#even when they are spiraling or tunnel visioning or when they don’t understand me or why i act the way I do or do the things I do

[ijustwantagoodurl]

wait okay I know nobody asked but this is it!! This is what makes anything- this is why Egyptian parents king dead professed their love for their soccer loving daughter (they customized a boys coffin to show her prowess on the field!) this sentiment of “I CHOOSE to love you” in every name and initial carved into trees and spray painted on walls, “ON PURPOSE I love you” is how we find ourselves again and again in stories of love and adventure and dragons and potions and fancy balls, it’s the foundation of every family, of every friend group, it is the work of grass-root organizing and protests with bricks and home made shields, ON PURPOSE we find ourselves in new dresses and shirts and trans our genders and propose and save up for fancy little dates or home made dinners, I CHOOSE because the alternative is apathy and exhaustion and That is the goal of every union-busting capitalist millionaire with children he can’t remember the names of.

Humanity, throughout all of time, in any language, anywhere in the world, is about the Choice of caring, and trying, and failing usually, and of loving.

i love you on purpose i love you ON PURPOSE

[imbonewary]

Shifting Sans Chapter 8 "He's Gone"

~

Chapter 1 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 9

~

…

… he’s…

… gone…

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s gone he’s gone he’s gone hE’s gOne He’S gOnE hE’s GoNe He’S gOnE hE’s GoNe HE’S GONE HE’S GOnE HE’S GONE HE’S GONE HE’S GONE HE’S-

look at me, brother-

MY BROTHER IS GONE HE’S GONE AND IT’S MY FAULT-

i’m here-

HE’S GONE-

you’re safe here-

I COULDN’T KEEP HIM SAFE-

look at me-

I CAN’T SEE-

look at me, brother-

I’LL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN-

breath with me-

I LIVED FOR HIM-

breath in-

HE’S GONE-

breath out-

HE’S GONE-

breath in-

HE’S GOne-

breath out-

HE’S gone-

breath in-

He’s gone-

breath out-

he’s gone.

breath in.

he’s gone…

breath out.

… he’s gone…

breath in.

…

“are you back with me?” Sans asked, quiet but firm.

His worried face filled my tunnel vision.

“… yeah, I’m here…” I breathed. I was rattling.

“is it alright if i touch you?”

I looked away. All I could see was red wings. 

“it’s ok if you don’t want me to.”

“… I’m sorry…” I curled tighter.

“you’ve done nothing wrong.”

I was still rattling as Sans sat on my left, close enough I could reach him if I wanted but far enough to give me my space. I was curled up in a ball, back against the kitchen cabinet, arms wrapped tight around my knees, wings circled around my shoulders, slightly covering my head. Frisk was nowhere to be seen but that’s probably for the best. They’re probably still in the front room.

I don’t want to think about them right now.

I shuddered, curling tighter. I wanted to reach out, to at least hold Sans’ hand again, to accept the comfort he offered, but I couldn’t pry my arm away from my legs. Not that I deserved the comfort anyways.

We stayed like that for a while, I don’t know how long. I continued to focus on my breathing, blocking out both the real world and my spiraling thoughts. I could feel them, in the back of my mind, but I was ignoring them in favor of breathing, letting them run their course.

…

The thoughts weren’t quieting. I needed something to distract me.

“… Knock knock…” I breathed.

“who’s there?”

“Snow.”

“snow who?”

“Snow use. I need a distraction.”

…

“… knock knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“olive.”

“Olive who?”

“olive you, and i’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

I smiled, relaxing slightly. It was nice to have someone understand how I communicated.

“in the meantime,” Sans continued. “let’s talk about something else. since you’re new around here, why don’t i catch you up on current events? i may have quit politics a while ago but I still like to stay in the loop. queen undyne is talking with the surface humans and things are going pretty well. she adopted her own human a while ago and has been training him to be an ambassador between monsters and humans in preparation of getting that seventh soul. he was training to be a lawyer when he took a vacation to go hiking around his hometown and ended up down here. he’s said it’s the best thing that ever happened to him.”

“Never woulda thought humans and monsters could live peacefully together,” I said quietly. My body had begun to unclench and the rattling finally stopped. Sans’ voice was calming anyways, but talking about something unrelated to… things was helping too. “Where I’m from, the king had declared war over the death of his son and souls were taken by force from any human that fell.” My hands were resting on my ankles now and my head was peaking out from my wings.

That’s right, I’d been avoiding it, but these wings are mine now. My wings. Just like that soul piece.

Mine.

I’m not “Sans” anymore.

I’m Serif now and Serif doesn’t have a little brother, not anymore. He’s dead. He died a while ago.

Papyrus is gone.

My world is gone.

I’m all that’s left, and even that’s questionable. I’m a new person, with a new life. Even my font changed, uncomfortable as that is to think about. I may not deserve it, but I have a second chance to be happy. And I have to take it, for those who can’t.

I am filled with Determination.

I shuddered at the strength, power, and resolve that flooded through me but at least it didn’t throw me back into another flashback, like it did the first time. It wasn’t as strong and somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d been expecting it, felt it building up.

And that was ok.

I was going to be ok with this, I’m determined to make the best of this. Even if the resets are still a thing, even if I’m traumatized as hell, I still have everything going for me right now. I have a big brother, and others to talk to about the Labs. I have new friends to make, unburdened by past failures. I don’t have to suffer alone anymore.

Resets be damned, I’m gonna make this work!

I’m filled with DETERMINATION, damnit!

“serif?!”

I blinked.

The fire in my soul died down slightly as I came back to the real world; it was still there but more like a candle than a raging bonfire. I could feel concern and alarm to my left, looking over to see Sans with wide sockets. My wings, which had flared up over my head, came back down to something more neutral over my shoulders and I could see phantom flames dance around them out of the corner of my eye before they disappeared. That must be what alarmed Sans so much. Another thing to look into later, but for now Sans needs to know I’m ok.

I gave him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry about that, bro, just had to work something out for myself,” I finally uncurled, starting to get up. I wobbled slightly and held onto the counter for stability. “But I’m ok now. I’m here, and I think I’ve finally accepted that.” I offered him a hand. “I don’t know what the future is going to hold for me but I think I’m willing to face it now.”

Sans smiled and took my hand, letting me pull him up. He gave me a quick hug before holding my shoulders.

“and i’ll be here for you, serif, i promise.”

“I really appreciate that, Sans.”

“Is it safe to come out now?”

I flinched. I’d almost forgotten about the kid.

“Right, sorry you had to see that, kiddo,” I turned to them, rubbing the back of my head. They were still on the couch, kneeling over the armrest. “Hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”

“I wasn’t freaked out as much as I was worried,” they said. Something about them felt… off. The way they spoke, and held themselves, like they were a completely different person. But then, maybe it was just the difference between the light atmosphere of breakfast and the serious atmosphere of a panic attack. These emotion sensing powers are still new, after all, and my people-reading skills could be rusty. “It wasn’t… something I did, was it? That triggered that?”

“Wha- no, no, no, Frisk, that was just reality suddenly hitting me of being stuck in an alternate universe,” I hurriedly explained, holding up my hands. “That everything I knew is gone and I’m not even really the same person and just… a lot hitting me all at once.”

“Not the same person?” They cocked their head.

“Eh it’s complicated,” I shrugged, looking away. “And I kind of don’t really wanna get into it right now. What about you though, I barely know anything about you but your name.”

Anything to not talk about me.

“Oh, uh, well, whadya wanna know?”

[helliontherapscallion]

Heya. I know that requests are closed and I totally respect if you ignore this because of that. Two hours ago my dog had a seizure and my mom and I are currently in the parking lot of the emergency vet waiting for an update. I’m normally “the rock” for my family (if that makes sense) when shit hits the fan, so I feel like I need to hide my panic so my mom doesn’t worry more. I claimed to need to use the restroom (there’s those portable bathrooms outside) but I’m actually just having a panic attack on a stairway nearby. Most of my friends are asleep or offline right now so I don’t have anyone to help ground me. I know my mom would, but she’s already dealing with enough. Your writing has never failed to calm me down or cheer me up, so I was wondering if you could maybe make headcannons or something about how texts or a quick phone call with the SBI would go and how they would help a teen friend who’s going through this situation.

I don’t want you to feel pressured to do this because of guilt or anything of the sort. I understand that requests are closed, but I thought it was worth shooting my shot. So it’s completely okay if you ignore this.

(A/N): I wrote this as fast as I could, so there might be a few mistakes here and there. I really hope your dog gets better soon and nothing major is wrong with them, I’ll keep you guys in my thoughts. If you wanna talk about it, my DMs are always open love <3

Warnings: mentions of dog seizures, vets, panic attacks

Your pleasant day had gone so wrong so fast 

You had a blast hanging out with your neighbor and childhood friend Techno and his brothers

You spent most of the day at the park hanging out and generally goofing around

That was until you received a phone call from your mother 

She was in a panic telling you to come home, telling you that there was something wrong with your dog

You quickly excused yourself by telling them that your mom wanted you home as soon as possible suddenly and ran home in tears when you were out of their line of sight

When you were running you could feel yourself being filled with dread

Your chest felt tight as you fought off a panic attack, you needed to be strong for your mom

You were her rock

It was only natural to comfort her, she helped you so much with your anxiety and panic attacks even when facing her own troubles and stress

So you did your best to stifle your panic

When you got home, you could hear the loud sobbing of your mother, the faint sound of heavy breathing, and rustling 

The sight in the living room broke your heart

Your beloved pet was on the floor having a violent seizure while your mother was looking on in horror

You quickly took action, moving the stuff around the dog away from it

The only thing you could do was wait it out, so you made quick work of comforting your mother

After the seizure, your dog was looking around confusedly and whining slightly 

He seemed very tired 

Doing some research, you found out that it was best to let the dog rest after such a seizure because it takes a lot of energy out of it

The nearest emergency vet was about ten minutes away so you picked up your dog and escorted your mom to the car

You drove to the vet, your mom was too distraught to drive

The vet immediately took him in and got to work, leaving you and your mom in the car waiting for an update on the pooch

She had calmed down for the most part, but you could still feel the panic brewing in your chest threatening you with a full blown panic attack

You held it off so you could be strong for your mother, but you were spiraling and fast

When it got to the point where you couldn’t hold it back anymore, you quickly excused yourself to the portable bathrooms

You ducked into an abandoned staircase and the panic attack quickly reared its ugly head

Your breaths came out in short hyperventilations, your chest feeling like an elephant was sat on it

You couldn’t breathe

When it got to the point where you were dry heaving, you knew that this one wasn’t one that you could calm yourself down from

You had to call someone

Your mom was immediately out of question, even if she would gladly help you

In your point of view, she had enough to worry about

Your best bet would be to call Techno

You had extreme difficulty finding his contact because your vision was tunneled and blurred and your hands were shaking, but you eventually found it

He and his brothers should still be at the park

You felt guilty for calling, but you knew you needed help and Techno and his brothers were your best bet

“Hey (y/n), uh is everything alright with your mom? You left in a hurry.” Techno saw his twin and Tommy look at him in question. He wove them off.

He was only met with heavy breathing and sobbing from your end, which worried him to no end. He knew damn well about your anxiety and panic attacks, in fact he was the one that encouraged you to open up to your mom about it and ask her for therapy sessions. He’s calmed you down from enough panic attacks to know exactly what to do to help you.

“Hey you’re alright,” he cooed to you in a soft voice, “take deep breaths. Where are you?” His brothers looked at him in alarm. They also knew about your panic attacks as you were basically like another sibling to them. Wilbur grabbed the car keys and the three made a dash towards the family car. 

“Techno…” Your breathless and strained whimper on the other end made his heart break for you. “Where are you?”

When you told him that you were at the nearby emergency vet, he could feel his heart sink. Your dog was growing older and older and his health was declining. That dog was with you two through thick and thin when your family got him in middle school. You were seniors in high school now, so that dog was old for his breed. 

“We’re on our way, just hang on tight buddy. What’re five things you can see?”

After you got through the 5-4-3-2-1 technique, you still were in the midst of an intense panic attack and it worried Techno to no end. Usually you would be calmed down by now. Luckily, they arrived at the vet and quickly found a parking space. 

You could hear running coming towards you and looked up to see the brothers running towards you. Techno kneeled next to you and attempted to give you a smile, “we’re here. Is it okay for me to touch you?” At your nod, he grabbed your hand and put it on his chest. “Breathe with me, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?” You didn’t respond to him. Your hazy eyes darted to his face when he gently called your name and asked you again. You nodded making him smile at you, “good, we’re gonna do the 4-7-8 breathing technique,” he told you softly, “do you remember that? You breathe in through your nose for four seconds, hold it for seven, and exhale slowly through your mouth for eight. I’ll do it with you,” he took in a deep breath through his nose and you tried to follow suit but failed. Your breathing was just too erratic. 

“Tech, I-I can’t. I…”

“Hey you can do this, I know you can. Let’s try again, it takes time to even out breathing.” He said something to his brothers you couldn’t hear and they ran off. “Deep breath in,” he breathed in and you tried to follow him, “hold,” you held in the breath for about two seconds, “and out,” the breath ripped itself from your lungs. “You’re doing so good, I’m proud of you (y/n).”

The breathing continued for a bit with you getting nowhere before you heard the boys return. They had a couple of ice cold water bottles in their hands. Techno let go of your hand and grabbed one of them. He turned to you with an encouraging smile, “okay, we’re gonna try something new. I’m gonna have you touch this, is that alright?”

You reached out with a shaky hand to touch the plastic and jolted slightly at the temperature, a gasp ripping itself from your lungs and your eyes focusing slightly better than before. “I’m gonna run this up and down your arms, focus on the feeling of the temperature and the feeling.” As he ran the bottle down your arms, you could feel your heart rate drop at the temperature and your heated skin cooling down. Your breathing eventually evens itself out leaving you panting and shakily reaching up to wipe at your tears. 

“Are you good now?” You nodded and leaned against the brick wall tiredly. An open water bottle was put into your hands. You drank it and relished in the feeling of the ice cold drink slithering down your throat. It even heightened your senses. 

Wilbur sat on your other side and slung an arm over your shoulders, giving you a side hug. Tommy sat across from you while Techno sat on your other side holding your hand, lazily rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. 

“Do you wanna talk about what caused this?” You nodded and told the three everything that happened today and why you were at an emergency vet. 

After you finished telling them, Wilbur turned to give you a full hug. Your face was against his chest, faintly you noted that he smelled like grass with hints of earth. “He’s gonna be alright. He’s a fighter, do you remember when he ate that bee?” You nodded, remembering that even if he was swollen, his tail was still wagging and he was as happy as he could be. He recovered quickly from that, never once losing his excited and loving personality. You thought about how even in the car he was licking away your mother’s tears and nuzzling into your hand even though he was exhausted. 

“That dog has lived through so much health shit,” Tommy chimed in, “a seizure isn’t gonna take him out anytime soon.” 

They stayed there for a while with you giving you reassurances and reminiscing on stories of him until you felt better 

Eventually you had to go back to the car to wait with your mother, so they left to go to their house

Your dog was returned to you and your mom with the instruction to give him some medicine and come back for further examination

They didn’t find the cause for the seizure, which bothered you but relieved you that he was alright

When you got home, it was late at night and you honestly felt so drained 

The next day, your dog was still slightly tired but he was slowly returning to his playful nature as the day progressed

When you were laying in the grass in the backyard with him reading a book, you saw Techno poke his head over the fence and smile at you. “Hey, how’s (dog name)?”

You ran your fingers through his fur as he slept peacefully, “he’s doing better. The vet still doesn’t know what’s going on with him, but he’s still himself.”

“We’re having some cookies and lemonade over here, do you wanna come over? (Dog name) can come too.”

“You’re more than welcome, (y/n)!” You could hear Philza’s voice chime out from their backyard. You got up and (dog name) followed you into their backyard slowly. They were sitting at the picnic table that was there since you and Techno were kids. The paint had long since chipped and faded with each year that passed. Tommy loudly cheered while Wilbur and Philza gave you gentle smiles as you walked next to Technoblade. 

You sat next to Techno and a glass of lemonade was placed in front of you. (Dog name) laid at your feet and resumed his nap. You grabbed a cookie and took a bite, humming at the taste of your favorite flavor dancing across your tongue. 

Being with the family was something that always made your worries fade away into nothingness and get replaced by lighthearted and refreshing happiness. You spent most of the day laughing with the family and petting your sleeping dog. Everything was going to be okay with them.

[thefools-journey]

So. Some of you may be wondering why we haven’t written a whole ton about the secondaries or what have you. Here’s the reason: we were waiting for them to end before we really dug into the problems we were noticing. We felt that it was only fair to wait for the routes to finish so that we had an understanding of the writers’ vision. Who knew, we thought, maybe they would see the problems themselves and course correct, maybe they are building to something we can’t quite see yet and these issues will have actual payoff, maybe-

In light of Muriel and Lucio’s endings, and the general mess that has dominated Portia’s route for a year plus now, we are breaking our silence. We are actually going to talk about this shit show.

The fandom at large has talked about a bunch of issues with the secondaries but for me, the cardinal sin, the thing that really all the issues lead back to, is this: the writers lost sight of the tarot themes which so strongly defined and held together the primary routes. Let me explain.

The primary routes each center around three thematic cores:

The Love Interest’s Major Arcana and its Reversed/Upright meanings

The MC’s Fool’s Journey, both how it can go right and how it can go wrong

A question about the MC’s identity and their relationship to said identity

Asra’s route asks: Who was the MC? How does the MC navigate a past they cannot and will not remember? What do they owe a past they cannot remember? How do they handle the revelations of what Asra, Nadia, Julian, etc did? How do you right the past? Can you?

Nadia’s route asks: Who is the MC? The MC has no past. Are they the Fool only? Are they actually the same person they were? How can they tell? Who are they, really? Are they an imposter? No one can answer these questions for them.

Julian’s route asks: Who will the MC become? How does the MC see their future? Is there anything worth fighting for for that future? What will become of them and their loved ones? 

Now, if you notice, these themes are expertly woven throughout the primaries. Asra’s past dominates his route, Nadia is also missing memories and trying to construct her identity both with her family and with Vesuvia, and Julian’s fear of the future drives his flailing for control. Asra has to learn to take a broader view of his actions to get his Upright Ending, Nadia has to learn to trust herself and those around her for hers, and Julian has to learn how to let go for his. These lessons are the issues their cards stand for. The primaries are so dang elegant and delicate in their handlings of theme it is honestly awe-inspiring.

Thematically, the secondary routes have completely lost their hearts. First of all, the MC does not have strong, core questions which need to be answered. They just don’t. I suppose the writers did not want to retread old territory (which is weird considering how tightly bound the primaries are; it really tricks you into thinking you’re living the same events but from different angles depending on your route) but they did not replace the old with anything new. Muriel’s route is, on the surface, about discovering and owning his past, the good and the bad. Why not tie MC’s self-discovery to that story? Or they could have taken the angle that Muriel’s route is about convincing him to be present and active in the world while MC builds an identity for themself outside of Asra, the shop, and the memories they cannot retrieve. Why not tie the investigation themes running through Portia’s early route back to MC and their past? Portia has the unique angle of being as in the dark as MC about all of this, why not discover the past together? And for goodness’ sake, Lucio has no future when his route begins, why not tie that to his need for growth, responsibility, and MC’s own future between the Fool, the Devil, or something mortal and in between?

Secondly, the routes lost their tarot backbone. We have a primer on how to get specific endings for each LI and it still holds, but the writers did not follow through on the thematic coherence of each secondary. The Hermit is looking for something, be it perspective, insight, a solution to a problem, whatever. The key here is that the Hermit must find or learn what they are searching for, this thing must change their understanding of the world, and finally, they must bring this lesson back to the world from which they retreated. Can someone please enlighten me as what exactly Muriel learns then teaches the world around him? Nothing Muriel learns from Morga, MC, or even the Hermit ties back into anything. The Devil warns that you are out of control and exerting a lot of manipulative, destructive behavior on the world around you. It asks you to take responsibility for yourself and your actions. So can someone tell me why Lucio’s route actively avoids any interaction or reflection on two of Lucio’s biggest victims: Muriel and Julian? Why does the route only try to make amends with the “easier” of his victims in the cast? The Star is first and foremost the card of clarity, the light at the end of the tunnel. Perseverance, if you will. Yet Portia’s route has been the muddiest of the trio; the writers drop the investigation aspect of her route in favor just handing her and MC information they could have easily found and muddying the waters with Tasya (she blows up the palace but it’s all okay bc she has a secret daughter Julian never thought to bring up or mention) and the complete removal of the Devil as antagonist. 

So that leaves just the Fool’s Journey trying to hold this stool up with only one leg. And well...it doesn’t go well. At best, the secondary route books pay the barest surface level homage to the themes of the individual cards. At worst, they ignore the cards completely. Muriel's Moon book has nothing to do with illusions or delusions or lies or even an Alice in the Looking Glass upside down world. Portia's back half is a complete and utter mess, starting with her Temperance book being so badly mangled that Muriel's aftermath book does it better. Lucio's route too bungles the Tower and the Star. There just isn't enough here to carry the routes alone.

Add to the core loss the loss of intertextuality. The primary routes are very good, even great but they too do have their moments and mistakes. What helps strengthen them when the cores stumble is how the trio is woven together. Things you learn in Asra's route can inform the way you play Nadia's, for example. Julian's route informs what is going on in Asra's route and slots some missing puzzle pieces together. Nadia's route tells you of the power struggles she is facing and informs the other two routes' handling of Julian and his trial. On and on, the three routes support each other because they are built out of the same basic plot beats, just tackled in very different ways. Now, the writers are allowed to try and write whatever they want. They apparently wanted to be more experimental and less tied down to an overarching plot with the three secondaries. Okay, fine, they are allowed to do that. The problem is that they sacrificed one of the key strengths of the primary trio and didn't replace said strength with anything else. They also, on some level, harmed the very premise of the game, which is that only the player's choices and route selected change the overall plot. Instead of feeling like legitimate possibilities or offshoots of the same timeline/plot, the secondaries feel almost like Arcana AUs. The secondaries throw out all relations to the primaries and each other as quickly as possible and for what? 

It is probably the height of arrogance to suggest fixes for works whose behind the scenes I do not know. At the same time, some small, obvious changes could have salvaged Muriel and maybe Lucio's endings (rip Portia). Instead of having the Hermit appear as a disappointing cameo, why not have him say something cryptic to Muriel, then have MC start trying to seal the Devil. Then let Muriel use his forget me mark to cloak MC and hide them from the Devil's attacks. Protecting MC by hiding them from Lucio, keeping him focused on Muriel, seems to me a simple third solution between Muriel's desire to run and his desire to never fight again. It lets him stand up to Lucio and let him have it while holding onto who Muriel has become. The Reversed End would have MC try to draw Lucio's attention at some point, disrupting the sealing, and eventually leading to Muriel killing the Devil. With Lucio's Upright End, I just have to ask: why doesn't MC fully claim the power of the Fool instead of the Devil? We don't need the other Arcana involved in this fight; we have three routes that demonstrate that. Just have MC pull Scout into the conflict, then have Lucio tell MC he believes in them, then add his power to the mix. You got yourself a full Fool who leaves Scout guarding the realm until they and Lucio's mortal bodies fail and they return to the realm to be together forever. Boom, you're done, you can even add some ambiguous lines so that players can decide how happy their MC is with this arrangement, send me the check.

Here is the bottom line. Our group is full of aroace, and several combinations therein, individuals. We are the last group who should have gotten into a dating sim of all things. But the Arcana did something with the primaries that was special; they wrote a compelling plot with dazzling lore, complex characters, and strong themes wrapped up in a dating sim bow. The writers know better and we know they know better. I do not know what happened with the secondaries, especially around books 10-11, which is where minor issues slowly start spiraling into major ones, but it is clear that Nix Hydra needed some more planning before they released these routes. Hopefully they will learn.

TL;DR: Nix Hydra fired their tarot consultants about eighteen months ago and it has wrecked their secondary routes until they were just embarrassments. They never intended for the secondary routes to even exist and once they had to make them, they scrambled and threw out everything that made the primaries work.

- Mod Telos

[lavendermin]

cw | wound and blood mention, mdni, brief mention of sex, toxic relationship (probably, that man has issues), alcohol mention

Fresh wounds, a few gashes. Nothing he couldn’t treat. Because you wouldn’t have anyone else though Firefly has always offered.

“Hold still,” Sunday quietly instructs as steady hands work quickly to disinfect and dress unsightly marred skin.

You wince and clutch the sheets until your knuckles turn white. The pain was never easy, but a consequence of your recklessness nonetheless.

Under deft fingers you’re all skin, no shame. Not when it’s him.

Another whimper you can’t help escapes your lips, and maybe it finally breaks something in him because you hear him sigh quietly. With his teeth he swiftly pulls off one of his gloves and holds it to your lips.

“Bite down on this,” he instructs, voice calm and level. “There’s still debris in one of the gashes. I have to take them out one by one.”

You can only nod, not registering much else as the pain has your vision tunneling. It’s another twenty minutes as he tries to work as quick as possible. It takes everything to keep his composure despite your muffled cries of discomfort.

“This should have been done in the medical wing.” Sunday’s reprimand has little to no bite as he clears the medical supplies from the coffee table he had pulled up from across your room.

Your breath is weak and shaky, but still a gentle thing he’s used to. “Too bright in there. Makes me feel like a lab rat within those white walls.”

“Smells too clean?” he chuckles. Something he can’t help around you more recently. There’s an innocent and peculiar way you view things. Much like–

Sunday shuts the cabinet in your bathroom a bit harsher than he intended. He can’t think of her… not right now. It would only bring emotions he didn’t need to process—couldn’t process at the moment.

There’s red on his hands, on his clothes, staining his once pristine gloves. His hands work on their own under the running water of your sink, almost out of body as his mind wanders. The ‘script’ did not mention anything of a necessary death, but of course it would never detail wounds or misfortunes in detail. Some of those just come with the job. And sometimes he would feel a bubbling anger at the twisted fates that often befell you. But he knows it’s a spiral that leaves him down a foggy road, one he shouldn’t tread on.

Still, you’re alive, and he’s here. And for now, that’s enough.

Your strained voice pulls him back to his body.

Right. The painkillers.

Sunday is quickly back by your side, pushing the small pill past your lips and lifting your face gently to give you water.

“You forgot,” you tease despite your hoarse voice.

And those golden eyes you love dearly can’t even bear to look at you as he sits next to you on your bed. There’s no response other than a hum he gives you. You know he didn’t forget, and his lack of correction knowing how he is only further sinks your heart.

But you don’t get to tell your heart who to love.

The wrinkled glove is placed next to his leg. “Sorry I messed up. I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Thank you…”

“You’re wel–”

“You should say thank you. For the gesture. But don’t apologize for the inevitable from missions. What’s done is done,” Sunday interrupts, voice firm. A little cold.

“I–” You’re cut off as he grabs your wrist, his eyes unfocused as he looks at the ground.

“If you had done as I said– You could have gone missing. A lot of things could have gone wrong. Don’t use yourself as bait. If anything happened to me, you escape by any means necessary. Understand?”

The grip is a little less than comfortable and you can only nod. Obedient only if it was his words that commanded. It brought a feeling he didn’t want to describe rushing through his chest. The way your eyes looked at him—a mix of fear and blind adoration. It made him nauseous to consider himself worthy of such affection.

The morals of why he kept you by his side—of why he sought you during moments of his own damned weakness… He would dwell on that another time. If his morals were in a slow decline, perhaps he would even turn to burn the words stuck in his throat with the liquid he once detested and swore would never stain his lips. The liquid courage might bring him tumbling into your arms, an eagerness to be held and soothed for the sin he feels tainted with.

That maybe in his drunken stupor with his face buried in your neck and his throbbing frustrations filling you up, he would realize even in nothingness, there is you. Always you.

A rebound. A close second. A replacement.

A heart in his hands with nothing to show for it. Lies to himself that this closeness is his attempt to bring you salvation. To settle your heart.

He knows how your script ends, looming over his conscious. Testing his heart as if he were a weak god stumbling over his first creation meeting its written demise. Some part of him is too scared to ask if you know it, too. Maybe theres still some naïveté in him if he believes for a second that you don’t. A hope that your heart remains innocent and lovely and—

For now Sunday lets you love. It would be a bitter thing to not take the heart you have handed to him.

The painkillers have started to work, your body finally able to sleep for a bit after he changed your soiled sheets from treating your wounds. Before he leaves, Sunday presses his lips to your knuckles and idles for a few moments to watch your steady breathing. Sweat glistens on your brow from the exertion the treatment put on your body. Your endurance was nothing to be laughed at.

Sunday doesn’t need to turn to know who’s outside your door when he leaves.

“Was there something you needed?” The question lacks any warmth.

Kafka chuckles where she leans against the wall, fiddling with a card in her hands. “Here to drop off your compensation for the mission and look after the little lamb,” she replies simply, throwing the card to him. He catches it between two fingers. “She lost her phone this past mission so make sure to give her that card for the time being.”

Sunday’s eyes narrow. “I’m looking after her.”

“Poor thing sent me a message asking that I check in on her so she won’t bother you. Unless that’s a problem?” Her unreadable smile is something Sunday is growing to detest.

“Not necessary. I’ll be handling it.” His voice is firm, a warning woven into his tone with careful consideration. A natural habit from his years as the head of the Oak Family.

“Really now? If you don’t want me looking after her due to trust issues then Bladie can–”

“No.” Sunday can feel his heart pounding in his ears, a frustration deep-set in his veins at the pure thought of someone that isn’t him near you when you’re at your most vulnerable. He wishes he could wipe that smile off Kafka’s face. Victim of her teasing again. Remember your composure, a conditioned mind rings. With a clear of his throat he continues. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’ve already cleared my schedule to ensure her wounds are looked after so there isn’t any scarring. I’ll take care of it.”

Kafka relents and pats his shoulder as she passes him. “Very well, birdie. Sounds like you have our little lamb’s heart in your pocket. Or perhaps it’s your own?”

Before Sunday can ask her what she means, she’s already vanished from his sight. His hand reaches into his jacket pocket when he feels something rigid and pulls out a card he’s sure she placed there.

A tarot card depicting a dove perched on a lamb. The lovers.

Stellaron hunter Sunday subconsciously latching onto you, who are like an injured little dove to him. Some psychological need to keep his same routine from before or have some semblance of familiarity amidst this new path he’s been set on. It was just something platonic, he swears by this. Just an innate need to protect and guide you since you were also a clumsy new recruit.

You couldn’t help it—falling for him. Slowly being consumed by an infatuation that morphed into a hopeful yearning that filled your chest with a syrupy thickness of strong emotions you were inexperienced with.

And Sunday was at a loss. That wasn’t part of the plan. Well—he didn’t have much of a plan with you. The platonic acquaintance he had built with you was nothing more than for his own gratification. His desperate attempt at normalcy. Someone to fill the void of not being able to see his dear sister…

Still… you’re so willing to just give and give and give to him. Anything, for even the slightest possibility of returned affection. Even if you don’t outright confess to him, he sees it. In your actions, your speech, your eyes.

Would it truly be so bad to take that which is offered in earnest?

[fleursdemeduse]

Remembrance AU: Constant Dying

This is not going in the direction that was originally planned, but I'm not sure I'm too upset by it. I'm glad to finally post a part that goes a bit further into Techno's feelings about you this time, though. I'm also starting to work on an angsty Simpbur fic alongside this one, so keep an eye out for that.

Warnings: Mention of death ; Near-death

Words: 3.6k

Your legs throbbed as you trudged through the multiple paths to where you and Techno had been mining. Your neck wasn’t fairing much better. There was always residual pain after a death, especially when you were killed by your own stupidity and not mobs or someone else. You were more than happy to take hits for your friend, often shielding his body with your much smaller one to protect him, but natural deaths were pointless to you. Not to mention that dying this many times in such a short period made an ache develop on the right side of your brain and you knew you wouldn’t be able to be rid of it for hours. You finished descending carved stairs to where you believed you had been and let out a sigh at the effort. Your chest filled with a dull ache at the action. A firework to the chest was certainly a quick way to die. It was far from the most painful as long as it got the job done in one or two shots and the ache would only last another hour or two if you would stop dying.

You thought back on how the events from earlier in the day had transpired. The entire thing had been a shit show and you loathed the next time you’d speak to Wilbur, knowing you were likely going to just yell at him. You weren’t in a great mood because of his little stunt. At least you knew why Techno had killed you and several others on the server. There was no reason for him to sit back and watch Tubbo be executed by your dearest friend. You could only hope that the boys new scars weren’t too bad. He’d have to display them for the rest of this lifetime, after all. Maybe he’d think they were cool like Tommy did.

You slowly unclenched your jaw and relaxed your shoulders, smiling a little at the thought of blond that you spent the other half of your days doting on. He was like the little brother you had always imagined wanting. Mumza had filled your prayers in some fashion, you supposed. A small chuckle spilled from your lips, deciding you’d make Technoblade pay you back somehow for your deaths today. You were up to three now.

A smile curled your lips as you thought of the possibilities. Maybe you’d steal his crown for a little bit. Or his cloak. You giggled to yourself as you crossed the lava pit that you were going to use later for obsidian. Mining in caves this deep was difficult enough without mobs so the lava was a good way to make sure none spawned nearby. Perhaps you could get away with all of the above with the addition of forcing him to make you a cup of tea. That would certainly be fair, wouldn’t it? You were sure if you convinced chat, you’d be able to make him do it.

The ore had been mostly cleared out, all that remained were long tunnels deep underground spanning for what felt like forever. It took you a good chunk of time, but finally you approached him from behind. He had continued mining, cobblestone covering the hole that you had fallen down and ultimately died upon impact in. “You grabbed my stuff, right?”

He pointed to the chest that had been set up, not stopping his assault on a piece of diorite. You flipped open the lid, pulling out several stone pickaxes he had managed to pick up. You didn’t suppose he had kept most of the stone, leaving it in the cave, but the ores, redstone, and lapis you had gathered sat untouched in the chest. “I don’t understand why you continue to use those. They’re flimsy.”

You shrugged before joining his side again, mining away the soft rock. “Because I can keep a large stock of them and don’t have to waste the durability of my diamond one.” You stopped paying attention to the coal you mined at above you as you looked towards him. “Besides, they’re expendable and I don’t have to worry about retrieving them every time I-”

Gravel began to fall on and around you in heavy chunks, obscuring your vision. You were startled for a moment at the sudden assault and you cursed your horrible luck. Of course the moment you were back and trying to resume your task, you’d almost die again. You recovered quickly, feeling the pressure around you as you were crushed and tried to dig your way out of the pile, but more seemed to just fall and replace the gravel you had just removed. It was suffocating. Rocks grated against your skin and you cringed at the sound of them rubbing against each other. You tried to claw your way through, fingers getting scraped as small pebbles cut the flesh. You were running out of air. You hated dying like this.

A hand grasped your bicep and you grunted as you were yanked out of the rubble. Rocks and flint shifted around you as it gave way and filled in the spot where you had just been. A broad chest cushioned you as you stumbled forward. You sucked in air as you rested your forehead against him. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before."

Your laugh was more of a wheeze as you smacked your hand against him, next to where your head rested. You didn’t move, however. Techno chuckled as he pat your back. He’d let you have your moment to calm yourself back down. He wasn’t particularly scared of you dying again, but he knew it had to have sucked. You had been taking the brunt of damage meant for him since, well, every time the two of you spent time together, and he didn’t understand why you were so eager to do it. On top of your clumsiness that already resulted in countless other deaths he didn’t know about, you died for him often when it would have probably only resulted in a minor wound for him. You were so reckless. But that smile you gave him every time somehow dissipated his annoyance more than it should have. It was familiar somehow. The voices loved it more than they should have. They loved you more than they should have.

You didn’t care who he was, how he was, what he did, if he could do something for you. You cared about him. Whenever he was giving too much to the rebellion, whenever he was hyper fixated on tasks and was trapped in his own brain with only chat as company, you were always there. They didn’t mind receding to the back of his head while you two talked, adding in small quips here and there. The loud roar they normally were was typically a small rumble when you were talking. It put him on edge with how much they liked you, but he couldn’t blame them. You provided conversation more often than not. You offered simpler solutions to long problems in his head he’d been breaking apart over and over until it had spiraled into a bigger one than it had started out at. But besides that, you also forced him to sleep, to remember to drink water, to take time for himself. To care about himself the way you did. He didn’t know how to repay you for the unending kindness you showed him. Especially when all you asked for was his friendship in return.

He felt you sigh against him and he moved his arm to free you. You were looking up at him, though, not stepping away.

"Are you alright?" His lips twitched. Shouldn’t he be asking you that?

"Yeah, why?"

"You look mad." A snort escaped him. You couldn’t even see his expression past the mask.

"That's just my face.” You didn’t look convinced. He ran his fingers through your hair, knocking some debris loose. It fell to the floor at your feet. He ignored the way you leaned into his touch. “I’m alright, [y/n].”

You smiled at him. You smiled that cursed smile. It made him feel worthy of the title god; so full of reverence and kindness. You had to have been blessed by Kristin herself. How could you still look upon him like that after what had happened at the festival? How could you show such adoration for a-

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” He turned his head away. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be the recipient of that smile made from sheer adoration. Your eyebrows furrowed and your smile wavered.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like how Wilbur looks at you.” Your laugh rang through the tunnels. It echoed off the walls and he couldn’t help the swell of something in his chest. For a moment, you reminded him of Phil.

“Why is it a bad thing if I look at you like he does to me? He’s a really dear friend.” Oh dear.

“Don’t tell him that.” The idea of you only seeing him as a friend would break his heart floated unspoken in the air. You didn’t seem to notice it.

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.” Techno stepped back from you when it was obvious you weren’t going to do it yourself. He watched you deflate slightly and felt like he had done something wrong.

“It’s not like he wants to talk to me now anyways.” You picked up your pickaxe again, moving to work on the pile of gravel. He offered you his shovel and you took it. “He hasn’t said a word to me since the festival earlier.”

“I’m honestly surprised you’re still talkin’ to either of us after that debacle.” You paused your digging to look at him curiously. “After me bein’ peer pressured into killin’ Tubbo and everyone else. Killin’ you. His plan to do nothin’ ‘bout it. It’s surprisin’ that you aren’t givin’ us both the silent treatment.”

You scoffed, going back to the gravel in front of you. “That wasn’t his plan.”

Techno stilled, his eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“Wilbur wasn’t planning on just doing nothing. He has TNT planted all around Manburg.” You hesitated, the grip on his shovel tightening in your trembling hands as you continued digging. “I don’t know why he didn’t set it off.”

There was no sound next to you or behind you. Stopping your work, you looked at him, only to see him looking towards where the mouth of the cave was. “We should be gettin’ back.”

A soft sigh left your mouth. “Go on ahead, I’m right behind you.”

You didn’t want to face the fallout.

You returned to Pogtopia late that night. Mining alone had been a good way to soothe your nerves after the events that had happened earlier. Whilst you had wished Techno had been there longer, you understood wanting to regroup. Today had been stressful for all of you.

You walked down the crude steps that had been made after putting the excess resources into the communal chest at the top. There was soft murmuring and the distant sound of Wilbur’s cackle put you a little on edge, but you soldiered on. It’s okay. Tubbo hopefully would have respawned by now. Things would go on. You froze at the top of the walkway down to the primary meeting area.

Techno was wrapping his knuckles with some extra gauze you recognized to be from your chest. Tommy was sitting a little away from him, his back to the wall and his knees to his chest. There was a distant look in his eyes as he stared at the ground in front of him. You could see a sliver of one of your plasters on his face, the bluish purple fabric and white dots a dark galaxy against his pale cheek. Your feet were moving before your brain as you ran to the teenage boy and knelt before him. You should have come back sooner. You reached out to hold him before hesitating, choosing instead to extend your hand to examine the flesh around the bandage. “You look horrible, Tommy. What happened? I thought you were safe after what happened at the festival.”

Techno grunted from the sidelines. “We resolved our issues.”

The boy before you huffed, still looking at the ground, but he leaned into your touch. “Resolved is a strong word, but we’re okay. For now.” He looked up at you and you pursed your lips together. He relaxed at the worry in your eyes. He was safe with you. “Where were you?”

“I was mining. I needed to blow off steam after all of that.” The blond just nodded, pressing his face further into your touch. You moved closer to brush some of the golden locks away from his face with your free hand. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Techno was suddenly beside you both, towering over the two of you. “It stays in the pit.”

You sent him an inquisitive look. “The pit?”

He only nodded and your frown deepened. Anger started to fester in you. Did he do this? To a child? “We are definitely discussing this later, Technoblade.” You watched his shoulders tense for a moment. You didn’t know if it was because of your tone or the use of his full name, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. You’d take care of it later. You two always talked things through, and now would not be any different, but you had to worry about Tommy. “You can’t just hurt people and say things are better now.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but you were already helping the blond up to shuffle him to your bed. The child kept trying to wave you off, but you persisted. Despite your ire against him, something shifted in his chest at watching how gentle you were with Tommy. His bond with you was truly something to behold.

Why aren’t they paying attention to us like earlier?

They’re so sweet to him.

Tommy's lucky we didn’t accidentally kill him.

I wonder how they’re so close.

E.

I don’t want to talk to them later.

Why are they mad at us?

E.

So they’re not upset about the festival, but they’re upset about a fight with Tommy? That makes no sense.

Follow them.

This is stupid.

E.

Do they like him more?

Techno sat back in his spot against the ravine wall. He saw traces of a fireplace and used the heel of his boot to push around the sooty remains. Most of the questions chat had were valid, but he didn’t want to pursue you. He didn’t want to have that conversation later, either. He just wanted to move on. But he knew you wouldn’t. Something about how resentment ruins friendships and miscommunication was the biggest cause. He could never resent you. Sometimes he resented the gods, but never you.

He wanted to know what kind of entertainment DreamXD and Kristin got out of watching them over and over and over again. Did they have nothing better to do than continuously create and orchestrate each new lifetime? Each new world with different rules and a different storyline? Or recreate other worlds just to change the plot? There had been so many, but this was the first where they all remembered. This was the first where he had met you.

Techno closed his eyes. None of his lives had been bad. Well, particularly bad. Wilbur always seemed to get off worse than he did. Tommy sometimes worse than them both.

He remembered a life of gilded castles, one of many. He trained Wilbur and Tommy in combat. He studied politics and was a general. He watched the two of them grow up in Phil’s absence. There were handmaidens that were too bold in their words, butlers that were too polite, and inside jokes between him and the guards. There were dinners made of things that he only wished they could recreate here. He remembered that despite any squabbling, they were still very much a family. He knows Tommy remembers that one all too clearly. He doesn’t talk about it often, but Techno knows the look in his eyes whenever Phil is mentioned. He also speaks sometimes about the servant that once tended to his mother but he nor Wilbur could ever recall one. Too many faceless employees. Too many nameless soldiers.

He remembered a different life where Hanahaki Disease roamed rampant. The flowers infected most of the people he knew. Sometimes they got better, sometimes they didn’t. Phil would never catch it. The blurry memory of his friend saying so flashed briefly in his head. That fact didn't surprise him in the least. Phil was a catch. But he had never had to deal with the deadly buds either. He couldn't remember why. His head throbbed gently as he tried to wade through the fog. Wilbur had suffered from it, though. It was devastating when he passed. The flowers choked him, stuffing his airways with petals. Who had he loved so much it killed him? Didn't he love anyone like that? Didn’t he find someone so beautiful that dying was more preferable than a life without them? Maybe he did. There were small flashes in his head of the gentle squeeze of a hand and a smile that could snuff out the sun. Why couldn't he seem to remember their face?

There was another life. A life where markings appeared on his skin. Little scratches, cuts and scrapes that weren't his, doodles, words that he would have never written himself. He remembered sitting through a lecture once, smiling at the little stars that speckled his arm and slowly appeared like the night sky in the twilight of the setting sun. Wilbur had shown off the same markings, and it was brutal irony that the two of them shared this connection with a third. They would play games frequently. Mostly twenty questions or tic tac toe, but locations and true names were always burning scribbles on their flesh when attempted. They tried many tactics to find out more before Wilbur had told them both off. He wonders if they had found their third in that life.

There had always been gaps in his memory, especially when it came to his other lives. Lulls where the mundane had become just a bit too mundane, moments where he just shut his brain off and went by instinct. Things were easier when you didn’t have past lives to think about. When he didn’t have to consider if he had already learnt a lesson and was doomed to repeat it. When you weren’t around to give him glares and words of encouragement and cause disruption in his life. Were Tommy and Wilbur’s lives more difficult with you here too? With someone to tell them what to do and to patch up their wounds and give fleeting touches that were so soft it was like touching a petal? He hopes not.

A sound of distress comes from the direction you and Tommy had gone in and he turns to look. You’re standing there, facing away from him, reaching out towards empty space to someone who wasn’t there. You must’ve been the one to make the noise.

You turn around and his frown deepens. You look tired and more than a little frustrated. It was amazing how much of a difference you stood now compared to the person that clung to him throughout the nether when he had first met you. Your presence was easy. You didn’t ramble like he would disappear anymore. You didn’t look to him for validation with every move. You didn’t act out of the desperation isolation had instilled in you. You had settled like the missing puzzle piece they didn’t even know was missing. Did you ever visit the library that you had once called your first home?

He watches you finally approach him, sitting and leaning against his side as if you weren’t upset. You move to intertwine your arm with his, hand slipping into his own. He didn’t stop you. “Wilbur, he’s-”

“Crazy? Yeah, I know. He wants me to set off withers.” You sat straight up. Shock painted your face a hue that didn’t suit you. Or perhaps it was fear. He didn’t like it.

“Withers?” He nods. Your head spins back to the direction of your bedroom. “Does Tommy know?”

“Tommy knows. I went along with it.” Techno feels you scoot away, releasing your hold on him and he already misses the feeling. “It’s not like we’re tryin’ to salvage the place, [y/n].”

“I don’t want more innocent people to lose another life, Tech.” You look at him once more. “Do Tommy and Wilbur know that you’re hoping to leave nothing behind? Because they both talk about reestablishing L’manburg when given the chance.”

“I keep tellin’ them the truth, but it seems like they’re not gonna listen.” He watches your face fall into a look that he hopes meant acceptance. Your eyes moved to the ground between you both and you just nodded. You didn’t know where you would sit in the aftermath of this all.

Techno felt your hand slip back into his as you take your place back against his side. Pink hair was soft against your cheek as you rested it against his shoulder.

“One step at a time. Let’s worry about getting rid of Schlatt first, okay?” He just nods back, resting his head on top of yours. You squeeze his hand in response. You felt safe again, especially with him next to you “Now-

Tell me about this pit.”

[tarithenurse]

Spark - 25

Fandom: Enn Enn no Shōbōtai / Fire Force. Pairing: Shinmon Benimaru x fem!reader. Content: Angst, feels, danger, stubbornness. The usual. A/N: Manage to get myself pretty confused because it said I’d already posted 25 chapters on AO3 but here on Tumblr it only claimed 24...aaaand then I remembered posting the what-if directly in the story there but not here...so yeah! Feel free to ASK (or reblog) for tag – in fact: always reblog. Thanks to those who have already <3

25. Forged by fire

...   Reader   ...

Your brain is protesting as you wake up. No, scratch that. Your entire body is throbbing as you’re being jostled by each step of the one carrying. Benimaru. The scent and heat can only be his but it’s comforting to open the eyes and see the shock of dark hair flopping about, occasionally blocking the view of his right cheek bone. Somehow, probably with the help of Joker, you’ve been tied together, allowing your arms to hang limply over his shoulders while he supports your by wrapping his arms around your thighs. It’s not comfortable but it’s efficient.

“Wait,” Joker hisses from up ahead.

There’s very little light – barely enough to illuminate the obstacles littering the crumbled hallway – and you can’t see what has alerted the gangly man, but you feel the uncrowned king of Asakusa tense beneath you, his lungs slowly expanding as he takes in the surroundings.

“Hm. I smell it.”

Smell? Sniffing the air, you don’t pick up on anything much at first apart from Benimaru, dust; and your own need for a bath.

“Don’t worry, [Y/N], just stay calm.” He must have felt you stirring.

Nothing snappy comes to mind and it doesn’t matter because that’s when you realize that a curl of sulphurous stench is mingling with the air.

“Let me down.”

“You can’t stand on that leg,” he argues as Joker steps closer.

Already fumbling with the sash holding the two of you together, the idea of supporting the weight seems like a horrible idea. “It wasn’t an invitation to a discussion, Beni,” you growl, “I’ll hold you back if you carry me.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!” Stubbornly digging the fingers into your thighs, he’s probably stubborn enough to stick to the word.

Finally free of the restraints, you tug at his hair. “I’m only telling you to put me down for now.”

There are whispers now, low murmuring groans coming from both directions as if carried on the fumes. The lightest dust and ashes are starting to dance on the ground in spiralling patterns that clash and divide in mesmerizing patterns. They could have been fascinating to watch if it wasn’t for the temperature slowly rising.

“Do as she says, Shinmon,” Joker drawls, his eye fixed at a warm glow that has appeared in the distance.

Begrudgingly, the man sets you on the ground, careful to let you gain the balance on your good leg before letting go. It’s obvious on his face: one wrong move and he’ll sweep you off your feet. I’m so gonna use this to my benefit once we’re home. You decide to ignore the nagging sense of doubt and instead focus on the growing lights in either direction of the tunnel.

What at first was nothing more than a glow has now, beyond a doubt, taken shape of several flickering fires moving towards the same cluster of targets. Misshapen bodies cast their stretching shadows beneath the flames, obscuring dozens of shuffling feet as the pace begins to pick up. They know you’re there. They are hungry.

Glancing at the men, the darkness before them is illuminated in red and purple and the air around them is shimmering with heat.

“Let them get close.”

“Guess you’re too exhausted to think clearly, dear,” Joker chuckles but then hesitates as he sees your face, “...okay. Call it.”

...  Joker  ...

Smiling behind the collar, Joker recognizes the worry flashing across the other man’s face. It’s a bold plan and he isn’t sure it’s strictly necessary...but they can’t be sure what else they’ll be facing on their way out, so [Y/N]’s idea of preserving the would-be rescuers’ power for later makes sense.

“Lighten up...or not, actually,” he smiles wickedly at Shinmon, “let’s see what our girl can do, eh?”

The glare he receives from the captain is a logical response.

“[Y/N]...there’s no reason to push yourse-”

“I didn’t survive this shit just to be rescued like some fairy tale maiden.” The threatening purr combined with the half-dried blood makes her seem tantalizingly dangerous. “There’s no one to take out my revenge on, but at least I can clean up the mess I’ve made when I let the lab blow up too.”

Oh? That must be an interesting story...for later. Finding an adequate slab of broken concrete, he brushes it off and sits down. In one of the inner pockets of the coat is a pack wrapped in cellophane and he picks a cigarette from it, lighting it with a flick of his fingers. Aaah. The acrid taste fills him for a handful of seconds before it’s blown out through his nostrils together with the last hours’ worth of stress �� he could almost chill for a moment if it wasn’t for Benimaru joining him by the boulder, sitting as relaxed as a statue about to crack.

“Has anyone ever told you t-”

“Shut up, Joker.”

The men relapse into silence. It’s not that the man with the hat doesn’t understand Benimaru’s sentiment: the girl’s in horrible condition and is using almost all her strength to stand, it seems. The white-clad ran from her. The image of a dying man clutching a bundle of hastily written notes is still clear in Joker’s mind. Abandoned a comrade together with a demon infernal...he didn’t think they could end it. It’s clear, though, that something did put it to rest, most likely causing the explosion at the same time. Show us what you’ve got, [Y/N).

...  Benimaru ...

Like lit matches, only their heads are burning as they rush forward. At first surging for whomever is nearest until a clear shout orders them to ignore the men.

“I am what you want!”

The way the infernals all zero in on [Y/N] it really looks like she’s right and as they swarm around, pushing closer but never able to touch her, he can barely see her until he stand up on the slab of concrete.

Eye glowing bright yellow even against the infernals’ blaze, she doesn’t flinch as charred fingers scrape against the air, trying to reach her. She stands, immovable, talking calmly as if they could understand her. Maybe they can. Yes, they absolutely can and some must be accepting what she says because they stop and wait without a sound. Wait for what? A few infernals continue their struggle only to be wrapped in the arms of those standing by until finally, none of them are moving more than their dead faces.

There’s a shift in the air as [Y/N] spreads her arms, smoke and heat pushed outwards by an unseen pressure and stilling the flames of the damned.

“I’m sorry,” the woman whispers a second before tugging her fists tightly to the chest and plunging the Nether in darkness once more.

Benimaru can hear the muted sounds of clothing landing in heaps on the ground, the impact softened by dust and ashes, but the room is obscured by dark flakes filling the air to the extend that the glow from Joker’s cigarette nor the captain’s excellent vision can guarantee a view of the woman they came here for.

“Impressive,” the smoking man comments, snapping a fiery playing card out of nowhere to illuminate the space.

No one is listening to the compliment. The captain of Special Fire Force Company Seven is reaching out for the swaying figure of the woman he loves, barely making it over the heap of sooty jumpsuits in time to catch her as she collapses one more time.

“[Y/N]!” he croaks, frantically feeling for a pulse.

Eyelashes flutter for a brief second before she scrunches her face to look up at him. “Yeah yeah...I’ll let you carry me this time too.”

[whitetrashjj]

most people that don’t like kie don’t like her because she

1. gets mad at JJ when he calls her out for being rich

2. prioritizes john b constantly because whatever feelings she has towards him gave her tunnel vision

3. tried to guilt-trip pope into missing his scholarship interview despite the fact that, like he said, she wasn’t there for any of them when big john went missing

4. talks about the gold, pope’s scholarship, and things that happen to the boys because of them living in the cut as if it’s okay to just toss them aside when it’s only okay to do that for her- seeing as she doesn’t need the money, and she doesn’t need a scholarship. the only thing that makes her a pogue is that she decided to hang out with them, which is fine but she can’t act like she goes through what people on the cut do seeing as she doesn’t actually live there or go to their school. these things are only expendable for her.

5. she tried to fight pope on the boat because he rightfully called her out on her “moral high ground bullshit”

6. she gives off performative activist. she’ll talk about saving the turtles but when jj is clearly hysterical or something with his buying a hot tub using his share, she says he could have “literally given it to any charity” as if he isn’t quite literally the charity… even without seeing the bruises it’s clear that jj is in an unstable environment with someone who doesn’t care about him and can’t support him financially.

7.she doesn’t sympathize with jj until after the jj/pope/kie hot tub group hug when she sees his bruises. she just ignores whatever he says when he mentions her financial privilege and insults him in a non-friendly way. (he insults her too obviously, but since the show never goes in depth to discuss kie’s struggles as a biracial girl or pope’s struggles as a black boy, it’s not something that jj can randomly sympathize with, seeing as it’s never brought to light. if it was brought up and jj were to react like she’s being annoying for pointing it out or pointing it out to spite him, i would have major problems with jj because acknowledging whatever privilege you have is important, especially when you’re with people that don’t have that privilege/when you’re someone whose character is supposed to be the activist type. and i’m not equating racial privilege to financial privilege, i’m just mentioning it because classism is pretty much the basis of the entire show and its plot.)

anyway… this is the reason i’ve seen most jjpopes dislike kie. mentioning the “kiara sucks” anon as if that is a blanket statement of all jjpopes is strange. we aren’t some raging misogynists out to get her, but you saying that pope is a very flawed character with no examples to back it up but also getting irritated when someone says kiara sucks with no examples to back it up is ridiculous. these are examples. since this is in response to your response to that ask, i’ll also add that while your experiences as a queer person are valid, they aren’t universal (“Any queer person knows that you can’t be as forthcoming and open about our affections as straight people are.”)

i get where you’re coming from with saying a regular character might not be outward about his feelings, but jj is not a regular character. jj is a nothing-to-lose kind of character, so your reasoning for why those many displays of affection throughout the show weren’t intended to be romantic just doesn’t really add up? of course he values pope’s friendship and wouldn’t want to risk it, but it’s also evident that he’s a very good liar and could easily say he was joking or wasn’t trying to seem like any of his actions were romantic, something you can also probably understand/have experienced as a queer person. your very statement that jj is someone who flirts with anyone is counterproductive to the statement that that means he doesn’t have feelings for pope. he flirts with every girl, but he can only form a lasting bond while also doing things you’d normally do with a crush, with pope. a lot of jjpopes including myself think he’s gay, and comphet/trying to prove to yourself that you’re straight by engaging in meaningless hookups (like jj) is reason for that headcanon. i get what you’re saying for other characters, but there’s no indication of jj not having that same nothing-to-lose attitude when it comes to people he has romantic feelings for, so there would be no reason for the pull-back or hesitation that you mentioned. and since he knows pope and his connection (whether it be platonic or romantic to both of them) is so strong, he probably assumes nothing could break that bond/dynamic either way.

also no one called you anti-black or implied that you were for saying pope is a flawed character, but it would be surprising to see one that isn’t rooted in that because all of them in the past have been- this fandom is wildly colorist and homophobic (another reason representation like jjpope is so important) and it’s extremely hard to find someone that doesn’t like pope without an explanation for their dislike that isn’t rooted in racism. that’s just common sense, though.

You know, I've been looking at this ask for a long time just wondering if it's worth my time to address all of this - like I didn't realise one could send asks this big. But I'm bored and got a beer in me so fuck it let's go.

So first let's talk about the reasons you hate Kie. I'm gonna admit that I to think she is flawed, like every other obx character, she is also a victim to bad writing and under developed. But also I just do not understand how people can hate her or insists that she is a bad person, don't get me wrong sometimes you just don't vibe with a character and there is nothing wrong with that but hating them and tearing them down is a very different thing.

Now I've said this before but let me reiterate. Not liking a character or ship or preferring one over the other does not automatically make you racist, misogynistic or homophobic. But I do think it is important to take a step back and assess our motivation and perhaps internalised biases. Sometimes you will find that you reasoning is without much substance and realise that you have some things to work on, sometimes even though mentally you don't have the conscious block there is something internalised about that - I know I have been subject to that. This doesn't make you a bad person, and you don't have to force yourself to like it or anything, but just be aware and sometimes it's okay to just remove yourself for the conversation because the people who do like it aren't supporting something that is morally corrupt and it doesn't have to be the subject of discourse. People can like different stuff.

So:

1. Did you mean pulls faces when JJ calls her rich? Cause that's what she does, gets a little annoyed, pulls a face but doesn't say anything because she know he's got a point. I'm very confused about you definition of angry and perhaps be careful about perpetuating the 'angry black woman' stereotype.

Also, I think it's important to note that clearly the kooks vs pogues divide has pretty much abolished the middle class, and you are either lower class or 'rich'. The Carrera's very clearly still struggle with money and are not on the same level of kooks as the Cameron's. So yeah, I think she's justified to roll her eyes at JJ saying she's rich as fuck and doesn't need money.

2. Prioritizes John B because his dad's gone missing, he's been abandoned by his guardian, is being threatened with being taken away from his home and everything he knows and is in general spiralling? Yeah. What a fucking monster. Also, I find it hard to find a justification for Kie having canon romantic feelings from John B that isn't just born from heteronormativity - her caring about him and then getting kissed by him does not equal a love match.

3. It wasn't about missing the interview - which wasn't until the next fucking day - it was about not giving up looking for their friend who was in a really bad way. Like - you cannot say that getting a scholarship when you are 16 is more important that John B's actual life being at stake ?

The fact that she wasn't there when John B went missing wasn't relevant? Like I've talked about why I hate Pope in this scene. But like, Pope is saying 'um you can't call me out on being a bad friend now cause you were a bad friend then'. That's the point, Kie caring so much about John B is rooted in guilt cause she wasn't there, and now she's trying to be there and support him, to prove that she's a better friend now. That's she's different, because she is.

4. I would love some specific examples of her brushing this stuff off like it means nothing. Other than the boat scene which once again, justified. And once again, Kie isn't destitute at all and no she doesn't fully understand the struggles of the boys or the cut but her family is not rolling in it and spending weekends on Yachts. Like this point is such a bloody reach.

5. I don't love that she got physical with him either. But she didn't do that because she got called out. She got upset because Pope was the one person she confided in about that happened during her kook year, about how bad it was, about the fact that she was suicidal and Sarah saved her and that's why she was so drawn to that, not because she wanted to be a kook, and Pope just throws that back in her face because he's jealous that Kie cares more about John B's problems than his.

6. Well this is just a misrepresentation of what happened. She said give it to any charity because in that moment it seemed like without a reason JJ just blew that money on stupid shit. Pope thought the same thing that's why he yells at him for not using it for restitution. In that moment he just seems like he is being drunk and irresponsible, because they didn't think he would go back to Luke, Pope literally says that he wouldn't. And then note how when they see the bruises they know what happened and the tone instantly changes cause they realise what happened. And that he did try to do the right thing and got flogged because of it. And she is right in there to comfort him and reassure him. So like... yeah.

7. Please give me example for this. I don't see Kie insulting him that isn't a justified call out or playful banter that is returned and part of their push and shove dynamic. You know... just being friends.

The only times we see Kie react to JJ's home life she is concerned and sympathetic. She's the only one who's worried about JJ going home when he storms off and is instantly there to comfort him when she knows he's had interaction with Luke. I really don't know where you are getting this from.

I don't use it as a blanket statement, I know not to group shippers in as one, I know there are jiara shippers that I do not see eye to eye with for a second. The reason I bring up the 'kiara sucks' thing is because of the context it was used. We weren't talking about Kie, it wasn't relevant, it had no reason to be there or anything to back it up. It was random bitching and as you say fandom is a very racist place so yeah, it seemed like racism to me. Like you realise you are calling me ridiculous for being annoyed that someone just came to me and said Kie sucks without reason, and then this ask goes onto be annoyed that I have some issues with Pope and that more than likely racist for thinking it because you've elected to ignore my massive post outlining my stance on this.

My experiences as a queer person are not universal, no. But I do know they are very common. I'm so thankful that there are people out there who don't experience this and I hope that in the future it will be the norm. But realistically, with what we know about JJ, I think it is more than likely that would be his experience.

Look if you headcanon him as gay say the things with girls is comphet, then that's your view and I won't fight you on it. But remember that that is a headcanon. And what I have been talking about is were they intentionally setting up jjpope and are those actions indicative of romantic attraction, which if they we're they would have made a point to frame it as comp het, which they didn't, they might in the future but for now - they aren't. In terms of being a good liar, I just- like gay panic is a very strong thing. There young girls who tell everyone they don't like hugs because they actually really liked the hugs and feel like people will know that they are gay if they hug their friend, a hug. I can't see 'I'm a good liar' being enough to overcome those sorts of feelings.

The thing is while JJ has a nothing to lose attitude when it comes to his life and future the same doesn't apply to his relationships, because the Pogues are his thing to lose, his only family, the one good thing. I can't see him just saying fuck it I could risk losing Pope. So I can't agree with you there.

First of all, I was called anti-black for not liking Pope, despite the fact that I don't hate him, and just had valid reasons for thinking he is flawed, not the devil incarnate. Two, I am well aware that this fandom is racist, like all fucking fandoms, and have talked about it. And I think that fact that I don't hate Pope and laid out very clearly the reasons I don't think he's some perfect angel that does no wrong kinda shows that I'm not just random bitching because he's black. Also - I'm a fucking Kie stan. I have to deal with people hating on Kie for the same reasons they love Sarah - it's very obvious to see people motivations there.

And you are right. An interracial mlm ship would be great representation. So would an interracial ship between the hot guy that everyone loves with the black girl - because doesn't he always end up with the white self insert? But reminder that ships don't automatically have superiority because they have 'better' representation and certainly does not represent a shipper 'wokeness'. Personally I think a platonic relationship between two men that are as close and physically affectionate as JJ and Pope - especially when one is so traditionally masculine as JJ, especially if one or both of them could be queer - would be great representation for young boys struggling with toxic masculinity.

So yeah, I think your reasons for hating Kie don't have much basis in canon. I do not give if you like her or not but.. hating her and trying to prove that people shouldn't like her, that she's not good enough for JJ and coming into my ask and putting her down for no reason, still does not sit right with me.

[enigma-im]

Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Rating: Teen Relationship: Space Orc x F!Human Warnings: angst, avoidance, emotional constipation, repression, fluff, space orc

Word Count: 3812

insecurities are like another person in a relationship, whispering in the other’s ears till something happens.

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

Soulmates are something to rejoice over. Which is understandable, it's the person who is perfect for you. How could anything go wrong? It's your other half, your partner in crime, your true paring. Everyone believed it was a simple affair, you meet and then happily ever after. It was the basics until we found out there was life outside of earth, then things got a bit more complicated. New cultures to take into account along with physiology.

Things aren't as straight forward after that.

When I was a kid I use to fantasize about my soulmate. Would they be tall, short, fat, skinny? What kind of music do they like, and will they also eat their sandwiches without the crust? I adored the idea of having a new best friend to hang with. As I got older the idea never really left, morphing more into adult-type thinking. It isn't till I could translate my mark did I begin to have doubts.

It was an off chance that I happened to see the language my soulmate spoke, a weird situation really. I was fumbling about online and I saw it, just a new article that had a picture of the written language. It as scraggly and difficult to read, like a doctor's handwriting. With further research, I found exactly what species my mate was likely to be.

Orc.

I was excited at the time, I figured it out. My mate was to be an Orc, large creature with mostly human parts. To better prepare I did some more digging, looking up anything I could that wasn't video game lore. It was all so new and surprising. I had a direction now, an image to apply to my fantasies.

Since then I have studied extensively on Orc culture. Learning the ins and outs of how they live, socialize, idolize, and talk. It was all so engaging and rich in lore. It felt like I was getting to know my mate already.

The more I researched I soon had an inching doubt. It started off small, basic insecurities. As I read about their courting did I really give it some thought.

Orcs value strength in their culture. A strong mate is heavily sought after. If a soulmate wasn't of great value then they are known to cast them aside. The idea puts lead in my stomach. I'm not strong, or large like their women. I'm tall but I fit more in the string bean category more than anything. I could never be what a typical orc would want.

As I spiraled in these thoughts one thing became clear. I will not be putting myself through that humiliation. I can't stand the thought of being viewed so lowly by someone who is supposed to be my perfect match. To be laughed at by them or be a dirty secret will kill me inside. I can't be an embarrassment, I refuse.

Thereafter I ignored my mark, keeping occupied in school and work. A little while later it became easy to avoid thoughts about him. It was like I never had a soulmate.

It wasn’t as freeing as I thought it would be.

After college I jump into my career, climbing the corporate ladder quickly. It's easy enough when you are married to your work. That even the thought of free time brings anxiety and stress. After a few years, I am exactly where I want to be. Traveling the world meeting new important people.

I have been everywhere and met every type of person. Orcs being one of those types of people. When I first saw one the excitement peaked its head, only for a moment. Then anxiety took over. What if it's him? The orc said his first words to me and the sigh of relief and disappointment was alarming. A few more introduction after that and the rising emotions settled. It was back to normal after that. Pretending that 'special' someone didn't exist.

Years passed and nothing happened. I didn't meet him or even get a trail. My soul felt numb, everything felt numb. It's hardly noticeable after so long, just a hole I've dealt with. I tried dating to fill the void but no one wants to date outside their partner. Anyone who does has lost their loved one already, wanting to also fill the void. Once they find out mine is still out there they break off quickly. So I focus on my career, it's all I have.

In my early 30s, I'm working in Germany. A lovely place but I always preferred the isles of Scotland, specifically Skye. At the embassy passing around some documents, I bump shoulders with an imposing figure. He is quite tall and buff, the poster child of orcs if I've ever seen one. He twists around, apologizing for the shoulder check.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there. Shouldn't have had my focus too far in the clouds while walking a crowded room," he smiles curtly.

I stare blank face at him, all primary functions failing. I can hear- feel- my heart beating against my chest. Everything is cold, my fingers numb but tingly. My vision tunnels and my brain just screams one thing. Run.

Rudely I turn and quickly walk away, giving no further reaction or words to my mat- to the stranger. I don't have a direction as I make it out the nearest door. I close it swiftly behind me, leaning against it. Sliding down to the floor I ball up. Pressing my knees to my chest and begin crying. Years of repression and closeting emotions are now boiling over. The sadness I ignored, convincing myself that they do not exist, is all on the surface.

I hiccup, stubbornly wiping away tears on the floor of a bathroom. All I can think is,

Fuck.

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

I have to say I've gotten good at not only avoiding emotions but people too. A week and a half of only catching glimpses of the orc. Which is a lot of glimpses, he is out and about often. It helps I'm stuck in my office for the time, only leaving for lunch. Still, he is always around when I'm out.

After I can pretend I've forgotten about him does he show up in my office. Knocking on my door a little after lunch. Too focused on work I don't hear him come in. I look up from my desk and choke.

"Hello again," he smiles," I have a folder for you, Reggie asked if I could bring it by."

"uh," I stare. My fingers grip the pen roughly, my fist almost shaking with the tension. The only thought running through my head now is, 'don't say anything'. If I talk then he will know. Then he will reject me. Then I can't go on pretending.

"You alright," he flicks the folder against his chest," didn't mean to startle you or anything. I know orcs can be kind of intimidating." I almost snort at the irony of that statement. Very intimidating indeed.

Instead of answering I hold out my hand for the folder, my other still white gripping the pen. He quickly crosses the room, handing me the folder before walking back to the door. With a curt wave, he is gone.

Once the door clicks into place I take in a greedy breath, slamming my head into my crossed arms. I groan, mumbling into my fist. My brain is muddled and my heart conflicted. I yearn to follow him but I also crave to leave back to the states. But one thought is resting quietly in the back of my head.

He looks good in those pants.

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

This idiot is now making it damn hard to avoid him. It's like he has made it his mission to get me to talk. Intercepting my way to my office in the mornings, meeting me at lunch, or delivering things to my office. He is determined, I'll give him that.

I'm almost running out of excuses. It's hard to make excuses without talking. I'm almost convinced he thinks I'm mute. Which would have been a grand way out if it wasn't for my coworkers plotting against me. As I talk with them they try to bring him into the conversation, promptly shutting me up.

I learn at some point his name is Garson. When I first heard I actually blushed, like a school girl! It was just his name and he didn't even say it. I will never understand the inner workings of soulmates but Garson always makes my controlled emotions run rapid.

As I sit in my office, absentmindedly writing my door opens. I don't look up, lost in thought for the hundredth time today.

"Hey," that deep -sexy- voice says. I sigh, shoulders slumping. I glance ahead, annoyed, and flustered. Garson waves shyly, holding up another folder. At this point, he has become my special delivery man. "From Vanya," he sets the file down," she asked I bring it on account of her bum leg. I told her it would be a bad idea to play soccer with her teens." his tense chuckle makes my heart throb. I want to ease his anxiety, but I can't. I just shrug, still writing.

He sighs, walking back out the door. The click echoed around the room and I find myself slamming my head on the desk again.

"Fuck," I groan, pounding my fist on the folder.

As I remind myself for the hundredth time why I'm doing this I notice my notes. I shift the paper and grimace at what I wrote.

Garson. Garson. Garson.

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

I can't fucking take it! He is more determined than I am stubborn. Watching him find more excuses to come to my office is almost impressive in its own right. He has upgraded from delivery boy to a food service. At some point he has found out my favorite snacks and drinks.

He interrupts me at the door, handing me a coffee while ranting about his night. As I ignore him, feeling like the biggest idjit, other coworkers join in. the number of dirty looks I get doesn't outweigh the appreciation I have for them talking to him. I feel like complete garbage when I don't respond to him, letting him look like a fool talking to someone who clearly doesn't want to talk. Thank the kindness of others.

Around lunch he pops in for a chat, offering a spot next to him in the cafeteria. I shake my head, pretending to be too busy to interact with him. Every time he offers and I decline he leaves so dejected. It's so heartbreaking to see him like that.

Day after day he tries his damndest to make friends with me. I cannot fathom this type of devotion to someone he doesn't know. I'm almost tempted to think he knows but its impossible. He is just too friendly for his own good.

Some coworkers have cornered me to ask what is up, some more confrontational than others. Some are casual in their attempts, asking simply why I'm so mean to the orc. Others are personally offended for him, being passive-aggressive to the point that I ask them to take his attention off me if they are so angry. Some do, which I'm grateful for. But he isn't swayed so easily.

I sit in my office, alone, contemplating my choices. I can't keep dealing with this. The heartbreak I feel rejecting him is as bad as him rejecting me. I'm doing what I was afraid of him doing, worse is he doesn't even know.

I have to leave.

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

It was weak, I'll admit that. Asking for a transfer was probably the easiest way out. I know I should just talk to him, let him have a choice in this, but I can't. he is a sweet guy, everyone knows that, but he is still an orc. He deserves someone strong and proud as his kind is. It's impossible for me to be that.

As I wallow on my last week of work I clean up my drawers to distract myself. I sort through some papers when the door bangs open. The knob slams against the wall, bouncing away towards that alluring figure. Garson walks in, grabbing the door and closing it behind him. His sneer is alarming, along with his clenched fist.

"You're leaving," he shouts," are you kidding me?" he walks closer to the desk, turning to pace the length of the room. " I tried, I thought maybe it's because I'm an orc and you were scared of me. I understand that, humans are super sensitive that way. But no! I was nice, patient, and doing everything I could to be nonthreatening. Yet that didn't help did it? It seems like nothing was going to fix that. So my question should really be why is my soulmate running from me?" I gasp, gawking at him. He stops his pacing, glaring down at me with crossed arms. He shrugs," well? Why are you running from me?"

I can't answer, shocked and startled by this admission. He doesn't allow me the time to stew on the question. He shoots forwards, slamming his hands on the desk. I jump.

"Why are you running from me," he chokes on a sob," It's been killing me to give you time. To watch you every day and not be able to hold you. If you want to leave, then fine. I won't stop you. I just want to know where I went wrong, what did I do? What could I have done? Was I always going to be not enough for you? Well?"

I bolt up at his words," I was scared! I was fucking scared, ok?" we both startle at my outburst. His self-deprecating look mixed with his attempt at a sneer melt off his face. I sigh, "I didn't want to be rejected, I couldn't handle that kind of pain." I drop my head in defeat.

Garson ducks down onto his knees, catching my eyes. "Why did you assume I would reject you," he asks.

"because you’re an orc and I'm not," I answer.

He scoffs," and you're a human and I'm not. Do you really see that as being a huge problem?"

"Yes," I slap the desk," of course it's going to be a problem. I'm not strong or proud, I'm weak and antisocial. I cry every time I watch sad dog movies. I can't lift more than half my body weight. I also don't have anything worthy for you. I'm an ordinary human while you are part of a devoted species. I am not worthy."

Garson just stares after my outburst. He looks between my eyes then gives me a once over. He huffs, standing straight. He combs his fingers through his long hair, turning away with a laugh.

"You have to be kidding me," he laughs again. His chuckles turn into full-blown laughter till he is lounging against the door.

"What's so funny," I snap. His laughs trail off as he watches me. When he doesn't answer, I sit, arms crossed and lip sneered.

"Sorry," he looks to his feet," it's just ironic."

"Yea, how so?"

I watch him straighten from the wall and casually flop into one of the chairs in front of my desk. Everything is quiet as he collects his thoughts. I faintly hear the sound of shuffling outside my door. No doubt some people heard the shouting.

"When I first found out what species my soulmate was I was excited. I had a direction now, I felt closer to you. I was so excited I told everyone I could. People of my clan held their tongues at my joy, only giving pitiful looks but no words. I never noticed it. It's when my parents sat me down to explain did I get it," he shifts in his chair," 'humans are scared of us' my mom said. 'they are weak' my dad said. I became torn between the fear of hurting you and the fear of you not wanting me because you'd think I'd hurt you.

"When I finally read what your words said I let their words alter me. instead of rejecting the idea of you I sent out to change. I got jobs that interacted with humans and kept myself small. I'm not a threat, I never was. I took every chance to chat with humans, to get used to them. It was all in preparation for you. I was- am- scared of you." he meets my eyes, his so full of fear. My heart patters, the view of vulnerability shaking me to the core.

"y-you were scared of me," I point to myself. The idea is laughable. "So we are a bunch of idiots too worried about each other's feelings to just ask straight out what we actually felt. That is funny," I chuckle. I huff, sitting back in my seat.

The awkward silence should be stifling but we are captured in our thoughts. It's amazing in its irony that he was also the one scared. I feel relieved and foolish all at once.

"so," he bounces his fingers on his thigh," what now?" I shift in my seat, also curious about our direction.

"depends," I nibble on my lip," do you want me despite everything?" the question lingers in the air for me. The answer I've dreaded my entire life. The choice that decides my happiness.

"Despite everything," he ponders," you ignore me for weeks, avoiding any interaction. Not talking to me less you wish to reveal yourself, and requesting a transfer. Despite all that, despite the ignorance and stubbornness, I want you." the satisfaction that flows through me is startling. My hand shakes from the previous fear and now incomparable joy.

"I never thought I would hear those words," I sigh," thank fuck."

He stands from his chair, walking over the side of my desk. "So you want me too? Despite everything," he crouches down. I grab at his face, finally allowing myself the chance to admire his handsome face. His long tusk and pierced lip. His dark green eyes and even darker green skin. He is so beautiful.

I answer him by leaning forward and capturing his lips. Pressing fiercely against him, showing him my cyclone of emotions. He returns it in full, shedding his insecurities to just hold me.

"I'm sorry," I mumble against him.

"it's ok, I'm sorry too," he kisses me again. He cards his fingers through my hair, petting down its length. I don't want to leave this moment, it filling the hole that sat too long in my heart. Though one question makes me part.

"How did you know," I ask. He traces his nose over mine with a hum.

"How did I know what," he asks.

"How did you know I was your soulmate, I didn’t say anything," I clarify. Garson answers by leaning down to my neck and taking a large inhale.

"Fresh baked cookies and honey milk," he kisses my cheek," only my soulmate can smell so good."

I laugh," you can smell your soulmate?"

"of course, all orcs can. Do humans not have this," he leans back. I shake my head, taking the time to lean in and smell him.

"pine tree and blueberries," I ponder," no, pine tree and strawberries."

"pine tree and fruit?"

"I guess so," I shrug, grinning like an idiot. He smiles with me, leaning back in for another heart stopping kiss.

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

After the week is over I transfer back to the states. The distance is aching, the void opening as he isn't there to fix it. I call him every night, regretting more than anything signing those papers. I belong right next to Garson in Germany. Though I can see now that I deserve to deal with the repercussions of my actions. Still, it sucks.

A month in I feel as empty as I did before he showed up. The daily calls help but seeing him would be better. My work suffers as a result, to the point that I consider taking vacation time to visit him.

Soon enough I do just that, putting in a week-long vacation request. I forgo telling Garson of my visit, wanting to surprise him. It's exciting to be able to this with someone. I always watch couples on tv surprising each other like this. It's nice to feel so normal.

The night before my flight I start packing. As I collect my clothes I hear a knock at the door. Tossing the items down I go over and answer. I throw open the door expecting some salesman but I'm greeted to a hulking figure.

"Garson!" I jump him with a hug. I pepper his face with kisses, too caught up in the growing affection.

"Hey, nice to see you too," he laughs, holding me close. He walks in, shutting the door behind himself as he goes into my living room. He sets us both on the couch, leaning down for a kiss.

"What are you doing here," I ask surprised.

"What, can't come visit my mate?"

"Oh shush, you know that's not what I meant. I'm asking because I was just getting ready to visit," I point towards my room," I'm in the middle of packing actually."

"really," he strokes my thigh," I guess great minds think alike."

"I guess they do," I smile. Having him here is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. I underestimated his importance until now.

We can't help but make up for lost time, making out like a bunch of teenagers on the couch till we make it to the bedroom. Pushing the luggage and clothes off the bed we make love for the first time. When he first pushes in it's like a puzzle finally coming together. I can't believe I was going to deny myself this, even with the chance of denial this is too great of a reward.

We lay in bed, me resting against his broad chest and him petting my head. We bask in the afterglow and silence, overjoyed with each other's company.

"I got some news," he mumbles, breaking the quiet. I hum, nuzzling into his chest. "I got transferred here," he answers.

I snap straight, looking down at him, "You're going to work with me?"

"yea," he smiles," it's exciting, I've never been to the states before."

"really? It's not much but now that you’re here perhaps it is," I cup his jaw, stealing a kiss while my excitement is hot.

"you flirt," he teases," I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," I mumble against his lips.

We fall asleep that night, curious but excited about our future.

I'm glad things worked out despite our ignorance. How could anyone deny their mate?

----------------------- 

I just.... I just love orcs so much. soulmate stories ain’t so bad either.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[honeypwark]

[ Riverside ]

  ↳ Gone Days era

       ↳ Xiang interrupts Chan and Jisung. She and Chan take a walk. She finally tells someone.

Note: Maybe reread Quitter and Turbulence before reading?

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains a detailed explanation of how Xiang developed and lived with her eating disorder. Please do not read if this is triggering for you.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Chan sits at his desk with Jisung beside him, explaining how different chords in the same spot will change the feel of the song and he should choose based on what vibe he wants the song to have.

“I kind of want it to not just cut off. Like it’s leading to more even after the song’s ended.”

“G7 might work better then.”

“G7...?”

Chan plays the chord on the keyboard to his left.

“Oh, got it.”

“As opposed to G.” He plays said chord.

“Alright. And for the second verse I wanted to-“

There’s a soft knock on the door, “Chris?”

Chan turns in his desk chair, his attention immediately going to the girl that walks into the room.

“Hey, Sophie.”

It’s been three days since Xiang’s breakdown in the bathroom at four in the morning. The next morning, Xiang had promised she’d talk to Chan about what caused it but she’d need time. He gave her time, not even mentioning what had happened. Of course, without any kind of explanation, Chan has been left to worry about every little thing and see all the worst case scenarios for the last few days.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

“What? Is he your dog or something?”

Xiang’s eyes land on Jisung, who she hadn’t noticed when she’d entered, too tunnel visioned on finally growing a pair and talking about her issues. It took her nearly an hour to knock on Chan’s door and ask to go somewhere to talk privately. Her momentary false bravery crumbles visibly on her face as she realizes Chan is busy.

“Oh, sorry. You’re busy.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chan says quickly, stopping her from leaving. He turns to Jisung, “We’ll finish later, alright?”

Jisung is confused but nods slowly, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Jisung watches as his leader saves everything on his computer without his usual attention to detail, scrambling out of his chair after Xiang as she walks back out of the room. He blinks after him confusedly, rolling his eyes before packing up his laptop to return to his own bedroom.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After taking a bus to Han River and walking along the riverside for about five minutes in silence, Xiang is still struggling with beginning to lay it all out for Chan. She squeezes the linings of her jacket pockets, the joints of her fingers aching from the strength behind it.

“Do you want to sit?” Chan asks, pointing toward a bench they’re approaching.

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

Xiang takes a deep breath in. She breathes it out slowly. She relaxes her hands in her pockets.

“I have an eating disorder.”

Chan wishes he could say that her admitting that makes everything fall into place. That he can say he’s noticed her acting strange. That he can admit he’s been worried about her weight loss. But he can’t. Because he didn’t notice those things. He’s aware of her weight loss (she‘s trended on Naver a few times because of her light weight) but he never thought of it as the outcome of something terrible. Dammit, he should have.

“Y-You do?” he stammers.

“Yeah. It probably started when our manager told me the company wanted me to lose weight. I don’t blame him, I really don’t. He was just doing his job. But... it got me thinking and I decided to eat less and work out more and that’s where it all started. It wasn’t that bad to begin with. I had control of what I was doing and it was like being in a diet. I’ve never been the most mentally sound person; I have clinically diagnosed anxiety, depression, and depersonalization but that’s a whole other can of worms.”

Now that she’s started, it’s easier to lay it all out.

“After I decided to eat less, I started skipping meals. In my mind it made sense. To lose weight, eat less. So I did. I started lying to you and the others about eating, saying I had when I hadn’t or that I wasn’t hungry when I was. It went on like that for a while, just not eating and working out a lot more. But I felt so guilty when I did eat. When I couldn’t avoid it.

“So I started making myself throw up. It all piled on top of each other and I barely ever ate and kept it down. I probably started eating a meal or two every three or four days. For a while that’s what I did. I lost so much weight. It was so unhealthy. I weighed myself before we left for tour in America and I was 37.6 kilograms.

“I felt like I was going to pass out during the entire performance in New York. I only woke up at six in the evening the next day. I was scared that the next time I went to sleep, I wouldn’t wake up. That my body would just give out on me. So I went and ate pizza with the younger boys. I started eating at least once a day because I had to do my job. I still didn’t eat enough but... it was something.

“And that should have been good. I should have been proud of myself for starting to take care of myself but I wasn’t. I hated myself for eating. I started gaining weight. I realized one night that what I thought I had control of I didn’t because I can’t control how much I hate myself.

“I went out with Yeosu one night and I ate more than I had in such a long time. I felt so guilty and I started rambling to her about my problems. But I ran away before she could even respond. I tried to stop on my own because Yeosu is so amazing and so famous and she’s mentally fine. And I got a little better. But then the company asked for an update on our weights and they told me not to get heavy again.

“It felt like doing what was best for me wasn’t what I needed to do. Like maybe this is the cost of being who I am and doing what we do. I just spiraled and I got worse than I’d ever been. That’s when you found me. I hadn’t eaten in two days and I was so hungry but I couldn’t make myself keep what I’d eaten down. I don't know how to stop doing this to myself and I want to stop but I just can't.”

Xiang takes a breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

Chan is impressed with how well Xiang has handled her emotions while explaining everything to him. Simultaneously, his heart is aching from the story she has told him and how well she’s handled her emotions. Chan can’t help but wonder how many times she has felt like the world is crashing down around her and he was none the wiser.

“When did this start? When did our manager- When did the company say you should lose weight?”

“... Late June?”

Nine months. Nine months Xiang has been dealing with her eating disorder. And before that, anxiety, depression, and personalization. Chan has his own qualms with anxiety and depression occasionally but he’s not even sure what depersonalization is. But as Xiang said, that’s a whole other can of worms.

“It’s just-,” Xiang looks for the right words to continue. “I’ve developed so much self-hatred. I never feel good enough. I never feel pretty or talented. Even with the mess my mentality has always been, I used to be able to be content with the music I make or the performances I give. Now, I just hate everything about myself. I wish I could just deal with this on my own and I'm sorry I've dragged you into this mess. But believe me I won't hold it against you if you want to back out now-"

"Sophie.”

Chan steps in front of Xiang to face her.

“I don't know how to prove to you that I will always be here for you.”

It hurts more than he would have thought when she lets out a tiny, humorless breath of a laugh, disbelieving. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the overcast sky.

“I‘m so tired of everything.”

She closes her eyes.

“I just want it to stop.”

“It will,” Chan says. “And you’re not going to deal with this alone anymore.  Know why?"

When Xiang lowers her head, Chan can see she’s barely holding back tears. She gives a minuscule shake of her head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nearly two and a half years ago, Xiang stood in front of Chan in a recording studio. She’d come to tell Chan she should leave the group. He’d called her a quitter and wouldn’t let her walk out on the group.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” she asked, not understanding how Chan can’t see the problems she’s causing.

“Because I’m not giving up on you,” he responded.

Xiang swallowed, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. Chan stood and wrapped her in a hug.

“And I’m not gonna let you give up on me.”

Xiang hesitated but looped her arms around Chan.

“We’re in this together, understand?”

Xiang smiled and let her head rest on his shoulder.

“I understand.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Because I'm not giving up on you."

At the riverside, Chan pulls Xiang into a hug, wrapping his arms securely around her shoulders.

“And I’m not letting you give up on me. We’re in this together, understand?”

Over two years later, Chan has kept his word. Before she’d started starving herself, before her mental state depleted further than it had ever been, he’d told her that they are a team and he won’t let her quit on him. And he’s kept to that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On the plane ride home to South Korea from America, Chan had comforted Xiang when she’d been anxious and fearful during turbulence. She’d thought about Chan. What he’d done for her and how he’d treated her.

Despite her self-loathing and her anxiety. And the way she’s convinced herself she’ll never be good enough. Or how she can only ever feel pretty on an empty stomach, hunger clawing at her insides in a painful way she’s grown fond of. Amidst it all, being next to Chan makes her feel safe.  Chan makes her feel safe.  Safety is something Xiang has been having a hard time finding for months now.

She realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Here, beside Han River in Chan’s arms, she feels safe. She feels... loved. And the idea- the fact that Chan cares for her and has been by her side, even unknowingly, through all of this brings her to tears.

Xiang buries her face in Chan’s shoulder and wraps her arms tightly around him, crying hard into the material of his jacket. And Chan lets her. He holds her tighter against him and lets her cry, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head comfortingly. She’s safe here. She’s safe with Chan.

And she realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

[yungimmortals]

fugue state | aurelia & ben

date: september 8, 2021 summary:  blackouts, the long island public transit, a sunny cafe, and an unlikely alliance

She came to when a rude old woman  jostled her arm with her purse as she walked past. Her body felt was made of molasses, her limbs too heavy to move. She blinked slowly, clearing dancing spots from her vision and found herself squinting in hard sunlight. Where were her glasses? Instinctively, her hand flew up to the crown of her head, hoping to slide them down to her face. They were not there. A twig, however, was. She plucked it from her hair, staring at it with a look that slowly became one of horror as her gaze tunneled, staring at her hand. 

Though withered no longer, her hand was covered in smears of dirt. One of her nails was cracked and there was a bit of red in her nail bed. She had injured herself then. But how? And where was she? Aurelia felt her panic rising. She dropped the twig and bolted to her feet, only to realize that she was on...a bus? How had she gotten here? She felt sick, nearly swooning back into her seat as she sat down hard. "No...no no nononono no," she moaned, her voice low and eerie. A few of the passengers eyed her uneasily. Others looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the girl covered in twigs and leaves and dirt, but none of them said a word to her as she continued her cry.

Ben noticed the hair first. Then the dazed, distant expression on their face. But they were several rows behind him before he could even lower the volume on his phone, so he let it go. It wasn’t until several minutes later, after a particularly large amount of people exited, that he noticed them again. He didn’t even hear the outburst, but he saw a few people glancing back nervously, so he followed suit. 

Oh. He definitely recognized her. He remembered her particularly demanding coffee orders. But now she just looked scared. Ben yanked his headphones out and stood. He quietly apologized to the person he climbed over, and then again to the people he squeezed past on their way away from… “Um, Aria?” No, that wasn’t right, but hopefully it was close enough. He hesitated, then placed his hand on her arm. “What’s going on?”

Her hands were over her ears now and she was curling in on herself, trying to melt into the seat of the bus. She didn't know how she had gotten here. Or where she had been. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember she couldn't remembershecouldn'tremember. 

A touch on her arm jolted her out of her spiral and she bared her teeth ever-so-slightly at the person infringing on her personal space. Her fractured mind fought to place his worried face. The barista. "Aurelia." She corrected, her voice hoarse. She sounded foreign to herself and she whimpered as a shadow seemed to loom at the edge of her vision. It was gone as quickly as it had come. She was having a hard time focusing on the barista. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. No no nonononono," Aurelia covered her ears again, her eyes staring at something unseen.

“Okay,” Ben said, calm and gentle in the wake of her panic. Now that he’d stepped in, the other passengers gave him a wide berth. He glanced toward the front of the bus, then pressed on the STOP button. “Do you know where you are?” he asked Aurelia, turning back to her. He tried contact again, this time putting a light touch on her leg. “Can you focus on me?”

Aurelia shook her head, a miserable sound coming from her mouth. "I don't know," she repeated. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and that, of all things, was what brought her into the moment. She scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, the other shielding her eyes in the light as she tried to look at the barista. "It...is very bright." It was a struggle to get the words out and she didn't know if he would understand. She was of the Underworld, more and moreso by the day. "I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. I don't know when I got here." She pressed the hand not shielding her eyes to her throat, trying to quell the unsettling feeling that was threatening to overtake her.

The bus was still moving, but Ben wasn't sure how long it would take to get her to her feet. Being outside would probably help, he thought, but she was complaining about the light and now he wasn't so sure. "You're on a bus, on Long Island. It's headed west. Do you want to get off? We can find... um... someplace shady to sit. Less people." He felt like he was grasping at straws, offering things he might want if he were this distressed on public transport. She didn't brush his hand away, so he kept it there. "Or is there something else I can do?"

At his description, Aurelia blanched. She squeezed her eyes shut and found his hand, grasping it like a lost child. "Off the bus. Please. But—" She tried her best to explain. "It is too bright, the light hurts. I have, I lost my— Red glasses." The words felt like they were being scraped from her throat. "They are enchanted. I can't remember if they were with me. I can't remember anything. I can't—" She choked back a sob, her grip on his wrist tightening as she frantically looked around, trying to spot the gold frames. Had they fallen under a seat? Had she ever had them at all? She felt small, weak, vulnerable. And in front of a stranger. The shame. She did not want to rely on him but here she was, clutching onto the barista like he was her lifeline. "Was I on the bus...this whole time? Did you see?"

Surprised at the sudden intense grasp, Ben inhaled sharply, but he forced himself to exhale slow and quiet. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he let his concern bleed into nervousness. "I think, um, about ten minutes. Let me..." He looked at the seat behind them, but the passenger was adamantly ignoring the situation: eyes closed, headphones in, unresponsive. With a sigh, he slid off the seat he was kneeling on and angled his body under the seats. It was awkward, a little painful, especially since he kept hold on Aurelia's hand that stretched his arm oddly. But, he found what he was looking for: a pair of glasses, gilded with deep red lenses. Ben quickly snatched them up just as the bus rolled to a stop. The doors hissed open as he held them up for her to see. "These?"

He had found them. She couldn't even remember his name or is she had been nice to him in the past (doubtful), and still, he had found her glasses. Releasing his wrist, she snatched them out of his hands, practically jamming the wireframes onto her nose. Anything to dull the light, the stubborn light that was making her head ache. She closed her eyes for a moment, as the movement of the bus ceased. Her glasses were a small comfort. Why was he helping her? Quietly, she thanked him, her eyes darting to where he had held onto him. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry." It felt to vulnerable to admit, but he had already seen her at her most vulnerable, so Aurelia murmured, "I am frightened. I don't know what's happening to me." Now that the bus wasn't moving, she uncurled herself from her position and stood, slowly this time. Her limbs no longer felt like molasses but the shivers of anxiety had not left her system yet. He was blocking her path so she had no choice but to wait for him, unless she wanted to push her way past to the exit.

He still wasn't sure what was going on, but it must be demigod adjacent, if magic glasses were involved. Ben would ask more questions later: right now his primary focus was getting outside. "We'll figure it out," he assured her, standing along with her. As soon as he confirmed that she was steady, Ben led the way out. Where they were, he had no idea, but he'd worry about that later. Ben didn't go far from Aurelia; his arms hovered slightly, ready to catch her if need be, as they stepped onto the curb. "Do you want to sit? There's..." He looked down the sidewalk. "There's benches over there, I think."

They were outside, finally. It was tempting to fall to her knees, to clutch at the grass, to feel soil on her skin — by her choice this time. But already, she had caused enough of a scene and thought it best to remain upright. He hovered around her, the gesture protective as they moved to the benches. Once seated, a cursory search of her person revealed that Aurelia’s phone was not with her but she was wearing her enchanted bangle. From the pockets of her skirt, she pulled out two inhuman teeth, what looked like a chunk of amethyst, and a bundle of twine. Setting this strange collection on her lap, she looked over to him and cleared her throat. “You. Why did you help me? I don’t know you. I don’t know much of anything at the moment.” Her voice cracked as she let out a joyless laugh.

Ben stood next to the bench at first, wanting to give her some space. It was only when she addressed him that he cautiously lowered himself into the seat beside her. His eyes flickered to the odd assortment, many questions on his tongue. "Um." Ben wasn't really sure what to say. She needed help so he gave it. Though, now that he thought about it, he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't been... pushed. They were both demigods, at least he thought so. She was something if she was living in New Athens. Maybe the gods helped their paths cross. Ben swallowed and shrugged. "I just thought I should." He faltered a bit before continuing; without realizing, he'd started rubbing circles into the palm of his hand with his thumb. "I've been there. Like, disoriented and, um, alone. I know how scary it can be."

Mindlessly, she turned the silver band, over and over around her wrist. She was filthy, covered in grime from whatever she had been doing before she regained control, but miraculously her bangle remained untarnished. His answer filled Aurelia with a feeling she couldn't place. He had simply helped her because he thought it was right, a stranger enacting kindness. How foreign an idea it seemed. She swallowed and looked away to speak, her voice still shaky. She appreciated his help, though the gaps in her memory had left her feeling raw, exposed. "Ah. It is...not pleasant. As you know, I guess. So...thank...you. I don't know what I would have done. I realize I also...I don't know your name."A shadow swirled beneath the bench and she twitched, averting her eyes quickly. One of the teeth fell from her lap, embedding itself point-first in the dirt. Aurelia grimaced at it.

He tried to pay no mind to the moving shadows, or the fallen tooth, but a persistent chill slithered up his spine. "I'm Ben," he told her, angling his body so he was facing Aurelia, despite her head still being turned away. "So, you don't have, um, any memory of how you got on the bus, right?" Was gently prodding her for information the right call? Nothing that he could think to do felt quite correct. "What's the last thing you do remember?"

"No memory..." Aurelia murmured, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. Something was calling out to her, a whisper in the back of her mind. Her fingers flexed without her telling them to and she stared down at her lap, wideyed. Panic was beginning to rise in her chest again as she watched her left hand twitch once more, then go still. "I remember looking into a pool. One of the fountains in town, maybe? It is foggy to think of. I don't—" The fingers on her left hand moved again, almost experimental. She felt like a marionette, puppeteered by unseen strings and a whimper rose in her throat.

Ben watched her hand twitch one, twice, three times before he finally reached out and grasped her fingers. Not too tight, but firmly enough to hopefully stop the involuntary movement. Was it involuntary? The panic rolling off of her implied as much. "Okay," he murmured, once again quashing his own worry down. He'd seen plenty of strange things, he reminded himself. Ben slid off the seat so he was kneeling in front of Aurelia, her hand still encased in his own. "Focus on me. I think you should take some deep breaths."

Her hand moved again without her control, but only one time, now that Ben was holding her fingers with his own hand. The shadow beneath the bench reached towards Ben, then retreated like the tide as she watched.  Aurelia forced herself to drag her eyes away from the pooling shadow and over to Ben. She nodded, inhaling a shaky breath. Then a shaky exhale. Then a slightly less shaky inhale. Her eyes burned behind her glasses, her cheeks felt wet. "What is happening to me...?"

"Right now I think you're having a panic attack," Ben said on his exhale; he started breathing deeply, too, hoping she would mirror him. She might have been asking about all the other weird things happening around her, but he had no idea how to explain that. He breathed in again, held it a bit, then exhaled again. "Or some kind of anxiety." Inhale, again. Exhale. Inhale. "Has this happened to you before? The memory loss?"

“A panic attack,” she echoed, in between breaths. It had been silly to ask. He wouldn't have the answers she sought. Especially without knowing all the pieces of the puzzle. The only one who knew the answer to her question would rather laugh than reveal her secrets. Aurelia felt a jab of hatred, this she funneled into more even breathing. “Yes. And no. Months ago. And then nothing, my memories intact. And then…” Aurelia shuddered, her patron’s retribution fresh in her mind. “There is a gap in my memories, from last week. And now.”

It took Ben a few moments to piece together, but he eventually got the picture. "Okay," he said again, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "That's fine. We'll figure that out later. Just keep breathing." They weren't going to solve anything or go anywhere with her so distraught, so Ben just opted to wait there, sit with her until the worst of it passed. Once her breathing seemed to stay consistently steady, he ventured some more questions. "Do you think you can walk a bit? We can go get some water, maybe food, too, if you're up for it? I think it'll help."

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. This exercise in measured breathing lasted a few minutes, until Aurelia felt less like crying and more like fighting. Good, she preferred to be angry. It made her productive. In lieu of answering Ben, she rose from the bench, one hand still enveloped in his. The remaining objects that had been in her lap were clutched in her other hand, digging into her palm. "Food, yes. And water." She took a few steps closer to the street, looking for a sign that would give her an idea of their location. A chill ran down the back of her neck and dead things flickered in her vision before disappearing. "If you look around, be subtle," she hissed. "I feel we are being watched." When she looked out the corner of her eye, the tooth that had fallen to the dirt was gone.  "We should leave."

Ben followed her lead. He was relieved that she seemed to be returning to her usual self, but that was undercut with a fresh stab of worry. Being watched? This wasn’t what he signed up for, but he wasn’t about to leave her now. He glanced at the tooth in the ground, only to discover it was missing. For some reason, this chilled him more than anything else. “Agreed,” he said quietly. Ben kept his head forward and adjusted his grip on her hand. Did he look casual enough, or was it clear in his posture how uncertain he was? 

Just around the corner was a line of shops, and Ben indicated the nearest cafe-looking place with his chin. “There? Or should we just, um, walk a bit more?”

Keeping her steps as steady as possible, Aurelia held her head high. They rounded the corner and she looked down at their hands, still entwined. Normally, she would shrug off this contact. But now it was a comfort and she held fast to it as they turned the corner. 

Immediately, Aurelia's eyes scanned the cafe, zeroing in on a shadow that seemed to slither out of sight. She narrowed her eyes at the table and chairs it had disappeared under and glanced over at Ben. "That is perfect. We should sit inside." Without waiting for an answer, she dragged him to the shop and into a sunny booth. Though the light strained her eyes, this was a talk not to be had in the shadows.  Aurelia stared at Ben intently, then folded her hands in front of her. When she spoke, her voice was strained. "What I'm about to tell you remains between us. Please. Swear it."

Ben thought that sitting inside was the opposite of what they should do— fresh air was better, wasn't it? But he didn't find the words or voice to protest before Aurelia was already pulling him past the door. Immediately the direct sun made him warm under his long-sleeved black tee; he almost rolled his sleeves up, then thought better of it and just mirrored Aurelia's position. "Sure," he said quickly. "I won't tell anyone." His eyes didn't waver as he spoke, despite the concern still rumbling inside his mind. He hoped it was clear in his tone, his steady gaze, that he was taking this—whatever it was that was going on, or at the very least her obvious distress— seriously.

The paranoid part of her wanted to hear him swear on the Styx but the pragmatic part of her knew that that was too big to ask. He seemed sincere enough and he had given her every reason to trust him. Aurelia adjusted her posture so that she was angled across the table towards Ben, making her hushed voice as inconspicuous as possible. "I know you have seen some strange things today. I know I am missing a large part of today. I can explain this. It will sound outlandish, but it is the truth." She broke off to glance around the cafe. When nothing struck her as suspicious, she continued in a whisper. "I do not own my soul. She who does, likes to remind me of this. It is her favorite game. That is what you have seen today."

He was hyperaware of the sun, now, radiating heat that was getting trapped underneath his shirt. He could feel a bead of sweat rolling down his spine, and for a moment, there was nothing else. Ben was just sitting here, warm and getting warmer, refusing to stomach the weight of that confession. "That..." That's horrific, that's unfair, that's worse than death. "That..." Her soul, her life, was not hers. A part of him wanted to not believe it, wanted to call the words a dramatic metaphor for a controlling, vindictive person in Aurelia's life. That he could understand a little more, could hold in his hands. But he saw the emptiness in her eyes earlier. He knew the kind of powers that existed just out of sight. "Fuck." Ben swallowed and leaned over the table, lowering his voice to match hers. "Is there any way to get out of it?"

Aurelia seemed to shrink into herself for a moment, her eyes downcast as the weight of her confession settled on her shoulders. There was more, she would tell him if he would hear it. "I..." She wanted to say that, yes there was. That she had to fulfill an agreement and she would be free. But the terms her patron had given were foggy in her mind and she couldn't recall if that were true. If she found what the goddess needed, would she be free to live her second life? Or would she crumble into ash and dust and shadow? "I don't know," Aurelia said evenly, looking up at Ben once more. "I detested the hand I was dealt. I lost everything. And when I had nothing, I...made a pact. It was foolish, incredibly foolish. That much I see now. But...I think that I would do it again. The alternative—" She broke off, clenching her fists as she shuddered. "There was no alternative. Not for me."

She got smaller in response to his question, and Ben wondered if he asked the wrong thing. But soon enough, she continued, and he gave her the space to fumble out an explanation, his teeth grinding together as he listened. Eventually, he nodded, though the motion was so small it might as well been a flinch. "I get it," he mumbled. And he did. Their lives seemed very different, but Ben understood what it was like to live with the weight of a rash decision. He understood both regretting it and not, wavering between mindsets with ever bitter reminder of what he'd done. His circumstance would never change, but maybe it didn't have to be the same for her. "Is it..." He released a shaky breath, then tried again. "Your... um, the one who... Is she a god?"

"A forgotten one," Aurelia said, before she gave much thought to her words. Her hands flew to cover her mouth and for a moment, she held her breath. When there was no retaliation— no limbs moving out of her control, no shadows trying to creep closer, no blackness leaking from her pores— she relaxed, running her hands over her hair to compose herself. "Ah, she would hate that I said that. That doesn't make it any less true. Nor does it make her any less powerful."

It was hard to watch how terribly afraid Aurelia was just talking about this god, as if she was going to be struck down at any instant. As if she was betraying something just by speaking her mind. Protective, empathetic rage shot through Ben like a spike splitting him open. His throat burned and his posture was rigid, but he kept his expression as stoic as he could. "What can I do to help?"

It felt good— if slightly taboo— to tell someone about her pact...and to be believed. He believed her and he wanted to help her. Aurelia's mouth opened but no sound came out as she found herself overwhelmed by the gesture. She scrubbed a hand over her face, remembering belatedly that her hands were covered in dirt. "I am searching for something. One small problem." Aurelia lifted her head, white pieces of hair obscuring half her face as she smiled thinly. "I have no idea what it is. I was told that I would know when I found it."

“Sounds like something a god would say,” Ben mused ruefully. His rage quickly simmered, but still there was a fissure down his middle, a crater where the spike had been. How comfortable he’d become, since taking up this tentative alliance with his mother. How quickly he’d forgotten just how fucked the gods could be. Aurelia hadn’t meant to, but she’d taken him by the shoulders and turned him to face a different path than the one he’d been walking down the last few months. For a moment, he thought he could feel eyes on his back, a fleeting hope that maybe, maybe, she’d help. Was that his own thought or something being whispered in his ear? Ben shook his head; he’d consider that later. “Okay. I’ll get us some water. Then we can…” He sighed, unused to being the one coming up with a plan. “You can tell me where you’ve already looked, and we’ll go from there.”

“Thank you. I cannot express what your willingness to help means to me.” Aurelia exhaled a laugh, looking away from Ben to focus on her hands. Her manicure was chipped, there was dirt in her cuticles. She started to pick some of it away, giving herself something to focus on now that she could feel her energy beginning to ebb. When Ben stood up from the table to go find water, Aurelia pulled a napkin and pen across the table. In her crooked scrawl, she began to make a list. Now that she had someone willing to help her through what had felt so incredibly impossible only hours ago, Aurelia felt her boldness return. 

One way or another, her debt would be paid.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//goodbye, my princess. akaashi keiji//

Request:  Throne Room Thursdays yay!! Could I request Knight!Akaashi and Princess!Reader with the prompt “I vowed to your dying father to keep you safe, so get the fuck behind me.”

Warnings: Blood/Violence

Word Count: 1.8K

Notes: This was literally supposed to be like 800 words.  How did I get here? also me shamelessly writing a prologue to my Oikawa fic that went up today O O P S

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.  Everything had been peaceful for so long, so why now?  What about the peace treaty?  Did that piece of paper mean nothing?  It had been so long since the first time that you had heard your people’s screams and cries for help.  But, now ten years later, those mournful screams were echoing all around you again.  The clang of metal on metal as swords were swung in a heated battle to save the kingdom.  

They had come in the night, cloaked in inky darkness, to launch their attack.  The loud noise of a projectile coming into contact with the palace gates being the only warning that they had arrived.  And within minutes, he was there.  Just like he always was when there was the threat of danger.  His normally messy black curls looked even wilder as he had been yanked from his sleep.  Those normally tired eyes carried an extra wave of exhaustion, but nothing could mask the looks of distress evident on his face.  Akaashi Keiji had been peacefully sleeping before he was called to do his rounds of duty, but the sudden crash that had the ground shaking beneath his feet had jolted him awake.  The other knights around him were scrambling to get their armor back on.  It was the hurried mannerisms of those around him that had him quickly on his feet, his armor clanking heavily with every step as he ran towards the main section of the castle.  The princess.

Akaashi could see the banner of the Riviere Kingdom rustiling steadily in the breeze of the night.  An enemy no one could’ve anticipated, but here they were, trying to storm the castle anyway.  His heavy hand on your door accompanied his desperate pleas.  “Princess Y/N!  Princess, are you alright?”  He was expecting a lot of things, honestly.  He was expecting you to be fearful, the memories of the last attack plaguing your mind.  He was expecting tears and gentle shakes of your body.  Akaashi, however, was not expecting you to fling yourself onto him when you pulled open the door.  The sudden momentum had him stumbling back, but he still wrapped his arms tightly around you, letting you bury your face into his neck.  “Princess, we’re under attack.  I need to get you to the safe house.”

“What about my parents?  Are they coming with us?”

“No, my princess.  I was given the orders that if this day were to come, look out only for you.  I’m sorry, but I assure you that the other knights will escort them as well.  Come, we don’t have much time.”

And with a slow nod, you took his outstretched hand and let him lead you away, down, down, down spirals of stairs.  From above, the sounds of battle began to intensify, fear halting you in your tracks.  “Princess, I know that you’re worried about the king and queen, but please, we must keep moving,” Akaashi pleads, tugging your hand gently.  

It was only then when the shouts of soldiers began to echo through the darkness that Akaashi Keiji halted in his steps too.  The grip that he had on your hand tightened fiercely, the slowly darkening look on his face was illuminated by the low torch light.  There were heavy footsteps, dozens of them, all coming closer and closer to your very location.  He pushed the torch into your hands, drawing his broadsword from its sheath.  “I need you to make a promise to me, your highness.  From this moment forward, you will do exactly what I say.  If I tell you to run, you run and you will not look back.  If I tell you to hide, you put out that torch and hide.  Don’t come out until I say so, do you understand?  Can you promise me that?”

“Akaashi-”

“It is my duty to protect you at all costs and that is what I’m going to do.  Your life is much more valuable than mine and I will do everything in my power to protect it.  Please, make me this promise, Princess.”

 “I promise, Akaashi, but only if you promise that you will come back to me.  I don’t want to lose you.”

The knight that had been by your side since you were fifteen could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  He had been with you every step of the way and there were times when it felt like more than just a work-only relationship.  The way that you joked around with him while he watched over you during your equestrian lessons, the light punches to his arm when he whispered some snarky remark back to you.  There was so much laughter and joy that encompassed the two of you that this moment was such a startling comparison, but his first priority right now was to keep you safe, not place that long-desired kiss to your plush lips.  “I can’t promise you that, but I swear on my life that I will do what I can to make you happy." 

Your hand reached up to gently stroke his cheek and in the dim lighting Akaashi could still make out the sorrow written in your eyes, unshed tears glistening softly.  This shouldn’t be happening, not now.  You should be asleep, head resting on your down pillows, nestled under your blankets, preparing for another day of lessons and carrying out your other royal duties, but instead he was pulling you through the dark tunnel system beneath the castle in an attempt to get you away from your home that was crumbling to the ground with every passing second.  

“Halt!” A voice barks through the darkness.

“Princess, get behind me,” Akaashi mutters softly, but you were frozen in your spot, body too stiff to even make an attempt to move.  His hand gripped the back of your dress, roughly tugging you back, shielding your body with his own.  “I made a vow to your father and this kingdom to protect you, so get the fuck behind me and when I tell you to run, you need to run, are we clear?”  That sudden icy edge to his voice caught you off guard.  He was normally so gentle, so teasing in all of his remarks, but this was a new side to your knight that you had never seen.  This was your knight in the brink of battle, sword drawn, ready to do whatever he had to do to withhold his job as your protector.  

“Hand over the princess.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Don’t make this difficult on yourself, boy.  You can comply with us or we’ll be forced to do this the messy way, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.”

“I am Akaashi Keiji, loyal knight to the Gledria Kingdom.  I take orders from my king and my king only and I was ordered to protect the princess no matter the cost, so I guess we’ll have to do this the messy way.”

The Riviere knight clicked his tongue, shaking his head slowly as he pulled his own sword from his sheath.  “Bad choice, boy.”

Akaashi’s sword raised to deflect the incoming blade, the clangs of metal on metal echoing through the tunnel.  A quick shove and a well aimed kick to the center of the chest sent the other man stuttering back, a devilish smirk adorning Akaashi’s lips.  

And it should’ve stayed that way.  The tides should’ve been in his favor.  He was younger, faster, smarter, but the flat of a sword aimed expertly into his side had him doubled over from the pain of the impact, the joints of the armor leaving just a sliver of skin exposed.

But, that was all it took.

It was a sickening sound, really.  The metal piercing through flesh, the sharp breathless gasp escaping Akaashi’s pretty lips as he fell to his knees.  That soft “Run”  that struggled to pass as he just fell further onto the ground, one hand still gripping his sword, trying to fight the best he could, the other pressing firmly into his side to try to stop the blood gushing from the fresh wound.  

But, despite everything he had told you, you couldn’t run.  You couldn’t just leave him here to die alone in a dark tunnel where no one would find him until his corpse started to rot and smell up the entire palace.  “K-keiji-” You whispered, falling to your knees beside him, trying to cradle his body against yours, but you were only shoved away with a firm arm.

“I told you-” he paused, searching for air, “to run.  Please-”

“Then you have to come with me, Keiji, please.  I can’t make it all on my own.  I’ll help you, but please, get up, Keiji.”

He weakly shakes his head, but when you pull his body back towards you, he doesn’t have the strength to oppose.  He knew this day would come.  The day when he would finally be forced to leave you, but he just never expected it to be this soon or to happen like this.  He had always imagined it to be sending you off with a warm smile as you were taken to your new home in the Riviere Kingdom.  Cradled in your arms, bleeding all over your silken nightgown as his vision wavered was the goodbye that he never anticipated.  “I-I’m sorry, my princess.”

“I know, Keiji, I know, but please, don’t speak.  Save your strength so we can run away, okay?”  The sleepy smile graced his features as he gazed up at you, eyelids becoming heavier with each second.  Your hot tears streamed down your cheeks and dripped onto his face.  “Please, stay with me.  I’m not ready to say goodbye.  Keiji, please,” you whisper, desperation creeping into each and every plea that you uttered to your fallen knight.  

It was almost automatic, the way you leaned over him and pressed your lips to his, finally being able to kiss the knight who had been with you through so much.  He released a weak laugh as you pulled away from him.  “What was that for?”

“Because I love you.  I always have.  No one has ever made me smile like you have and no one ever will.  Please, just hold on, Keiji.”

“Well, I hate to ruin this beautiful moment, but seize the princess,” the Riviere knight ordered.  It was only a few seconds, before you felt hands wrap around your upper arms, hoisting you to your feet, letting Keiji’s slowly dying form fall the rest of the way to the ground.  

“What? No! Let me go! Please!” You shout, struggling to escape the tight grip, but no amount of protesting was stopping the soldiers from dragging you away from the scene, your desperate pleas mixed with sobs echoing off the walls and into the dying knights ears.  “Keiji!”

“Goodbye, my princess.”

[residentsocialfailure]

Thoughts on MAG 190

because I have many, and I’m so excited this show is finally back. 

God, hearing that intro again. Gives me chills. I missed this.

Lowri! Helen! For some reason I was thinking they might have only been a part of the trailer, without actually being major characters. I’m so happy I was wrong. Fucking love them. Helen has always been, and always will be, my favorite Rusty Quiller.

“They sometimes go to a side tunnel, for.. private contemplation.” 2 minutes in, and Jonny reveals that wtgfs like to sneak off to go make out. I love it.

First tape recorder appearance. Oh shit. Interesting that they eye doesn’t work super well in the tunnels, yet it still appears. Hmmm.

“First name terms with The Prophets. Bit disrespectful.” Oh, I missed his sass. Jon is so good. 

Hiding out in Leitner’s old haunt. Interesting. I wonder if there are any of his books still lying around, and if the fearpocalypse has affected them at all.

“Celia?” Martin recognizes her? Is she the same girl Lowri played in MAG 100?

Oh, I missed Melanie so much. She’s so good, and her disdain for Jon is wonderful. God, I hope nothing bad happens to her.

Helen is Melanie’s therapist! That’s amazing. I love it.

I don’t know why Georgie trying repeatedly to destroy the never-ending tape recorders is so funny to me, but it is. 

I’m so glad they’re getting to talk. I missed Georgie, and her not really being there for Jon in S4 always made me kind of sad. I mean, it was totally understandable. and she had to do what was best for her too, but still. I’m glad that she’s acknowledging it though, and saying that she wasn’t really being fair to Jon, and didn’t understand what was really going on. I just love all of these people so much. I feel like this exchange is probably really important for Jon too.   

An endless supermarket? That’s super convenient. Just trying to figure out how that would work as a fearscape. Husbands who were sent to the store by their wives and can’t remember what to get? Broke college students who are trying to put together a meal with no money? Feeling judged for your purchases, thinking the employees are watching you and know that you don’t know how to cook. Or something. Or maybe it’s for the retail workers. Feeling like your boss is constantly watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake. Yeah, that makes more sense. Probably some of all of the above.

The Admiral!!! I kind of love/hate that he’s just chilling, going hunting 24/7. Like I’m glad he’s happy. But it’s so sad that he doesn’t recognize Georgie. That must be really difficult. I wonder what specifically he’s hunting. Other cats? Mice? Birds? People who are afraid of cats? 

“The Snoop God’s favorite kid” 

“Now my therapist thinks I’m the chosen one.” All jokes aside (because it did make me laugh) that must be a super weird dynamic, for both of them. Like, hey, you know everything about me, and how completely flawed I am. You helped me get through some very dark periods, and now I’m apparently the savior of your world or something. And thinking your “prophet” is somebody who you saw in such a way, has to be wild. I’m interested to see if they’re going to delve more into this relationship, because it could be really interesting.

I also really, really, love that Martin and Melanie are able to have this time to just talk. They’ve both gone through so much. And yeah, they were never super close in the before-times. But they still understand each other, in a way I think not a lot of people could, who haven’t worked in the Archives. And they’re just hanging out, chatting about their love lives. It’s so wholesome and good.

“I’m the anti-christ’s plus one.”  Oh my goodness Martin. This made me laugh so hard. I feel like that’s going to be A Thing in the fandom.

How weird must that be though, to have people look up to you like that? I can’t blame her at all for lying about the vision. She’s just trying to give them hope, and something bright to look forward to. But it’s also really hard. Because it is a lie, and does put her on a pedestal. It’s a really difficult situation, and there’s not really any good answers on how to handle that. But I can’t imagine the stress that must put on you. Feeling so responsible for these people, who have nothing, and who’s lives you literally saved. And who look up to you like you can solve all your problems, when you have no idea what you’re doing. It must be so hard.

That being said, the cringe I just experienced from “Blind Prophet”. Just. So much no. 

I love hearing Melanie talk about Georgie though. She’s so in love and it’s so sweet. 

Oh no. Daisy. And the pain is back. The whiplash I’m going through in this conversation. And Spiral Helen. I’m glad that Jonny put that in there though. Helen was just such a good, good, character.. In that her whole point was making you think she was on your side. And she did that to the point that a lot of people, including me, actually started to think maybe she was. This was a good reminder that no. She really was evil, she was just also really good at manipulation. It’s easy to forget sometimes, and to think maybe she didn’t deserve to die, and they could’ve saved her. But it wouldn’t have worked out, Jon knew what he was doing.

Cold baked beans. Delicious. I guess they can’t really make a fire in the tunnels. And obviously no electricity. Seems quite unpleasant though.

”Even if her problems were sometimes... odd.” I don’t remember, did we ever get context for how much she actually told her? 

”But you’ve got to have hope in something. Otherwise there’s no point to anything. So, I choose to have hope in them. [...] Times like these, it just helps to believe. I’m not sure it really matters what.” 

Anil!! I love him so much. I do wish we got some Arun/Martin bonding time though. I need them to talk about their favorite poets and discuss interpretations of various poems or something. I don’t know, I’m not really a big poetry person, but they both are, and I think they would get along pretty well, if Martin isn’t too put off by the religious part.

He also did sort of bring up a point I had been thinking about. And definitely not thinking this is in any way foreshadowing of anything, or that this is at all something that will come up. It’s just my own personal thoughts. “Maybe your powers feed on hope. On faith, and trust, and hope.” I feel like everything in the universe has an opposite, to a certain extent. And I feel like it makes sense that the fears would have an opposite as well. That there would be some sort of powers of hope or something. Not even necessarily in a good vs evil sort of way, because I feel like that’s an over simplification, and not at all really realistic.Nothing in real life is that black and white. But the fears came to exist because they were something people believed in. Not in like a faith way. But just in a way that it’s something that people thought and focused on enough to give it power. And I feel like that would work for hopes and dreams too. It only makes sense to me that if fearing something so much gives it power to turn into an actual, god-like, entity. Well, people dream about things just as much as they fear other things. I don’t know. I feel like someone smarter and better with words than I am could explain my thought process better. Just an idea that I had, that, as I said, I do not believe will at all come up, or exists at all in this universe. It’s not even really a headcanon. Just thoughts.

Final Thoughts:

This episode was so good? It was much more light-hearted than I was expecting, but in a really good way. I loved just hearing everybody reconnect, and have actual conversations with their friends. I forgot how much I missed these people, and how good everyone is. 10/10, absolutely loved. I’m exited to see what comes next, if a bit nervous. Obviously this was a good episode to ease back in, but the pain will be coming pretty soon. I am curious, there are apparently seven members of the cult, and we only met three, not including wtgfs, so five. I wonder if we’ll recognize the other two, or if they’re just not that important. Also wondering what the plan is for Jon, as he still doesn’t really know what to do. Is he just going to hang out for a bit? Have a chance to relax, like they did at Salesa’s? Wondering if they’re going to leave of their own volition, and decide it’s time to get a move on, or if something will happen to force them out. It’s clearly more dangerous for the cult now that Jon is there, and, ascaves much as Georgie cares about him, I don’t think she’ll let them stay if she thinks they’re an active danger. Anyways, I’m so, so excited that TMA is back, and I can’t wait to hear what comes next. 

[karruunkasaara]

The Maiden's Dream

Days of time bled together... The steady sound of ocean waves beat against wooden planks, and shore. A crisp sea breeze of the night, and salty flavor of the air.

An overbearing nausea... Had it been from the abandonment, that left Karruun crying on shore? Or the kinetosis of traveling for days by boat? Stars stretched out like a blanket far above. An aurora like fog, and sky, fall into view. Moonlight reflecting the whispy strands of mist that surrounded these high cliffs, and much colder winds...

A pounding, and painful reverberation struck Karruun's heart. The realization of what had happened in Ravenport on that shore...

"When did that happen again?"

She asked herself in a confusion, as flashing images of her lover leaving creeped into her head. Creating an open wound of the heart... Reminiscent words echoed in her mind... But they too bled together as a concoction of voices...

"You're selfish... this isn't about you... Coward... A lost cause... Basically already dead... Fool... What if I don't know what I want?"

The voices kept repeating in her mind, vision beginning to blur in tears, as she slows to a dock, just at the forefront of that Aurora. Her thoughts flew into a flurry, thinking deeply about every moment with Rei. Yes there were bad moments, but strangely, she could actually think of every wonderful moment they shared. And it outweighed the worst. That feeling bore deep into her, and soon she found herself reliving other moments of her life.

She wiped tears from her eyes, as the thoughts darkened... Smoke, and dim surroundings. An Eredar, mauve in color, showed the cracks of Fel fire in her skin. She wielded a spear, and shield. Before the Eredar stood Karruun, decked in her heaviest set of armor.

"This isn't you Kasaara! Let it go! There is still -time-!"

Karruun had yelled out, pleading with her corrupted sister. But Kasaara could not see her Karruun in that moment, could not see anything but an enemy in front of her. The Eredar lashed out, and the battle lasted but a few moments, as a Spear pierced into Kasaara deeply.

Karruun would remember catching Kasaara, holding her in her arms as the life faded from her eyes slowly.

"Don't... lose your way... sister..." Kasaara's hand reaches and cups Karruun's face. "Don't... h-hide you....your emotion... like father..." The final breath slip from her lips, and her hand falls.

A war in Nagrand would come to mind, the fall of the Spear Maidens there. The demons, and orcs who ended her father's life, putting his head to spear... The absolute unending rage she had felt when -she- was the one to hunt every one of those down who brought a near end to her family.

Karruun squinted out the last bit of tears from the memories. So, busying her mind would be the answer for now. She anchors and ties the small ship, setting supplies to shore. Her gaze would follow the stairs that climb all the way to the top of the cliffs. Swallowing back the lump of her emotions, she began her work. After a few hours, all of the supplies would make their way to the top, and into The Maiden's Grove.

The whisps of fog, and magical aurora alike, drifted calmly in the small forest. The ambiance of separation from society, from people. Just to be alone with her thoughts, her emotions, and nature itself. A shaky breath, and a shake of her head, she continued her busy work. Unpacking rations, bedroll, waterskin, and incense. She would complete her work hours before the dawn could approach. The aroma of starflower, and incense filled the thicket.

Finally stopping to rest upon a rug, and pillows beneath the roots of the eldest tree in her charge. Planted just beneath this tree were old testaments of her life on Draenor. A series of plant life that held meaning to her, kept to grow like that of Bonsai's. A willow of Shadowmoon, the blue mushrooms of Zangar, and the starflowers of Nagrand. As she sat staring at the Shadowmoon willow tree, her mind began to ponder the events of the last two weeks, until her eyes closed. Incense wafting into her nose.

A dull thrum would grew audibly, her chest expanded and released in harmony. Arms weakining, resting to her lap. Head slumping forwards into-

~Thoom~

The steady vibration sounded.

~Throom~

The sound became clearer.

~"Groooow..."~

A voice?

~"Grove Maiden."~

The words suddenly breathing into ear, or perhaps her mind. Deep, eerie, as if connected to her very being. She inhaled sharply, deeply in a fright.

~"Caaaalm Child..."~

Silence, then suddenly...

Pink clouds, a setting sun, a lush green land below... Focus to a mouse... Hunger, and excitement, as the dive began towards its prey. The wind, passing through feathered wings, and the owls screech.

A shift...

~"Live throoooough us..."~

Night, darkness in the deep jungle... unassuming rabbit... The deep rumble of a low growl. The speed, as muscles flex, claws protrude. Another meal aquired, the taste of blood... slinking stealthily into the night...

~"Let themmmm live through yoooou."~

One by one, living and breathing as the animals of the wild. The spirits Karruun had found the most affinity with in her years would come to her. The owl, the cheetah, the bear, the clefthoof, and the pit viper. All living through her... And she... living through them.

A cold wind seemed to shape the shift, as the voice seemed to say something, but it became lost, and garbled.

~"See... Feelings... Those you... focus too long."~

A shakier breath, and the shift came once more. Personal thoughts, playing into dream... She saw Chandrei, knelt upon the ground, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't see where, or why, and even as Rei spoke, no words were audible. Just an overwhelming feeling to mend a family lost... and deeper pain than even Karu could truly understand. Karruun reached out, as if to try and hold her...

"My love... I am here."

But much like touching an undisturbed pond, the image just as quickly rippled away. The feeling returning to her yet again, abandonment, unable to help, and the spiral began again...

Lymantria's voice echoed "Selfish". The thief who almost shot Karruun in the back of her head, before he let her live, because she was basically already dead, and a waste of time. Pain gripped her, and a darkness began to take hold.

As another shift took place. Soon red webs like a tunnel filled her mind. At the far end, her sister Kasaara, before she was ever corrupted... Turned and smiled to Karruun, her soft sweet voice sending a chill down the Dreamer's spine.

"You alright there? You seem down, have you lost your way again Sis? You've only ever done what you thought was right, and -you- were the one who always told me to follow your heart. " Kasaara's head tilted to the side, as a more sombered smile encroached her lips. "So... where is your heart Karruun?"

The images of the webs spin away, and Kasaara suddenly explodes into a dazzle of... fel green shards. Karruun's heart thumps, a squeezing feeling, darkness beginning to envelope her.

An anger unlike anything before began to take to her-

~Settle child, focus...~

That deep voice echoes out once more, fully heard... As if a hand had grasped her from falling deeply into a void. Another sharp breath, and Karruun opened her eyes. The very spirits of the wild she had called to, perched, or stood staring deeply into her. The voice spoke again to her, and all of the spirits around her seemed to speak in unison.

"You experience the Dream Grove Maiden, when next it comes to you, let it ebb and flow through you, take heart, Karruun. The best is yet to come..."

The images fade, the voice fades, and soon darkness becomes light-

Karruun sat up from under that tree, just as the first rays of dawn began to warm her skin. She squints, and looks around herself... no spirits, no Chandrei, no sister... Just her... and The Grove. A gentle wind would blow, leaves rustling down around her.

She stood and walked to the edge of the cliffs, looking out over the sea. A dream... The dream? She felt weary, and drained... Days of time bled together... The steady sound of ocean waves beat against wooden planks, and shore. A crisp sea breeze of the night, and salty flavor of the air...

[sparrowwritings]

Final Fantasy Writing Challenge Day Twenty-Six: “Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, you might be cursed?”

Day Twenty-Five -- Masterpost -- Day Twenty-Seven Lara didn’t know where she was going until her feet were leading her down the path of blue flowers away from the tree-borne village of Fanow. All she knew was that she had to get away. Privacy wasn’t exactly something the Viis of the Rak’tika Greatwood were familiar with, and besides that she didn’t want to cry in front of her friends.

She’s supposed to be one of the Warriors of Darkness, gods damn it, and that involves being strong in the face of anything. Even after learning the most ancient history of the worlds. Even finding out that the Ascians had existed since before the races of mortals did. Even finding out that the Mother Crystal is a Primal. 

And yet it was none of this that had triggered her downward mental spiral. A painting of a burning city with stars falling from above, of all things, had made her stare in growing horror as something buried deep within her had tried to press itself into the front of her mind. All of the rest of the information had just been more fuel for the inward bonfire.

At some point she’d left the blue flowers and found herself in some sort of clearing. There was space enough that the stars in the night sky twinkled pleasantly, unhindered by a woven branch canopy. Lara tore her eyes from the sight to settle herself among the tangled roots of a tree that seemed to wish to walk on its own. Once assured that she was alone, the tears fell freely and she let the mental images she had been trying to suppress loose. 

Just like in the cave, her ears started ringing as she was taken into the vision. Unlike her normal experiences with the Echo, she felt as if she was the only one experiencing this...memory, perhaps? The sky was a blood red. Something huge was streaking towards her and she was terrified out of her mind about what would happen should it impact. People were going to die. They were going to die and something had to be done, but there was nothing she could do and she was looking at someone with a name on her lips but the face was fading as the world got too bright and--

“I take it I’ve found you at a bad time?” Lara let loose a shrill noise and recoiled hard enough that she smacked the back of her head on the roots she had been sitting in. As she grasped where the impact hit, she heard a sharp inhale from somewhere in front of and just above her. “Probably should have waited until after you’d exited your fugue state, but had I been one of the local wildlife you’d have been eaten. Lucky for you I’d already agreed to help, poor choices in places to have an emotional meltdown aside.” 

She cracked open an eye, only for it to be met with silky black, red, and white fabric. As she looked upwards, the culprit who had interrupted her merely folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. It was clear that he was dangerously close to smirking. “...Emet-Selch…?” Lara muttered as she gingerly touched at her head again. The pain was already fading, but the place that she hit still smarted under her fingers.

“The one and only.” He unfolded his arms in a dramatic almost-shrug before settling his hands on his hips. “And I suppose I’m the one that has to play the part of one of your friends since you’ve isolated yourself so. Tell me, which one of them would be more likely to say something on the order of, ‘Just what are you doing out here this late, young lady? Don’t you know how dangerous it is?’”

Lara stared at him for a beat until she blurted, “Have you finally lost your mind or did I give myself a concussion?”

“You know, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Just like he had already been threatening, a smirk indeed grew on his lips. “The part about the concussion, obviously. The state of my mind is far too incomprehensible for those such as you to understand. That you’d call it madness hardly surprises me. You still have yet to answer my question.” 

After another moment or so of very confused silence, she responded with, “If you go with the way you said it, probably Thancred. If you put a more flowery spin on it, Urianger.” If she already was seeing and hearing things, she might as well go along with the hallucination that scared her the least. 

(Later, Lara would realize how stupid it was to think of Emet-Selch as less of a threat than the vision trying desperately to bring attention to herself in her mind...but in the moment she didn’t care at all.)

He seemed pleased by the answer. “I thought as much. Your friend that so willingly jumped into the lifestream--and not for the first time from what you described--didn’t seem the overprotective motherly type.”

“Y’shtola’s motherly in her own way. She just lets Roger and I make our mistakes on our own.” Satisfied that her head hadn’t broken open, Lara finally sat up in a more dignified manner. As she did so, she pinched the inside of her elbow and hard. Nope, Emet-Selch was still there for some reason. This wasn’t a dream. Unless she really did have a concussion in which case she was going to have other problems. She didn’t think that asking if she could test if he was real by touching his arm would turn out very well. “I thought you were done with us after Qitana Ravel?”

Emet-Selch rolled his yellow eyes. “Much like what it appears you were just doing, I needed a moment to myself. I can only handle so much ignorance at once. ‘Tis why your answers must be given in such a piecemeal fashion. Your little minds would implode if I passed along all of my knowledge and wisdom at once.” He sighed dramatically. Lara had a feeling that he enjoyed stringing everyone along a little too much for that to be his only reason. “Regardless, I had recovered enough to speak to all of you once more when I saw you in the middle of your little crisis. When it was clear that you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings, I saw fit to snap you out of it.” He held a hand out and flipped it over so the palm of his white glove was facing up. “You may thank me for that, now.”

Not for the first time, Lara was reminded of some of the more egocentric critics from her time working for the Bismarck. The kind of people that would give a horrible review on a dish she made and insist that they were doing her a favor for even bothering to write about it. “Thank you. For making sure I didn’t get eaten.” She said flatly. 

“You’re very welcome.” He accepted graciously. The hand Emet-Selch had held out to her went back to his hip. “And now that I’ve sufficiently distracted you from whatever emotions had caused you to tunnel inward like that, why did you hide out here away from all of your friends?”

Lara paused. He was right, she had been steered away from the fear and helplessness she had been experiencing. She hadn’t even noticed that’s what he was doing until he pointed it out to her. “You’re very good at that,” She pointed out. When all she received for a reply was a folding of his arms and more stern staring, she finally answered him. “I didn’t want anyone to see me crying over one of the paintings, okay?” Lara looked down at the toes of her boots. “I should be flipping out about the stuff you told us about Zodiark and Hydaelyn, not...that. I needed to get away so none of them would worry about me.”

He was quiet for long enough that if her gaze wasn’t towards his own boots she would’ve thought he’d left already. She was expecting him to sniff and call her stupid and weak or whatever. What he said next was in a much softer tone than Lara had thought he was capable of. “Which painting?”

She blinked up at him owlishly. His expression was unreadable. There was no way to tell what it was he was looking for, so she just went with the truth. “The first one. With the stars falling on the burning city.”

Something crossed Emet-Selch’s face that Lara couldn’t quite catch fast enough to analyze. “Go on.” 

“When I saw it, I had...a vision? I guess? It wasn’t like what happens with the Echo--” She stopped when she saw him grimacing, but he gestured for her to continue. “Um. It was like I was there? But actually a part of the event? The sky was a dark red, and something huge and bright was crashing from the sky and just thinking about it made me so--” Lara could feel her breath hitch, and she rode it out til she could speak normally. “I was so scared. For myself, for the people around me, for…” Her brow furrowed. Now that she’d had some time away from the vision, the face that had been so blurry was starting to come into focus. Not enough for her to identify, but it was something. “For...someone who was with me. And as everything around me got bright, I knew that all was lost.”

Again, he stayed quiet as he mulled over the words. She still couldn’t read his expression, though his brows were definitely furrowed. Finally, he spoke. “Do you remember any other details of this vision?” His voice was back to its neutral state, though if Lara didn’t know any better it was a little strained.

Even though she didn’t want to, she tried to think back on it anyway. “There...were people. All around us.” Her eyes shut instinctively. Most of them were staring up at the sky. We were on an open plain. Everyone had armor--”

“Armor?” The sharp voice of Emet-Selch cut into her recollection. “You’re certain about that?”

She spent a moment going back over the vision. “Yeah, armor. About half of the people were wearing more piecemeal sets. The other half were in black spiky armor.” The realization hit her a moment too late. “Kind of like Garlean armor now that I think about it.”

“Right. Seems logical.” Lara opened her eyes to see him looking away from her. His face screamed that he was hurt about something up until he noticed her. Then it went back to it’s normal, almost bored expression. “It seems you’ve unearthed a rather traumatic memory. I’d congratulate you, but those sort of things tend to not be looked on well.”

A part of her really wanted to ask him what was wrong. Another, wiser part smacked the first one over the head and said that he’d never admit to being hurt about anything. For as much as he claimed that he was always truthful, Emet-Selch couldn’t be trusted. She knew this. Too bad her mouth was already open and talking before her brain could catch up with it. “Well I can add it to the collection of traumatic memories I’ve already got, then.”

He paused at that. Lara was inwardly berating herself for saying that when he snorted. “It can’t be that many. You’re barely out of infancy.” 

“Wanna bet?” She clapped her hands over her mouth. Why were her words running away from her in front of the Ascian?? 

“It’s not one you would win, even if you told me your life story. Especially not then.” Emet-Selch drawled with a raised eyebrow. “Although if you’ve truly had so many traumatic memories in such a short amount of time, perhaps you should consider that you may be cursed. It would be deliciously ironic.”

She really couldn’t argue about that, all things considered. “I...yeah, maybe.” After a moment she pushed herself off of the roots and stood in front of him. Since she only came up to his chest, Lara had to crane her neck at an odd angle to see his face. She probably could have waited for this until before she’d gotten up, but it was too late for that now. “I think I’m good enough to head back, now. Thank you.” She tried to make the words sound as genuine as she could. 

Emet-Selch gave her a dismissal gesture with one hand. “Can’t have you reneging on our deal by dying to a forest beast. Go let your twin know that he owes me gratitude for this too.”

“Right.” Lara turned and walked four paces away before she paused and turned back around on her heel. “Wait, twin? What do you mean?”

He looked back at her like she’d lost several points of intelligence. “...I mean your twin. The other Warrior of Light--well, Darkness here on the First.”

“Roger’s not my twin, he’s my friend!”

“Right, and your souls are the same color coincidentally.” He tilted his head, letting the white stripe in his hair hang down to his shoulder. “You truly don’t know, do you?”

“No! I don’t!”

“One can only share a soul color with another by sharing a womb with them. I refuse to go into the mechanics of such, but the evidence is irrefutable. Go ask your lifestream-hopping friend about it.” 

“You know what, I will!” Lara’s emotions were all over the place, but she managed enough frustration to stomp off back towards Fanow. 

Unbeknownst to her, Emet-Selch ran his hands through his hair and, not for the first time, contemplated just how in the seven hells his plans kept getting thwarted by the Warriors of Darkness when they didn’t even know such a basic fact about each other.

[tysukis]

Hi, first(?) AU anon here. I will absolutely dive down this rabbit hole with you. I went a little overboard (sorry?). I absolutely agree with you on your Zuko take. I think we all kind of land there naturally. But I also think that Zuko would latch onto stability the moment he realized he had it. So this is kind of how I see it going down:

I think the band Sokka is part of would be solid. Just a local hit, right? But Sokka is the plans guy, and the aspirations guy, and they can do *so much better*. I 100% do not know how real life musicians work so add a pinch of salt here, but he would absolutely land them a gig as openers to a mediocre niche headliner just by sheer power of phone calls and charm. (He scripted it as much as possible, we all remember how that canon speech went when he winged it, but he knows how to put words together when he has time).

And yeah I love the idea of Zuko being an academic. I'm assuming Ozai is out of the picture for this, and the boy gets to pursue his passions instead of an expectation. Unfortunately, you mix in passion and the general anxiety of a kid who lived under intense scrutiny and you get an adult who gets tunnel vision during spring finals/prep for a conference/etc. So he doesn't quite rise to the occasion when his boyfriend drops this life changing news, he's proud but distracted, and he's already so bad at words in comparison to Sokka that it's just. Lackluster. And he probably meant to meet them at the bar/house party to celebrate after he got home but he's sleep deprived and his phone is dead because he's a disaster sometimes.

So now you've got Sokka stewing on immediate events, and being a little heartbroken because he went all out every time Zuko accomplished *anything*, even if it wasn't super impressive to Zuko himself. And maybe there's a bit of Zuko assuming Sokka doesn't need that reciprocated. He just doesn't vocalize his important needs, so Zuko assumes they're being met, you know? I like the drama of a blown up confrontation but also the idea that Sokka just confronts him sounding hurt and so damn tired of being the emotional one for that long.

But on the other side you have Zuko with his internalized plan that this is his forever person, and he does go to almost every performance even if they don't play his preferred music. And he assumes Sokka is satisfied with this. Maybe because Zuko can't imagine being happier than near his family - the good ones anyway - or because he genuinely thinks Sokka and the band are happy with being local celebrities and leaving it at that. So he plans for permanence. Because he is still a disaster, Zuko probably never vocalized this beyond doing window shopping for apartments or something. Vague jokes about a wedding that Sokka laughs at/agrees with and Zuko interprets as, "Yes I am also thinking about being here with you forever." He's not the wordsmith, he's the pragmatist and love means house shopping and snuggling over takeout and planning trips to visit their distant family together, right? Sokka's confrontation blindsided him, because he thought they were on the same page, and Sokka didn't have to leave to keep playing music, why is that even a thing??

They're both justified in being jaded because they're dumb as hell (affectionate). This isn't an AU for two grown ass men who have put in therapy time, they're both young and full of their own understanding with poor communication skills.

musician au anon!!! hello welcome back thank you so much for this incredible ask, let’s GO

(I’m gonna pop this one under a read more because otherwise this post will be eight miles long lmao)

Honestly I’m wracking my brain with what I can possibly add to this because you’ve got like. A fully fledged outline here my dude and it’s a good one. Do you write? Because you should, if you don’t. I still love the alternative take of Sokka being the one to leave and honestly this pretty much cements how much potential it has. I absolutely adore how you’ve thought about just how the communication would break down between them - and you’re completely bang on the money with it as well. Zuko is fully a hot disaster and would completely just assume Sokka’s needs are being met if he isn’t vocalising them, and we know Sokka, he’s a complainer but when it really comes down to those he loves - he’s known for being pretty selfless and for putting up brave faces. I can totally see Sokka perhaps almost feeling a bit self conscious about how hurt he is by Zuko’s lack of enthusiasm. Because Zuko loves him, right? And it’s just one show, right? So maybe he’s just overreacting, right? Or maybe he’s actually not even that good. Oh no, maybe Zuko hates his music and is just waiting for the right time to break it to him gently. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I think I might have already said it at some point tonight but Sokka would absolutely spiral until he convinces himself that him leaving would be nothing more than simply just leaving before he gets left. And like you said: Zuko  is out here planning a whole future assuming that they’re on the same page, meanwhile he has no idea.

I totally buy Sokka winging his way into a supporting act spot using his charm and charisma, and yeah his speech in canon didn’t go too well but this could likely be over the phone to only one person which would probably make it easier. I was thinking about how Sokka performing would work in conjuncture with his canon almost stage fright/fear of public speaking - and I’m leaning towards the hc that he embodies a sort of persona in front of large crowds and he’s able to let that take over and act casually and confidently no matter the audience.  (source: I am someone who studied acting and excelled in public speaking most of her life despite having a chronic anxiety disorder - playing parts and speaking on stage didn’t feel like ‘me’ because I was always channeling a character either fictional or an alternative version of myself. It works, folks.)

Are we thinking he broke away from the band and went on to succeed in a solo career? As in, he felt being local heroes was a limited pathway? Or did they all go together? Who else would be in it I wonder.

I LOVE your interpretation of Zuko and how the factors under which he was raised would shape him, especially in a modern setting. He would absolutely go into tunnel vision and that perfectionist mindset he was essentially forced into as a kid would probably be alive and well into adulthood. (And yeah, these aren’t men who have been to therapy - yet! - so we’re probably gonna assume that Zuko views this as a Perfectly Normal And Healthy Way To Live And Not At All A Trauma/Survival Response.)

I’m assuming this confrontation is what leads to their break up and then Sokka going off to pursue music further? I wonder, even all their other issues aside, what Zuko thinks about him travelling so far? As you said, we’re operating under the assumption that he doesn’t understand why Sokka couldn’t continue music and stay local. Even if things were perfect between the two, I imagine they still might not see eye to eye on that, which of course would just be another breaking point for them to tack onto the list.

As for their eventual reconciliation, Kaleigh @zukkau with her gigantic brain, said earlier that Sokka being the one to leave could also tie into a whole ‘I couldn’t ask you to uproot your whole life for me’ anxiety (especially if we’re painting zuko as a bit of a homebody here; hates change, likes routine) and that sets up perfectly for a “I would go anywhere for/with you” moment. All this to say that I think that would slot into this (^) narrative nicely.

If you have (or anyone has) anything more to add or touch on I would absolutely love to hear it, I am now fully in love with this AU and all messages and mentions of it are permanently welcome in my inbox and DMs <3