t realise. She thinks the Charyn king was his first serious assignment, because he’s not really suited to that kind of lifestyle. There’s this line in Ferragost, which suggests she’s not familiar with the local extrajudicial program:

Obviously, you can make the argument that she’s just not counting these ones due to their actions, and I think she probably does know about them on some level; but the wording of this really makes it seem like she’s not consciously aware of these things happening.

Celie knows Froi was sent to kill the king, but that seems like it. Except, as time goes on, she finds herself experiencing all sorts of weird and unpleasant emotions that she can’t really name. Finds herself lashing out, or retreating into herself, all this nasty stuff that’s so familiar, yet she can’t figure out why, until… oh. That’s right. Froi used to get like this sometimes, when they were both still living at home. She’d just put it down to his former life back then, obviously he was having trouble adjusting to life with their family.

So, I think she starts putting pieces together. She could probably figure out the general shape of things in terms of how local assassinations work, given her newfound involvement (even though they’d obviously keep her out of the loop as much as possible), and from there it’s not a massive leap to figure out Froi’s involvement. Presumably she discovers the link between that seal she swiped and Froi’s life being threatened at some point. They wouldn’t even tell her that much.

This is the tricky part, because I’m not 100% on what her response to this would be, that is, I don’t think she’d be surprised, by either the fact that he was doing all that or the fact that she was lied to, because that’s how Isaboe rolls, she knows that. Even so, it would be reasonable to assume this is an upsetting realisation for her, because subconsciously she probably assumed that her relationship with Isaboe was exempt from this. It also contextualises her family’s increasing distance from the palace. I guess what it really comes down to, is that they could do this again, and she wouldn’t know. She has three other brothers, Talon’s described as shrewd. Will he be used by the palace for the good of the kingdom? Will he have a choice? Should he have a choice? And there it is. Celie does her duty, always. But she doesn’t see it the same way for everyone. When Banyon has her rooms searched, she has this to say:

It pretty heavily implies that love, or even simply good feeling, should come before duty. At least for Banyon, since his duty is to the Belegonian crown, which to Celie should obviously come second to her duty (sidenote: genuinely, I don’t know what she was expecting him to do here). So, if she wavers in her sense of duty at all, it’s pretty quickly going to conflict irreparably with love for those she cares about (including Isaboe I think). First, her brother runs himself ragged in the name of penance for his past sins. Next, she sacrifices herself on the altar of duty. She says she wants a love like her parents’, at least once, and she’s decided she wants it with Banyon. That is very much not achievable given her current responsibilities, and is going to be entirely impossible once those responsibilities become both larger and stricter. What she wants is locked off from her entirely, and the only way her brother managed to be really, truly happy was to remove himself from the system entirely. There’s that barrier between them. It’s always been there, but it’s truly impassable now, like with Banyon. He cannot compromise his and his family’s interests in the name of Lumatere. I figure she probably resents him for this for a good long while.

So: Celie lost her chance at love (the only thing she says she really wants), and her brother is entirely separate from her and the rest of their family now. Harm came to him as a result of her actions, and she wasn’t told. It seems very likely that the same thing could happen again, and she’d have no idea. What if this time, someone is hurt permanently? Or dies? Any of her other brothers could be recruited at any point, with no hope of reprieve, and there’s nothing she can do about it. She has to kill people without any information on why (that she hasn’t gathered herself). The shine of spying has well and truly worn off. What happens now?

There are a few possibilities here. What I do think is inevitable is a permanent rift between Sayles and the palace. Whether Celie is a part of this is less clearcut, as is the extent of its impact in both personal and political aspects. It’s possible she could just put her head down, be a miserable, disillusioned (ha!) tool of the state, and get on with her job, maybe get married off to some foreign lordling in the future. Or, she could focus on her job, get into it, even the unsavoury bits (this is Celie’s villain arc, for the record). Maybe she starts questioning the entire system. One person with all the decision-making ability and all the information isn’t sustainable and isn’t fair (“No gods, no masters,” – Celina-May of the Lumateran Flatlands). But what I think (well, hope) is going to happen is some variation on this: in the long run, Celie is a lot less replaceable than Froi. Her in with the Belegonian royal family is going to be very difficult to replicate. Therefore, she has some bargaining power. With this, in addition to her deep friendship with Isaboe, I think she can set some boundaries. It’ll probably cost her the depth of that friendship, they’ll never be that close again, but she’ll be able to live. She’ll definitely still be doing the occasional assassination, but the reasoning won’t be as opaque. She could have long-term goals (it would certainly be nice if we could legitimise our own succession laws, and wouldn’t the princess-turned-queen be sooo grateful if we could help her?). Maybe she gets a heads-up if anyone else important gets involved in her line of work. Any risks to the people she cares about? She knows about them. Probably the relevant individuals don’t, but that’s alright. I don’t think Celie’s really happy unless she’s doing something at least a little morally dubious.

[wisp-of-chaos]

Meet the OC - Rerki

Oh boy here we go. The one and only. My probably oldest OC in the pit. My beloved sharkrat and problematic fave. There is so much to tell and unpack here ... you know the drill, OC lore under the cut for ease of scrolling!

... where to start, though. The best course of action would probably be at the very beginning.

Rerki was never meant to be likable or appealing to anyone. My very first thought upon creating her back in the day (in GW1 no less!) was like “… she thinks she’s helpful. Not because she’s a good person but because her logic is somewhere along the lines of Dead people don’t have any problems. Therefore if I kill someone, I help them with solving their problems, which in turn makes me helpful”

And thus, Rerki (aka Kairi Yiuan aka Ritari aka Ruannskr) was born and has been stuck in the folds of my brain for over 10 years now. She has grown a lot; changed appearances and names and even races and transcended fandoms but deep down she always stayed the same.

She kind of developed herself, to be honest; grew a will of her own and stubbornly refused to budge or bow to anything else than her own will. Whenever I tried to do something with (or to) her she didn’t like, I heard that snarky little scoff in my head like *Excuse you? No.” and had to agree that, yes, Rerki was right, and I had to change something instead of her.

Another core idea for her has always been her affliction with white, that each and every design and incarnation of her would be void of any colors and absolutely pale. Which, I think, springs from my very own belief that necromancy (and being tied and connected with the afterlife) is a highly draining ordeal and that life will sooner or later be seeping out of you. Which includes your hair, skin and eye color. For myself, white will forever symbolize death and necromancy far more fittingly than black, and since Rerki started out as a necromancer, that settled that.

Another integral part of Rerki is her necromancy, and I blame this one solely on Guild Wars for introducing me to this class/idea in my youth and absolutely captivating and fascinating me with it. Up to this day, I am utterly enthralled by necromancy and will always pick it as my playing a class in any game if possible.

So much for some overall facts about her, now to get into more specific detail …

Rerki has arguably more bad character traits than good, which was a decision I made on purpose, because as I said before: She was never meant to be liked by people. (Yet here we are, apparently).

Rerki thinks of other people as a bothersome annoyance far below her own intellect, and in most cases she’s right. Given that she’s an asura, she’s a born smart ass and loves to rub it into everyone’s face whenever possible. She is also very fond of “I told you so” moments and will relish them with a self-satisfied smirk and a pointed look.

She loves to learn and study but doesn’t have the greatest patience (read: almost none) and wouldn’t go out of her way to explain something to you. If you don’t get it, that’s on you and it’s not her job to teach you anything so you better look closely and figure it out on your own or get lost. Don’t make the mistake to nag and annoy her about it. You will regret it. For the rest of your life.

Rerki will listen to your stupid ideas. Once. And if you’re too dumb to see the signs of her growing annoyance, she will let you feel her fists with zero hesitation and the only one to blame is yourself.

She is rather standoffish and often comes across as rude and uncaring; tossing around harsh words and sharp truths without sugarcoating anything. The world is a chaotic, unpredictable place and you better grow up fast and develop a sturdy backbone or face the consequences.

Rerki prefers to stay on her own and conduct her experiments and studies but will take the lead if the situation demands it to get things done. Properly and swiftly with whatever means necessary.

Her morals are dark gray at best and she often gets into troubles with the law, but personally doesn’t see the issue in herself. In her eyes, it’s the law that’s wrong.

Rerki seems cold at first glance, but that doesn’t mean she has no heart. She has her very own little moments of vulnerability and tenderness, even when expressed in her very own raw, unique way. The only people allowed to see those moments however are her family and closest friends aka her merry band of unfortunate souls and misfits she collected over the years and which has become some sort of second family to her.

Despite her dismissive attitude, Rerki is very observant and will notice the smallest change in behavior patterns and unusual bearings. She may not always comment on it but will remember it. And possibly use it to her advantage, if pushed into the right situation.

Rerki doesn’t have many friends, but once someone has gained her trust and acceptance; she will do whatever she can to keep them safe and sane – even if that means kicking her friend’s own asses if they need it.

On the other hand, she tends to neglect herself a bit; forgetting to eat and sleep in favor of continuing with her studies and experiments. She also has a habit of throwing herself in harm’s way just to prove a point and is more than just a little bit reckless. (Which was far worse in her youth but as she grew up, she’s become calmer and more levelheaded. She still loves to headbutt idiots to shut them up, though)

Her usual treatment of idiots (or most people in general) is the silent stare of “Are you serious?”, followed by detaching her prosthetic arm and slapping some sense into them. And if that doesn’t help … well, let’s just say she knows how to scare people off. (And how to make them disappear. Permanently, if necessary)

Rerki has a habit of collecting and keeping little trinkets from her hardest battles and most vicious enemies – often in the form of severed and conserved limbs or organs or weapons.

She also has a severe fear hatred for white rabbits. No, she will not elaborate and if you keep pressing the matter, she will end you. For your own sake, never mention it again.

The only living members of her family are her bigger sister Errube and her cousin Dillyn; who work alongside her and the pact as co-commanders. (In the GW2 alteration of her and her story)

One of her most treasured possessions is a human skull she found as a child when she accidentally fell into a hole and ended up in a cursed ascalonian crypt. She claims is speaks to her and guided her out and back to her uncle and sister but nobody ever heard the skull so much as whistle in the wind.

And that … is that. That’s my beloved gremlin girl. She also exists in the BG3/DnD universe as a pale tiefling going by the name Ritari and I may create her siblings there as well. Perhaps. If I have the time and energy to do so. But for now, that is all I can think of at the moment.

Thank you for passing by and reading! And if you have any questions, don’t be shy and let me know, I do so love to talk about her~

And, as a little treat, have some visuals of her:

Firstly as her GW2-self

and secondly a wonderful little artpiece of her tiefling incarnation done by the wonderful @unaarista

[u5an5]

SCP : Sedition - SCP-035 [Tape 01]

<- Previous | Masterlist | Next ->

.

[START LOG]

_Viewing Area_

*Watch walks in to the room. Jacobs, Guards and Class D personel are already here*

Watch: Is this really necessary?

Jacobs: *turns to look at Watch* ...

Jacobs: *turns to Guard, nods* Send him in.

Guard I: *points his gun at Class D* Step back from the perimeter or I will shoot! *Guard leads Class D into interrogation room*

*Jacobs closes door behind Class D*

Class D: Ok. I saw the mask. C-can I go now?

...

Class D: Come on. I just want to get back to my cell! Open up!

...

Class D: Nothing else is happening! What's the delay?

Watch: *turns to Jacobs* It can take anything that looks human, why use a real person?

Jacobs: It gets results.

Class D: What do you want me to do? What is this thing?

Class D: *leans in in direction of 035, looks closer* … Why is it sad? 

Jacobs: <under breath> Gotcha.

Class D: *starts walking towards 035* It looks... Beautiful... So smooth... So delicate... and light...

Class D: I want it on... I want...

Class D: *puts on the mask*

*Class D falls to the floor, writhes and screams in agony*

*SCP-035 stands up*

SCP-035: Thank you boys... it's been too long.

Jacobs: (deep inhale) <softly> I think that's your cue.

[Rest bellow the cut]

*Watch walks into 035s cell. 035 is already sitting at the his own chair*

SCP-035: *stands up, extends arm to shake it* Hello there! Nice to meet you! And who might you be?

Watch: Not stupid enough to fall for that.

SCP-035: *sits down, nods* Absolutely right. So you've read my file. Which must mean the interview ban has been lifted? I never thought they would let me take a host again.

SCP-035: <musing> Funny... I don't remember seeing you before.

Watch: Probably because anyone who has been in contact with you has either committed suicide or died due to the fluids you secrete.

SCP-035: I'm very sorry to hear that, but I can't hold it in forever, you know? When you got to go...

Watch: You throw a tantrum until you get what you want.

SCP-035: And here I am. Only wanting to chat.

Watch: There you are. How long have we got?

SCP-035: Well that depends... How much decomposition can you stand? The last one decayed before the blackout could be fixed. I could melt this bad boy to the bone over a few hours, but you don't seem like the kind of person to see the humour in that.

SCP-035: <musing> Always down.

Watch: Nice party trick. We'll see how these questions go.

SCP-035: A risk taker! I like it.

Watch: Answer them. No grief, no manipulation, and continued interview sessions will be considered.

SCP-035: *stands up, exited* More? Real people too?

Watch: *turns to look at Jacobs* ...Yes

SCP-035: *punches air in excitement and sits down* Ha-ha! Sounds great! I'll hold you to it! C'mon, let's get started! I'm falling apart just sitting here.

_035s cell_

Watch: Why do you insist on contacting us? Why the urgency?

SCP-035: Come on, Watch. You can't expect me to be cooped up here all by my lonesome! I get very lonely! I'm a people person. I need to stretch my legs and socialise- Well, somebody's legs (chortles)

Watch: <flatly> Charming.

Watch: So while you're animated, we might as well have you answer some questions.

SCP-035: All work and no play makes for a dull audience. 

Watch: ...You done?

SCP-035: Sure.

_

Watch: Who was the first one to wear you?

SCP-035: Ah, Iphlicus. I haven't thought about him in so long.

Watch: Good friend?

SCP-035: Mmm. Beautiful, insanely talented, but such an introvert. Lovely family though; two boys and a girl. Wonderful wife. Oh, we made the best unit.

Watch: It's unusual to hear you speak fondly of someone you've possessed, as well as their family. Were you upset once he expired?

SCP-035: Oh, our partnership carried on for almost a decade.

Watch: Don't all of your hosts perish?

SCP-035: Like any good character, I can change and develop through time. Back then, I had a much simpler role than the star you see before you.

SCP-035: (sigh) <dejected> I was sad to see him go.

Watch: What happened to him?

SCP-035: Around 426 BC, we ventured to Crete for a performance and I was... discovered.

SCP-035: <disdainfully> By her.

Watch: Her? *looks at change of 035’s face*

Watch: <wary> Uh... I think we can come back to that later.

_

Watch: When you possess entities, do you inherit their memories and thoughts to add to your intellect, or are those discarded once they've expired?

SCP-035: *nods* Yes.

Watch: ...Yes... to what?

SCP-035: What you said. Y'know, I reckon we could spice up the decor around here! Some wallpaper, couple curtains, maybe a throw-

Watch: 035!

SCP-035: <teasing> Wow, touchy-touchy! Everything alright upstairs? You're looking a tad flustered.

Watch: *looks down* I just have a lot on-

Watch: *looks back up at 035* Need I remind you that we only have so much time...

SCP-035: Right, right. What was your question again?

Watch: When-

SCP-035: Oh, right! You're not too far off the mark. I have memories and thoughts that I've built up, sure. But the person's resolve, the power of their mind...

SCP-035: Determines not only the memories I access, but from what perspective I interpret them.

Watch: Can you give me an example?

SCP-035: Alright! Lets see this chap here. Simple, well-rounded humor. When he's not crapping his pants, likes to dance around the issues in his life.

SCP-035: Clearly, I'm reflecting his personality to a T. It's what I do, I'm just that great.

Watch: And if you possessed someone else?

SCP-035: *leans in* Someone like you?

SCP-035: *scrutinizes Watch* Hmm. Analytical, straight-forward, empathetic yet not too sympathetic. *nods* Clearly intelligent. You could take a while to digest.

Watch: I hear that from 682 all the time. So the mind and personality you control dictates how long the body takes to-

SCP-035: *points at Watch* See? *nods* Intelligent. Very strong indeed.

Watch: And if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were coming onto me.

SCP-035: Is it working?

Watch: No.

_

Watch: Have you ever met anyone... resistant? Or maybe someone who simply never trusted you?

SCP-035: Whatever doubts people have about me fade away over time. On average, hmm... 10 minutes or so.

Watch: Quite the aura you have there.

SCP-035: What can I say? I'm a charmer!

Watch: <flatly> Clearly. Well... are there people who are not suited to wear you, or you would not want to be worn by?

SCP-035: ... Acne. Anyone with acne.

Watch: Oddly picky for a mask that secretes black ooze.

SCP-035: I have standards! And in the end, that's all I have once I'm alone.

Watch: Well, what if I had acne? Would you not want to possess me despite all you've said?

SCP-035: Interested, eh?

Watch: Don't twist this around. I'm just sceptical the true dealbreaker is acne. What about those without faces or even heads?

SCP-035: Like Mr. Headless? Hahahaha! Who said he doesn't have a face?

Watch: That's... interesting. Can you tell us more?

SCP-035: <teasing> Ah,come on, Watchie! You can't have me spend our quality time together talking about someone else all the time! I thought you wanted to get to know me!

Watch: I just want to-

SCP-035: Blah, blah, blah! Go ask him! You're here for me, remember?

Watch: (sigh) Moving on.

_

Watch: How do you manage to lure humans to put you on?

SCP-035: I'm irresistible, look at me!

Watch: ... <doubtful> Right...

SCP-035: Influence my dear! Influence. Imagery, presence-

Watch: Telepathic links, hypnotic commands-

SCP-035: <indignant> You would take the magic out of everything!

Watch: There's a science to everything. Just because we don't understand something, doesn't mean it's conjured out of nowhere. There's a process.

Watch: Even magic, while marvellous and breathtaking to the onlooker, is just another scientific process to the man behind the curtain.

SCP-035: *crosses arms, looks away*

SCP-035: *looks back, petulant* Your parents never read you bedtime stories, did they? Fantasy never factored into your childhood much?

Watch: My parents never got the chance. Fantasy takes a backseat, when you have to deal with the constant bombardment of reality.

SCP-035: I guess you should consider yourself lucky they never lived to see you become the unimaginative dolt you are today.

Watch: (chuckles incredulously) ugh...

SCP-035: Laugh while you can, I'm sure they're busy while they *eyes start glowing purple and lights flicker, voice gets demonic* burn in hell!

Watch: *moves back, startled* Woah!

Jacobs: Remain passive, 035 or I will terminate this! Now!

SCP-035: ... Ok! Ok! I'm calm. I promise.

_

_

Watch: How were you created?

SCP-035: Ah! I like telling this one. You don't mind long and drawn out? There's a lot of plot to cover.

Watch: That's what we're here for.

SCP-035: Excellent! Legend speaks that Hephaestus, Forger of the Greek Gods, was petitioned by Zeus to create a gift for the Muse Melpomene. Ah... How she used to sing the sweetest of songs and produce melodies so breathtaking it soothed souls from the bodies of mortals and Gods alike to far off lands and back again.

SCP-035: But one day, the only notes that left her lips were that of tragedy.

Watch: That sounds terrible.

SCP-035: This was true to her sisters as well, and so Thalia, Muse of Comedy and daughter to Mnemosyne and Zeus - Zeus had a lot of kids to a lot of women, he was a busy man - beseeched her father to ease her suffering.

SCP-035: So when Hephaestus got the order to make such wondrous gift, he used the laughter of Thalia to forge - dramatic pause - *spreads arms* Me!

Watch: Or so the legend goes. How do I know this isn't just a lie?

SCP-035: If you're gonna have an origin story, its always best to make it multiple choice. Besides, I lkie this one the best.

Watch: U-huh. So you were created by Gods... however self-serving it sounds.

Watch: So, what happened next?

SCP-035: They christened me Dýo Polonoi, which means "Of Two Poles" in Ancient dialect-

Watch: (chuckles)

SCP-035: What?

Watch: <amused> Nothing, sorry. Continue?

SCP-035: ...Okay?

SCP-035: Well... There are two certainties in Greek Mythology. One: Every major screw-up or story starts with Zeus getting horny and shagging some mortal, or trying anything to get in their pants.

SCP-035: Two: Hero hates everyone. I mean, even married to that prick, Hera was ruthless in pursuing revenge. Just ask Io.

Watch: Who?

SCP-035: Exactly. So when Hera hears Zeus' illegitimate daughter is getting a godly gift and she isn't, every heifer and its fly can tell she isn't going to be impressed.

SCP-035: So while I was being made, she snuck in with one of Melpomene's most mournful sonnets and threw them into the forge. My design was now flawed.

SCP-035: Instead of allowing her to feel joy, I would have accentuated her own sorrow, which probably would have driven the dear Muse to death.

Watch: ... Did you?

SCP-035: Hey, technically I haven't been born yet. This was just the conception stage. Luckily for me, Hephaestus saw what she had done and managed to steal me back before Hera could deliver me to her intended victim.

SCP-035: Unfortunately, centuries in a cramped Forge doesn't do well for the cardio and he kinda dropped me over the edge.

Watch: Wow.

SCP-035: Mhm... Wow. The details are a little hazy, again since I hadn't really been born yet, but I was found and passed from hand to hand until I found my way to the Theatre of Dionysus. The actors here used me for their performances.

SCP-035: And I brought out the best in everyone who wore me, which brought about my birth.

Watch: Birth as in activation?

SCP-035: I guess. Although that sounds far too artificial.

Watch: The first person to wear you birthed you?

SCP-035: Correct.

Watch: And in doing so, imprinted a personality that evolved with every person who wore you.

SCP-035: <snarky> You're so cute when you put the pieces together.

Watch: But surely someone noticed this.

SCP-035: Oh they did, but they didn't mind. I was a gift from the Gods, they said. *looks down* (mournful sigh)

...

Watch: It was Hera, wasn't it? She was the one who discovered you in Crete.

SCP-035: *looks up* I was convinced by many of the Cretan novices that I was in fact a fallen God. I foolishly purported the image, and several "followers'' prayed for my ascension.

SCP-035: She answered their prayers... with a gift from Poseidon. A tsunami.

Watch: I’m... sorry.

SCP-035: Two and half thousand years later, and I can still hear the screams. The bodies washing through the streets *starts glowing purple, lights flicker and voice gets more demonic and enraged* houses swept into the sea and you're sorry?! 

Watch: *placating* Calm down, easy. Easy.

*everything gradually calms down*

Watch: Do you need a break?

SCP-035: (sigh) No, no. I'm fine.

Watch: Okay. So what happened next?

SCP-035: She destroyed my life. So I dedicated mine to tearing down the only thing that brought her any power.

Watch: And what was that?

SCP-035: ... The Greek Empire.

_

Watch: Do you have any regrets?

SCP-035: Show me a being who has lived as long as I without regrets, and you will have found a liar. Of course I do. Fortunately, I've forgotten most of them. But I still feel them in my... heh... heart.

Watch: Anything in particular?

SCP-035: (long sigh) Burning Alexandria's Library.

Watch: ... *crosses arms, stares doubtfuly*

SCP-035: Well, not me directly. After Hera's wrath, I wanted to hit her and Gods where it would hurt the most. And where better to hurt them than destroy the works of humanity.

SCP-035: But like the dead swallowed up by the ocean, I could hear those books screaming as history in the making shrivelled up in flame. I helped the Romans destroy knowledge that humanity still has not rediscovered.

SCP-035: And the art? Oh, the art. I regret that dearly. 

Watch: I don't know whose wrath was worse; Heras or yours.

SCP-035: I repaid the Greeks in kind. The same voice that splintered their society was turned on their conquerors. The fire that destroyed Alexandria, I gave to Nero to burn down the Rome.

_

Watch: Do you have any connection to SCP-343?

SCP-035: (chuckles)

Watch: What's so funny?

SCP-035: I'm sorry. I'm ok now. So... 343 - God (snort). Look, we've not really been properly acquainted but... his reputation precedes him.

Watch: A completely different kind of drama queen.

SCP-035: Exactly! <in mocking tone> “I created the world!” “I have infinite power!”

SCP-035: It's not that I hate the guy, it's just that his style doesn't click with me. He has so much ego, and coming from me... that's saying something.

Watch: I will admit, from what I've read of the transcripts, he comes across less as a God... and more of a used car salesman.

SCP-035: *shrugs* To each his own. Makes you wonder, if he's a God, why hang around the Foundation? Surely there's more interesting things out there in the whole Universe?

Watch: It does seem like odd behaviour for a God. <to himself, musing> Is there something here he needs? Or something he's hiding from?

SCP-035: You said it, not me.

Watch: Hmm...

_

Watch: What are you thoughts on SCP-173?

SCP-035: Not much, beyond of what I heard. Sounds interesting, if a little shy. Breaks everything it touches. If my mother was around - that is to say if I had a mother - she'd say we were a lot alike.

SCP-035: Well... despite the lack of face.

Watch: I'm sure you could contribute to that. Sounds like you two would make a nice pairing.

SCP-035: Don't mistake interest and admiration for respect, m'boy. You seem far too intelligent to make that kind of a mistake.

Watch: Well thank-

SCP-035: Think nothing of it. Look... you may believe similarity is perfect for a duo, but I don't see the world like that. If I look for a partner, it's someone who can make up for my own shortcomings, not bring the same spiel I do.

SCP-035: If there's one thing I truly hate in this world, it's unoriginality. That's why I couldn't stand the Romans for too long. Whole culture was a cheap imitation of mine!

SCP-035: So I left the party... and kept the door ajar for Christianity. Big mistake embracing that guy, let me tell you.

Watch: What does any of this have to do with 173?

SCP-035: We were talking about 173?

Watch: (sigh)

_

Watch: How old are you?

SCP-035: ...

Watch: It'd be nice to have an official number…

SCP-035: What, do I need to spell it out to you? That's not how you weave the narrative, m'boy. I've given you the facts. Use them.

Watch: Well, your timeline seems pretty inconsistent. Some of what you say does fit the period, but the order in which you tell the things is... messy.

SCP-035: (sigh) What more do you want? I hand you an entertaining narrative and you throw it back in my face! Real considerate.

Watch: It can't be hard to-

SCP-035: <iritated> No, you listen here. I'm giving you my precious time, not the other way around! You want some answers, you better listen carefully and maybe start asking me some goddamn worthwhile questions for once!

_

Watch: What are your thoughts on SCP-001?

SCP-035: Pfft! <indignan> What kind of ridiculous question is that?

Watch: Almost always standard it seems.

Jacobs: Answer him, 035.

SCP-035: <petulant> Ask nicely.

Watch: You're not exactly in position to-

SCP-035: Oh, aren't I? I don't think you know who you're talking to.

Jacobs: Refuse to comply and I can make this situation much worse for you.

SCP-035: Melodrama won't get you far with me, buddy!

SCP-035: Want me to cut off at the neck? Allow me! *breaks his own neck by twisting his head back with enough force to fall out of chair*

Watch: *jumps back, spooked* Holy Shit! Jacobs!

_

[END LOG]

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[cassynite]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @dujour13!! Thanks so much--I have been focusing more on drawing than writing lately but unlike my writing drawings don't look good till they're done so here's a bit from chapter 3 of Daeran fic (which at this rate is going to get finished before chapter 2 lol).

----

It's the movement from the guards stiffening to attention that alerts Daeran to the figure walking his way. She is still in the armor that she wore at Iz, when she threw herself into the maw of Deskari's trap and emerged alive. Then, she'd looked regal and triumphant and only half as contrite to Sparrow as she should have been. She'd graced Daeran with a nod as cold and remote as he'd ever seen from her, as if he'd just successfully pulled off yet another grand statement snubbing the Mendevian old guard, and not just miraculously come back from the dead and the horrors of the Abyss.

She does not look cold or regal now. Her armor is stained from the battle in Iz, and her pinned hair and her face is spattered with crusted blood. She looks tired, like the sun orchard elixir is only wallpaper over her century and more of living. The expression she wears when staring at him, sitting right outside the war room waiting for Sparrow, is complicated.

"Hello," the queen of Mendev says. Her voice is low, and slightly hoarse. "Do you mind if I sit next to you?"

She doesn't wait for a response, for Daeran's refusal--and it would have been a refusal, as if he wants to sit next to his honored cousin--but when she does settle next to him, he doesn't rise. He's waiting for Sparrow after all. If the lauded queen wishes to endure his presence until the Knight Commander arrives, he is not going to flee from her presence.

It is several minutes of silence thick enough to cut a dagger through before Galfrey sighs. "I'm sorry."

It takes a second for the words to register as real--but Daeran would never even dare to imagine Galfrey apologizing. It's enough for his self-control to break and to stop pretending she isn't there; when he looks over, Galfrey is already turned slightly toward him, her lips tight.

He finally recognizes the expression on her face: guilt. He doesn't even think he's seen her show something as mortal as guilt before.

"For what, exactly?" His voice is hard. "Sending us to the abyss to what was, in retrospect, almost certainly our deaths? Or something else? I never did forgive you for how you made me cut short my little sorcerer's contest in '14."

Galfrey ignores the barb. "Stopping the Nahyndrian crystals by any means was necessary for the war efforts as a whole. If anyone could have survived it, it was the Commander--and she did. But. I should not have let you go with her. I should not have forced you to stay in the Crusade in the first place. It was...rash. And it ultimately put you in more danger than you should have ever been placed in."

Half a dozen responses form in Daeran's mind--how if he'd really wanted to leave the Crusade, he would have found a way. How Galfrey's petty little revenge had become the best thing that had ever happened to him. How he didn't need her, or anyone, to baby him, and that he was capable of making his own decisions--and had made them already, when it came to so many things about the Crusade and its Knight Commander.

He gives a graceful half-shrug, turning his attention away from Galfrey in a cutting end to the conversation. "I rather imagined you'd be glad to see the back of me. I can hardly tarnish my family's good name and my mother's legacy if I was already where everyone assumed I belonged anyway."

To his surprise, Galfrey lets out a small chuckle. "You're hardly beyond recall. Your mother was a hellion in her younger years as well, you know," she comments.

It's rare for Daeran to be rendered speechless, but he opens his mouth and for several seconds, no words come out. Not once in his life has his mother's memory ever been anything than that of a paragon of virtue. Finally, he says, "Excuse me?"

"Oh yes." Galfrey straightens, some life returning to her expression as she recalls the distant past. "She even ran away from home, tried to renounce her title. Your grandparents were far more traditional in their upbringing, and Silaena apparently chafed under the expectations of her role. She went off when she was--maybe a few years younger than you at the time, really. Joined a traveling theater troupe."