#he's experiencing the physical horrors while bitching the entire time

[venacoeurva]

Personally, I like post-extraction Miraak being one of those villains turned reluctant (or “reluctant”) buddies with the player character/their group where he keeps very vocally insisting he’s still going to RULE SOLSTHEIM STILL, OOOH GET READY! and more or less proceeds to not really do much about it atm

But he feels like shit, like literally he looked up while there in the flesh and it was sunny out and he just threw up because he’s not used to the sun and everything hurts, and almost died of dehydration because he forgot he needs to eat and drink. Also if he’s headcanoned to restore to his human/normal appearance or develop one he hasn’t done that yet, and he won’t stop secreting apocrypha goo as it leaves his system, so now your house essentially has a snail trail from a sad pissy man who insists he WILL fulfill his plans, but also he respects you as the LDB, also he appreciates the water down broth his body WON’T reject violently for the first like 2 weeks, he needs to sleep for 3 days straight now k thanks,

[ghost-like-pale]

fuckin' perv

info: some gross guy thinks you're his, sapnap thinks otherwise. 》 female clothing/anatomy, they/them pronouns 》 irl + romantic 》 1.4k words

warnings: (sexual) harassment and assault, physical fighting, hurt/comfort, swearing

a/n: ty for the support on my last piece ♡ please enjoy

this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.

——♤——

the evening sun shone an orange glow over the city. the chatter of the citizens rang through the streets past all the tall buildings, the cars and taxis making their way to their patron's destinations and the smell of your favorite restaurants wafted past the pavement. you've grown up in the city, getting used to it, yet never getting bored.

all of these memories made you think about your boyfriend; he was a real country boy - born and raised in texas and everything. it never failed to bring a smile to your face whenever he pointed out a particularly tall office or a pretty neon 'open' sign.

something he's never been very fond of is the people. specifically older men. they always had a certain look on their face as you walked by, making him swing an arm around your hip or slipping a hand in your pocket. he's always been quite protective over his lover. you didn't mind, though.

—

there wasn't much time to reminisce on your loverboy right now - you were going to see him today! your car broke the day before, so with great displeasure you had to take the bus. you hated public transport. everyone was so close to each other, the air was stuffy and there was always someone to make you horribly uncomfortable.

you pulled your mask further over your nose when you reached the stop. the small space was bordered by plastic panels and a poster for some music event, nothing of interest. the sound coming from your earbuds made your foot tap the the rhythm until the bus finally emerged from the passing traffic.

the ride was peaceful, which made you strangely wary - like a calm moment before the storm. you didn't mind the busride being quiet, but the feeling never shook.

after waving at the busdriver and thanking him kindly, you hopped off the vehicle onto the concrete pavement. three other people walked out with you; and old couple, one holding a walker and a 20-something year old man. the clicking of his tongue grew impatient as he got stuck behind the couple. after a moment the two elders managed to get off the bus safely and the man could finally get to his stop.

you didn't pay them any mind, you wanted to see sapnap as soon as possible. you kept walking at a brisk pace, growing more exited with every step. after passing and crossing a few streets you started to feel uneasy. feeling eyes drilling right through your back, you rummaged in your bag and pulled out a small handheld mirror and lip gloss. as you were applying your gloss you glanced behind you, scanning the faces you could catch from within you peripheral vision.

you were surprised to see the impatient man from the bus stop a few feet behind you. now realizing the situation, you hastily stuff everything back into your bag and start walking again, this time quicker than before. the stabbing look didn't shake, however.

you were getting more anxious as it got darker and the crowds became scarce. the destination was on the edge of the city, where there was nothing other than small stores and the occasional crappy apartment building. the pavement was easy to see if you looked down; no polished dress shoes, no sneakers, no stilettos, nothing. just the occasional group of chatting teenagers passing by or an overworked retail worker walking home.

with every frantic step forward he seemed to get one step closer. the sound of your feet tapping on the floor came to a halt as you arrived at a crosswalk with a red light. the man hummed an unorganized tune and stood behind you and casually waited for the light to turn green. everytime you'd move, so would he. the brief moment waiting in front of the crosswalk felt like centuries.

—

ding. the pole emitted a bright green and you sighed in relief. you rushed over to the other side of the street, making sure not to hit someone on the way there. as you were moving along you suddenly felt a hand on your back, slowly gliding down over your-

"what are you doing?!"

the panic in your voice didn't phase the man, though he did take his hand off your lower half and placed it on your neck instead. he slowly backed you into a small alleyway while muttering a response.

"calm down, cutie. it's just a hand."

you slapped his hand off yourself, losing the hope you had when you realized you were the only one with him on this block.

"let me go, you creep!"

this response to his 'compliment' didn't please him; he harshly grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pushed you against the cold brick wall of a corner store.

"listen here, bitch. you're gonna listen to me real good, and you're gonna obey everything i tell you, understood?"

you whimpered in pain, shutting your eyes and tears dipping at your chin.

"understood?!"

with another yank at your hair you mewled and nodded hastily. this seemed to satisfy him.

"good. now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

his hand rested on your thigh and gradually made its way up, under your skirt until it hit your underwear. the other was around your wrists, holding them both with his larger hands to the side of your head. his feet trapped yours, putting his weight on your toes so you wouldn't kick him.

"ngh-!"

"heh, can't handle stimulation, can you? guess this will be more fun than i imagined- ugh!"

the man was knocked back harshly, the hand that connected with his face quickly retreating to the body it belonged to. sapnap. the man felt his jaw, there was blood dripping off his lip.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!"

sapnap boomed in anger at the man. before he could even think of an answer he was hit again by the same hand. sapnap was now right next to you, him seeing your trembling figure in his peripheral vision. once he was sure that gross excuse of a person was going to stay down he turned to you.

his entire body language changed; his arms turning from tense limbs into a welcoming place to rest in, his chest forming into a warm pillow to fall into, his eyes from a slaughtering rage into a kind and sympathetic expression. your tears were already flowing as you sank into his embrace. he engulfed you completely, shielding you from everything and anyone, soothing the intense fear and horror you just experienced.

"you're okay now, baby. i got you, i got you."

his tone was smooth like honey, the words pulling you further in his secure clutch. the screaming must've attracted a few people, because before you knew it your hug was interrupted by him gently loosening his grasp and lowering his voice.

"we should get home, we don't want this hellhole to become a exhibition. here-"

he unwrapped his arms and pulled his grey hoodie over his head and handed the clothing article to you.

"wear this, baby."

you accepted his hoodie and threw it over your upper body. when you were finished sapnap grabbed your hand and guided you out the alleyway and turning a corner. his car was parked a little further.

"i wanted to give you a nice ride through the outer city, but i think you'd rather be home, am i right?"

you nodded. your face was stung by the wet streaks on your face with the cooling air hitting your features. you eventually reached the car, sapnap sitting down into the driver's position and you plopping down onto the passenger seat.

—

the soft revving of the car's engine made for a nice background noise as you drove over to sapnap's house. you reached the destination quicker than expected. time didn't feel like it was passing at this point.

your legs refused to move, even when sapnap opened the door for you. sapnap, understanding the situation, picked you up bridal-style and carried you and your bag out the vehicle.

—

your body was weak, both from the late hours of the night and your vivid memory of what happened about half an hour ago. the mattress sank next to you as you snuggled further under the covers. sapnap radiated warmth, making you move your body towards him and latching onto him like a koala.

"rest, angel. we'll talk about it in the morning."

his voice reverberated in his chest, the vibrations bringing you comfort. his hand found a good spot on the top of your head, lightly pushing it into him.

"good night, (y/n)."

you hummed as a response before passing out. sapnapchuckled at your cute resting face.

"sleep well, baby. you deserve it."

—

thank you for reading. please don't be too harsh on me, heh

masterlist

[deeahzee]

Chance of a Lifetime

Pairing: Lee/Carley

Summary: Weeks after a traumatic foster home experience, Clementine is called and is told a couple is interested in fostering her. Could this be her chance for a home?

A/N: NEW AU NEW AU, i’ve had this one planned for ages and i’ve finally completed the first part!!!! i hope you enjoy :,D btw this is a foster au, just in case ur curious. on my ao3 i have a better au description on the series so if you wanna check that out you can :<

Read on AO3

or read here on Tumblr!

They were fighting again. Downstairs.

Clementine could hear them through the floors. It sounded heated, as they usually were. Clem could’ve sworn something made out of glass was chucked across the room. She could hear it, shattering in an instant and swearing filling in afterward. She just wanted to sleep. That was her only wish.

Living with the Petersons was rough. One of the roughest foster homes Clementine has ever been in. They were found commonly strict and rude during the day, and brutal and violent during the night. Forced to work around the house Clementine got little to no time to herself, and by nighttime she could barely sleep due to the shouts and sometimes even screams blasting for the floor below her provided bedroom. She snuggles up tight into her blanket. The fighting was just growing worse.

Cursing. That’s all she could hear. Shit and fuck and dumb ass bitch. Common language spoken around the house. Never directly to Clementine, thank god, but to the adults it was daily. Dishes weren’t cleaned properly? You were called a whore. Laundry folded wrong? Useless piece of shit you were named. Every single day Clementine was shocked as to how these people were willing to try and adopt a child. A child that would most likely be living in a living hell, exactly like Clementine was doing.

A scream of agony erupted from below. That was a sound Clementine never heard before, and it had escaped from the man of the household’s lips, who usually treated everyone like they were pure nothing. Bits of silence passed before frantic apologies were spoken, and then a shout. A bang. Then nothing. The brunette had never been so scared. Her knuckles had turned white due to how tightly she grasped her blanket. Quietly she rose from her twin bed, blanket still in her grip, and tiptoed to the door of her bedroom. Her hand was shaking madly when she reached out to the doorknob and turned it to open the door.

The lightbulb from downstairs was flickering slightly, as if Clementine had just entered a horror movie. Blanket draped along her shoulders she ventured forward and descended the stairs, using baby steps the whole way down since she was so frightened, plus she didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to herself.

Finally she reached the main floor to the two story home and saw the light was still flickering. It looked to be coming from the kitchen, and silence still hung fresh in the air. It was almost unbearable. Taking tiny steps Clementine walked closer and closer, and eventually found herself standing at the door frame that separated the hall and the kitchen. Instantly her eyes widened in horror at the sight her innocent vision was forced to consume.

There on the tiled floor laid Mr. And Mrs. Peterson, both having gashes upon their foreheads and blood trickling down their faces. Some of it even got into their hung open mouths. Clementine screams. Louder than she's ever screamed. She feels her voice crack. She couldn’t bear to state at the sight, yet she found her eyes unable to peel away. Were they dead…? She couldn’t tell. She was frozen on the spot.

It had been at least four hours later when an ambulance and foster care arrived at the house. Immediately the two Petersons were driven to a hospital and Clementine was heading back to square one. Foster care. No matter what happened she always returned back. Always ended up in the same bedroom she was supposed to share with others, but always found her having it to herself.

All the other kids turned up being fostered for a long time, some even getting adopted. So why wasn’t she? What was holding Clem back from finally receiving a home? She holds back from breaking down into ugly sobs in the car. Her hope was running low. It was draining day after day. Her dreams slowly crushing into bits and pieces. She’ll never have a home, and that’s what made Clementine broken.

Sixteen years. Sixteen dreading years Clementine has jumped from foster home to foster home. And not a single one considered adopting the brunette. She was only a baby when her parents died, the foster care adults saying it was from some horrifying car accident. She didn’t want to believe it at first, but slowly as the years went on and on she accepted it. The fate her parents had to face and she didn’t.

One hundred fifty five. That was how many foster homes Clementine had been to. One hundred fifty five times she had been rejected for adoption. One hundred fifty five times she was forced to live under such harsh and bizarre conditions. Each house she entered those conditions grew worse and worse the more homes she stepped into. One child, that was it. A small girl with nothing but a small sack of hope at her side. Was it really that hard to take care of her?

Physical and mental scars littered Clementine’s body and mind. Every home she’s been in holds a traumatic experience that glues itself to her and her mind. Abuse was something she experienced a lot, physical and verbal. So many words she’s been called, so many ways of pain she’s been through. Clem can’t even remember the last time someone said “I love you” to her.

Clementine spent a lot of her time hidden in her assigned bedroom at the foster care after the Petersons incident. She didn’t have the courage to go join the other kids as they happily played out in the courtyard of the building, their laughs echoing from outside and bouncing back and forth off the walls of the room. How could homeless kids like themselves be so happy?

Her fingertips swerved along a dragged scar that sat on her left arm while she sat curled up upon her bed. How she got it she remembers too well. So many scars and nightmare-like memories, yet so little happy moments. Was Clementine really that unlucky? Was she really a black cat stuck in this cruel, unkind world?

“Clementine dear?” She hears a woman speak her name. Ms. Summers she recalls her name being. She didn’t even spot her at the doorway, let alone hear the door open. “Can you grab your bag? A couple is here and is interested in fostering you.”

The brunette’s head perked up slightly to the news. A couple wanted to foster her? She hadn’t heard those words be spoken to her in weeks. “They want to… foster me?” She asked, her voice faint.

The blonde woman nods, pushing up her blue framed glasses. “Yep, would you like to meet them? They already signed the papers and everything and are waiting outside to take you to their home.”

Clementine gave the woman a simple nod, racing off her bed to obtain her bag. She didn’t have much to pack, really only packing a blue jacket a past family bought for her and a pillow the foster care was kind enough to provide to her. Zipping the purple backpack shut she slips the straps onto her shoulders and grasped them tightly as Ms. Summers led them down the halls of the building.

Specks of color from drawings made by children in and out of the foster care popping out from the walls on their sides. Staff members every now and then passed by the two, only making small talk. Every window they passed children were seen outside doing some sort of friendly activity, like playing tag or drawing on the sidewalks with pastel colored chalk. Clementine was quiet the entire walk. She was still letting the fact someone wanted to care for her sink in.

Soon the pair found themselves in the front parking lot of the building. It was rather empty for this time of day. Staff cars were mainly littered all across the lot. One car stuck out the most however, a shimmering silver one with pitch black tires that stood out along with the car color. It glistened in the beaming sunlight and sparkled the whole parking lot. A couple, a man and a woman, stood close to the vehicle, too deep in a conversation to notice the two exit the foster building.

First Clementine took her attention to the man. He was tall, a beard worn on his face while a simple blue flannel hugged his chest and had a darker blue jacket topped over it. There was a certain glint in his eyes that struck out to the brunette the most, one Clementine rarely saw when a man fostered her. Kindness. Love.

Clem’s attention then turned to the woman. She was much shorter than the man, her outfit more put together and elegant. A knee length magenta skirt wrapped around her legs with a plain white blouse complimented along with it along with a fuzzy looking brown coat. Her short hair was half clipped up, and she along with the man wore that same shine in her eyes. That same look Clementine rarely saw. Could this be it? Her chance for a home?

Ms. Summers cleared her throat, which caused the couple to pause in their conversation and turn their heads to see the pair. Instantly smiles grew on the couple’s faces.

“Hello Mr. Everett, Mrs. Everett,” The blonde began before she settled a hand onto the teen’s shoulder. “This is Clementine. Clementine, this is Mr. and Mrs. Everett.”

“A real pleasure,” The woman, Clem learning to be Mrs. Everett, spoke. “But please, you can call me Carley, and that’s Lee.”

“My apologies. Well, she’s all yours,” Ms. Summers beckoned Clem forward towards the couple before turning to look at her. “You positive you got everything sweetie?” Clementine gives her a short nod. “Very good. I hope you have a fantastic time dear. And who knows, maybe this one will be it,” The blonde pats the girl’s shoulder sweetly before giving out her goodbyes and trailing back into the foster building.

“Well, looks like it’s just us three against the world,” The man, Lee, finally spoke. “Well kiddo? Wanna head home?”

Mentioning that word sent an unfamiliar feeling throughout Clementine’s body. Home. That word was so important to her. Something she was desperate to have for years. “Home?”

“Yeah, you know, the place you’ll be staying at with us. The place you may live at the rest of your-”

“Lee,” Carley’s voice cuts the man off. “Let’s not jump too far ahead.”

Lee visibly rolls his eyes. “You never know Carls, you never know.”

“I think she clearly gets the idea, right Clementine?” The adults turned to the teen, who was briefly staring at them as they exchanged conversation. Seeing their attention was now on her made her panic slightly, simply shrugging as her answer. The couple shared frowns to the silent response from the brunette.

“I can tell from you both you don’t wanna stand around here anymore, so why don’t we head home?” Lee broke the sitting silence around the three of them. “We’re excited to show you where you’ll be staying.” The last part Clem figured was specifically for her.

Clementine nods to the idea, letting the couple lead her over to the car. Lee opened the door for her and she slipped inside easily, patiently waiting for the other two to get in before deciding to speak up and ask some questions burning in her mind.

“How far away is the house?”

“Not super far,” Carley answers her question. “Is that alright? Or do you wanna go the long way?”

“It’s okay,” Clem speaks softly. “I don’t like long drives anyway.”

“Good to know.” Lee speaks as he drives out of the parking lot and onto the road. Clementine watches buildings and nature fly past out the window. Silence came back upon the trio. It was unsettling at times, them all wishing there was something to break away the awkwardness.

Clementine took the opportunity to look around the inside of the vehicle. It was fairly tidy, especially for a car that was the model for a family. She half expected to see a snack bag of some kind tucked deep within the seats of the car. But alas, she found nothing. All that caught the brunette’s eye was a simple pink water bottle left in one of the car door cup holders on Clem’s side of the vehicle. It didn’t look like Carley’s, and it definitely didn’t look like Lee’s. Unless it was the man’s, Clementine wouldn’t judge. Her main guess was they had a daughter waiting for them back at the house.

“You alright Clem?”

A nickname being formed for her, and being used, caused Clementine to stiffen suddenly, tearing her gaze from the bottle of water to see Carley was looking back at her. Eyeing her sudden change of state caused the woman to frown. “Sorry, should I not use that nickname?”

Clem was fast to shake her head. “No… it’s okay. I just… no one’s ever called me that before.”

“Clem? Really?” Lee joined into the conversation, not removing his eyes from the road. “Figured that nickname would be common for you.”

“Nope, past homes have just called me Clementine.”

“Well we’d like to change that. If that’s alright with you?”

The brunette nods, which seemed to make the adults in front of her happy. Something about her name having a nickname… she liked it. She felt like she was a kid that belonged. A kid that might possibly have a chance at receiving a home.

“Lee, I love you very dearly,” Carley suddenly spoke, her voice tickling with a hint of anger. Such a tone caused panic to fill in Clementine’s body. “But did you put deodorant on this morning?”

Lee audibly gasps from the driver’s seat before he lets out a small chuckle. “Of course I did! What, you saying I stink?”

“You smell like a fucking rotten egg sandwich made on a gloomy Monday morning!”

“Carley!”

Bickering. They were bickering, at least that’s what Clementine thought it was. She can visibly see they were joking, something she rarely saw couples who fostered her do. Such sight made the brunette let out small giggles.

“Clem, please tell me I don’t smell like a rotten egg sandwich.” Lee begged at the teen, which made her grin softly.

“I can’t smell you from back here, so I can’t say anything.”

“Ha! Girls win!” Carley cried out with a grin on her face as well. Her grin widened when she spotted Lee sticking his tongue out at the woman. Clementine couldn’t help but keep her grin present on her face. The fuzzy feeling continued to swim through her skin. She felt like she belonged, she had a family.

The rest of the car ride went by like a sunny summer day breeze, and soon Clementine found themselves entering a neighborhood, a neighborhood in which was gated shut by a large dark grey gate and had to have an ID out and ready in order to get in. Once past the gates the teen instantly began looking out the window and trying to guess in her mind where she would be staying.

House after house they passed, and the more houses they passed the larger they grew. Clementine’s eyes were at the edge of popping out of her sockets when Lee pulled up into the driveway of quite the house. The home looked as if it was transported from one of those Victorian styled murder mystery tales she read years and years ago. The cream colored bricks stood out along with the grey roof tiles, and Clementine half expected a butler of some sort to walk out and greet the three, but no one came out.

“Woah.” Was all that slipped out of the brunette’s lips. Carley and Lee smiled at the teen’s reaction.

“You like it?”

“It’s so… big.”

“Yeah, that’s our house,” Lee stopped the engine and swiftly took the car key out of the ignition. “You ready to go inside?”

Clementine looked back and forth between the two adults before giving them a brief nod. Easily the three got out of the car, and Clem got a better look at the home. Rose bushes stood tall near the front door of the house, and a decently sized fountain ran smoothly upon the driveway. She felt so small compared to it.

“You have a fountain…?”

“Sure do, had it installed a few months after me and Lee bought the place,” Carley unzips her coat. They weren’t even inside yet and she was already getting settled back in. “Ready to head inside?”

The brunette spares a look at the couple before she averted her gaze over to the house before them. It was so large… so overwhelming. Clem was sure she’d get lost in it. But it was her home for who knows how long, and she was grateful for that. Taking in a deep breath she nods, grasping her backpack tightly while Lee and Carley led the way to the front door. Clementine was about to enter a world she had never entered before, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for it.

[malxlawson]

— && guests may mistake me as ( halsey ), but really i am ( amalia 'mal' lawson + cis female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 8/6/1995 ). i am applying for the ( maintenance manager ) position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite ( 202 ). i should be hired because i am ( + passionate, charismatic, thorough ), but i can also be ( - prideful, dramatic, argumentative ) at times. personally, i like to ( creating street art, volunteer community work, organizing protests ) when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work. thank you for your consideration!

aaaand here we come with our favorite revamped heathen! mal hasn’t had quite as much changed - just a nice lil face lift and we love that for her.

before we get super into it: we have a stats page and a pinterest for your viewing pleasure.

going a little heavy on the triggers just because i want to be sure to cover all my bases!! most everything is just a mention, but we gotta be safe kids! take care of yourselves and remember ilysm.

( pregnancy tw, miscarriage tw, police brutality mentions tw, substance abuse tw )

- amalia raelle lawson was born august 6th, 1995 to marshal and cherisse lawson in oakland, california.

- marshal owned a local bbq restaurant and cherisse was an er nurse. both grew up in rough neighborhoods with rough childhoods, but vowed to make their kids’ lives better than their own.

- three years after mal came into their lives, they had a son; jayden.

- from that day on, mal had a best friend and confidant that she’d go to the ends of the earth to keep by her side.

- their childhoods weren’t easy in the way most kids are - their mom worked long hours and their dad spent most of his days at the restaurant. when their parents were home though (if cherisse wasn’t sleeping off a shift change), they spent their time with their community - be it at the restaurant or at block parties - trying to better it in any way they could manage.

- police brutality mention tw despite their efforts, their community was still plagued by all the injustices every other predominantly black community faces. from a young age, mal learned that the justice system wasn’t built to serve her or the people she considered family.

- police brutality mention tw she was six the first time she heard about a family friend being a victim of excessive force; nine when she saw it. for years after that, she saw mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and cousins coming to mourn their loved ones - either locked up or taken from them too soon.

- instead of becoming numb to these tragedies, a fire was lit in amalia to change the system - even if she had to dismantle it one piece at a time.

- in the mean time, mal found an outlet for her emotions in art - specifically painting. she started with watercolors and crayolas, but once her parents realized her abilities were beyond what they should have been for a kind her age, they put whatever extra they could manage into mal and her passion for art.

- she was fourteen when she was introduced to street art - graffiti, if you want to get technical. his name was trey and amalia was instantly enamored by him. trey ran with a rougher crowd than mal was used to, but he softened around her.

- pregnancy tw they were young, in love, and reckless. she was fifteen when mal found out she was pregnant. while she wasn’t thrilled about becoming another statistic, she was thrilled about the idea of having a child.

- not entirely pleased with the situation, but always willing to support their children, mal’s parents welcomed trey into the family with open arms and began planning what was sure to be a life full of love for the newest addition to the lawson family.

- miscarriage tw three months into the pregnancy, amalia started to experience cramping and spotting. worried it may be something serious, she had her mom take her to the hospital. it was there they confirmed that mal was experiencing a miscarriage.

- everything changed after that. amalia was no longer the girl who wanted to fight the world’s injustices - she was just a girl who wanted to fight the world. she was angry and bitter at everyone and everything.

- substance abuse tw her relationship with trey quickly began to deteriorate and she turned, for the first time, to the rougher crew he hung out with. booze and drugs quickly became a way for mal to cope with the pain she carried around. she started small - cigarettes and pot - before graduating to the harder stuff, like coke and prescription pills.

- substance abuse tw skipping school to get loaded became a regular occurrence and when the truancy officers showed up at the lawson’s front door, her parents sat mal down for an at home intervention. for as much as they yelled and cried and offered treatment, amalia wasn’t hearing any of it. it wasn’t until jayden snuck into her room late one night to ask if he was going to lose mal like one of his friends had lost his older brother that mal realized her actions weren’t only effecting her life.

- miscarriage tw just before her junior year - with the help of her parents - mal decided it was best for her to leave public school and finish the rest of her schooling online. the same time she started online schooling, amalia started painting again. something she hadn’t done since she found out she’d miscarried.

- being able to stay home meant mal had the space and time to heal in her own ways. when she wasn’t doing school work, amalia was painting to help clear her head. it took some time, but she was finally able to tell her parents what she was going through, both mentally and physically.

- miscarriage tw after she miscarried, mal started to suffer from chronic period and pelvic pain, as well as painful intercourse. she’d also been suffering from symptoms of depression, all of which help lead her down the destructive path she’d gone down.

- several doctor trips later, mal was diagnosed with endometriosis and depression and quickly began treatments for both. despite starting treatments for her endometriosis, doctors told mal the likelihood of her conceiving again was highly unlikely. 

- mal hadn’t expected to hear at 16 that biological children may never be in her future and she was devastated, but she had her support system and their love and willingness to do whatever they could for her helped her cope in a much healthier way.

- by seventeen, amalia was feeling like her life was back on track, though drastically different than she’d imagined. she finished her diploma early and began working for her dad in the restaurant; serving, cooking, even helping fix things when they broke down. slowly but surely, mal mended her relationship with her parents and earned back their trust.

- one day, after some kids had vandalized the restaurant, marshal asked mal if she’d help cover the graffiti. jumping at the chance, amalia spent three days finishing her first big piece - which is still her favorite to this day - a portrait of her family and the community that kept the restaurant going. abstract and colorful, full of life and vibrancy, mal’s piece drew a lot of attention and several offers for her to commission other pieces.

- for the next three years, mal worked at the restaurant and took commissions when she could. life seemed normal again. she even reconnected with trey, mending the relationship that had been broken.

- the day trey proposed was the happiest day of mal’s life. she’d been beyond thrilled! after everything they’d been through, he still wanted to be with her. unfortunately, the bliss didn’t last. their engagement abruptly ended and mal decided it was best if she get away for a while, so as to not slip back into destructive patterns.

- a quick google search brought amalia to the malnati website and their employee housing program. applying was a no brainer and a month later she and jayden were packing their bags and moving to chicago.

- she started as a maid and, in the four years she’s been there, has moved up to the maintenance manager position.

hcs!

- when she’s not working, mal’s usually painting in her suite or sketching at one of the many parks in chicago during the day. at night, you’ll find her taking full advantage of chicago’s nightlife. night’s in for mal lawson are few and far between.

- drugs tw she skates a fine line when it comes to sobriety. she’s careful to drink or use just enough to be sure she’ll have a good time, but it’s a slippery slope. in the four years she’s been in chicago, mal’s slowly started doing more and more, telling herself she’s got a handle on it. truth be told, she’s teetering on the edge of a full blown problem again. 

- super into video games, but partial to anything involving zombies. mal loves a zombie - don’t ask me why. she’s usually down to play among us, valorant, fortnight, and is always down for a little animal crossing when she needs something more chill.

- 90′s hip hop & r&b are mal’s shiiiiiit. she’s at her happiest when she’s got a little tupac on in the background.

- also don’t you dare try to tell her he’s not alive in cuba somewhere living his best life. she ain’t havin’ it.

- when she’s angsty/sad/angry her go to playlist is a lot of punk, rock, grunge. especially of the 90′s persuasion. she stays on brand. her favorites are the offspring, nirvana, the foo fighters, soundgarden, stone temple pilots, the smashing pumpkins, sonic youth, and pixies.

- she’s gluten intolerant and vegetarian.

- mal is a cult classic movie kind of gal. donnie darko, pulp fiction, rocky horror are all on her list of favorites. she’s never going to turn down a good horror/thriller marathon, either.

- she plays a little piano and a little guitar. she picked them up after she started online schooling. she finds both relaxing. she’s by no means going to make a career out of it, but it’s fun!

- hella resting bitch face, but she really is super friendly! she just doesn’t always look it.

- don’t test her, though. she’s got attitude for days and she isn’t afraid to let you know what she thinks or how she feels about you. we ain’t got no time for games, okay?! okay.

- amalia has also very much immersed herself in community work since moving to chicago, especially on the south side. if her parents taught her anything growing up, it’s that she should give back the her community as much as she’s able.

- a lot of her street art celebrates women of color and their beauty. 

- not a fan of cops, still. soz pals.

- when it comes to work, she does her best to make the malnati a decent place to work. she’s all about positive reinforcement and making sure she takes care of her employees. she’s not gonna shy away from telling you ya fucked up, though. she’ll say it with love, though, while also calling you a giant pain in her ass. but with love. okay?! okay.

wanted connections!

- hook ups! : mal is a RAGING bisexual and is not at all afraid to make her appreciation for someone’s physical appearance known. just don’t expect to stay the night. once the deed is done you’ve got about thirty seconds to vacate mal’s suite.

- softies! : make. her. soft. give me someone who makes her break her no sleep over rule, pls and thank. she’s a stubborn, pain in the ass, and sassy af but someone who can make her melt? and act like a teenager in love again? all gooey and gross? yuh. pls.

- good influence! : someone she doesn’t have to drink and party with to have a good time! remind her that she misses things when she’s not sober - that the world is still beautiful and inspiring even when she’s not in a drug induced haze.

- chill baes! : drugs tw people mal just ~ v I b E s ~ with! probs smokin’ a decent amount of weed together. 

- protest pals! : people who are also involved in the community and social justice movements. they happily bail each other out of jail (or, more likely, sit in the back of a squad car together) and attend protests together. bc the buddy system. overthrow the government safely ty.

- rivals! : mal’s got a big mouth and some seriously controversial opinions. she’s not afraid to call people out for being ‘wrong’ and calling them...creative names. she’s bound to have a giant list of people who aren’t her biggest fans.

- bad girl’s club : need i say more? give. me. the girl gang. constantly partying and constantly getting into some kind of mischief and leaving a trail of broken hearts as they go. 

if you made it this far, you deserve SEVERAL high fives and literally all my love. ily all v much and uh, yuh. let’s plot pals. :)

[iatasbcl]

House of Horrors

Pairing: RK900 x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Gore, violence, torture, one-sided relationship, verbal and physical abuse, AU, whole lotta things going on here

A/N: So, I played Outlast: Whistleblower and have been in a horror-y mood ever since. Nines’ personality was heavily inspired by Eddie Gluskin so He ain’t nice here and is basically a yandere (?) pos, enjoy!

W.C: 2.8k

Fear used to be something you felt when you saw a small spider crawling in your room. Panic was just that awful sensation that you would feel when you met someone new. Dread was the feeling that consumed you before any meetings you had with your superiors.

Oh, how you wished those simpler things were what caused your heart to pound in your ears. No, things just had to turn so sinister. You were an employee, you hardly felt like you were of any worth in the massive corporation that was CyberLife, but hey, it paid the bills.

You wanted to smack your past self for being so naïve, for not seeing what was right in front of her. A megacorporation that created androids needed technicians for a secluded project, how did you not think it was shady?

It didn’t matter. You were stuck here with countless CyberLife employees’ bodies, many torn apart and twisted in the most gut-churning way. You were alone here with no possible way to protect yourself from them.

Them. The defective androids. This center was made as a ‘replacement’ for the android dumpsters in Detroit as an effort to gain the world’s trust back after the failed revolution led by the RK200 model. It was only the pretty front they put up for the world, androids that came here were ‘fixed’.

They would take the deviants and perform those weird experiments on them ranging from playing with their memories to messing up their entire head and making it into something much more horrifying. You shouldn’t have cared, everyone said those were just machines that didn’t feel pain or anything from the crude treatment.

Then why did they scream? Why did they beg? Why did they break?

Why did CyberLife even fund something like this? Was your race truly so horrible? Inflicting horrors upon horrors on beings that seemed to feel just for the sake of it like they were sadistic hunters.

The androids somehow got out and many did not show mercy to their torturers, killing them and ripping them apart like they were nothing. A part of you did not feel pity for them, they too were monsters.

You only started working here two weeks ago and you never stood for the things they did. But you were a nobody, a nobody who probably wouldn’t find another job in this economy.

And that’s how you ended up here, breaths ragged and heart-pounding as you frantically tried to quiet yourself. You slowly took out your camera and turned it to night vision. It was an older model from the 10s that you found in your coworker’s desk, you silently thanked Maria and hoped she was okay.  No one was here, you let out a sigh.

“You let me violate you.”

You almost shrieked, fuck, fuck. He was here and he was close. His sickening yet beautiful voice would sing that song as he walked around, searching for a lover. Searching for you.

“You let me desecrate you.”

You lower your camera as you peek through the slots of the tight locker, you could see his red LED flashing in the dark. You held your breath again when stood right in front of you and thanks to the light coming from his temple you could see him baring his teeth at you, like a rabid animal.

“Found you, pet.” With that, the locker was flicked open and you inventorially screamed, trying your hardest to push him away but all that got you was a rough shove towards the floor.

“Now, now,” You picked yourself up and tried to back off, but you felt something hit your head and the world around somehow became darker and thus you drifted away.

“I have so much to show you, my little rabbit.” Was the last thing you heard before completely blacking out.

You awoke in a chair, tied and bound in what looked like a hunter’s chamber, your camera was nowhere to be found. Some bodies were lying around, mutilated beyond recognition. It looked like it was the RK900’s work.

You knew of his model, a model designed to kill and hunt, a model created for destruction. You saw him being brought here when you first arrived, chained like he would lash out the moment he was set free. His blue eyes were breath-taking, and you wondered why CyberLife designed someone so visually pleasing for such purposes.

You looked at his file, model RK900, serial #313 248 317 – 87. Previously used in the D.P.D, the reason for the deviation was unknown. You passed by his cell once, out of sheer curiosity, the RK900 model wasn’t available everywhere and he was the first one to be brought here.

He was quiet, very quiet. He just sat on the white chair and stared down. You didn’t try to talk, you just observed. A state-of-the-art model reduced to nothing but a prisoner. “RK900?” You called; this would probably get you in trouble, but you just had to satisfy your curiosity.

“Are you alright?” You asked, hoping for an answer yet doubting the possibility of getting one. And you didn’t, you had sighed and simply left. That was your only interaction with him before the shit hit the fan, it didn’t explain why he locked you up and then chased you all over the place for the past hours when you managed to escape.

“My little rabbit.” God, you hated that voice. You glared at him as he approached you with a soft smile, it threw you off. “I am glad our little game of hide and seek is over,” he got closer and reached out for your face, “You are finally here, right where I want you.”

This was the first time you got to see properly him since the outbreak and he looked terrifying, to say the least. The right side of his face was stuck in different patches of white, his right eye looked damaged as his sclera was dark, almost black. His white shirt and pants were stained with blood, some of it looked fresher than the other.

“And that is?” you spat.

He laughed for the first time. “Oh, you sweet little thing.” His hand tugged your hair behind your ear and the contact alone sent shivers down your spine. You were afraid of being broken like the others; he was a combat android fully capable of twisting you in any way he pleased.

“You are yet to be perfect.” His words were cold. He retreated, going to a small table at the back of the room.

“Are you going to kill me?”

“Don’t be afraid, I’d never do something that terrible to you.” Something was menacing about what he said, probably the fact that he held a combat knife. Panic filled you now, and you desperately tried to break free, it proved to be useless.

“No, please. You don’t have to do this.” You whimpered but he approached you regardless, holding that thing in his hands like it was his little toy. “I do. You see, humans always have this fire in them,”

The knife neared your face and you shut your eyes tight, awaiting the worst. You screamed when it tore your skin, it wasn’t very deep or wide, but it still hurt like a bitch. “And the only way to extinguish that pathetic spark is to break them.”

The knife moved downward and dug deeper into your cheek. You tried to hold back, to not give this piece of shit the satisfaction of seeing his work’s effect on you. But you couldn’t, it hurt, it hurt so much. You wailed and clenched your hands into a tight fist, your eyes flowed with tears and you looked at him.

He didn’t even have that smug expression anymore, there was only emptiness. Unsettling, creepy emptiness. “Please, please, stop!”

He chuckled; a dark awful laugh barely hearable compared to your screams of pain. “I am afraid I can’t do that. This is your punishment for trying to leave me, you have to be a good girl and accept it.”

Your throat was sore and dry by the time he was done marking you. You didn’t cry anymore, only shook with small sobs as he stared at you. This was it; this was the end of you. You were going to die in this mess by the hands of some deranged lunatic. No, no. You were a fighter and this fucker won’t break this easily.

“Why me?” You wanted to lure him in, to make him believe you cared about him.

You saw him hesitate to answer, he was probably scanning you. He stepped back and went back to his table. “You are special.”

“How so, sir?” it was hard, trying to act like an innocent toy but you kept the act up for your sake. “Not many humans care about damaged merchandises.” He said as he wiped his bloody knife.

“You approached me when nobody else did, I wanted to make you mine ever since I saw you walk away.” Right. “Why are you even here?”

He stopped and you gulped, shit. “You weren’t as quiet as I would’ve liked you to be while taking your punishment, pet. You don’t get to ask any more questions.”

He came back to you and his hand brushed against your wound, causing you to flinch. “I didn’t want to do it, my love, but you left me no choice. Now, how about we start making you a beautiful dress?”

You knew it wasn’t a question, you were his toy for now and he will make you do whatever he pleased for. You nodded and he unrestrained you, you tried to get up, but you didn’t have any power left in you after hours of running and getting cut like a fucking piece of meat.

“You must be tired. Let me carry you.” He said and carried you like you were his bride, it made you feel somehow sicker. The light-headedness you experienced only got worse with every step he took, and you felt darkness consume you again.

“You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you”

You groan when you hear him sing again, you didn’t want to hear his vile voice. “Ah, you are awake.”

You slowly opened your eyes and saw yourself in a mirror, he stood behind you with a menacing smile. You looked different, the wounded side of you face was stitched up with dried blood surrounding it, that did not look good. But most importantly, you wore a dress, a pretty dotted dress.

“di… did you change my clothes?” You whispered, he put his hand on your shoulder and pressed his lips to the top of your head, you almost gagged. “Of course, I made this for my beautiful wife.” His smile grew wider.

His wife?

“Do you like it, my love?” There was this dangerous edge to his voice, you knew what he wanted you to say. “Yes, sir.” He hummed and nudged you to get up. You did ever so slowly, having to rely on him to push yourself up.

Fuck, your plan to manipulate seemed to be a certain suicide, either that or it was going well. “Where are we going?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyes at him. “It’s a surprise.”

You follow him for five minutes between the rooms and halls of the center, there were so many bodies twisted in the most unimaginable ways, some had necks that were turned a 180°, some we decapitated, some were mutilated beyond recognition. You wanted to throw up.

“We are here.” The awful stench of the rest of the building disappeared when you entered the clear, bright room. It was weirdly… calming.

“This will be our home from now own. We will be together forever, you won’t be ungrateful like that bratty detective, right?”

Your heart quickened for the millionth time tonight, what was he even talking about? It didn’t matter. You knew that leaving this room will be impossible the moment that door is locked, you had to make your move, now.

“Thank you.” He looked relieved and relaxed; his eyes still held the same insanity to them. “I knew you would appreciate my love for you.”

He passed you and went on to tidy the bed, you looked around for anything you could use against and then you noticed it, a knife the door. Bingo. You slowly moved back and leaned down, taking the sharp weapon with ease as the android rambled.

“Other people never appreciated my gestures, he never liked how I protected him from this awful world. He just had to lash out, to try to abandon me for someone else. We could’ve been beautiful, but he practically wanted me to snap his pretty neck.”

You approached as your heart kept pounding and your mouth went dry. Was that why he was here? Did he murder his previous lover? You shook those thoughts off and tapped his shoulder. He paused and looked at you in question, you wrapped your arms around him.

“He sounds like an awful man.” You muttered and he returned your hug. “I knew you would understand me, my love.”

That was your moment to strike, you pulled the knife holding hand and struck it into his thiruim pump without giving him a chance to fight back. The knife easily damaged the thing and you heard RK900 curse before shoving you behind.

You fell and you saw him slowly descend to the ground. “You whore, you ungrateful bitch!” He shouted. You watch him for a moment before you realize this is your chance to bail, so you do. You got up quickly and took the knife with you and put it in your pocket. You panted as you ran towards the exit, you were so close, so close to freedom.

“Come back here!” You didn’t stop but did turn around a bit to see him struggling to follow you but being closer than what you thought, shit. You noticed one of the guard’s body and a gun beside it, you reached for it but were pulled back by a strong chokehold.

“Why did you turn out like him? Didn’t you love me?” You choke and gasp for air as his grip tightened, “I would’ve loved for all of eternity, you whore!” You try to push him as your vision darkened, your feet kicked in every direction in panic but then you remembered.

You took out the knife and you plunged it into his left eye, he stumbled back, and you rushed to the gun. You took hold of it and backed towards the wall. He took the knife out and looked at you, “I’m going to-“

You didn’t let him continue as you shot him between his eyes, another near his thiruim pump, and another and another. You stopped when you were sure he shut down and your heaving breathing finally calmed down. The fucker was dead.

“Hands in the air!”

You flinched as you did exactly what the voice said. You turned and saw SWAT members finally enter the building, “I am human.” You said and one of them scanned you, “Did you see anyone alive?” a bigger man asked you, you shook your head.

You assumed he was the leader, “Get her out of here and search the building. Terminate every android on site.” You were still on the ground when he helped you up and another took you out of there.

When you reached the exit, you noticed your camera laying on the ground, you pushed the man away and reached for it. It still worked and it had everything on it, all the pain and misery you went through for this shitty company and all the horrors it created.

They will pay, and you will make sure the world saw what they were.

[writersrealmbts]

Through Thick and Thin

Description: A Little Quirky: Part 4- Through Thick and Thin: Joining this crazy family isn’t going to be a walk in the park, and you knew that. But being part of Jimin’s family means you’re that much closer to Jimin, and with the wedding approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful to be by his side. Reposting because of accidental deletion.

Warnings: N/A.

Originally Posted: 06/25/2019? Reposted: 06/29/2019

Tags: Jimin, Hybrid!Jimin

Fluff and Angst?: 2,265 words

A/N: Six months later we actually have another post for this series…anyway, I threw this together so if it’s messy I’m sorry. I was just going to do the first part of it, but it felt short for how long you guys have waited. Finally home to repost this after the fiasco.

“Okay, we’re agreed, no matter how much Jungkook begs, we don’t go on that thing,” Jimin said, pointing to the ride that was going upside down and spinning and looked like a puke-fest. “Completely agreed.” “Jimin-ssi!” “Speak of the devil. Is that his current girlfriend?” “Yes.” “Do we like her?” “No.” “So if she’s against going on that ride?” “We go on. All of us.” “Right,” You muttered, shaking your head and waving to Jungkook since Jimin was tying his shoe. Jungkook bounced up with a bunny-hybrid at his side. “Guys this is—” “Oh. My. God! Y/n?!” She grinned. You could only stare at your least favorite person in the entire world. “Wow. Kameron.” “It is sooo good to see you!” Too soon to claw her eyes out? “And you! Let’s go on that ride first!” You pointed to puke-fest. Jimin looked at you in surprise. “Are you sure? I mean,” Jungkook started, looking a little confused. “I’m sure. If anything is going to give us that thrill that amusement parks are famous for, it would be that one.” Jungkook looked at Jimin, concerned. “Hyung, you don’t have to go. It might hurt your neck and make you sick.” “Um, actually, why don’t you and Kameron go do what rides you want to and we’ll do ours and we can meet back up for lunch?” Jimin suggested instead. “Besides, I wanted to start with the log flume ride and you hate that one.” Jungkook’s nose scrunched and he nodded. “That sounds fair. Meet back up at noon-ish near the water park?” “Sounds great,” Jimin said, steering you toward the log flume. Once Jungkook and Kameron disappeared he muttered, “What the heck was that? You know her?” “We were neighbors before my parents moved. She’s a bitch if there ever was one. She used to pull on my tail and call me a monster. Scared all the human kids with stories about me eating my last owner.” You growled slightly, pouting. “I never wanted to see her ever again. How did Kook even meet her?” “Some party that he got dragged to by his friend. I thought it would be good for him to socialize. I regret that now.” Jimin pulled you into the line for the log flume. “Why doesn’t Jungkook like this ride?” “Oh, he does. We’ve just been brothers long enough that he accepts when I make excuses like that. He’s oblivious, but not dumb. He probably thought that I was doing it to avoid the big roller coasters that he would want to go on, avoiding getting any teasing from you, though I’m more concerned about her teasing me. I’ll tell him about you and Kameron if I get the chance.” “He could do so much better.” “Enough about them. We’re here to have fun!” He nuzzled your cheek. “You know this place well, don’t you?” You smiled at him. “It was the first hybrid-friendly amusement park. Eomma brought us here every summer after. Micheal and Becca would watch the triplets. This is the first year we haven’t planned to come together.” “She is pregnant with twins,” You pointed out. “She can’t exactly go on any rides. And what about Hoseok?” “He’s helping with the triplets. We invited him, but he said something about already agreeing to take care of the triplets today. And something about a cute girl.” He shrugged. “Yoongi is busy with his job and Euny, same with Taehyung, they were going to that baby physical therapist you recommended today. And Namjoon, well, he said he might make it out but he wasn’t sure.” “Well, maybe later this summer.” You kissed his cheek. “But we still have a lot of wedding preperations to do. And there is no way Kameron is invited. Not even as a plus one. I’ll tell Jungkook if I have to.” “Please? He’ll take it better from you.” You nodded, then sighed to clear your head. “Okay. Fun. We can do that. Let’s have fun.” “That’s my girl,” He said teasingly, hugging onto you before you both got into the log. The two of you had a lot of fun going on different ride, mostly the low-key ones, though you did go on one or two regular roller coasters. You glimpsed Jungkook and Kameron now and then and steered clear. They weren’t there yet when noon hit, and Jimin was looking at all the different food carts to get an idea and report back since the crowds were a little overwhelming for you and you didn’t dare move from the table you had claimed. Jungkook came up first. “Hey! Nice job getting a table.” “Where is she?” You asked. “Bathroom. You okay?” He tilted his head. “Fine. But Kook?” “Yes, noona?” “Don’t even think about bringing her to my wedding.” His eyes widened in surprise. “Why?” “Because she terrorized me when we were kids and I won’t be dealing with those memories on what’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life. She’s not invited. I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings, but that’s how it is.” He was quiet for a moment. “Jimin doesn’t like her either.” You shrugged slightly, not confirming or denying. “I don’t think Eomma liked her either. It’s not like this is permanent. It’s just…nice having someone to go places with.” “I know. But she’s over there making out with someone,” You said, horror rising in you. He looked and didn’t really even react. “Okay. We can ditch her now.” “That’s not very kind, Jungkook. Take the high road. Tell her you’re ditching her.” He snorted, laughing a little. “That’s a very low high road.” “What can I say? I’m a bit bitter.” “I’ll be right back.” You watched him go over to her, then flinched as cotton candy appeared in your face. “Hello.” Jimin grinned at you. “It’s orange flavored! Your favorite!” You grinned back. “Dessert before lunch.” “Of course! It’s a special day!” You laughed and started picking at the cotton candy, humming happily. “That’s perfect!” He kissed you a couple times. “Good.” “Well, that’s over,” Jungkook took a tuft of cotton candy as he said it, sounding relieved. “And she’s getting a ride home.” Jimin looked confused for a moment, then glanced between you and Kook as you patted his brother on the shoulder. “You dumped her? Here?” “She was kissing another guy.” Jimin got a stony look to his face. “That’s just wrong.” “It’s okay, hyung. I don’t really care. Let’s just have fun together now, okay?” Jimin nodded, grinning. “Sounds like a plan. Besides, y/n wanted doesn’t want to go on a couple of the water slides so we can do those while she’s at the lazy river.” You grinned as they started talking excitedly over the different slides, picking at the cotton candy. You were marrying into a great family. Jimin stole another kiss, pulling you out of the sugar-sweet haze you had drifted into, and you realized you were purring in your garbled way. He rubbed his nose against yours. “We should take some cotton candy home too.” “Ah, come on, don’t get all weird.” You giggled and swatted Jimin away. “Let’s get some real food.” “Please!” Jungkook looked around. Jimin stole another kiss then started talking about the different options available for food. But you were still thinking about his kisses were sweeter than the cotton candy that melted in your mouth, and far more addictive. ———— You opened the door when someone knocked on it frantically. “Jimin? You have a—why do you smell like smoke? And is that blood on your face? Jungkook?” Jimin pulled you into a tight embrace. “Get a bag, pack some stuff. Call your parents and tell them that someone is coming after my family and they might be in danger. There’s an officer waiting downstairs to take us to the Sanctuary. It’s the safest place right now.” You blinked rapidly and hurried to do as he said, grabbing a few important things you didn’t want to just leave in case someone broke in. “Explain on the way?” “As much as I can.” You grabbed your pillow and nodded. “Ready.” He already had your bag and you detoured to grab your makeup bag and travel first aid kit. The officer had Jungkook take the passenger seat and you and Jimin got into the back seat. After you were on the road toward the sancutary, Jimin sighed anf finally let you clean the blood from his face. “What happened?” “Yesterday Hobi showed up with that girl, Ren, that they’ve been taking care of since the tornado, and the triplets. There was some sort of threat to our family. We’ve had a few of them throughout the years, but we didn’t think this was a major one until I was on my way to work and I found these guy setting fire to the apartments. That’s how I got the bloody nose. Hoseok took the triplets and they’re heading somewhere way off the grid. Right now the safest place for us is at the Sanctuary. I called into my work already and explained the situation. They go after the people we care about. I can’t risk you.” “I should call my parents,” You murmured. You met Jimin’s gaze. “But I don’t know what to tell them?” “I can talk to them,” He said gently. You handed him your phone, leaning your head on his shoulder, a little worried about what was happening. You’d experienced some of the threats to his family before. You’d been with him for almost a year. There had been a threat just a couple months before, in April, where some stupid anti-hybrid activist had threatened Emma and Jin. Broke into their house and the news reporters were very amused that the person that did the most damage to him when he was found in playroom had been done by Emma. Jin had stopped her, and tied him up until the police could get there but she had hit the intruder in the head with the dollhouse before chucking the hardest toys in the room at him until he was curled up in a ball. At the trial, he had gotten scared when one of the triplets (that his lawyer had decided were witnesses and forced to be there) had strayed to close to him when getting the toy they had dropped, to the point where he was screeching apologies while the kid was looking at him in confusion. The judge had the triplets excused from the trial. This threat was far worse. Jimin finished the call with your parents. “They said they were going on a road trip anyway. Said to tell you to call and update them on things.” You nodded. “They also said to let them know if we wanted to delay the wedding.” You shivered and glanced up at him. He looked tired, probably from the stress. You’d learned that stress and fear exhausted Jimin more than anything else, and could tell that he’d had a stressful morning from the way he blinked a little longer. “Not that I want to. I want to marry you. But maybe keep in mind postponing it at least until we know the threat has passed. It should only take a couple days.” You nodded, kissing his cheek. “Try and sleep, Jimin-ah.” He nodded, leaning against the window and closing his eyes. “Can’t smell anything. Driving me crazy.” “It’ll be okay.” It was probably a good thing, honestly. He didn’t need to smell the fear that filled the vehicle. The two hour drive was fairly quiet, mostly just the chatter from the radio and the officer checking in so that his bosses knew he was still en route. Once at the Sanctuary you could see that there was quite the fuss going on with this new threat. There were two distinct mobs. One pro-hybrid rights and one anti-hybrid rights. But everything seemed peaceful once past the gate of the sanctuary. Jin was there to greet you, standing up and hugging Jungkook, then Jimin and you. “Hobi?” “Safe. They’re going off-grid with the triplets. Figured it was too dangerous to come here with them.” “They’d have never made it in,” He agreed, shuddering. Kook hugged onto Jin, probably to comfort him. “Eomma?” “She’s fine. She’s calm. Way calmer than me. She’s got us all settled into one of the empty houses, Micheal, Becca, and Timothy too.” “What happened?” “It started as a small-scale protest, and some whispered threats of hurting us. Then…they broke someone out of jail. The man that hurt Hobi.” Both of the younger boys froze in place and then Jungkook’s foot thumped a couple times before he could resist the urge. Jin smoothed a hand over Jungkook’s hair and ears. “We’re safe here. Hobi is safe as long as no one knows where he is or who he is. And he won’t let anything happen to the triplets either.” “You going to keep saying that until you believe it?” Jimin asked, managing a tight smile. Jin nodded. “Have to. I trust him. Let’s go inside. Sorry you got dragged into this, y/n.” “It’s fine. I go where Jimin goes,” You said easily, taking Jimin’s hand. “If he’s in danger, I’m there with him. Right?” He leaned in and nuzzled your cheek. “Yeah. It’s scary, but yeah. We’re in this together. For better or worse.” You leaned into him. “For better or worse.”

--

Previous Part.  Next Part.

Masterlist.  Series Masterpost. 

[solaneceae]

EGOTOBER DAY 4 - Jacket

It all started with a jacket.

It wasn’t even anything special. If anything, it was quite pathetic-looking: a ratty, washed out denim jacket, torn up and stitched back together more times than any of them could count.

“It barely has any thermal protection, Chase!” Schneep kept saying, always the practical one.

Despite all that, it was Chase’s favourite. He wore it through thick and thin, even when the cold wind of early spring sneaked through the holes and making him shiver. Even when his brothers advised him to just replace it. 

Until the day it tore up again, one time too many.

The tear was massive; right in the middle of the back, almost running through the entire length of the denim. Stitching could only do so much for a jacket who’s threads barely held on anymore.

“You’re sure you can’t fix it?” Chase pleaded. Marvin rubbed his arm uncomfortably. All the egos suspected the article must’ve been a gift from his former family before… well.

“I can mend the threads back together,” he explained in an apologetic tone, “but they’ve been stretched so thin they’d just break within a few days.”

The magician felt useless, and that was basically his least favourite thing to feel; why did everyone keep coming to him with the FEW problems he couldn’t solve with magic?!

That’s when Anti, who’d been enjoying the peace of the living room until the vlogger came whining, lost his patience and lashed out. As he always did.

“Get over it, Brody. It’s just a dumb jacket. Just get a new one.”

Chase’s face fell even more, his chesnut-colored eyes glazing over. One could’ve heard a pin drop in the heavy silence that settled then.

“Anti.”  Marvin hissed at the glitch, green eyes glaring daggers. “What the actual fuck was that.”

JJ was frantically signing in the corner of his eye. Anti ignored him, and sneered at his rival. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

“There are more delicate ways to say it!”

“Oh, so what, I’m supposed to baby him like you all do? It’s been years, ever heard of moving on?”

“That’s not-”

ENOUGH.

The whole room froze, the temperature suddenly dropping. A shiver ran down Anti’s spine as he slowly turned to face the local mute. He… wow, okay. He looked downright enraged.

See, here’s the thing: JJ usually spoke with his hands, occasionally mouthing his words for more clarity. But the dapper man possessed another, less uh, conventional way of communicating. As Marvin had explained once -well, more like attempted to, that fraud didn’t know shit about this stuff-, Jameson could project what he wants to say directly into people’s awareness with more or less force. It wasn’t telepathy, as the targets didn’t “hear” his nonexistent voice in their head, it was more of a... direct transmission of meaning and intent.

In any case, this wasn’t something the mute enjoyed talking about, and Anti could count the number of times he’d used it on a single hand. If the current situation had warranted it... well, it couldn’t be good.

JJ briskly walked up to Chase and pointed at the jacket. “Please give it to me. I’ll see what I can do.”

Oh, so back to signing it was.

“U-um-” Chase stammered, still wide-eyed and tense by JJ’s previous outburst. The younger ego’s features softened, and he gently grabbed the vlogger’s shoulder. “Trust me.”

Chase stayed silent for a few seconds then nodded, passing the ruined piece of clothing to JJ, who draped it over his left arm before turning to the glitch.

“Anti, a word.”

Said glitch didn’t have time to process the words before the smaller ego grabbed him by the arm, pulled him off the couch and dragged him outside, slamming the door closed in his wake. Anti wasn’t sure why he let the other manhandle him like this, but it might have something to do with the fact that he’d never seen the mild-mannered Jameson Jackson so… visibly pissed. The guy was more of a silent rage type. 

Not gonna lie, he was curious. And, for reasons he didn’t want to delve into, a bit uneasy.

JJ finally stopped walking, letting go of his arm and turning towards him. “Do you know what today is.” the shorter man signed angrily. 

Anti frowned. “What the fuck does it have to do with-”

QUIET.

The demon’s words died on his tongue. Jameson had done the thing again; two times in one day, that was new. The blue-haired ego was glaring up at him, his dark grey eyes burning holes into his skull and pulling at something inside of him. It pulled and pulled, and Anti could feel himself slipping deeper and deeper into the inky darkness those eyes had become it was spreading and enveloping him and his body felt light and airy and he could almost reach out to the wisps of light coming into focus and he was burning and freezing and pulsing like a neutron star further and further and closer and closer to the edge of everything-

Then JJ closed his eyes and Anti felt himself snap back into his own body, dizzy and gasping for air. He could feel goosebumps prickling all over his arms and down his spine, feel the thrumming energy boiling under his brother’s skin. 

Cold. Restained. Drawing him in a gaping hole in the fabric of reality, one you couldn’t see the bottom of. So similar, yet so unlike his own glitching powers.

The demon found his footing again as Jameson let out a pained grunt, his fingers tracing soothing lines against his forehead. He looked about as rattled as Anti felt right now. Said glitch had no idea what had just happened; hell, he had no idea what JJ was, truly. But he was aware he was dangerous, had been for a while now. He’d just never experienced whatever JJ had been talking about, until now.

He remembered the dapper man telling him about the... incident. Something about accidentally becoming entangled with the universe’s timestream, back when he used to mess around with this stupid time-warping pocket watch of his. 

Or some shit like that. The details always became fuzzy whenever he tried to think about it.

It was funny, in a messed up way. Under the carefree attitude, the silly old-timey attires and fancy parlé, Jameson was the only ego who could inspire true fear in him. The dapper, monocle-wearing gentleman was by far -and it physically hurt him to admit it- the most powerful entity he’s ever met. Ridiculous, right? But now, Anti suspected they guy could very well hold his ground against Dark himself. Holy shit, he realized with a dizzying mix of horror and awe, it wouldn’t even be close.

And no-one, in his family or off at Dark’s manor, had any fucking clue. No-one, except for himself. This was their secret. Their deal.

JJ took a grounding breath; the cool flow of energy receded, before disappearing from Anti’s awareness. He re-opened his eyes; the usual dark grey. Perfectly ordinary. Misleading. 

“Apologies,” his hands spoke as he sighed. They were moving more sedately than before. “Let’s try this again, shall we? Do. You know. What today is.”

Anti nodded, slowly. “April 10th. You-”

“That means,” the other interrupted, “tomorrow is April 11th. Do you understand what this means, or are you that far up your own ass?”

Now, if this had been anyone else speaking to him that way, Anti would’ve smashed their head into the ground by now. But, contrary to popular belief, he valued his life. So he swallowed his pride and made a notable effort.

It clicked after about ten seconds.

“Fuck.”

“Indeed. Now you see why Marvin didn’t care for your insensitive comments.”

Anti barely caught himself before he could blurt out that this sorry excuse for a magician got offended at everything that came out of his mouth anyway, and pondered the situation.

Tomorrow was… what was the negative version of an anniversary? Tomorrow was the suckiversary of the day Chase’s wife had taken his kids away from him. Honestly, Anti should’ve picked up on the signs; the guy got really withdrawn at this time of year, locking himself in his room for hours on end, barely getting up to eat or take care of his basic needs. The first few years had been the hardest; one time, Robbie had found the fatherly ego passed out drunk on the kitchen floor, barely scabbed cuts all over his arms and legs. Kid had nightmares for weeks after that.

He’d been doing better lately. But it was still pretty rough.

Anti scowled. “So, what about it? What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“What you are going to do, is help me fix this.” JJ started, gently tapping on the blue jacket draped over his left arm.

“What, this old thing?”

“Why, yes. You like swinging that knife around, cutting things, don’t you? What I planned is right up your alley.”

Anti rolled his eyes. “Whatever. No like I got anything better to do.”

“I figured you didn’t. You will also apologize to Chase.”

Anti blinked in surprise, then let out a high-pitched “HA!”, smirking down at Jameson. “Like hell I will.”

The gentleman tilted his head at his refusal, his eyes lighting up mischievously. Anti didn’t know what was going through that head, but he didn’t like it.

“Ah, I’m afraid it’s an all-or-nothing kind of deal. A shame.” JJ shrugged. “Oh well, guess I’ll have to ask Wilford to come and help me.”

That cunning little shit.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Anti growled, static flickering in and out of existence around his body. “I don’t want that psychotic bubblegum bitch anywhere near this house, you hear me?!”

That was another of James’ mysteries; he was the only one -save for the emo at the head of the Iplier household- that could somehow get the trigger-happy ego to do what he asked without killing anyone. Most of the time.

Maybe it was the mustache. He’d believe anything at this point.

Looked like he had no choice. “Let me guess.” he laughed, low and bitter. “I have to mean it?”

“No.”

The demon blinked at him, stunned. That wasn’t the answer he expected.

“No,” the younger ego repeated, “because you don’t believe you’ve said anything wrong. That won’t change, not now at least, and we don’t have time to go over your severe lack of empathy at the moment.”

“Why you-”

“However, Chase is hurting and in need of our support. No matter how… insincere it might be for some of us. You and him might not see eye to eye, but he’ll appreciate the gesture nonetheless.”

Anti glared at the floor, fists clenched. His sharp nails were digging into his palms; the pain felt nice and grounding. “And how, pray tell, do you know that? You just said it yourself, we don’t get along.”

“Because your words hurt him.”

The glitch’s head snapped up, staring at JJ. His brother wore a bittersweet expression. “Chase isn’t the kind of man to be affected by what strangers think.” he signed softly. “Do you truly believe that Chase doesn’t care about what you think of him? Do you truly believe...”

Chase pestering him. Chase telling him about his stupid brats. Chase’s disappointed face when the demon refused to give him the time of day. Chase yelling at him whenever he disappeared for a few days at a time.

“...that Chase doesn’t care about you?”

Silence. After a nondescript amount of time, the static quieted down before slowly fading away. Anti groaned and rubbed his hands against his face. What a headache. “Fine. Fine, fine, fine, I’ll fucking apologize if it’ll make that crybaby happy.”

“Good. Then we can begin.”

The glitch looked up. “What, like right now?”

“Quite. We must finish before tomorrow morning. You’re the closest to Chase in terms of height, so I’ll need to take your measurements. Let’s see, I should get more fabric from Marvin…”

“Not to insult your sewing skills or whatever, but didn’t the others say that stitching it back up wouldn’t work?”

“I’m not trying to.”

JJ’s eyes shone with determination, a conspiratory smile on his lips. “I can do  better.”

***

Chase’s gaze kept jumping up and down. He stared at the bundle in his arms, then back at JJ’s smiling face. Back to his lap, back to Jay. The day had started the usual way. Wake up feeling like crap, debating crawling back under the covers until the sun burned out and swallowed them all, then get up anyway because he wanted to show his family he was still alive.

But something had thrown a wrench into his usual plans -heh, plans. Like feeling like a useless husk of a human being and laying around all day qualified as plans.

Jameson had marched into the kitchen as he unenthusiastically made himself a cup of that ol’ dirty bean water, gently grabbed his arms and led him to the living room while he was still confused about this whole endeavour.

Then he had made him sit on the couch and shoved a bunch of fabric in his lap.

Well, no, that wasn’t totally accurate, he realized as he held up the thing in front of him. Patches of light and dark blue, soft yellows, all neatly stitched together. A jacket. A rather cool-looking one at that. Handmade too, if his younger brother’s familiar stitching pattern was any indication. But that wasn’t what had grabbed his attention.

“Jay… is that-”

“We couldn’t fix it, Chase.”

The dad tilted his head, confused. JJ was smiling sadly. “I do apologize for that. But as you can see, we managed to save most of the original fabric, to incorporate it into this one.”

The gentleman’s hands stilled, hesitant. He was visibly looking for the right signs. “Think of it as... the sum of the best parts of your life. Both your past and your present, here, with us.”

His vision was blurring. He choked on a sob, hand flying up to muffle the sounds threatening to spill out of his mouth.

“Do you like it?”

Chase looked up, brown eyes shining with unshed tears. A small, but sincere smile lighting up his tired features. “I- I love it. I t-think this is your best work yet.”

JJ positively glowed at the compliment. “Why, thank you. But I wouldn’t dare to hoard all the credit, it was a team effort after all.”

“It was?”

“Indeed. Anti helped me out.”

“Anti…?”

“Ya called?”

Chase startled, eyes widening; the demon had glitched right next to Jameson, an odd expression on his face. It was like he was trying to look both aloof and annoyed, which usually meant he was conflicted about something. The vlogger swallowed thickly. “Anti, you-”

“Brody, I need you to shut up and listen closely, cuz I’m only gonna say it once.”

Chase closed his mouth and nodded. The glitch didn’t look angry at him for once, just… uncomfortable for some reason. He watched as Anti crossed his arms and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

The dad just stared. Whatever he was expecting to happen, it wasn’t this. Anti never apologized for anything, especially not to him. Heck, sometimes he wondered if the demon was allergic to his very presence or something.

“There. I said the wrong shit at the wrong time, and while I stand by what I said about moving on-”

“Anti.”

“I’m not done, James. What I’m trying to say is-”

He green-haired ego groaned, scratching at the back of his skull. What the fuck was he doing. “I. Didn’t. Want. To hurt you, or whatever. But I did, apparently. So, I’m sorry about that part.”

He turned around to glance at JJ as Chase just kept blinking like an idiot. The smaller man nodded in approval, and Anti relaxed. There, he said it. Now he could put this whole dumb shit behind him and go scream into the void or-

His train of thought was interrupted by a hand grabbing his arm and pulling him down. He let out a startled -and offended- yelp as Chase circled his arm around him and pulled him tightly against his side. Oh, okay, that was a thing they were doing now. Hug. Right. Guess this was his life now.

JJ smiled fondly as Chase squeezed him against his other side, crying happy tears while Anti looked like he wanted to jump through a window. To the dapper man’s pleasant surprise, the demon stayed put and let the local rad dad indulge in his own special brand of affection.

Well. This was a success if he ever saw one. Their little dysfunctional family still had a lot to work through, but they’d get there eventually. Hopefully.

----------

...

GUYS GUYS I CAN EXPLAIN-

okay no scratch that, i cant. this was supposed to be a short (ITS SEVEN PAGES LONG NOW I CRAVE DEATH) and sweet piece about jj making a new jacket for the rad sad dad, and now he’s some sort of Bad Wolf-like, uber powerful cosmic entity who could kick everyone’s ass if he felt like it??? WHAT????

My brain did a big brain move or something, i dont know. well, JJ’s abilities are actually  destructive as hell, he almost pulled anti from reality and into the Void there. so it’s not like he’d ever use them voluntarily. It’s more of a curse really.

god this one is all over the place, i’m sorry. I don’t even know if this whole cosmic thing will have any relevance at all in the future, i just let my monkey brain take over when i write. hope you like it anyway?

@tabbynerdicat @egopocalypse @humblecacti @awkward-bullshit (sun! sunshine boyo is here! though you’d like it, maybe)

[peachywise]

a visionary horror

an umbrella academy fanfiction // ben hargreeves x reader

-- one shot

-- synopsis: You always had visions, but never this bad. Never of Ben's death. At least he was there to reassure you when you woke up, giving you the chance to make sure he was safe, breathing, to hold him so you could make sure the vision wasn’t real.

-- notes: hello alright so first things first there is some heavy gore and death tw from the vision but i promise it's not like the biggest angst fest the entire time, there's a moment of fluff and love in here, okay. enjoy!

link on ao3

_______________________

You had never seen so much blood before.

How could a body hold that much blood? It was a sentiment you had heard in many movies and read in countless books. It always seemed a bit dramatic— used for poor sensationalism to pull at people’s deeper understanding since they had no firsthand experience, but this was literal. Visceral. A horrible idea flashed through your mind of scraping up the blood with shaking hands, trying somehow to fit it back into his veins through the open wounds which covered nearly every part of his body. Ben was only nineteen. He wasn’t fully grown; there was no need for that much blood to have been in his body in the first place. He had been so torn apart that you had difficulty believing he had once been a walking being with a soul at all.

But he was, at least at one point. No matter how horrific it was now, The Horror had been a person. A kindness. Your friend. A part of you had even desired more than that, though you’d never been able to bring yourself to approach him on the subject.

A pitiful time to have such a regret, wasn’t it?

Bending down next to him, you tried hard to ignore how warm the sickening pool you knelt in still was as it seeped through your jeans, inevitably staining your skin. You don’t know why you grasped his face, shaking him and crying out his name like somehow that would revive him. Your mind just detached itself from your body. You couldn’t control your actions, or even register the smell of sickening copper tinge of death intermingling with the old dust and oil of the warehouse. You only watched as you gripped him and hugged him, trying desperately to make out the features of his face past the shattered bones and shift his neck at a proper angle so it didn’t look so broken.

And then the vision faded, and consciousness soon took back it's hold.

At first, the image of your dreamlike apparition carried back to your waking mind, and you swore you could still feel the blood on your fingertips and see Ben’s ripped off tentacles strewn about your room, half burnt and utterly mutilated. You shut your eyes hard and tight, inhaling a sharp breath as you waiting for the resonating image to clear away. When you opened them again, all feeling from the vision was gone, and you were left listening to yourself in the cold darkness choke back sobs, gripping your tear-stained pillow too tight— nearly ripping through to the feathers it held.  

You needed to find Ben. Your visions never made it clear whether what had occurred was in the past, present, or future. Only that the path one was on now would lead to it if it hadn't happened already. Ripping out from your sheets, almost tripping from the way they had tangled between your legs, you swiped aggressively at the wet stains under your puffy eyes, trying to clear up your sight so you could actually see and open up your bedroom door.

Instead, it swung open before you could even attempt it, and arms wrapped around your body tightly, crushing you against a chest. The door was kicked closed and whoever held you ushered you back to the middle of your room, whispering calm words into your ear while smoothing down the hair on your head.

Ben.

Peeling back slightly away from you, his warm and very alive hands gripped either side of your face, his dark empathetic eyes scanning every small detail of your face. His thumbs wiped away your remaining tears as a relieved sob escaped your lips. “What’s wrong, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” Ben inquired, his voice just as concerned as it was soft and quiet. He took the opportunity to additionally scan the rest of your body as if searching for some sort of injury. Ironic, since you were doing the same, moving your hands rapidly down his arms and chest as if scared this was the vision— that this moment wasn’t really real.

His hands gently gripped yours, stopping them from their hysterical search and holding them against his chest as he cooed,  “hey, hey, everything’s okay, you’re fine.” You breathing was still ragged, and you tried to get your hands free, but his grip remained tight. “Take a deep breath,” Ben spoke, his voice somehow grounding you back into this reality. You tried to do as he said; one breath in, one breath out, and back in again. You did it for about a minute and a half, shrouded by the darkness and quietness of your room.

You’d finally calm down enough for Ben’s words to really reach you. “What happened?” He questioned, his hands still tightly gripping yours, afraid you’d slip into another disastrous episode. “I was in the kitchen and I could hear you thrashing and yelling through the walls.” Glancing around trying to see what he could make through the dark shadows, he continued his questionnaire by asking, “was someone in here?”

You shook your head, bending your head down to wipe the remaining tears on your face off on your shoulder. “No, it— it was just a vision.”

Ben’s face dropped at that, reflecting a mix of both confusion and concern. “I’ve never heard you react that way before from just a vision,” he said, but you had no reply to offer him in return. He was right. Mostly your visions were small, simple moments in time that lead up to disastrous events or just after them, but never exactly the disastrous event itself. Yes, that had qualified as an after disastrous event, but… it was something you’d never witnessed before. You’d seen dead bodies, but nothing so horrific that even through the vision you could physically feel the malicious mark the event had permanently printed on the place. You wondered if the blood would stain the concrete too.

Snapping you out of your sinking thoughts, Ben squeezed your hands once as he led you back over to you bend, gently urging you to sit down as he soon followed suit, the springs creaking slightly under both of your weight. “This was something new, huh? Tell me about it, I can help.”

Ben was smart but so self-assured. There was no ‘maybe, I can help’, or ‘I’ll try and see if I can help.’ Just determination and full belief. It’s part of the reason you loved him in the way you do. He’d never been able to see something or someone in trouble and turn away. Even now he was breaking some sort of unspoken rule; If you ever had a vision, it was supposed to be reported to Reginald immediately, no matter how unimportant it seemed.

Reginald gave you a home, after all. You were supposed to be devoted to him.

When you were seventeen your parents got too fed up with their problematic child who’s visions dictated their lives so much. You saw things you weren’t supposed to see, secrets and feelings they had tried so hard to keep from you. Too bad you never saw it coming when they kicked you out of the house.

You’d managed for a while— a month exactly— staying with friends or even at times crashing at your high school. It wasn’t until your eighteen birthday that the vision came, one of those ones that showed the aftermath of disastrous effects. You’d always known about The Umbrella Academy. Your mother often bitched about wishing she’d taken the money Reginald had offered to take you in the first place. But what you saw in your vision was absolute destruction. The entire Academy building was turned to rubble after a rather brutal attack. In your vision, you couldn’t tell if any of them had died or if they'd even been inside, but you couldn’t take the risk. You’d felt a kinship with those who had been born with you on the same day, despite not knowing them past the persona’s they faked in all those comics, all those TV spots. You’d raced over to the building in under thirty minutes, banging on the door so loudly and demanding to see Reginald or you wouldn’t leave. Pogo had almost called the cops on you, but there had been some recognition as to who you were from Reginald that he allowed you to speak. And once you told him, he offered you a permanent fixture in his household. The ability to see what could go wrong in their plans was very useful, apparently. And while you didn’t trust him, you needed shelter. A place to belong. He might never treat you with kindness, but that was a useless desire. You just needed to survive.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to live so desolately for long. Ben had shown you a humanity you had never experienced before. Loyalty and a friendship so close that this home no longer became the key to your survival. He was the reason you survived.

“Don’t go into any warehouses,” you whispered, and as your hoarse voice reached your ears, you wondered how loudly you had actually been screaming. Thank god you were on the bottom floor away from many of the others.

Ben tilted his head slightly, contemplative, and he moved his hands out of yours. A severe feeling of loss settled in the pit of your stomach. “What did you see?”

You had to hold back the bile that threatened to come up the back of your throat as the gruesome vision flashed before your eyes again. Even looking at him now you couldn’t help but see where his bones had been fractured and his skin had been torn away. You had to look away from him and down at your clasped hands, nails digging into the skin of your palms. “I saw what death really looks like,” you spoke, your tone so quiet you were unsure if the silence he offered you in return was because he didn’t hear you in the first place or because he had no reply.

Looking back up at the boy in front of you, his eyes searched yours, his eyebrows scrunched together like this was all some puzzle to figure out.

Then all he said back was, “spooky.”

Seriously? He'd try to break the tension with that?

Smacking him on the chest, you scoffed, “Ben, please, I’m serious!” pulling back to wrap your arms around yourself, feeling cold. “It was you, okay? You were lying in a massive pool of your own blood, contorted in ways I didn’t even think was possible! I could barely even recognize you until I walked up and I tried to wake you up but you just wouldn’t, and I couldn’t even see your eyes your face was just so— so red and marred and—”

You hadn’t even realized you had begun crying again until he wrapped his arms around you, stiff as he tried to suppress the shaking that racked up and down your body as if trying to get you to feel anything at all. You took solace in his warmth, reminding yourself over and over that he was alive, he was alive, he was alive, he was alive.

“I get it, I understand, you don’t have to describe it anymore,” Ben spoke softly in your ear, tightening his hold of you just slightly. You wondered if he was saying that for your sake or his sake, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to forget.

Gripping his thin cotton t-shirt in your hands, you pressed your face into the crook of his neck as you muttered brokenly, “just don’t leave, okay? Promise me. Please.” You felt Ben nod his head slightly, as he ran his hand up and down your back in a soothing motion. “I promise. Dying is the last thing on my to-do list,” he stated, pulling back to offer you a comforting smile. You rubbed your hands over your eyes to wipe away your tears yet again, nodding your head determinately.

Okay. Okay, he promised. He was fine, he was safe.

His hand still stayed wrapped around you, and you took the moment to catch your breath. Ben waited, patient as ever. He still held the same soft smile, pushing back your hair slightly as he asked, “are you sure this was a vision and not a dream? You were already asleep when it came on, right?”

His words tugged your rational mind back to the forefront a little bit. He was right. Visions didn’t tend to come to you when you were unconscious, usually just taking over when you were awake. It had happened, yes, but not very often. Still, what you had seen seemed way too vivid to be a dream. You weren’t sure even your mind could come up with such grotesque imagery.

“I don’t really know,” you murmured, “visions and dreams appear similar but this just… it seemed so real.”

“Then it was probably just a nightmare,” Ben replied, his voice sounding entirely sure. “And if not? Well, I know about it now. We can change the course of this path, we've been able to before. It’ll be okay.”

You nodded your head, his logic and presence becoming more reassuring by the second. He was right. He was here, and he knew about it now. He was here, and he was safe. He was here, and that's what was important.

You couldn’t take it for granted.

“I need you, Ben,” you pleaded, the hush of your voice wrapping around both of you in desperate sincerity. Reaching out to brush a feather-light touch against his cheek, you reiterated in more detail, “I need you. You’re the one person trust in this world, and I never knew what love was supposed to feel like until I met you. I would do anything I could to protect you, to stop whatever it was I saw from happening.” Sniffling slightly in the silent moment, Ben gingerly reached up and grabbed your hand in both of his, staring at you with an intense look you couldn’t quite decipher, something you hadn’t once seen cross his features before.

This was dumb. It wasn’t like you to get this sappy with him, especially to the level you just did now. Usually, you two were playful with one another, teasing and laughing, but this was new territory brought out from fear and desperation. God, you felt as if your body might crack and shatter under that stare of his.

“Forget it. I’m just being emotional,” you huffed out a pathetic sad laugh as if you tried making a joke. “Just don’t die, okay?” Pulling back slightly, you tried to remove your hand from his, but he wouldn’t let it go.

He wouldn’t drop that intense stare.

“No,” he replied back firmly, dropping your hand only to snake his arm back around your waist and pull you closer, the other hand cupping the side of your face. “I don’t want to forget what you just said,” he breathed heavily, and before you could even consider what was going on, his lips pressed against your own in such desperation that it should have left you feeling heavy and dizzy instead of making you feel as if the weight of your worries had been taken off your chest instead.

Breaking away simply to catch your missing breath, you barely gave yourself time to think before you brought your lips back to his, this time softer, slower, but still filled with reassurance and the countless hours of never spoken sentiment between both of you. You wanted this memory to burn over the remnants of the vision or dream, wanted this to be the moment you lived in and remembered. You gripped onto him as he gripped just as tightly onto you, an anchor in this life and in this living breathing moment.

My god, you never wanted to let go of that.

Ben pulled away shortly afterward, his face flushed and pink, unable to hold back a nervously happy smile. “Well, that just solidified it,” Ben commented with a small laugh, “there’s no way in hell I’m dying and given this up now."

Your own small smile befell your face as you loosened your hold on him, only just a little. “Good. It really would be a shame after that if you’d just up and died on me,” you half teased, both of you giving small laughs and bending your foreheads together.

“Can you stay with me tonight, though?” You questioned, a little sheepishly as your eyes traced every inch of his face, memorizing every small feature. “Just in case?”

Ben’s grin turned soft once more, and without replying, he just wordlessly scooted up to your headboard and lifting up your comforter and sheets in order to climb in. "Come on."

You offered a smile back, crawling under alongside with him and wrapping your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. And with every beat of his heart you heard, the more your own heart seemed to rest, content and happy and safe.

You felt him place a small kiss on the crown of your head, and you could have sworn you heard him quietly murmur a gentle “I love you,” as your eyes closed and unconsciousness swept you away.

And you tried to hold on to that memory. His reassurances. His touch.

It just grew increasingly difficult with each hour that passed the next morning, alone and waiting, as you continually read over the words on the note he left on your bed:

Had to leave for a mission with the others. Didn’t want to wake you.

I promise I’ll be safe.

Love,

Ben.  

[agirlingrey]

❛ @cureuba​  ❜  SENT A RAVEN: ❛  03. Mythology AU.  ❜

VARIOUS DRABBLE AUS ! *  /  ACCEPTING.

For someone who spent most of their adult life ( not that it was such a long time ) studying all forms of archaeology, this entire ‘work retreat’ was a stuff of DREAMS. Given that she was certain that her boss inflicted it upon her as a punishment ( the bitch ), it was clear that the woman did not know her at all. For the past two months, Alys had to sleep in small tents that did barely anything to protect one from the BITING COLD, on hard ground and occasionally, even on dusty digging sites. And she loved every moment of it, waking each day with fresh EAGERNESS to explore what new discoveries awaited her and the team. 

Half a year ago, a series of DREADFUL earthquakes were experienced in the northern parts of the country. Most of the damage had been contained to the most northern parts of the land, where almost everywhere were covered in thick glacier, thus largely UNINHABITED. That had been lucky indeed — but the seismologist argued that ice caps were affecting the grounds beneath them by freezing at a rapid rate that was UNSEEN in recorded history, and that such natural disasters may continue. Well... Alys was no geologist or a seismologist, but those unfortunate earthquakes held one thing that interested her: they ended up unearthing COUNTLESS of ruins, artifacts and remnants of civilizations long forgotten. Which in her eyes, were treasures.

They were having one of their slow days right now, waiting for a special team to open an underground chamber that was found with its ANCIENT gates collapsed and led to... God knows where. She sat cross-legged outside her tent, going over the pages upon pages of notes that she had taken throughout their journey. Most of them were about the odd artifacts found here and there — mostly SHATTERED BLADES. Those had been the sources of great debate, as one of the professors who came with them argued that they could not have been shattered by a regular physical force, but by extreme cold. The damages had been far too clean-cut for them to be done by pure strength alone, he’d said. She skipped those pages IMPATIENTLY, until she found the one she was looking for.

That had been the foundations of what her friend argued had to be an ancient castle. He claimed they were too well-dug to be a dwelling for a regular person and reminded everyone that it was a VERY DIFFERENT time, where kings and lords and knights were still a thing. She paused on that page, staring at it without seeing the words. Alys had eventually got tired of the argument and wandered off among the ruined stones, until she came upon one that carried A STRANGE MARK. That had sparked a debate as well, with Professor Longfield arguing it was an old runic letter from four thousand years ago, even producing papers to ‘prove’ it, while Dave said it was some kind of a flower.

“It’s a SUN,” Alys remembered blurting out, as certain as someone who was pointing out that sky was blue — though she could not have said how. Truth to be told, she was happy to be gone from that place, which ha made her supremely UNEASY. Even the memory of it was enough to make her shiver now. ‘It’s just the cold.’

Of course, noticing her unease, Dave had a great time that night teasing her with old horror stories from the region when they were all gathered around a campfire.

“𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨, 𝐭𝐡��𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐀 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧, 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐍𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞... 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. 𝐒𝐨 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫, 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐬. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐧. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦... 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭."

Alys had been listening with rapt attention, and noticing this, he had thrown her a sleazy wink over the fire and made some dumb joke about being ‘at her service’ when it came to warming her up. She had thrown an apple at his STUPID forehead, much to everyone else’s amusement. ‘He’s such a douchebag.’

A loud shout jolted her out of her thoughts and she found herself staring at a group of men handling strange machines, none of them which she could name, in order to clear the rubble and ice blocking the STRANGE GATE they’d found. She closed her notebook shut and shoved it inside her trusty leather bag which also included her tools, three torches, pencils, a bottle of water and a small first-aid kit. Alys stood up in a hurry and rushed to where the men were working. The work took the better part of four hours and the sun was setting by the time they cleared out everything, inspected the outer structure, and deemed it SAFE enough to go in.

A ragged cheer sounded from their team then, and half of them, including Alys, immediately volunteered. ( Dave proposed to go in with her to protect her from the scary things in the dark, but she kicked him in the shin. ) It took yet another hour for Longfield to pick the six people who would enter first and just like that, VIBRATING WITH EXCITEMENT, Alys stepped through those doors, absentmindedly noting the mostly-chipped figures of wolves carved on them.

Their initial guess was wrong, apparently — it was not a ‘chamber’ but a GIANT MAZE, with the figures of ancient statues visible through the lights of their torches. It was even colder down here, and as she wrapped her arms around her body, Alys told herself that she was shivering because of that... and not because she felt like something was WATCHING them in the darkness, as if it had been waiting for them. Their team leader, a 40-something year-old man named Sam who had been a veteran of half a hundred expeditions, announced that the structure was well-built and safe to explore, but that they were to mark their path and return here IMMEDIATELY at the first sign of trouble.

Once she was on her own and away from all the bickering and debates ( and Dave ), it took Alys less than ten minutes to realise where they were. It was a CRYPT. She stared at the statues, none of their features distinguishable as time chipped away at most of them, pausing from time to time to take notes with the light of her torch in various different UNCOMFORTABLE positions. She was just beginning to relax and started to scold herself for her earlier fright when she heard a WHISPER, coming from her left. She froze.

“Sam?” Her voice cracked as she called out but she BOLDLY entered the path on her left where she thought the sound came from, finding herself in a round chamber with a new set of statues surrounding her. She stood right at the centre and called out again, “Dave? Mrs. Carlin?”

A whisper ANSWERED, causing her to tremble. They were words, spoken in the voice of a woman, strangely melodic as if she was chanting something. With shaking hands, she pointed her torch towards where she heard the sound, and SCREAMED BLOODY MURDER when she clearly saw a flash of red pass by her, like a flow of silk.

‘Fuck this.’ In her haste to get out of the chamber, Alys stumbled and fell on her knees, hitting her head VERY PAINFULLY on of one of the statues. She felt blood trickling down the left side of her forehead and down to her eye, and almost fell backwards in her attempt to get up... until a strong arm caught her by the waist and stilled her fall. In a DAZE, she looked up.

A tall figure stood over her.

She would have screamed again but her voice was stolen from her, and all she could manage was a breathless gasp. The hold on her was not tight or painful. She could have probably got out of it if she could just remember HOW TO MOVE, but she stood frozen, her bag lost somewhere during her fall and her right hand still gripping her torch. As if in an answer to her silence, she heard Dave’s voice from a distance, plain as day: ‘What the actual fuck? Guys! Hey!’

Alys had no answer to give to him, nor did she hear anyone else from their team respond. Her hand trembling like a scared child, she raised her hand holding the torch to cast a light on whoever ( or whatever, her treacherous mind whispered ) that was holding her. As soon as the light illuminated his features, she swayed, and nearly PASSED OUT.

It was a man... sort of. But his features were blue-grey and stiff, like a corpse that had not yet started to fully decompose. The left side of his face was a RUIN, all puckered and shriveled, partially hidden by a curtain of dark hair. His eyes were plainly alive though. They were as grey as her own, and they saw. He was looking down at her and if she was in the right state of mind, she would have thought his gaze almost looked... AMUSED? It was only then did she notice the hand holding her in place was icy cold — but was getting warmer. They could have stared at each other for a minute or an hour, she couldn’t be certain. But it seemed to her that his face was gaining some semblance of colour as well, though nowhere near an actual, LIVING AND BREATHING PERSON.

Alys heard the melodic whisper-song again... and series of cracks, as if stones around her were shattering. It was this that woke her from her stupor and she rose to her feet, no longer leaning against... THE THING. But his hold remained on her all the same, and in a strange way, she felt like it was... steadying her.

The whisper-song stopped. Then the chamber lit up with a dozen UNEARTHLY lights.

It was the colour of fire, but something BEYOND regular fire, she sensed. This time she did manage a small shriek — and almost passed out again when she heard a raspy, rumbling laughter coming from the figure that held her.

All around her, other figures stood in front of their statues.

Alys spotted an older woman with long and dark hair, gone grey in some places. She was slim and had the PROUD look of a warrior despite her age. She was carrying a blade as skinny as a needle, similar to a fencing sword.

Another man emerged into the light, with grey eyes and curly hair, dressed entirely in black and heavy furs.

A woman strode forward, wrapped in red silk and looking more ALIVE than the rest. She gazed right at Alys with red eyes that seemed lit from within.

More and more figures came and stood there in a perfect circle, in turns staring at her and then each other, and Alys got the STRANGE SENSE that she was witnessing some kind of a reunion. Fear had frozen her limbs yet again, causing her eyes to fill with hot tears. That’s when she finally noticed the source of the sudden light in the chamber.

The figures looked towards the entrance, where she had stepped through into this HELL, and one by one, began to slowly walk towards it.

And in their hands, were swords made of fire.

[bewareofchris]

A brief history of character development

that is, my character development in relation to female characters/women in fiction:

I am still in public school, I have this notion that male characters are simply more interesting by default.  I tell myself that I identify with them on a more realistic level because I do not understand these lady characters I see presented to me on the screen and page.

I start writing, and like many young writers, have this notion that the only character worth my time is an exaggerated representation of badassery that defies all logic and doesn’t even make sense in the setting in which they exist.  

At this point, very early on in my story telling career, all women who are written exist only to further the more important story lines of the men who are semi-interested in their existence.  Wives exist only to exalt their husband’s virtures and/or compliment their strengths.  Daughters exist only to highlight how gloriously good at everything their fathers are and/or how much better the sons are.  Sisters exist only to make their brothers lives simpler by dealing with anything that requires domestic effort.  Mothers largely do not exist but if they do, they are patient and angelic and often dead.

Women are often portrayed as ‘harpies’ or ‘bitches’ or ‘illogical’.  They have ridiculous desires and expectations that try to to impose limits on the whims of the men they are attached to.  Their only personality at this point is to try to domesticate/capture their men and therefore ruin the man’s infinite potential.

Women are, more often than not, murdered, abused or dead

Nobody notices or cares the horrors the women of the story live through, and when any woman tries to point out these abuses, they are ignored or condescended to.  The Men have Survived Worse 

Women are sexually subservient, totally and completely at the mercy of the men’s wants and desires and always, always praising any affection or satisfaction they get

I am out of school now

There are now Exceptions to this rule, the Woman who is Basically a Man.  She does not give a shit about anything.  She things other women are stupid.  She doesn’t go in for fashion, love, make up, children or anything that might be considered traditionally feminine

I am still incapable of identifying with any women I see on screen and I don’t care.  Men tell better stories

(IF you didn’t already know, I am a woman.  Who, unfortunately, wasn’t terribly good at caring about other women.)

Mothers become more important, because they are saintly and they teach their sons important lessons about life/love/whatever this story is about

This Continues for Longer than I Care to Say.

Change starts with the introduction of a radical idea of Bad Mothers.

Bad Mothers are not bad people, they are simply women who do not prioritize their kids as the single most important accomplishment in their lives.  They exist as whole individuals who make choices that aren’t always the best, but are understandable considering where they are in their lives and what circumstances they are experiencing

Bad Mothers lead to the realization that Women (shockingly) might just be people.

This notion allows all women to have actual valid opinions.  Girlfriends who don’t want their boyfriends to be arrogant, over powered pricks?  That is a totally and wholly logical thought.  It is treated as such

Men who cheat on their wives in stories have guilt, and the pain they put their loved ones through is actually important as opposed to being unreasonable

Women suddenly start developing storylines

“Strong Women” are a popular part of this section of my development

I realize that creating women just to murder them for the benefit of men and their storylines is stupid, and if a Man can’t be Great without having a dead significant female he isn’t actually that fucking great to start with.

Enter the Significant Females who, instead of dying to provide a motivation for the men in their lives, are important, reliable allies in the men’s lives.  Sisters and Grandmothers are huge now.  Suddenly those overlooked, useless, whiny, unreasonable ladies are Real People who have an Important Impact on the world around them.

Sisters are not angels, they simply have their own lives and motivations but do show up to help/have made an impact.

All women are flawed, and they start to vary in likes/dislikes and personality

(Yes it took me over a decade to get a point where I could accept the most basic idea that women aren’t all copies of each other and should be treated as individuals in fiction.  I have never been more angry at myself and media and fiction in general than I was at this point.)

At this point, women are fantastic side characters but I still cannot write one as a main character

Gradually, as well as differing personalities, women develop differing physical traits.  Gone are the waif like angels of years ago, gone are the soft and pale ladies that populated all the stories.  Lets introduce women who aren’t always beautiful, or even cute, or thin, or white, or soft.  Introduce women who have rough hands, and muscles, and bumps and dips and scars and fat and coarse hair and whatever else seemed radical and impossible before

Introduce the woman who is her own sexual creature, the one that doesn’t rely on men to decide what she wants and whether or not she’ll be happy with what her sex partners have to offer.

Gone is the idea of the slut/the whore/or any other stupid notion where women who enjoy sex or seek out sex are in any way dirty or bad.  (Although this idea is mentioned, because while my outlook changes, society hasn’t.)

Introduce the idea of a woman with opinions and with ideas and with self-respect who doesn’t bow down to the men around her, or even to expectations of the world itself.  In years past this woman is a bitch, now she’s just a person who is fucking tired of the bullshit.

Introduce scary women, who are just as psychopathic as their male counterpoints as years past

Introduce women who are better than men at things, and they’re not pretending otherwise anymore

Introduce women who are emotional, and fragile, and who do want to raise their children and love their husbands and aren’t ashamed of these desires either.

Arrive at a moment, where despite all my advancement and rapid development I discover that I have created a story where 4/5 of the main characters are women who ‘save the world’ and that the vast majority of the men in the story exist to help their female counterpart accomplish this goal.  100% no kidding, have the thought that this story has “too many women” and that it’s “unrealistic”.

I’m a woman.  I live with women.  I work with women at my job.  I don’t particularly enjoy hanging out with most of the men I know so I don’t.  My entire life is populated by a variety of women.  And I really, actually, no kidding, sat there and thought to myself: “FOUR WOMEN?  FOUR WOMEN IN THE SAME STORY?? THAT CAN’T BE DONE!!!!  THERE’S NOT THAT MANY WOMEN IN THE WHOLE OF THE WORLD”

Immediately realize that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought in all my life

And here we are, a long long way from where we started and not quite done getting rid of this stupid fucking idea that women are somehow worth less in fiction, that they can’t carry a story, that they can’t be as interesting as men, that they aren’t allowed to be flawed, that there can’t be too many of them.

That the definition of a woman is narrow, and unchangeable, and anything that doesn’t fall within it isn’t worth writing about.

Well, fuck that.  

[debcnairs]

( kim taehyung, cismale, he/him, 24. ) — i hear that PAK HAEIL has been living in seoul for around FOUR YEARS and works as an EXOTIC DANCER. rumor has it, they can be DEBONAIR & INSOUCIANT but also IMPETUOUS & MISCHIEVOUS which is why neon lights glowing at midnight, bodies entangled in silk sheets, sultry gazes & designer clothes makes me think of them.

its  me,  the  demon,  gem,  finally  making  this  demon's  intro  like  eight  years  later.  (  claps  for  myself  wow  look  @  u  go  !!  )  ANYWAYS... i  don't  have  his  entire  backstory  or  anything  like  that  figured  out  but  i  do  have  everything  i  know  of  below  the  cut  as  well  as  basic  info  /  plot  ideas  under  the  cut  !  it  kinda  sucks  and  i’m  sorry,,,,  love  me  anyway  pls  :/

SMASH  the  lil  heart  if  you  want  to  plot  with  this  shithead  !

                                        basic information.

full  name:  pak  haeil. nickname(s):  hae,  honey. age:  twenty-four. date  of  birth:  october  31st. birthplace:  london, england. current  location:  seoul,  south  korea. gender:  cismale. pronouns:  he  /  him  /  his. orientation:  bisexual. occupation:  exotic dancer  /  escort  /  sugar  baby  /  runs a  nsfw  twitter  acc. language(s)  spoken:  english,  korean,  french,  spanish.

                                   physical  appearance.

face  claim:  kim  taehyung  (  v  )  of  bts. hair  color:  changes  frequently,  currently  red. eye  color:  brown. height:  5  ’  11  ". weight:  165. build:  slender. tattoos:  far  too  many  to  count. piercings:  multiple  in  his  ears,  nipple  piercings.

                                                favorites.

season:  winter. color(s):  peach,  baby  blue,  purple. music:  not  picky  in  the  slightest. movies:  loves  comedy  &  action  movies,  starting  to  get  into   the  horror  genre. sport(s):  used  to  play  soccer  when  he  lived  in  london. beverage(s):  anything,  isn't  picky. food:  home  cooked  meals. animal:  cats.

                                                    family.

father: tba. mother: tba. sibling(s):  n/a. children:  n/a. pet(s):  an  egyptian  mau  named  diamond,  extremely  spoiled. family’s  financial  status:  upper  class.

                                                    extras.

zodiac sign:  tba. mbti:  tba. enneagram:  tba. temperament:  tba. hogwarts  house:  slytherin. moral  alignment:  tba. primary  vice:  tba. primary  virtue:  tba. element:  air.

                                               biography.

haeil  was  born  in  london,  england.  both  parents  moved  there  years  before  he  was  born  to  chase  their  dreams.

because  of  it,  he  grew  up  around  people  with  british  accents  &  picked  one  up  during  his  childhood  years.

his  parents  were  gone  a  lot,  both  of  them  working  but  he  didn't  really  mind  because  that  meant  he  could  go  do  whatever  he  wanted  to  do  without  any  consequences.

in  fact,  his  parents  were  the  ones  who  constantly  gave  him  permission  to  go  out  and  hang  out  with  friends...  all  that  good  stuff.

sure  they  didn't  really  KNOW  about  the  fact  that  him  &  his  friend  group  were   constantly  out  doing  things  they  shouldn't  have  been,  but  what  they  didn't  know  wasn't  going  to  kill  them,  right ?

he  was  basically  free  to  do  whatever  he  wanted  and  even  if  he  did  get  caught  doing  bad  shit,  his  parents  were  close  with  the  police  so  most  of  the  time  they  just  let  him  off  with  a  warning  and  sent  haeil  off on  his  way.

haeil  was  fifteen  when  he  experienced  his  first  party,  drugs  &  alcohol  within  his  grasp  and  the  peer  pressure  to  fit  in  with  his  friends  causing  him  to  cave  &  try  anything  and  everything  that  was  offered  to  him  that  night.

needless  to  say,  he  got  pretty  fucked  up  that  night  &  ended  up  sleeping  on  some  strangers  couch  after  passing  out  in  their  front  lawn  on  his  walk  home.

&  after  that?  haeil  quickly  became  addicted  to  the  atmosphere  &  the  way  that  drugs  /  alcohol  made  him  feel  so  he  continued  to  seek  it  out  with  each  and  every  chance  he  got.

that  lead  him  to  the  day  he  showed  up  back  at  his  home  at  four  in  the  morning,  drunk  &  high  out  of  his  mind,  parents  waiting  up  for  him  at  the  front  door  because  they  hadn't  heard  from  their  son  in  over  twenty  hours  &  were  beginning  to  think  he'd  gone  missing.

they  were  more  pleased  to  have  their  son  back  home  that  anything,  advising  him  to  be  more  careful  if  he  did  decide  to  go  back  to  the  party  scene  but  not  really  'punishing'  him  for  it  because  they  had  done  the  same  thing  as  kids.

hence  the  reason  that  haeil  continued  to  seek  out  anything  &  everything  he  could  that  would  get  him  to  his  next  high.

one  party,  though,  he  ran  into  someone  who  told  him  he  needed  to  make  money  so  he  could  afford  the  "better"  stuff..  and  haeil  being  the  person  he  was  went  right  along  with  it..  ending  up  at  some  hole  in  the  wall  strip  club  in  london.

he  had  no  idea  what  he  was  doing  for  the  first  few  weeks,  sticking  to  table  running  more  than  anything  but  he  always  had  a  curiosity  &  that  lead  him  to  ask  one  of  the  regular  dancers  to  teach  him  the  ropes.

which  they  did,  without  hesitation,  and  surprisingly,  haeil  was  GOOD  at  it  right  from  the  start,  knowing  how  to  use  his  looks  to  his  advantage,  knowing  the  in's  &  out's  of  how  to  make  the  most  money  all  while  still  being  able  to  have  fun  with  it.

after  a  while,  though,  he  was  bored  of  the  tiny  little  club,  wanting  bigger  &  better  things.. so  after  a  few  google  searches,  he  decided  to  move  to  seoul,  hearing  that  the  underground  party  scene  there  was  unlike  anything  he'd  been  able  to  experience  before  then.

it  was  only  a  week  after  the  first  google  search  haeil  made  that  he  was  on  a  plane,  moving  his  entire  life  without  hesitation,  excited  to  be  able  to  explore  &  go  on  new  adventures.

                                      personality.

the  BIGGEST  flirt  you  will  ever  meet.

knows  how  he  looks,  uses  it  to  his  advantage  w  every  chance  he  gets.

is  so  unashamed  of  his  entire  life  it's  unreal.

takes  no  shit  but  also  doesn't  start  it  unless  it's  absolutely  needed.

actually  really  likes  the  "domestic"  things  like  cooking  /  cleaning,  loves  spending  time  in  his  penthouse  just  baking  or  cooking  for  friends  whenever  he  has  free  time.

a  shopping  FREAK,  he's  on  shopping  sprees  at  least  three  times  a  week,  and  if  he  isn't,  he  gets  grumpy  &  snippy.

will  buy  you  things,  constantly.  loves  the  fact  that  he  can  spoil  people  with  whatever  they  want.

also  LOVES  to  be  spoiled  (  hello  sugar  baby  life  )  and  loves  to  show  of  the  new  things  he's  been  gifted  to  anyone  who's  down  to  be  shown.

still  goes  to  parties  almost  every  weekend,  still  gets  just  as  fucked  up  as  he  used  to  as  a  teenager.

a  lowkey  petty  bitch  with  a  love  for  revenge,  even  if  that  means  helping  a  friend  get  it.

loyal  af  to  his  friends,  he'd  do  anything  for  them  tbh.

not  into  relationships  or  the  idea  of  love,  will  legit  laugh  in  your  face  if  you  say  something  about  him  settling  down  eventually  because  he  doesn't  believe  that  will  ever  happen.

spoils  the  FUCK  out  of  his  cat,,,, i'm  talking  got  the  cat  a  CUSTOM  diamond  collar  &  soooo  much  other  stuff  it's  unreal.

can  be  clingy  &  touchy,  esp  when  drunk  or  high... he  just  loves  skin  to  skin  contact,  it  doesn't  even  have  to  be  sexual..  he  just  thrives  from  it.

                                                  plot ideas.

someone  who  frequents  the  club  that  haeil  works  at  and  has  never  approached  him  but  one  day  haeil  finally  finds  the  time  to  go  over  to  them  &  wow  he's  really  interested  in  getting  a  friendship  out  of  this  person.

someone  who  doesn’t  care  about  haeil’s  lifestyle  but  is  there  for  him  constantly,  aka  his  rock  that  he  can  go  to  any  time  he  feels  like  he  might  need  to.

will  add  more  as  they  come  to  mind  !

[ohgoddard]

Fist of Fire.2.20. The End pt.2

Emesh, in his Golden Boy body in which he now resides mentally, halts in his waltz around the cavern.  The monster floating in the ring lets out a low rumbling noise, akin to that of a whale song. Emesh does a heel turn to face Jade and charges her. He grabs her by the collar and hoists her in the air, putting his face mere inches from her own.

“WHO?! WHO COULD BE HERE?!” Spit flew from his mouth, dotting Jade’s face. For her part, she weakly smiled, then spit back at him. He recoiled, yelling in pain and dropping her in her restraints. His hands flew to his face, clutching as smoke rose from where she spit at him. Jade watched as he stepped backward, herself in shock. When he lowered his hands, she saw a burn mark singed into his right cheek. But what was burning more was his eyes, a glare that could put volcanos to shame. He growled and thrust his hand forward miming a choke. In that instance, Jade herself began to feel her windpipe close.

“Who.Is.It?! I have killed that damned woman who saw me, I have even taken a special prize in addition. WHO ELSE?! WHO ELSE COULD EVEN DREAM OF TAKING ME ON?! WHEN I AM THIS CLOSE TO PERFECTION?!COMPLETION!?! WHEN I COULD CRACK YOU OPEN NOW LIKE AN EGG ONTO A SKILLET AND EXTRACT THE FINAL INGREDIENT TO MY CONCOCTION!? WHO DID YOU BRING?!”

The cavern began to shake, the men who had previously been carrying out menial tasks on computers or lab equipment now running to the wall of guns. Shouting came from them, directions being given by one to another. Though why did this Jade didn’t know, weren’t they all connected to the same mind? Of course, any thought was struggling to arrive in Jade’s head as oxygen was being rapidly cut from it.

She floats suspended in the air, and though not a hand is physically on her, her throat looking visibly depressed at the grasp of another. Her hands could not come to her aid, as they were chained behind her.  All she could see, her eyes rolling to the top of her head to see the cave ceilings and all its ducts, was a Golden-Haired maniac choking her out. But it is in those moments of desperation that the Human mind races for solutions it would have not previously considered. And also brings up old memories…

A flash goes across Jade’s eyes. She is back in school. Across from her stands Reverse, dressed in his uniform. She had just been easily brushed off by him again, and was complaining about how her arms hurt from all the swinging and missing she was doing. And that's when Reverse said this. “Have you tried using your legs? You have four limbs, don't just use two of them.” A flashback to the current reality and Jade’s legs begin to kick. 

“A pitiful display. Kicking and screaming in your last moments? Just like your father. Yelling in the agony of being swallowed by the Earth’s blood, im guessing his own is adding an element of cowardice and patheticness to you, you -”

Emesh was cut short of his monologue when a shot of fire flew from the tips of Jade’s foot straight into his face. He staggered back, his hair burnt at the front, and his face fuming. Jade stood before him, breathing heavily trying to regain what she had lost from the momentary oxygen deficit she had just experienced. But she stood defiant before him. Emesh snarled, and tore off the sleeves of his blue suit. “Curse this form for being too weak to hold me! If I lack the strength to finish my task as this petulant child form, I WILL TAKE HOLD OF SOMETHING FAR GREATER!” Emesh then turned around to run to the monster in the ring. 

Wait, why is he running to himself? Is he going to wake up that thing?! I can barely take him on as is! And if my father couldn’t take on what he's about to change into… I need to stop him!

Jade was being overwhelmed with an energy she had never felt course through her body before, and was feeling warm. The warmth of a soft summer day, but around her the air began to change to the heat of humid South Georgia afternoon. Papers on tables around her began to catch fire, and this made the running Emesh stop. He turned, in confusement, and watched in horror as a yellow and orange glow started to spread across from Jade. The metal around her wrist melted off, and soon Jade began to float. 

Emesh smiled, turning fully to behold the phoenix rise.”From the ashes of defeat rises you, oh what a poet you are! But this sudden surge of power won’t be enough! RELEASE HIM!”

A loud metal door flew across the room in the space between Emesh and Jade, landing hard against one of the rocky walls to her left. She whips her head to see where the attack came from and saw…

“YES! I told you I got a new prize, did I not?” Emesh cackled like an old crone, and started making a mad dash for a set of scaffolding stairs. Standing in the doorframe of a heavy concrete cube was a tall black man in a t-shirt, wearing a trojan war helmet. 

“Omegaman..” Jade spoke under her breath. She slowly brought her hands up to her face, a boxing form like what Reverse used to use, and stared him on. “I’m sorry.” Emesh laughed, running further and further from Jade to the monster in the ring. “Oh, like you have a chance?”

“No, but I do”

The room stopped. Even the monster in the ring slowly orbited its large head to look up. An angered cry came out from its detached and disused larynx, a cry of pure fury,anger, and shock. Omegeman looked up to the rafters where this voice came from, but Jade didn’t. She knew who it was.  A tear fell down from her eyes as she starred Omegaman on, stance unwavering. The Golden Boy that was Emesh looked up and yelled: “NO!”

Standing above Jade and the cavern below upon a maze of catwalks, surrounded by the bodies of twenty or so soldiers and currently throwing another over the railing, was a hero. 

He stood wearing a white t-shirt and blue and whtie boxing shorts. His hair was cut short to his head, and his face was cleanly shaven. Standing next to him was a woman in sweats, kicking a man off the railing into the cavern below. In her hands were brass knuckles, and on her feet were her signature black converses.

“Its been a while, Planeteer. I thought I'd dress up for the occasion. You might remember my companion here, she’s one of the teenagers who saved people from your last big blunder. Of course, since its been so long, I thought I’d introduce myself again.”

He vaulted over the railing and fell into a three-point landing, facing the monster in the ring. The monstrosity screeched like an injured animal that made many cover their ears, but not the man who had fallen from the rafters.

“I am Joseph Ellington. You may call me Reverse. You killed my dad, you son of a bitch.”

Reverse launched at Omegaman and delivered a four series punch, throwing him into the ceiling. He turned to Jade and yelled, “FOLLOW THAT BOY! DON’T LET HIM ESCAPE I GOT THIS!” Reverse was then struck in the face by Omegaman, sending him into another rock wall. He quickly rolled out the way to avoid another punch that shortly followed, he then returned with an elbow strike to Omegaman’s neck but it had very little power behind it. Omegaman grabbed Reverse by the shirt and then disappeared down a long corridor, the sounds of yelling and ground shaking punches echoing downs its hallways.

Jade dropped from her foat and started to sprint after Emesh, who had gotten out of his shock and had started to flee from her. He got not three steps before RIley’s foot connected into his head from the ceiling. She landed roughly on top of him, but it did not last long. The boy simply waved his hand and Riley was thrown off him and onto the ground floor. Her body made a heavy thud as it bounced off a crate. A loud snap ricocheted off the walls, an unmistakable noise of broken bones.

“My,” Emesh said as he climbed to his feet, “you cannot get good help these days.” He went to run but found himself unable to. He looked down to see his shoes had melted into the grate. Then sweat started to pour down from his body. “What..Whats..”

“YOU HURT HER.” Emesh turned to see Jade floating in the air, finger pointed at him with a ball of glowing yellow fire in her other hand. She casts this fireball straight into his body, But Emesh manages to deflect it away in time. However, he made a folly in the direction and threw it towards the monster in the ring. The ball scorched a black mark into its bulbous head, and screeched echoed in the cavern. The entire area began to shudder, rocks and debris falling from above. 

“IDIOT! IF I FALL THIS WHOLE CHAMBER COMES DOWN WITH ME!” Emesh punches the air, and Jade is assaulted with an invisible fist that hits her right in the gut. Her bullet wound reopens at the punch, and she falls from the sky. Emesh takes off his shoes and starts to slowly advance onto Jade, who fell from the sky onto the ground mere yards away from the monster in the ring. Emsh, walked over to her, limping from the attack from Riley. He walks in front of her and looks down at the injured hero. He kicks her in the stomach. “Triteful scum.. You and your whole line are nothing but roadblocks on the path to greatness. My vision is a world united, with one mind and one soul! All I needed was a transmitter, and that's when I sought your father..”

He bends over and grabs her by the hair and begins dragging her towards the monster in the ring, a heavyweight beginning to take its place over Jade the closer she got to it, as if gravity itself was pulling her down. The chaos of the room had begun to reach its peak, alarmas blaring, rocks falling, machinery breaking. The sound of fighting disappeared down the hallway where Reverse went..

“The sun.. I needed the sun. What better way to reach everyone so they may see my vision? Your father has the power of the sun.. you have the power of the sun… I WILL HAVE THE POWER OF THE SUN!” Emesh bends over and holds Jade over his head, blood dripping from her wound. He stands at the edge of the ring where the monster floats. 

Jade’s eyes begin to gloss over, her weight increasing. She cannot raise her arms or legs. Emesh has full control… All she can do is look up at the ceiling and watch as rocks fall, contemplating her doom. All she can do is see the cracks on the ceiling grow, the last sunlight she’ll ever see peak through them.

Wait..sunlight?

An idea sparks in Jade’s head. She closes her eyes and focuses. Her father’s blood courses through her. All her training. She thinks of her mom. Her friends at school. Her life ahead of her. She thinks of Reverse. She thinks of Riley.

She thinks of her dad.

The ceiling dissolves into dust as a beam of straight sunlight breaks through the stone, dirt, and steel. The monster yells in pain as it had not been graced by Earth’s star in almost two decades, and in turn Emesh cringes from the light and drops Jade behind him, shielding himself from the pain his true self felt.

Jade then concentrated the light on the Golden Boy. Her torturer. Her would-be killer. The sun seems to move like a light under a magnifying glass, a zigzag motion leaving a scarred black line in the floor. Emesh was still distracted from this radiant brilliance to notice until it was too late.

“NO!NO!” He screamed as he tried to turn and flee, but the psychic strain was placed too heavily upon him and he could not move. The beam of light disintegrated the body in seconds. A large chunk of the ceiling fell onto the ring with the monster, its cry cut short by the deafening noise of destruction. Jade fell to the ground exhausted, too tired to do anything but sit and be aware of her surroundings. The collapsing cavern would consume her whole.

“I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”

Jade weakly turned her head, her wound bleeding out from her stomach. She saw Reverse stagger out of the corridor, a body slung over his shoulders. He looked the worst out of everyone. Blood was pooling under his shirt, cuts all over his face and arms. The body he carries over him does not fare too much better, Jade being able to see it was Omegaman who was unconscious(or dead) he was carrying. Reverse looks up and sees the large opening in the ceiling, and throws the body out like a football, a noise being made when it hit the ground a good bit out.

“Where’s Riley?” Jade weakly points to the pile of boxes. Reverse makes his way over, leaving small pools of blood for each step. He gingerly picks her up, then walks over to Jade. With his spare arm, he slings her over his other shoulder, and with one mighty jump clears the cavern, landing just on the edge of the collapsing cave.  He walks out just a small amount before slowly dropping the two girls. He tears into Riley’s bag and takes out a small and broken first aid kit, starting to staunch the bleeding from Jade’s wound.

Reverse’s breathing was heavy and slow, but he was focusing every ounce of effort upon Jade.

“Are..are we going to die out here?” Reverse looked at her, and gave his best smile, although it hurt him to do so.”No, people are coming for us. I called the Las Vegas Hero Center on Omegaman’s communicator. We’re safe now.”

Jade gave a single laugh, leaning her head back.

 I’m safe..i’m finally safe from..from everything. I have Reverse here again.  I have Riley. I’m..safe.

The ground shook. 

Reverse stopped the field suture he was doing on Jade, and quickly turned around. The high noon heat of the Mojave desert was making everyone hot and tired, but in that single shake Reverse had turned cold.

“No..No I didn’t want to do this.. No, I thought I could have..”

He turned back to Jade. Upon his face was a look of saddened acceptance. Tears were beginning to well in his eyes.

“Reverse? What's going on?” Jade asked, her heart beating faster.

Reverse stood up, looked down on Jade, and just smiled.

“You made me proud today, Jade. Your father would have been proud too. You’re going to do great things.Great things. I’m..” Reverse sniffed, wiping his eyes,”I’m sorry I put you through so much.” 

At that, he turned to the face the hole he had just jumped out of.

The shaking had been non-stop, but when he turned it was as if the monster was waiting for him to say his goodbyes. 

“Quintein, you’ve always been a drama queen.”

The Monster floated up from the hole, large chunks of rocks and other girders floating around it. It snarled from its deformed mouth. 

“This will never end, will it? You will never see good. You will only ever want destruction under your ‘vision’. You could have been so much more.”

The monster began to throw large chunks of rock and steel girders at Reverse, but it was if they were never thrown at all. Reverse dodged them easily, using his last reserves of energy.

“Victor loved you until the end. I will not be so lenient.”

Reverse began to just slowly walk towards the monster, and began glowing a bright white.

The monster was still throwing whatever debris it could find, it was breaking the ground underneath it swell up the molten rock to throw at Reverse, but nothing hit him. It was screaming in a voice of the desperate and scared.

Reverse now stood at the base of the hole where the monster floated, standing only three yards away from the ghastly beast.

He looked up at the pitiful creature and smiled.

“I don’t know why you fear death, old friend. I’ve been there, it's rather nice. And I’m happy to go again.”

Reverse then simply reached his hand out in a finger gun pointed at the monster, and just lowered his thumb.

Jade yelled out for him, but it didn’t matter.

When asked about what she saw, she would say the end and creation of a universe at once.

[vacanpaathy]

VERONICA ( XAVIER ) MOORE  

GENERAL INFORMATION

Veronica Abigail Moore  Nickname: Ronnie, That Bitch Age: verse dependent but usually something like 17-19 Nationality: American Species: Homo Superior Ethnicity: White Physical Disorders / Disabilities etc: None currently / None currently known Mental Disorders / Disabilities etc: Depression, Disassociation ( Depersonalization Disorder ) Religion: None, raised culturally protestant City of birth: Boston, Massachusetts   Currently living: Verse dependent Job title: verse dependent, usually just a student Employing company: none/verse dependent  Income: monthly allowance from parents that’s really just too much Marital Status: single, coming out of a NIGHTMARISH relationship Language ( s ): English, French Dialect: North Eastern, Super WASPy Birthday: Jan 12 PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Height: 5′3″ Eyes: Blue Hair: Black/Dark Brown, usually with either a blue ombre or tint of some shade. Skin: Reclusive Nerd Pale, no freckles  Style: Reasonably Fashionable, Seems to be contractually obligated to always fucking wear blue. Always. FAMILY

Mother: Jessica Moore ( nee Hall ) Father: Charles Xavier ( estranged )  Step ( ? ) -Father: Robert Moore  Brother ( s ) : David Haller ( Half Brother, Older, Father’s Side ), Charles Xavier II ( Half Brother, Younger, Father’s Side )

PERSONALITY / HABITS

Addictions: Alcohol ( verging ), Cigarettes / Vaping ( main ) Bad Habits: lying, ditching, tinkering with people’s heads, being a bitch, zoning out, blowing people off, self harm Good Habits: pretty organized, good with due dates, polite ( situationally ), yoga Hobbies: reading, writing, monologuing, youtube binging, going down intensely weird internet rabbit holes Likes: books, literary analysis, musicals, film crit, horror movies, getting loaded, musicals Dislikes: crowds, people in general usually, suburbia, honestly……Most Things… Strengths: intelligent, unflappable, zero bullshit tolerance, shockingly loving and compassionate when she gets there, strong willed, strong sense of self Weaknesses: apathetic, melancholic, intentionally mean, petty, fairly comfortable with violence and cruelty Fears: her crimes being exposed, her own powers, her apathy, what she might be capable of, her ex-boyfriend Hopes: None….. really…..?

ABILITIES / TRAITS / TALENTS

Education: All the best schools in the area, Goes to like Yale or some shit Intelligence: 9/10  Overall a very bright girl but tends to struggle more with social / emotional settings / topics Naturalist: 3/10 Utter Trash Musical: 7/10 Very Good  Logical-mathematical: 9/10 Excellent  Existential: 11/10 BETTER THAN SHE’D LIKE Interpersonal: 6/10 somehow despite constantly cheating via telepathy she still sucks shit on this a good amount of the time thanks to dissociation. Bodily-kinesthetic: 8/10 shockingly good for a nerd Linguistic: 8/10 she has a real gift with language  Intra-personal: 6/10 she’s very aware of herself and a lot going on with her but also grapples with denial, depression and dissociation that all make it hard to really check herself. Spatial: 10/10 to the point that her control in the Astral Plane is obscene

TELEPATHY:  Like her father and older brother, Veronica is an embarrassingly powerful telepath with an exceptional range of effectiveness and capacities.  examples of sub-abilities/applications: Telepathic Illusions, Telepathic Cloak, Mind Links, Telepathic Camouflage, Mind Blasts, Mind Control, Mind Possession, Mind Alteration, Causing Amnesia, Psionic Shield, Psionic Blasts, Astral Projection, Mental Detection, Mind Transferal, Absorb Information AREA OF EXPERTISE: Astral/Mental Space Manipulation. Her ability to create, control, and manipulate places, scenes, settings etc in the astral plane or in the minds of herself or others is fairly ironclad considering her age and entirely thanks to how much time she has spent essentially out of her body. She specializes in mazes. While she wouldn’t be able to keep more experienced and/or powerful telepaths trapped in such a space for long– especially once they realize where they are– the fact she can do it at all is pretty impressive. 

MENTAL

Self-perception: Extremely poor if she ever genuinely considers herself at all. Generally just thinks she’s a massive asshole since well, did help with committing murders.  Assumed external perception: A Mega Bitch  Self-Confidence:  somehow both 0% and 10000000% at the same time.  Rational Or Emotional ? Mostly rational since she’s largely been on autopilot but she’s pretty emotional compared to what people expect from her. Introvert or Extrovert ?  Introvert to the extreme Prefer to Give or to Take ? Take, working on being more of a giver. Nice or Rude ? While she’s not like, usually out here trying to be a bitch she’s very blunt most of the time and it can be EXTREMELY rude.

BACKGROUND

WARNING: mentions of depression, suicide, abusive/toxic relationships, murder, unethical uses of telepathy, bullying and disassociation

NOTE: Because I’m well aware of feelings on “related/children of” ocs if that’s something you’re uncomfortable with but would still like to interact with her feel free to mentally replace Xavier with “Some Telepath Guy”. Please just let me know if that’s the route you’re taking when we interact!

TLDR VERSION

      ►  Veronica is the epitome of an unplanned pregnancy       ►  mother quickly married and passed off Veronica as her husband’s       ►  once Veronica’s telepathy kicked in it was all downhill       ►  2 suicide attempts (12, 14)       ►  enters full blown disassociation and fucks off to the astral plane       ►  at least until a hot mutant guy shows up       ►  fucks up and does a murder with said guy       ►  tries to make him less fucked up with telepathy       ►  makes him more fucked up       ►  reluctantly helps kill at least 2 more people       ►  kills the bf, hides the evidence mindwipes as needed       ►  pings on cerebro since she’s been a busy bitch       ►  ????       ►  PANIC

LONGER

Veronica is completely an accident. She’s simply the product of a short lived rebound relationship where something or someone messed up or forgot something and Oops! Pregnant! Jessica never felt any need or desire to inform Charles since and looking out for numero uno just got back with her usual on again-off again boyfriend Robert Moore, got married pronto and passed off Veronica as his, never telling anyone the truth. Her telepathy began to kick in as she grew up and made her life increasingly more difficult, with aloof parents and no way to cope she became fairly withdrawn and extremely depressed. Eventually she impulsively attempted suicide at 12 by overdosing on sleeping pills at a sleepover, she was taken to the hospital and suffered no real damage from it. Terrified however of getting in trouble she didn’t admit to her struggles with her telepathy, depression or feeling out of control but instead claimed she’d just wanted help falling asleep and misread the label, she actively used her telepathy for the first time helping people buy that line. She attempted it again at 14, again very impulsively, by slashing her wrists, not too long after doing that she realized she didn’t actually want to do that and was taken to the hospital again, this time she didn’t lie or use telepathy and actually got treatment.  Treatment was only ever so effective since she never admitted to the biggest source ( her telepathy ) and none of it could turn it off. Over the years as her struggles increased her propensity to and the intensity of her disassociation did as well. After her last attempt she basically just completely checked out, using her mental powers to essentially move her mind to the Astral Plane, only keeping enough awareness and such to like, feign normalcy and not be in a coma. It did mute her telepathy significantly but also killed off her personality in the corporal.  At 16-17 Jace comes to their school and Veronica is instantly interested because 1. has obvious physical mutations 2. she can’t read his mind well– if at all. The quickly bonded over their mutual mutant status and dislike of school, people etc., but things started to get….red flag-y. She started to see how unhinged and possessive he was not too long before they committed the accidental homicide of her best friend, which she then covered up with her telepathy. Desperate to fix things and not get in trouble Veronica took advantage of a brief chink in his mental defenses and tried to make him less dangerous. Naturally this went horrifically wrong and he became more dangerous – more obsessive about her, more unstable and more bloodthirsty.  Before she fully realized how just much she’d fucked up he’d tricked her into committing at least 2 more murders and covering them up. Eventually it came to a head and she ended up killing him and burning his body in the woods, tinkering with minds as needed to keep things quiet. Of course all this large use of mutant powers in a fairly sort period lit up on Cerebero and welp, here we are today. 

[joyffree]

#CoverReveal #PreOrder 👉 Zach (Hell's Handlers MC) by Lilly Atlas Books is releasing May 22nd!

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2p0sHjU

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2DkhQWh

iBooks: https://apple.co/2DjcQRK

Add to Goodreads →http://bit.ly/2p2VxQj

📚Excerpt📚

Prologue

Tennessee 2008

It was finally fucking over.

Or maybe it was just beginning.

Either way, years, years of busting his ass, taking shit, and being treated like a worthless maggot were finished.

The vote was unanimous.

He was finally a brother.

Well, he was ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the way in. They couldn’t just vote him in and chuck him the patch he’d been salivating over for the past three years. No, they had to throw in one last challenge, and a bitch of a test it was.

A branding. The Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club emblem. On the left forearm. It was as important as the patches on the leather cut each brother wore. So important, if a man was tatted on his left forearm he couldn’t even prospect. No, the emblem had to be seared into clean skin, so anyone and everyone would know who belonged to the motorcycle club.

And if being branded wasn’t bad enough, there were rules that went along with the barbaric ceremony.

Every brother had to be in attendance. Heckling, ribbing, waiting to see just how much the new member wanted to be a part of the life. Waiting for them to crack.

No screaming.

No tears.

No passing out.

A grunt of pain was allowed, but beyond that, any outward show of weakness would null and void the unanimous vote to end the prospecting period and make him a fully-patched member of the Hell’s Handlers MC.

He wouldn’t make a peep. They could cut his fucking arm off and beat him with it and Zach still wouldn’t utter a sound. That patch was his, and the only way he’d give it up was if some lucky motherfucker managed to pry it from his cold dead hands. Even then, he’d haunt the bastard and wear the thing as a spirit.

A shrill whistle cut through the raucous laughter and drunken male partying. Usually, the sound of fucking joined with the rest of the noise, but not tonight. This was just for the men, brothers in all but blood. At least this early part of the night. After Zach got his patch, they’d bring in the club pussy and he’d have his pick of the litter. One, two, hell even three women if he wanted. He’d earned it watching brother after brother partake in the sweet privilege that was not bestowed on prospects. Club pussy was for patched members only.

And now he was one.

His dick twitched in his pants but died the moment his president spoke. “Okay, fuckers, listen up.”

All around him, his soon to be new brothers lowered their drinks and gave their president, Copper, their full attention. At twenty-nine, Copper was young to be in the role of club president, and since he’d been at it for almost four years already, he was officially the youngest leader in the club’s near fifty-year history.

“We’re just minutes away from welcoming another brother into the club. Shit, Zach’s been one of the best prospects we’ve had. Tough as fuckin’ nails, pulls more than his own weight, never runs his mouth, loyal.” A puff of steam drifted from Copper’s mouth as he spoke to the group.

The prez wasn’t one to be fucked with. A good few inches over six feet, with a beard the color of a dirty penny, and plenty of hair to match, he was mean as a starving pit-bull. But Copper had the respect of every man in the club. Not just because he was the president, but because he’d earned it dragging the club from the brink of disaster and making it a thriving brotherhood once again.

Zach blew on his hands, trying to infuse some warmth into the frozen digits. The night air was colder than a witch’s titty and standing around shirtless for the past half hour hadn’t helped anything.

“Just one more test of this asshole’s strength before we let him be one of us. Ready boys?” Copper waved Zach over to the mountain of wood crackling and spitting sparks. Sticking out of the bonfire, a long branding iron roasted away, just waiting to scorch some of Zach’s skin.

Shouts of encouragement and a few hecklers betting on how much of a pussy he was and what octave his scream would hit, reached him as he made his way to the fire and his waiting president. Careful to keep his expression neutral he drew up next to his prez and waited. Wasn’t that the whole point? Act like he wasn’t scared. Wasn’t about to shit his pants in anticipation of what would probably be the worse physical pain he’d ever experienced.

Fuckin’ Copper’s beard split and his teeth gleamed in the flickering fire. Prez lived for this bull. And if he didn’t, he sure acted like he did with that shitty grin of anticipation. “Anything you want to say first?”

Zach shook his head while he bounced on the balls of his feet, hitting his pecs as hard as he could. Maybe if he could get some pain going somewhere else, the burn of the iron wouldn’t be so bad.

“Won’t work,” Copper said as though reading his mind. “Tried the same thing when I was in your spot. Ain’t nothing gonna make this shit any better.” He bent and retrieved a bottle from next to his foot. Zach had no idea what it was full of, moonshine probably. “You know the drill. Bottle in your left hand. Ten seconds to drink as much as you can. Hold your arm out straight. I’ll mark ya. No dropping the bottle. No spilling. No screaming. No puking. Stay on your feet for two whole minutes. Then you’re a fuckin’ brother.”

Zach nodded. His chest rose and fell in a rapid rhythm as his breathing increased and the blood sped up in his veins. After blowing out a breath, he grabbed the bottle and brought it to his lips, tilting his head back and opening his throat as much as he could.

Some of the nastiest hooch he’d ever tasted filled his mouth and flowed down his throat, burning a path to his stomach. Ironic really, since he was about to be burned all to a crisp anyway. Somewhere, in the distance, he could hear his soon to be brothers cheering like a bunch of wild baboons, but he managed to drown out most of the noise. All but the sound of Copper counting down from ten.

“Three…two…one…arm!”

Zach tore the bottle from his lips and extended his arm. Unable to look away, he stared in fascinated horror as the glowing end of the iron made contact with the thin skin of his forearm. There was a fraction of a second where his eyes registered the flesh-to-iron connection, but the pain hadn’t yet reached his brain.

And then it did.

All-consuming, searing pain like he’d never experienced fired through his nerve endings. Though the spot being branded was no bigger than a silver dollar, agony seemed to encompass his entire body until he couldn’t recognize where it originated from. There was also an audible singe accompanied by the stench of melting flesh.

Blinding pain was a phrase he’d heard before, but now he’d lived it. Darkness clouded his vision and he slammed his knees back, determined not to give into the blissful oblivion that hovered just out of reach.

All around him, men screamed and hollered, but he couldn’t make out their cries over the rushing in his ears. Nostrils flaring with each forceful inhalation and exhalation, he mashed his teeth together probably pulverizing the enamel as he fought to remain conscious.

Then the nausea hit. Instead of helping to lessen the pain, the damn moonshine sloshed in his gut and started a trip back up his esophagus, just as disgusting the second time around.

His eyes locked with Copper’s. The grinning bastard was definitely enjoying it. All the more motivation to remain standing, quiet, and avoid vomiting the moonshine all over.

Copper pulled the iron away and tossed it to the ground, but it did nothing to diminish the agony. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled his gaze away and checked his watch. Seconds ticked by slower than the thickest motor oil dripping from an engine. Finally, Copper looked at him again and this time his smile was genuine, welcoming. “Two minutes, brother.”

Brother. Sweeter fucking words had never been spoken.

Copper grabbed him by the elbow and held up his throbbing arm. The pain was still there, but now the rush of excitement at achieving his three-year long goal overrode the worst of it. That and the moonshine was kicking in.

With a loud whoop of triumph, Copper held up Zach’s branded arm. “Say hello to your newest brother, men.” Cheers rose up all around.

Zach swayed on his feet as pain and nausea still warred for victory over his consciousness.

Copper whistled, reigning in the crazy. “He’s now to be shown the respect any other brother receives. He’s going to make a damn fine addition to the club.”

Zach’s chest constricted as pride surged.

“Proud of you, brother,” Copper said, for Zach’s ears only. “You were one hell of a prospect and you’ll be one hell of an addition to the club.”

“Thanks, Prez.”

Raising his voice again, Copper turned to the rowdy crowd. “Now someone get Zach a beer and some pussy. The man’s waited long enough.”

They wouldn’t be giving him any pain medication for the burn but losing his dick in a club girl should take care of the last of the discomfort.

Brothers converged on him from all angles, slapping his back and welcoming him. Not only would the moment be burned into his skin forever, but it was seared into his brain as well.

Best night of his life.

He was in.

Now it was time to set his sights on an executive position.

Enforcer would do quite nicely.

#ZachCoverReveal

Hosted by #EnticingJourneyBookPromotions