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artistic-boi-cakko · 1 year ago

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Miguel O'Hara X Artist Male reader (smut)

Size kink, 18+, NSFW, MDNI, Male reader, top Miguel, virgin reader.

Miguel O'Hara, also known as Spider-man 2099 working as a computer Engineer for the time being in the year 2023 after leaving his job in Alchemax, loosing his family.

He is currently stuck in the year 2023, he is trying to find out ways to go back to his year. He wants to create a place where he could jump into any universe and have people from other universes come to his, without glitching or facing risks to die. He had found a way to make a watch where he himself wont glitch but its still hard for him to do the rest.

Currently, for a living he is working as a 9-5 computer engineer while finding out ways to achieve his goals.

He is living in a 2 BHK apartment with an artist named M/N L/N.

With puffy red eyes, bags clearly visible under his eyes Miguel stretched out his arms and legs sitting on his chair. As he is completing the codes he need to present the next day to his cunning Boss.

Work is tiring for him which is overcome with his will to make a living whilst working to achieve his goals alongside. Fighting off the past villains to protect the city of New York.

Sounds of clicks of mouse and keyboard keys are soon replaced by sounds of bone cracking and groans from Miguel as he is stretching his body to relax his muscles.

"Hush, finally things are done to shut that idiot's nagging, irritating voice" he mumbled under his breath.

He opened the door of his room and walked out of the room shutting the door on his way. He walked towards the kitchen, he saw a plate covered with a glass tray cover, a smile formed on his face as he plucked out the little note stuck to the tray cover, Eat the pasta after you're done with work. Better eat it. I'm not an idiot for making this. Miguel chuckled at the hidden kindness of his roommate, M/N L/N.

He and M/N have been roommates for the past few months. They have talked about their lives a little but doesn't exactly consider each other as good friends, they do interact as they are living together. M/N a freelance animator and artist constantly working on his commissions and other profit generating projects.

Miguel had served himself a plate of pasta M/N prepared for him, he dug into the pasta and took a bite, he smiled as the flavors filled his tired mouth. He was eating the pasta... thoughts around the multiverse never leaving his mind... He was tired, he needed some kind of relief. It could be anything like anything.

He was washing the plates, his stomach full and satisfied with the food he ate... he wanted to pay a visit to his roommate. He looked at the time, it was 12 midnight. He wasn't sure if M/N was still awake. I walked towards the hand towel near the kitchen counter and wiped his hands. He wanted to try his luck.

Miguel went towards M/N's room and knocked on his door. With just one knock he realized the door was open, he hesitantly walked inside and sighed in relief as he noticed his luck worked and M/N was wearing his headphones, blasting movies while animating. The music must be on full volume as some of the beats could be heard even if Miguel had entered the room but not near M/N.

He thought that if he wanted M/N's attention he needed to do a little bit of work and take off M/N's headphones.

He walked near the little boy in front of him and placed his hands on both sides of the headphones. The boy in front of Miguel jumped and turned around in a hurry in his chair, hitting and struggling a bit. Miguel moved away and let the boy face him.

"Good morning, it's 12 AM" Miguel chuckled. M/N removed his headphones and sighed. He looked up at the larger man, he was facing Miguel but his gaze passed right past Miguel's face. He clenched his tired mouth from not speaking for hours and let out a light cough before speaking "Good morning" he said and swallowed some of the saliva in his mouth. "What do you want?" M/N asked still with his head up facing Miguel.

The larger man still with a silly face replied "Huhmmm Can't i see my roommate? Also thank you for the food"

"You can visit me and it was my pleasure to feed the idiot" M/N said rather bluntly, his face was also tired and puffy. His condition with workload was the same as Miguel only difference between the two men was that M/N's room was always rather dim lighted and had cans of energy drinks and coffee lying around indicating towards the boy's addiction and need for caffeine, indicating his caffeine addiction and unusual reserved nature.

Miguel smiled and sat on M/N's bed which was near the boy's working table. Miguel looked at all the cables connected on the boy's working table. He looked at the display tablet connected to the desktop, he was mesmerized by the colors of the animation M/N was making... The boy's work always worked like a drug for Miguel, he loved the color palette the boy always used.

"Whatcha' making this time?" Miguel asked, he leaned on M/N's bed propping his body towards the wall with which the single size bed was connected to.

"About inner demons, work anxiety, it's more of a tweening than animation" M/N said as he moved his chair towards Miguel.

Miguel, still looking at whatever the boy made, forgot to hear what M/N had to say to him.

M/N snapped his fingers in front of Miguel's face, breaking him out of his trance. Miguel changed his focus towards him.

"Yes? Sorry I couldn't hear what you had to say to me" Miguel confessed, he noticed the boy's eyes, his beautiful e/c (eye color) eyes were glistening, he found them attractive.

Since the time M/N asked to be Miguel's roommate introduced by one of the friends of Miguel who wanted Miguel to be in someone's company and did not wanted him to be all alone and reserved. Miguel had always found men like M/N to be attractive and cute... He likes submissive, timid boys like M/N, as they are easy to gain trust with and are loyal in a relationship, not to mention the size kink Miguel have is satisfied after having sex with men like M/N.

M/N sighed and repeated "I was saying, if you wanted to go back to your room as you are all over my bed" he said pointing at Miguel who is now lying in M/N's bed, he continued "You seem sleepy. If you want to sleep here I don't mind, I will sleep in your room". Miguel's cheeks burned and turned red... he was embarrassed "Uh... Of course! Uhmhumm I won't sleep here don't worry" Miguel said as he shot up from the bed, sitting up now and patting the bed as he spoke "You can sleep here, have your comfy lovely sleep here" M/N felt a chuckled almost escaping but bit it back in.

Miguel was eyeing M/N's body up and down taking in the sight of M/N's strong but delicate arms and legs... M/N worked out in his room as he had dumbbells laying in a corner of his room. Miguel was almost drugged every time he would look into M/N's eyes, something about them just urged him to hug M/N tightly in his arms and coo at him lovingly. He wanted to hold onto that slim and well built face and caress his hair... Miguel wanted M/N in his arms and spent the whole day kissing his face and lips... he wanted to caress M/N's hips and have them against his pelvis. Everything about the boy was just perfect to Miguel. He forgot to take notice that M/N has turned back and is resuming his work on the animation.

Miguel adjusted himself more on the bed making himself more comfortable. M/N hated having people in his room and he would have kicked out someone like Miguel instantly, someone who is messing with the bedsheets, being comfortable in his room. Miguel was an exception, as M/N grew comfortable around Miguel and trusted him.

M/N sometimes hates when he gets attached with people around him as it only pains him when people leave him. He was almost done with the animation. Actually, he was done, all that was needed was to save and export the project and make it ready to post it on his Ko-fi page.

Miguel was looking around his room and noticed a sketchbook on M/N’s work table, he picked it up and started flipping through the pages. He was smiling and admiring at the paintings of outdoor sceneries and a few perspective sketches in M/N’s sketchbook, as he was flipping around he noticed that as he flipped M/N’s drawings are going more towards having human portraits from a normal pose practice to suggestive poses. Miguel's eyes widened as he noticed a man naked in a suggestive position masturbating in one of the pages, his face turned red. M/N glanced towards Miguel and panicked, he lunged forward and snatched the sketchbook from Miguel’s hands.

Miguel spoke up “Dang you like guys!”

“Yea?! SO what? And you should have ASKED first before going through my sketchbook and commenting!” M/N snapped back. Miguel was taken aback for sometime before speaking “There is no shame in being gay… I.. I am also a bisexual.”

M/N was silent for sometime “Still, doesn't give you the permission to look around my things” “Sorry” Miguel said, he was wondering something “Who is this guy you drew? Is he a Pornstar or-” Miguel was cut off in between “My High-school crush, whom I don't crush on anymore” M/N said

“Woah, can I ask another question?” Miguel asked curiously wanting to know more about M/N.

M/N sighed and nodded. “What did you find attractive in him?” Miguel asked, picking up the sketchbook again and opening the page where M/N’s former High-school crush was drawn.

“I had a weird phase of being attracted to sporty bad guys” M/N admitted blushing.

The red dust on M/N’s s/c (skin color) face was something which was enough to send Miguel’s brain haywire. Miguel was now really just fighting off the urge to hold M/N and embrace him, he knew he shouldn't do that.

“Won't judge you, everyone is stupid in High-school. But you know these memories are fun and cringe which makes our life livable and add some spice to it” Miguel said as he leaned into the bed almost laying down again.

M/N looked at Miguel, he blushed a little. Miguel’s arm muscles were something he always loved to look at, they were big and beautifully sculpted. His thick fingers, large hands, strong biceps were something M/N always wished to hold one and feel on his body, he has a very dominating personality but when he looks at Miguel he immediately becomes his submissive, timid and goofy mode. Even now he wants to go to his goofy mode but he is too tired for that. He sometimes hates that he finds himself taking sneaky glances towards his roommate’s crotch.

Miguel’s chest moved up and down as he took a deep breath. M/N’s brain almost died out but held himself together. Miguel raised his eyebrow as he looked at the boy in front of him and chuckled “Weekend is here now. I am done with my work and i feel your work is something where you can take breaks as you don't have a boss nagging you all the time. So, wanna go out somewhere?” he asked

M/N giggled as he said “I am my own Boss and I am not sure, I don't like going out, its tiring and irritating.”

Miguel looked at M/N in surprise, why wouldn't he like to go out? Is it one of the 'artists don't touch the grass' thing?

"Touching the grass is good sometimes. How long has it been since you touched it?" Miguel asked careful at his words. "Nah, I just don't like going out… it's annoying just like I said. No particular reason" M/N said.

Miguel sighed "not soon. But I will drag your ass out of this apartment." He said.

M/N was staring at Miguel confused and a little anxious. "Fine… we will see about that" he said with a sigh. "But why do you want to take me out?" The boy asked. Miguel raised his eyebrow "Hehe, nah it's not a date. I just wanna hang out with ya'" he said with a smirk on his face. He could feel M/N's embarrassment after hearing his words. "UGH! Idiot! I didn't.. umm.. LEAVE IT!" The boy stuttered with his face flushed red.

Miguel laughed lightly as the boy in front stumbled on his words. "You're cute" he mumbled under his breath. "Not funny!" M/N bluttered out, he was fidgeting with his fingers. Miguel was looking at his little fingers, oh he so wanted to feel the boy intimately.

"Alright I still have a few sketches left, I will be working on them. If you want you can stay or leave. I don't mind either." M/N said as he turned towards the two screens, opened a new file and started sketching.

It's been an hour since M/N started working on the last sketches and Miguel is laying in his bed. Miguel was looking at the boy working… his head spinning in need. He was desperate at this point, the way M/N moved his hands and used his fingers to zoom in and out and move the canvas around. Miguel felt dirty at first for finding bits of arousal at such normal actions but he wasn't able to control his urges at this point.

Miguel sat up on the bed and moved his arms towards M/N, his head spinning in need. His placed his hand on M/N's shoulder making the boy flinch.

M/N looked at Miguel, whose eyes were looking at him seductively, panting here and there, closing his eyes and opening them again, the eyes which were filled with lust and need. M/N at first decided to ignore that Miguel was actually the way he thought he was.

Miguel pulled the chair M/N was sitting on closer. M/N in hurry was pressing down the short cut keys to save his project as he was pulled towards Miguel. He sighed and looked up at the man front of him… Miguel is indeed way taller than he was even if he would wear his 3 inch platforms Miguel would be way taller than he is.

Miguel bit his lip before speaking his mind off, he wasn't sure about his words but knew at the back of his mind that he won't regret a thing. "My my… you're such a cute little boy I have never seen in my entire life" he started as he cupped M/N's face in his hands "someone so vulnerable, attractive, innocent doesn't deserve to be so lonely. Always blasting music in his ear, drawing out his dark fantasies of loneliness" he continued.

M/N was confused at Miguel's words, not understanding what he was exactly talking about. "You're cute little fingers, waist, arms, legs, face. I could touch that all day making you feel less lonely and satisfied as well satisfying my own needs" he said. M/N started to blush and understand what Miguel meant, he looked down and noticed the large erection in Miguel's sweatpants, he was surely big.

Looking at the mass inside Miguel's underwear M/N also started to feel aroused himself and was just staring at anything front of him in a trance. He failed to notice that Miguel was now behind him and picked him up from his chair, he snapped out of his trance when he was thrown on the bed and Miguel climbed on top of him.

"Mi-Miguel! Wa- I- ng-" M/N stumbled on his words. Miguel chuckled in a low voice and moved his head closer to M/N's "your so cute. Tell me do you want me the same way I want you?" He asked in a low voice. M/N blushed his head spinning like crazy, he wanted his sexual fantasies to come true but he didn't know that they would come true like this. He slowly nodded and gulped.

Miguel was delighted to see the sight in front of him. He soon to be lover lay under him panting and blushing. "Make love with me then" he said in M/N's ear lowly. He moved his face towards M/N's lips and brushed his lips slightly against his.

He, at last pressed his lips on M/N’s and moved them. M/N’s didn't kiss back, not like he didn't want to he just didn't know how he felt interrupted. He managed to push his face forward and kiss Miguel back. They pulled away to breathe… Miguel was dying to just embrace the boy and burry his cock inside of him. But he had to be patient.

M/N wrapped his arms around Miguel's neck and took deep breaths. That was his first kiss… he wanted more… he NEEDED more. His breath hitched as he felt Miguel kiss his neck and start to lick it. Miguel pulled down the neck of the t-shirt M/N was wearing and kissed down more. He couldn't take this slow pace. He slid his hands under M/N's t-shirt and pulled it off, the boy's bare upper body was oh so soft, almost hairless, with very light hair on his chest not even visible if not looked closely… but Miguel was going to see the sight from a much closer perspective. M/N was a blushing mess, he wanted to cover himself with his arms but he knew that what was going to happen was bound to happen and he was going to love it… his head was spinning in need. He really needed Miguel and as he was thinking he grabbed Miguel's head as he started to suck at M/N's collar bone and caress his waist.

M/N now had a boner in his boxers dying to be free. Miguel was moving his hand up and flicked the sensitive bud on M/N's chest making the boy bit back a moan. Miguel smirked at this and kissed and licked the area between M/N's chest. He was lightly sucking on the area, he palmed the right side of M/N's chest and neared his mouth to his nipples. Miguel started licking M/N's right nipple and rolled the other one between his index finger and thumb.

He was sucking on it like a hungry man, M/N's was squirming under Miguel's touch, he was happy that he got what he needed. Miguel moved his eyes up to look into M/N's eyes and closed his eyes again still sucking on the nipple, the lewd noises were enough to send M/N's head haywire, "nngh~" he lightly moaned out. He wasn't much of a screamer but he squirms a lot.

Miguel chuckled and he let go of the now red nipple. He moved sideways to give the same treatment to the other nipple making M/N move around even more and even kicked and jerking his legs, lightly holding onto Miguel's shoulders and rolling his eyes back.

Miguel smiled "Not a screamer, Mi Amor. Don't worry, you will be screaming my name in no time" he said in a low voice. He love touching M/N's soft body, the cold body being warmed up under his touch clouding the other's head with lust and desire to touch and get touched.

Miguel was looking into those beautiful e/c eyes that were filled with lust and desire, he chuckled "don't worry, I will take care of you" he said as he kissed the boy under him again, this time M/N kissed back quickly squeezing his lips, Miguel parted away and looked at M/N in surprise as he thought M/N squeezed his lips because he didn't like the kiss "Is everything alright? You don't like the kiss?" He asked, lightly rubbing M/N's chest, he blushed and admitted "I don't know how to kiss properly, I tried kissing back but I think it didn't work". Miguel smiled "then, allow me to teach you everything" and kissed him again. He wants to teach the innocent inexperienced boy everything and he would, how to kiss, suck his cock properly, relax as Miguel would finger him and also teach him to take his large cock in his ass.

Miguel kneaded the boy's hips and pressed his erection against his ass. Miguel parted away from the kiss and took off his own t-shirt, showing his well built torso, every muscle was Jacked up and ripped. M/N was basically drooling at the sight, wanting the body to rub against his.

Miguel took off M/N's shorts and boxers revealing his 4 inch cock, the boy jumped as the cold air hit his bare lower region. Miguel quickly caressed his thighs with his hands warming him up "don't worry. I will warm you up in no time" he mumbled in a deep voice in M/N’s ear. He kissed his ear lobe and nibbled on his ear, he kissed and licked down the boy's body and stopped right above his pelvis.

M/N squirmed at Miguel's actions and held his head that was hovering right above his cock, tip covered and flowing precum. Miguel looked up at M/N asking for approval, the boy nodded in response and Miguel quickly took the boy's cock in his mouth and started sucking on it expertly. M/N jerked his hips up and tightly held on Miguel's hair, his body twisted in pleasure, his face lightly changing expressions, he wasn't very expressive but Miguel knew that if he managed to pull up even a slight change in expression from the boy meant he was doing a great job. Miguel moaned while still sucking the boy's cock, M/N started breathing heavily and felt tightness in his stomach he sucked in breath and arched his back. Miguel held his thighs down tightly to avoid him moving too much, he started to bob his head quickly while stopping midway to suck hard then bob his head again.

M/N's legs started to shake and he felt tingles all over his body, he puffed out breaths and with a strangled groan he climaxed inside Miguel's mouth. He was sweating now, Miguel swallowed this climax and pulled away. He smirked at M/N who was red and shivering in pleasure. He wanted more from Miguel.

Miguel smirked and kissed M/N's forehead "Do you trust me? Cariño" he asked. M/N nodded in response with the nod Miguel smiled and kissed M/N's cheek then lifted his legs and bend them towards M/N's chest "hold them tight, Mi Amor" Miguel said and M/N did as directed.

"Wait up, I will be back" Miguel said as he got up and went to his room to get a bottle of lube and some condoms. He came back inside M/N's room whose face flushed red as he saw the items in Miguel's hands. Miguel laughed lightly and placed them beside M/N's head who glanced at the items. Miguel took the bottle of lube and squeezed some of it onto his hand and smeared them properly on his fingers, he also poured some of it on M/N’s asshole, he sucked in air through his teeth at the cold lube.

Miguel placed his middle finger on M/N’s entrance and slowly pushed the finger inside, his long thick finger was a tough fit for the small boy. M/N whined around his fingers, the finger went easy but M/N was clenching around it tightly, clearly showing his lack of intimacy, more like never even got touched by a man before Miguel. He made a face of concern but was internally very happy to be the boy's first.

"Shhh don't worry, you're doing great just relax and i will do the rest" Miguel cooed. He slid the finger deeper looking for the spot, M/N was silent but his abdomen clenching in and out coping up with the finger inside him.

"Hangg!" The boy choked out as Miguel brushed his finger against his prostate. Miguel smiled and pressed down on the gland "Hehe, found it~" he said.

Miguel started to move the finger in and out, he poured some more lube, with the help of lube he started to move faster, M/N's breath was hatching. Miguel wanted to hear him moan and whimper but he knew it would basically be impossible to get the stubborn reserved boy to respond the way he wants him to.

Miguel soon pushed in a second finger, he started moving the fingers in and out and making scissoring motions with them to stretch out M/N's ass, who was letting out heavy pants trying his best to relax and breathe. He was looking at Miguel's face, he was getting what he always wanted. His crush is fucking him, right now with fingers which will soon be his dick.

He let out a loud moan as Miguel was now slamming four of his fingers on M/N’s prostate. He started whimpering and moaning, Miguel smiled and sighed as he heard the boy's voice. M/N screwed his eyes shut and whimpered as he was being finger fucked, he started feeling the same tightness in his stomach like before, he sucked in a breath sucking in his stomach.

Miguel noticed this and fastened his pace "Good boy, moan my name now" he said.

M/N was being a stubborn self again and stopped his whimpers and moans. Miguel was a little irritated now and teased M/N by completely removing his fingers from M/N who in response bucked his hips forward wanting to be touched again. His face was red and looked like he was holding himself back.

"Tsk tsk, only good boys get the reward to cum" he said chuckling a little as he took off his sweatpants and boxers and threw them on the floor along with M/N's and his t-shirt.

M/N's eyes widened as he stared at Miguel's cock, it was a good 1.5 inch thick and 8 inches long, dripping precum and looked like a beast free from a zillion years of imprisonment. Miguel sighed and groaned as he was finally free. He stroked his cock a few times and placed it on M/N's entrance, who panicked and yelped out "No! No! Wait wait!! This won't fit!" He wanted this dreamy veiny large cock but was scared of the later consequences. "Don't worry baby boy, we will make it fit." He said as teared the wrapped of the condom, taking it out sliding it down on his cock, he neared his face towards M/N's ear "Make it fit so good, you will be screaming my name wanting more of it. Make it fit so good you will be stretched around me, your hole gaping for more" Miguel spoke chuckling darkly as he plunged three of his fingers again inside M/N's ass.

His breath hitched again and he let out a long whimper and scrunched his face in pleasure. Miguel was moving his fingers in and out fast and hard. He pulled out his fingers suddenly then pushed in the tip of his cock and started pushing inside. M/N whined in pain with bits of pleasure alongside "nah~ wa.." he said with a cracked voice. Miguel stopped and gave him time to adjust, he was rubbing M/N's stomach gently and caressing his body helping him relax. He bend down and started licking and sucking on M/N's neck and shoulder "Shh, I will be gentle don't worry" he said as he slowly pushed in a bit more.

M/N was relaxed now, soon he felt Miguel's dick near his stomach "Ah~" he choked out.

Miguel smiled "Alright, want more of it inside?" He asked gently, still caressing his sides. "No, its too deep" M/N said, his eyes screwed shut.

Miguel was not completely inside and he was rushing for it. It was M/N's first time, he didn't want to hurt him, he sighed and pulled out a little and pushed that back in.

Miguel pulled out more than before almost pulling out completely then pushed back it receiving a choked moan from the boy. He started thrusting slowly, pulling out then pushing back in. He wasn't in a rush, he wanted M/N to be comfortable who was visibly swallowing big gulps of his own spit trying to make his body match Miguel's strokes. "Don't push yourself to adjust, your body will adjust and loosen itself on its own. Don't stress, it's your first time and I am here to take care of it" he said as he increased the speed of his strokes. M/N almost let out a loud moan but held it in.

After almost 15 minutes Miguel was now going faster, his thrusts still soft and gentle. M/N was holding in his breath not wanting to become a moaning mess just yet, Miguel smiled and rubbed his stomach and chest, licked his nipple and gave it a sensual gentle suck, he kept giving small but hard sucks while keeping up with his thrusts.

Sounds of sucking and light wet noises from Miguel’s thrusts were making M/N's sound sensitive self a bit overwhelmed. He opened his mouth letting his tongue out and breathing heavily, he held Miguel's face in place. Miguel smiled at this and continued sucking the same way he was and thrusting a little bit faster and harder. Ropes of cum came out of M/N's dick and he moaned out "Miguel!". Miguel sat up still and started thrusting more intensely as he heard the boy moan out his name.

M/N soon became a moaning mess, his prostate being rubbed up constantly, he was almost overstimulated. The same tightness again formed in his stomach, his breath started to hitch because of it. Miguel chuckled and grabbed his dick and started jerking it. M/N screamed and moaned out Miguel's name at the intense pleasure he was receiving. Miguel was now basically slamming the earlier pushed 4 inches inside of M/N.

M/N came with a loud moaning and turned into a moaning mess.

M/N had came two more times and was on the verge to pass-out. Miguel held onto his face and kissed his head, still slamming into him. His breath was heavy and uneven now as he was chasing his climax. "Good boy, your so adorable laying beneath me moaning and crying for me" he spoke in a horse voice. "I am gonna cum soon" he moaned and with that he released his semen inside the condom. He let out a deep sigh and panted out heavily. He was still inside then slowly started to pull out, M/N's hole gaping wide, who was overstimulated and shivering. He had never imagined that something can be so intense and wonderful. All the stress from working like a madman came down. Sex with Miguel was zillion times better than chugging down cans of caffeine.

Miguel pulled out the condom off his dick, pulled out a tissue and went to the bathroom attached to M/N's room to dispose off the condom in the trash can. He went back to M/N and laid beside him. He shifted him towards the corner of the bed where there was wall as a barrier to avoid the boy from falling and laid on his bed comfortably. Miguel hugged him and kissed his cheek.

He smiled at the boy "Did you have fun?" He asked. M/N nodded in response, unable to speak from such an intense experience.

"Would you like to do this more often with me? As my lover?" Miguel asked, whispering the last word in M/N's ear who shivered at his words and nodded.

M/N was slowly closing his eyes, he was already tired from working on his animations and illustrations without getting sleep from past 48 hours and now he was fucked out good by a massive dick, he wanted nothing but sleep now.

Miguel smiled and kissed his cheek, closing his own eyes.

Soon both men fall asleep in each others arms peacefully.

Thank you guys for reading this if you read it this far, I'm glad and grateful!

Please comment if you guys want more of Artist male reader fanfics. And also if you want the next part 'Aftercare' of this current fanfic.

#male reader #lgbtq #gay #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x male reader #atsv miguel #top miguel o'hara #bottom male reader #artist #au #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x reader #atsv smut #smut #miguel o'hara smut #long post

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skipper19 · 3 months ago

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I've dug two graves for us, my dear..

Dabis scowl was reflected off the street lamp, and his blue eyes reflected his anger. His arm raised, palm extended towards the man he had cornered in the alleyway. In these certain situations, Dabi was used to your voice in the back of his head. You were the pacifist type, even if you were a villain.

Being a part of the League meant you saw violence and gore every day, especially since you were their medic. You didn't want to cause harm, but you also knew you weren't on the heroes side. So you settled with helping the villains behind the scenes. Hence, how you met Dabi.

..Can't pretend that I was perfect, leaving you in fear.

You and Dabi were polar opposites (at least personality wise), and others often teased you both for it. Dabi didn't care. He never has cared for others' opinions, other than yours. You were attached to his hip, following him around like a lost dog most times. It irritated him at first, until it didn't. He would look for you in a crowd, set his hand on your lower back as you walked next to him, and check in with you during the day. It became routine.

And one night, you both grew even closer. You whispered dreams and shared secrets that night, forming a bond even tighter than before.

And you always bugged him about the same things. He was too mean, too cruel, he killed too much, he needed to be nicer to rookies. The same things every day, and Dabi began to listen eventually. It was difficult for him, but he knew you had the best intentions at heart. He especially acted right when you both went out together.

Oh man, what world, the things I hear..

It was often that you took walks at night. You had trouble sleeping without Dabi by your side, and Dabi often had nightmares that kept him awake. So it wasn't uncommon for you both to take walks through the city as the moon shined in the sky. Some days you would talk about anything and everything, and others you would walk in silence.

Obviously, seeing as it was late at night during these times, you both would see some horrible things. A mugger stabbing an old woman for her purse, dogs feasting on the remains of some unidentifiable animal, lost kids digging through dumpsters for some food. You began to carry food and cash with you during these walks in case you did run into the unfortunate souls living off the street life. You were never scared. You knew you were safe by Dabis side. Most citizens knew Dabis face. He was a well renowned villain, after all. So the more dangerous people at night avoided looking in your direction.

Until one night.. it all just had to go wrong.

..If I could act on my revenge, no, would I?

It wasn't supposed to end this way. If Dabi hadn't listened to your dumb pacifist self, then none of this would have happened. He knew the streets. He knew the dangers of money hungry people. He knew scum like this guy. He should have scorched him alive the moment the bastard laid his hands on you.

But no.. you wanted Dabi to spare him.

"No! Dabi, you promised you wouldn't kill anymore! You promised.." Your words were muffled behind your hand, blood oozing from your nose. The bastard Dabi was glaring at kept his gun aimed at Dabis head, while Dabi kept his own flames ready to ignite. Dabis rage was palatable, but he gritted his teeth and shook his head. Grunting as he lowered his arm.

Some kill, some steal, some break your heart..

The last thing Dabi expected was for a bullet to whizz past his cheek, the bang momentarily deafening him. Dabi could feel the blood dribble down his cheek to his chin, and his finger came up to swipe the blood from his skin. But he didn't have time to process this turn of events as he heard a prominent thump behind him.

Dabis head whipped back, only to find you lying on your back, the water from the cement ground soaking your his jacket. Dabi felt as though time stopped. He didn't pay no mind to the burglar as he booked it out of the alleyway. Your name tumbled out of Dabis's lips as he took a step forward.

"Sweetheart?" His voice was weak, muffled by the ringing in his ears. Your name, again, exited his mouth as he dropped to his knees next to your body. He desperately wiped the blood away from your face as he cradled your head in his hands. The look on your face was soft as you blankly stared up at the stars.

..and you thought that I would let it go and let you walk?

Dabis own tears dripped on your pale face as he shook your head, gently at first, only to harshly grab your shoulders and shake you again. "No..not you, anyone but you. You're not allowed to leave me, you're not allowed to fucking leave me like this!" He shouted at you. Anger lacing each word. His nails dug into your shoulders as he lifted you up and pressed you into his chest. "Wake up already, you pacifist little shit!" No response, but he wouldn't accept it. How could he?

"Just fucking say something! Tell me I'm being mean, tell me to calm down, call me your Touya and say it's alright, goddammit!" His voice echoed throughout the alleyway, lights cutting on behind the curtains in the apartments above. He paid no mind. His gaze stared at the bullet wound in your forhead.

Broken hearts break bones, so break up fast..

He wheezed and coughed for air as he choked on his own sobs. It felt as though his heart physically hurt. His stomach churned. Was he going to puke? His warm skin contrasted greatly to your cold self. He could warm you up. You always loved to cuddle into him. Despite his complaints, you would lay yourself in his lap and take up all of his personal space. "I won't complain.. I won't shove you off anymore. If you just..wake up." How could he have ever even mustered an argument with you about these habits? He craved every bit of you.

He attempted to ignore the sirens quickly approaching his location. Fuck these nosy citizens and their stupid fucking morals. He didn't want to leave you. He felt as though he would pass out. "I shouldn't have listened to you, you idiot." He mumbled into your hair, drawing in a sharp breath as even more tears escaped his eyes.

He slightly pulled away and brushed the hair away from your bloody forhead. His lip trembled as he broke even more at the sight of you. He leaned down and placed his trembling lips against your own, remaining their until his own sobs broke the desperate act of affection. "I love you.. I love you damnit. Come back to me sweetheart, love me again. Please.."

And I don't wanna let it go, so in the grave, I rot.

Police quickly entered the alleyway, their guns raised and ready to fire. All they found was a young girl, maybe 25, lying in a puddle left from the rain earlier in the day. Blood pooled under her head as a bullet wound painted her forehead red. Her eyes were closed, and her jacket was zipped shut around her.

It was reported on the news the next day that the infamous medic for the league of villain was shot and left to die all by herself.

I've dug two graves for us, my dear..

He didn't care about the heroes yelling at him to surrender, his focus was set on this motherfucker before him. The one who took you away from him.

..can't pretend that I was perfect, leaving you in fear.

Dabi didn't allow himself to cry, not after the weeks of tears he's already shed. No one bothered to comfort him in this time, not even Shigaraki. Toga attempted.. but she was only met with silence as she stood outside yalls his bedroom door. He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, hell he had to force himself to use the bathroom.. but he never even tried to wash himself. What was the point anymore? Who would he shower with? Who would apply the ointment to his burns before bed? Who would cradle him against their chest as he listened to them talk about their day?

There was no point in anything, not anymore. Dabi made sure to find the asshole responsible for your death. That's all that mattered to him now.

Even if it did put him in a position like this, cops and heroes waiting for him to exit the alleyway. He was cornered, but he didn't give a shit. The man's trembling did little to satiate Dabis' thirst for blood.

Oh man, what world, the things I hear.. if I could act on my revenge, no, would I?

Neither did the man's screams as his skin melted off of his bones. Dabi let his footsteps echo off walls as he lazily walked out of the alleyway. Despite the yells around him, the drop of the man's body to the floor, sirens wailing and firetrucks blaring, Dabi was still stuck in that day. The way your cold body felt in his arms, the sound of the gunshot, or the way it sounded when the bullet pierced your skin.

Dabi stepped out of the alleyway, and his bloodshot eyes dragged over the walls of men and women, ready to take him down. Heroes that he recognized and cops he's seen sometimes. Some citizens stand nearby as well, looking on in fear and horror as Dabi extended his arms out to his sides. Arms raised to present himself to all.

Some kill, some steal, some break your heart, and you thought that I would let it go and let you walk?

Dabi smiled at the crowds of people, stepping in a slow 360° before facing them again. "Put your arms down and surrender calmly!" Do these people know how idiotic they sounded? Dabi chuckled as a memory flooded his mind. The first person you ever killed was a cop. You were protecting Dabi, but it broke you.

"What would you say if you saw me now?" He mumbled under his breath. "We will shoot!" Dabi only lowered his head and took a slow step forward, cocking of guns filled his ears and he smirked.

Broken hearts break bones, so break up fast..

Headlines on newspapers and whispers around the city spread like wild fire. Hundreds of people, cops and heroes alike, burned alive before they could let their bullets rain on Dabi. Buildings and wildlife nearby turned to ruin as blue flames engulfed them. It took firefighters all night to relinquish the flames and clear the debris. They still haven't collected all the remains from the scene.

A week later, and one thing was for sure, Dabis body wasn't amongst the hundreds. Only ashes remain.

The League sat around as they silently mourned the loss of their companion. In the past two months, they've lost two of their most loved members. Shigaraki didn't join them all in this time. He sat in his office, staring down at the picture on his desk. He ignored the tears in his eyes as he picked up his stamp and pressed it against the photo. The red letters "deceased" partially marked through your forhead and Dabis face.

..and I don't want to let it go, so in the grave, I rot.

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biscuitblinkeu · 9 months ago

Text

To be Loved

Fluff • Abuse • Smut

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader -> Requested

Word Count: 6885~

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, violence, soft NSFW

Prompt: Soulmate AU with spoice— (reader is shorter than Rosè)

A/N: The long awaited one shot… yeah. I’m on my knees type of sorry for how long this took to get finish. Also, spice starts near the end— SJDHFHDHDJDJ don’t tell me anything about it, just let me fade into existence LOL. It’s not my strong suit, so bear with me. I hope you like some part of it anon! 😭🤞🏽

Soulmates were such a complicated concept. They could be born many years before or after one another; die before meeting; fall in love with someone else— thus breaking their tie; or right out reject their fated pair. They could be halfway across the world, or live in a completely different society than your own.

There were those who didn’t believe in Soulmates, those that thought the system wasn’t fair. But what was fair about fate? It was just a way to bind two people together. Forever. You either got lucky or you didn’t, there’s no in between— soulmates are simply a random occurrence. And the world was too cruel to give everyone the same happiness.

You were one of the few people who didn’t believe in soulmates despite the evidence they were real being all around you. You didn’t believe in the fairytales from poets, the grand, romanticized adventures about those looking for their fated pair, those who traveled across the world, suffered many hardships, and finally, by the wonderful power of destiny, found their other half.

It was all a joke to you. It was unhealthy, too. Imagine spending almost your whole life wishing upon a dazzling shooting star for a soulmate to take you away from the loneliness and the imaginary scenarios, making them true, only to find out they died or broke the tie. Or to pathetically plead to the otherworldly force that created soulmates each year for someone to save you, to love you, for it to not be answered?

It was your own personal experience— something you believed to be a forever thing.

It wasn’t.

The crescent moon grinned down upon you mockingly, its light illuminating the streets. Everyone seemed to always have a destination in mind, somewhere they knew they had to go. You were always lost.

A bitter wind nipped at your face and hands, and you pulled your scarf up more.You looked at the heavy brown-paper bag in your hands and sighed, you had to go back home. Those all familiar feelings bubbled up inside of you once again: hopelessness; fear. These feelings made you hurt, they were empty feelings that just seemed to grow bigger everyday, making it harder for you to have control. You clenched your fists to stop the shaking, even dug your nails into your skin. It didn’t help.

(Even if you did right, you’d still get punished).

That’s how it always started: the trembling. It started from your fingers and made its way through your body till you’re shaking. When you shake you no longer have control of your nerves. If you’ve lost control of your nerves, you get dizzy. Then you’ve lost the ability to breathe properly… and you drown.

You ripped your gaze away from the bag that held bottles of tequila and champagne and forced your feet to move forward. Though, too caught up in trying to prevent yourself from getting overwhelmed, you failed to notice the wild animal scurrying on the sidewalk in front of you. A shriek left you and the bag in your hands dropped as you jumped out of surprise, its contents smashing and spilling out on the floor and your shoes. The smell is strong, and you wrinkle your nose.

There goes your chance at having a peaceful night.

You hope they’ve fallen asleep and forgot. When you’re walking up the driveway you saw that the lights were still on. They’ve just forgotten to turn them off. They’re asleep, you told yourself over and over as you're unlocking the door.

They’re not.

Your mother was still perched on her soulmate’s lap, just as she was when you went out, looking at you expectantly. Your eyes darted to the floor, and a quiet, shaky breath left your lips.

She noticed your hands are empty and her face falls. You could see the burning color appear on her cheeks— she’s angry now, and in front of her soulmate you’ve embarrassed her?

“Excuse me,” she murmured as she slid off his lap. She walked past you, heading to the hallway, and even though she doesn’t verbally tell you to follow her or do any type of gesture, you just know to follow her.

You’re in the hallway, and oh, what a hazardous place to be in. Your eyes darted around the small corridor, taking mental notes of what looked sharp and what could bruise you and what might— “(Y/n).” Her voice was cold and it made you jump, she gave you a what-the-fuck look. “Where are our drinks? Where have you gone to take this long and come back empty handed? Where’s my money? Where has it been spent?” She bombarded you with questions.

“I had them, but…” Should you tell her you were a klutz and dropped it?

Well, you’re unable to anyways. The moment your mom scrunched her nose up with that glint in her eyes you knew what was coming, yet you weren’t ready for it. It was just so fast.

A heavy, hard smack collided with your cheek, knocking you off balance to the ground. The trip wasn’t so smooth as your back dug into the sharp dresser edge on the way. You held your cheek, blinking rapidly as pain assaulted your senses. God, your head was spinning, your ears were ringing, and your face burned. You bit your lip to stop any cries. Tears pricked at your eyes and you refused to look at her, your gaze trained to the polished wood boards.

Your mother has already come up with her scenario, her answer instead of hearing you out. (Not that the outcome would be any different, but maybe less harsh).

“So you decided to drink it yourself, huh?” She scoffed, rubbing at her temples like you were an annoying headache. “I knew I smelt something… You naughty little girl, that was ours!” You still smelt like the alcohol, meaning you must’ve drunk theirs, that’s the only reasonable conclusion, right?

You saw her coming closer to you. She grabbed a handful of your hair and you yelped, forced to stand up. Your legs scrambled for grip underneath you and as soon as it’s gained, it’s lost when your mother’s knuckles collide with your jaw on the same side of the slap. She was not going easy on you, and you deserve it. You deserve this, because this is what you get for not paying attention.

Your vision blurred for a moment and you finally let a cry escape your lips. “Mom!” Your mother rolled her eyes and practically manhandled you to your room, her nails digging into the side of your waist and arm with a bruising grip as she pushed you forward. “Mom! Please stop, it hurts!”

“Good,” she sneered, fingers digging deeper into your skin. You whimpered in agony. “You had one job…couldn’t even do that.” You’re scared, everything hurts, and you're beginning to tremble again, and this time, maybe you’ll welcome the panic if it’ll give you something else to focus on.

She pushed you onto your bedroom floor and snorted at your state. “Go to bed. I don’t want to hear anything from you.” Then she slammed the door, the sound ringing in your ears.

You didn’t have the energy to drag yourself onto your bed, and would rather not risk making things harder for yourself, so you curled up on the ground. The sharp smell of cigarettes lingered in the air, causing your nose to sting, each shallow intake of air more stuttered than the last as you began to weep. The gash on your cheek was painful, and the feeling of a wet sensation let you know that the skin was broken and bleeding.

You can’t do this anymore.

You've seen how hard it is for people with mothers and fathers that aren’t soulmates. The judgment, the uncertainty, the hushed whispers. You’ve experienced it first hand.

Your mom and dad weren’t soulmates, just two people that stopped trying. Ever since your mom found her soulmate (Evan) and broke up with your dad, you were able to see your mom finally in true love, yet your dad was broken. His soulmate, who died before they could meet, awaited him in the afterlife. Not long before they broke up, it was like the Universe decided he had nothing else to live for if not with his soulmate, and he passed.

Since then, Evan stopped you from finishing your studies to stay home and take care of your mom and the expected baby. The miscarriage was highly unexpected, and you’ve been the punching bag since. Your little brother's death was traumatic for them, and they couldn’t come up with a reason why it had to be that way— so it was pushed onto you.

It’s your fault, your mom told you; you should’ve taken care of her better, Evan had said, she was too stressed out because of you. You’ll never find your soulmate, they said, creating the first crack. You're unlovable. Useless. Who could ever love you? You’re here because your soulmate left you.

(It was then you realized you couldn’t rely on a soulmate to save you).

With your studies discontinued, your life plans were shattered. You've been forced to live with your mom since your dad died, having no other place to go. You’ve hopped from job to job, saving up money to leave and get back on track, but they take it away from you anyways. You're stuck.

That’s why you decided to run away.

When Evan and your mom retired to their room, you waited a few hours, then snuck out of your room— for the first time grateful for not having a lock— with a bag packed. You always kept some funds away from your mother, funds she didn’t know about, and today you would use them. The downstairs was quiet, and you made sure to stray away from creaky floorboards. You turned the corner, flinching upon seeing Evan in the kitchen digging through the fridge. You needed to go through the kitchen to get out. His droopy, unkind eyes settled on you.

“Hey,” he said, frowning as he put his cup down. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your room?”

When he took a step towards you, you bolted, running past him and throwing the door open. A moment later the same door flew open, and you realized he was chasing you. “Hey! Fuck— get back here!”

You ran harder, barely getting air into your lungs as you turned corners and ran through streets, bumping into people. When you no longer heard his voice yelling after you, you switched into a slow jog, then a tired walk.

You walked a few blocks, then entered a café to rest.

You glanced around the room, noting how cozy it was. It reminded you of how your grandma’s house would have a homey atmosphere; old family photographs hung proudly on the walls, soft music playing from a record player, and the air scented with something that made you warm. There weren't many customers, and you figured it was close to closing.

You hung your backpack over a chair and sat down, resting your head on the table, taking a much needed break. You would order a drink, but didn’t want to inconvenience the baristas since they were cleaning up. When you felt your eyes closing, you reminded yourself to leave before

they closed.

It wasn’t long before you slipped into a nap, the comforting atmosphere lulling you deeper, and ignored the almost overwhelming feeling in your heart. You ignored the tugging sensation on your index finger too.

“Excuse me,” a voice whispered, accompanied by a soft tap on your shoulder. When you didn’t respond, she lightly shook your shoulder.

You flinched awake and she furrowed her brows. “Hi, I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s closing time and…” She trailed off.

You couldn’t believe Rosé from Blackpink, global kpop star and ambassador, was in front of you. You took note of the khaki, bear-printed apron she wore along with a name tag,p: the café’s uniform. But more importantly, why was she so much prettier up close? Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, and a couple strands were left out to frame her face. Her eyes were a soft but narrow shape, giving them a natural innocent look, and her nose was perfectly straight and sculpted. The bit of freckles that graced her nose and cheeks made her even more breathtaking.

The ever so reddening of her cheeks let you know that you were staring far too long.

You quickly stood up and unhooked your backpack from the wooden chair, slinging it over your back. “I’m sorry,” you apologized almost immediately, as if it’s out of habit. Your eyes darted back to the floor, and she felt her heart break.

Something clearly wasn’t right.

“I’ll leave now…thank you for waking me up.” Without waiting for her response you started to walk away, unable to endure her curious gaze any longer. Though, a hand wrapping itself around your wrist stops you in your actions, and prompts a quiet gasp to leave your lips. Her touch was electric. You turned back around, trying not to dwell on the warmth encasing your wrist, and faced her.

Why did she just grab you? She, too, looked shocked. Her cheeks dusted with a light pink as she looked away from you. Did she feel it too?

Looking down, she noticed the harsh blobs of purple and green peeking out from your hoodie sleeve and her heart jumped for a whole different reason. They were shaped like fingerprints— like someone grabbed you violently. At the realization, she was momentarily rendered speechless.

She only had one thing on her mind, and it wouldn't be right if she ignored it. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked down briefly before looking you straight in the eyes. Her eyes soft with concern, she asked, “Are you okay?” Immediately, you tensed up. You inhaled sharply, attempting to steady yourself by taking deep breaths. “You’re hurt. Who did this to you?” She pressed.

There it was. You could feel tears building at the corners of your eyes, and she definitely noticed. You tried to speak, but your tongue felt too heavy to form coherent words. “I— I’m…” You're fine? You injured yourself?

“Please tell me, I need to know.” Her voice was stern yet laced with a gently concern. You weren’t getting out of this. Her hand loosened its grip, but didn't fully let go. Did she know you would bolt the moment she did?

Your vision started to blur, and you blinked rapidly against the incoming stream of tears. It’s all you can do to keep yourself together. One part of you wanted to tell her, wanted to spill everything, the other held you back and wanted to tell a lie. You shouldn’t burden her. You could take care of yourself. But you couldn’t bring yourself to utter those words.

Noticing your inner turmoil, Rosé backtracked, and apologies were leaving her mouth in a rapid rush. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. That was very rude of me. I’m Chaeyoung. You are?”

You sniffled, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “…(Y/n).”

She smiled lightly. “(Y/n)? Your name is beautiful, I love it. Now… I know I was really forward just now, but I’m worried about you. I can’t just leave this unattended, I— I want to help you…if that’s alright.”

“Help?” You repeated quietly. The word felt foreign on your tongue, even more so hearing it applied to your situation. Usually people looked the other way, not wanting to get involved or merely too scared to. And you’ve gotten so used to it that you felt you weren’t deserving of help. Now, you bitterly wondered why it took so long to come to you, especially in times of need.

“Yes. Do you want my help?” She asked again, softer.

God, yes. Yes, you want help. You could only nod your head, a quiet sob leaving your lips. You hid your face, self-conscious in front of her. Suddenly, you're engulfed in a warmth, such a comforting embrace, and it only makes the tears fall harder.

“It’ll be okay,” she murmured, letting you cry into her chest. She was taller than you, her chin resting delicately upon the crown of your head. The feeling of being cared for washed over you, easing your stress for a minute, allowing you to take some time to calm down. Her scent filled your lungs, and you could have sworn you smelled a floral mixed with vanilla.

Once you calmed down enough, you pulled away and managed to whisper a hoarse, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replied. “Now, can I know what’s going on in order to help you better?”

After that short moment, you told her - a stranger you surprisingly felt you could trust - everything. You told her about your parents, getting chased as you tried to leave the house, and the origin of the bruises. You kept it brief, however, and once you explained the details of your situation she offered to take you to the hotel she was staying at.

You were hesitant to leave the café, fearing your family was searching the streets for you, she called her manager to get the two of you and you waited inside. While waiting, she asked you a few things about yourself and exchanged some things about her.

You learned that she had a “complicated" job that left her restless at night, hence why she was helping out at her friend's café. She was humble to a fault, telling you about her friends and how grateful she is to have the opportunities she has now, too.

It wasn’t long before her manager, a young-looking, friendly woman, greeted you when Chaeyoung opened the car door and the both of you slid in. You’re not good at small talk, but she was a natural at it. It wasn’t long before the conversation flowed freely and you didn’t have to pretend. She made you comfortable.

There was a lull in the air, the only noise being the car’s engine grumbling and the wind whipping by the slightly lowered window. She turned to face you fully, and you shifted in your seat from her gaze. “Do you know who I am?”

You bit your tongue at the question, not expecting it— at least, not this soon. (Was it obvious?) “I do. I mean, I may have seen your face on a few products and billboards.” You pinched at the fabric of your pants, not realizing you were beginning to frown. “Is that okay? I’m not trying to...” Intrude; leach; burden.

She cut your rambling short with a chuckle. “That’s fine,” she assured. “It doesn’t change anything. I want to do this.” It honestly scared her how much she wanted to help you.

She has been warned multiple times about “normal people”.

They’re different, all they see is your fame, you on the stage, what you have and what they don’t.

She has been used because of her kindness, taken advantage of and lied to. Threatened, even. But somehow she knew you weren’t like them. She was acting on a feeling she couldn’t explain.

The feeling she has searched for her whole career, perhaps. She pushed the thought to the back of her brain— it was the least of her worries. Now, she needed to make sure you felt safe.

You expected she stayed at a quality hotel, but just seeing it— such a large, grandice building, was mind blowing. It was nestled between a street lined with high end brands and local restaurants, drawing eyes. Nonetheless, you didn’t feel any envy towards her. You knew she had worked hard to get to this point in life.

You followed closely behind Chaeyoung, the guards at their post by the main entrance, intimating you with their blank expressions and bold stances. They gave her a singular nod as she passed, their eyes lingering on you for a few moments with masked confusion. You smiled wryly, imagining how it must look to others, and readjusted the facemask her manager had given you.

You didn’t want to cause any problems for her.

Chaeyoung was a natural at conversing with people, something you lacked in, greeting the receptionist with a smile and small talk. She had just finished laughing at a joke. “Is there another room available on the same floor as mine?” She asked, glancing at you. You furrowed your brows, confusion reflected in your eyes.

The receptionist clicked around the computer for a moment. “Yes, there is. Are you trying to rent it?”

“I am,” she replied.

“Okay can you state the guest name and residency? Or are you buying it in your name?”

“In my name—“

“No!” You blurt suddenly, coming closer to the counting. You turned to her, shaking your head. “I can…I can pay for it, Chaeyoung. You’ve already done enough for me. I can’t ask you to do anything more.” There was something in your voice, pleading, which caught her off guard. Why were you so against it?

She tilted her head quizzically, her lips pursed together. Oh, she would spoil you. She smiled. “No, I can’t let you do that.”

You were flustered, calculating how much she would have to pay: a whole lot. It was definitely pricey for your current funds, but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to stay long… “But it’s only right—-“

”I want to. So please accept, okay?”

Realizing she wasn’t going to back down, you gave up. (For now). “…You’ll at least let me pay you back after, right?” You really didn’t like owing people.

She pretends to think about it for a moment. “Nope, c’mon.” She grabs the keys from the lady and leads you to the elevator.

The ride was silent, and Chaeyoung didn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. On the other hand, she realized you had a lot going through your mind. That much was obvious from your lack of expression.

Once she returned to her suite, she would contact Alice or her family for connections to lawyers. Abuse was a touchy subject, getting you to open up would be difficult…

The suite was luxurious— spacious and lavishly decorated with high-end furniture, plush carpets, and drapery. The living room was furnished with comfortable sofas, armchairs, and a coffee table. The large windows offered breathtaking views of the surrounding city. Further in, the bedroom featured a king-sized bed with premium linens and soft pillows, and the lighting is carefully curated, creating a warm environment. The bathroom had marble floors and walls, a deep soaking tub, and a separate rainfall shower.

You re-entered the living space, completely shook. Wasn’t this too much?

Chaeyoung sat on one of the island chairs, swirling around. “Nice, isn’t it? I recently started booking with this place. They have 24-hour room service and a private chef upon request. There’s also a private lounge, spa, and fitness center— but I hardly have time to use those services anyways...”

“It’s… definitely nice.” You couldn’t begin to imagine the price for one day—

“I’m happy you think so, I want you to be comfortable. Are you hungry?” She was already grabbing her phone as she asked, a pamphlet in her hand.

You shook your head, only to be betrayed by your stomach rumbling. She laughed, and the sound made your heart stutter in your chest without warning. She had a cute smile on her face as she beckoned you over. “Not hungry, hm?” She teased.

“Maybe a little,” You said then, your face heating up slightly due to the embarrassment. She smiled wider, typing in the Suite’s website and clicking on food service.

“What would you like? This place is really famous for their pastas and stews, but they have almost everything here.” She started listing off items, going from the most popular to the lesser popular dishes (they’re all expensive either way). Halfway through the selections you stopped her, finding a simple meal that was the least expensive yet filling.

“Can you add the pho and salad to the order? I’m paying for it. You don’t need to spend more than necessary on me.” A stranger.

She frowned at that. “But I’m treating you, still.”

“I know…but you’ve really done enough for me. I can’t ask for more,” you were adamant.

“You can,” She emphasized. “In fact, I want you to. And I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I was the one who wanted to bring you here, and I have more money than I know what to do with, so let me pay for your things, please. I want to do this, let me take care of you.”

You bit into your tongue, mulling over the situation. You knew at this point she wouldn’t let anything go, she’d just insist, and insist, and insist, coaxing you to comply with her lovely smile, and her kind eyes, and her gentle tone that never fails to have you feeling so warm.

“Okay, fine,” You said, and immediately a smile was pulling at her lips, that cheerful mood she had before coming back as soon as it faded. “On one condition: you at least let me pay for the food— yours too.”

“But—”

“I need to do something useful, Chaeyoung. It’s killing me, so just this once, please.”

“Alright,” she reluctantly agreed, almost hesitant to even let you type in your card for the order. “Just this once, and this time only.”

“Yes, yes, thank you,” You finally smiled.

The hotel staff didn’t take long preparing your orders, which is likely expected of such a fancy place like this. The servers came in with a trolly and placed the meals on the table. It looked and smelt delicious, and you and Chaeyoung ate right away.

Sometime while eating, Chaeyoung called for your attention. “Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

You paused, bringing the utensil away from your mouth. You took in a breath, steeling your emotions. “No.”

She almost choked. “Can I ask why not?”

At that question you became quiet. Even more so than before. Soulmates— there it is again.

Everyone seems to talk about soulmates; finding their perfect someone, and it seems Chaeyoung is one of them. “I don’t.” You answered, smiling wryly. “A long awaited destiny finding your other half? It’s…it’s really nothing but a fairytale.”

“Oh. Yeah… I guess it’s a little childish.” Once you saw her expression drop more, that look of concern on her face, you glanced away and started stuffing your cheeks with rice again. You shouldn’t feel guilty for opposing the idea— everyone’s entitled to their own options, yet the crestfallen look on her face gave you a pang to your heart. You felt you needed to explain why, and you did.

“No,I didn’t mean it like that… it’s not childish to believe in. I just— I know they’re real; and it’s great if you find yours and you’re happy,” you began, finding it hard to express yourself. “I just think the system isn’t fair.” What you didn’t say, however, is that sometimes it’s a waste of hoping and dreaming. You’re bound to get tired of it, to give up after a while. And giving up hurts the most, because it means accepting you won’t have that happiness.

“I see,” She murmured, given your response. She smiled again, but you could tell it was lacking. “Well, let’s finish eating. The food is getting cold.“

“Right.” You both ate in silence after that. The mood was heavy, filled with awkwardness, uncertainty, and just— something. You didn’t understand why, however. Why is she so caught up on that rare concept? Why does she care if you believe in it or not? You really couldn’t understand her.

Chaeyoung was standing outside the door, returning to her own suite. “I sent you a text from my real number. If you need anything— don’t hesitate to call me, no matter the time. I’m just down the hallway.”

“Okay,” you nodded. Then she left you alone to your own devices.

You decided going to sleep would be the best course of action. You avoided checking your phone, worried that even though you’ve turned off your location they’d still find you.

Just sitting on the king-sized bed made you drowsy, and you were glad Chaeyoung was helping you, because it surely made you feel safer. It wasn’t long before your eyes grew heavy and your breathing evened out, and you were happy to sleep peacefully.

However, it was short lived by rapid-paced banging on the door. Still in the bedroom, you heard the door knob jiggling aggressively, and a few murmured voices. You flinched, immediately reached for your phone to dial a number. It rings twice before she picks up. “Hello? Chaeyoung?” You call anxiously, circling your knees up to your chest as you sit on your bed.

“Yeah?” She answers lightly, her voice evident of sleep, and as much as you’d hate to rip her from her sleep, even if she said she didn’t mind, but you had a problem.

“Someone’s—someone’s banging on my door. I don’t know what to do. What if they get inside? What if it’s my mom? What if they hurt me? I tried calling the security but I got no answer. I’m scared.”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I’ll be over there right away. Stay in your room for now, okay?” Chaeyoung hurried down the hallway, mindful to not keep you waiting.

In front of your door, a man in a suit slumped against the wall, the hotel staff fussing over him. “Sir, you’re drunk! You’re disturbing our guests, this is not your room. Let us…”

She let out a sigh of relief, knowing the problem wasn’t serious— but still felt tense knowing you weren’t aware of the situation. When the staff got the man off his butt, she knocked on your suite door. “It’s just me. I’m coming in, okay?” With that, she cracked open the door slowly. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw you curled up into a tight ball, crying softly in your bed. Without hesitation, she walked over to the corner of your room where you sat, taking a seat beside you. You leaned back into her arms with a sniffle, looking at her with tears welling up in your eyes. The sight made her want to hold you tighter. “Hey,” she whispered, rubbing your back. “It was just a confused man, he had mistaken the room number.”

“…Really?” You sniffled and pulled away slightly, half-embarrassed you’re relying on her again, half not wanting to leave her arms. She made you feel safe.

“Yes, the staff took care of it right away. I’m sorry you had to experience that…” She was frowning, frustrated it had to be your room, that you were probably scared out of your sleep because of it, and that it might’ve resurfaced some of your trauma. It pulled on her heartstrings seeing you so shaken up and anxious.

“Oh,” you nodded, instantly feeling calmer at the news. “That’s good.”

“It is,” she agreed.

You quietly cleared your throat, realizing the death grip you had on her shirt. Heat spreaded across your nape and face. In front of Chaeyoung, you felt like a middle schooler with a crush all over again. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“For what?” She asked.

You fiddled with your fingers unconsciously, avoiding her soft gaze. Did she truly not know? “For coming here— for everything.”

Chaeyoung wanted to shake her head and deny it— she did it out of her own violation, afterall, but instead accepted your gratitude. “Of course.”

Something has been on her mind for a while— your presence demanded her full attention; and despite not knowing each other for more than two days, you’ve managed to make her a mess— she felt like she'd do anything for you.

“What’s that on your finger?” She asked, her voice a low murmur. It was a red string, tied into a neat little bow, the other linking end tightly wound around her own finger. Her lips parted in shock, realization donning her features.

“What do you…?” You looked at your finger, only for your words to die in your throat. You stared at the foreign string, heart pounding in your chest and blood rushing in your ears. It couldn’t be.

“You’re my soulmate,” she murmured, sounding so undeniably happy.

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. It was useless, though, because the evidence was there. You suddenly felt the need to escape Chaeyoung’s embrace— your soulmates embrace. Before you could attempt to get any farther, another step— there were a pair of arms quickly wrapping around you, pulling you against a familiar chest in a tight, tight, tight embrace. It's warm, unyielding, and you were trapped completely— you couldn't get away even if you fought. "Chaeyoung," you started, sucking in shaky breaths, trying to not get drunk by the close proximity. "Y-You said I'm—I'm yours. Your—soulmate?" You get out, half coherent and half blubbering.

She understood you nonetheless, and hummed in acknowledgment, holding you a little bit tighter. "I did," She confirmed. You hadn't even realized that you’d started crying— but you were, and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks. They're salty, and they're bitter with disappointment, yet above all they're filled with relief.

You’re soulmates, she said.

The rare, one-time chance concept of being a fated pair— having someone in the world that was meant for you and you alone, your complete significant other, where the world pulled you toward them until that bond is broken by choice. It was a lot to process, and it changed just about everything, but—

“I’m here, and we can take this at whatever pace you want. I know it’s hard, very sudden, but… I want this. I want you, if you're willing to accept me.”

…. ⚠️

“You look so beautiful tonight,” Chaeyoung told you, following behind you to your shared bedroom, admiring the way your dress hugged your body. It was a black fitted dress that showed off your shoulders and figure. Your hair was tied up loosely with a pink ribbon.

She changed after the show, wearing something much more comfortable, but still looked amazing.

You flushed, beginning to take your jewelry off at the vanity. “That’s the fifth time you’ve told me that,” you said, a smile present on your face. “But thank you, it makes me really happy. I should say I couldn’t take my eyes off you when you were dancing. It made me….” You trailed off, finding it too bold to confess. Over the course of six months, she’s worked her way into your heart almost effortlessly, supporting and loving you every step of the way. Everyday you're grateful that you were able to meet, even if the way you met wasn’t romantic.

“Made you what?” Rosie stood behind you and rested her hands on your hips. Unable to help herself, she bent down to kiss your exposed neck. You closed your eyes, sighing softly as she kissed the side of your throat. “It’s embarrassing,” you muttered, and she sank her teeth into your skin, causing you to gasp. “Ah— Chaeyoung…”

“Tell me, baby.” Her voice held that tone again, the one that had you shivering under her touch, aching for more.

Knowing you couldn’t convey it through words, you turned around in her arms and wrapped your own around her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as you remembered how she moved to some of their songs’ sensual choreographies and the control she had while doing so. She kissed back, deep and languid. Her palm was hot, sliding over your curves and leaving behind a searing sensation. You broke away from the kiss, your breath coming out ragged as you looked into her eyes, her pupils dilated. “That’s how you make me feel,” you whispered into the little space between you.

She responded by pulling you into another heated kiss. The vibrations of your moans against her mouth made her heart hammer in her chest as she began to lift your dress up slightly, wanting to feel your thighs on her hands again.

Breath hitching roughly in her throat, Chaeyoung felt the tip of your tongue flick at the seam before sliding across its full length. She let you push your tongue past her lips, feeling herself losing herself in the moment, completely surrendering to the sensations coursing through her. (Kissing you seemed to do that to her).

Lips sliding and pressing against each other, tongues touching and tangling, you felt weak in the knees. You squeezed her arm, “Chaeyoung,” you said in between kisses, tugging at her shirt.

She groaned, the breathy sound of her name and the authoritative, low tone coming from you sent tingles rippling down her spine and left her feeling lightheaded.

With one last lingering kiss, she pulled away and led you to the bed by your hand. You laid down first, reaching for her and pulling her towards you. She crawled onto the bed after you, kissing you again. Your fingers played with her hair, combed gently through the locks. “This feels good,” you said quietly, tilting your head for more access, feeling a sense of contentment, desire, and love welling up inside of you. You felt her pause and smile against your skin.

While busying herself with making pretty marks on your neck, her fingers traced along your bare thigh, making you writhe beneath her, and she reveled in how sensitive you were to her touch.

She groaned at the slight tug from your fingers threading themselves in her hair as she continued to kiss your neck. “We can stop anytime...”

"No,” You said almost too quickly, gasping when you felt her bite you lightly, teeth nipping at your neck before a tongue soothed the area. "Please, don't stop.” You were ready to go all the way tonight.

Chaeyoung’s heart could burst out of her chest in that moment, knowing that you were ready for the next step, that between soulmates it would make the bond even stronger. She made her way up and kissed you again, now with a fever and tenderness that had a growing hunger.

Your fingernails dug into her back when she darted her tongue slow and deep across the roof of your mouth— in and out, over and over, in a way that made you instantly imagine her mouth traveling elsewhere. The idea alone got you riled up.

"Chaeyoung, please.." you gasped against her lips as another wave of heat circled through your abdomen and pulsed between your legs.

"We've got time, my love," She slotted a leg between your thighs, pressing against your center purposefully. “I'm all yours tonight." Her hand slipped between your bodies, hiking up your mini-dress just enough for her to have access to your lace panties.

You gasped and tightened your grip in her hair, subconsciously bucking your hips the moment her fingers brushed across your center. A wave of pleasure overtook your body, and you could feel her edging to dip her fingers lower. It wasn’t long before she felt how soaked you were, how wet she made you, forcing a stifled moan from her throat that vibrated against your lips. You whimpered, tightening your thighs around her hand at the sound.

Knowing what you needed, she quickly discarded your underwear, and dipped a finger in you, making you shudder and squirm. Giving you a few moments to adjust, she watched your face for any signs of discomfort before pumping in and out. You lifted your hips off the bed to meet her pace, her finger reaching deeper with each slow, tantalizing pump.

You could barely think straight with how intense everything suddenly became, and it only intensified as she added a second finger, pumping faster. There was a coil building in your stomach, moments away from snapping. “Chaeyoung— I’m gonna—” You panted heavily, your face burning, eyes closed tightly. With every stroke, your walls contracted tightly around her finger, making her curse under her breath. "Fuck, love. You're so tight... Are you close?”

You nodded against her shoulder frantically, nails digging into her back.

“Then come for me,” she murmured, adding her thumb in the mix to push you over the edge, her fingers relentless, as you arched forward, the pressure in your lower stomach building to such an extent you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your whole body trembled, incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth, your entire body shaking as an orgasm ripped through you.

All the while Chaeyoung slowed the pace, your body writhing underneath her hand as she pumped in and out, her fingers gliding across your sensitive spot as she watched you come apart for her, helping you ride it out. She felt breathless, and absolutely loved seeing you like that; all flushed and sweaty, needy for her. You're her Angel— her soulmate.

She kissed you, slow and sweet. “There, love. I’ve got you,” she cooed softly. “I love you, you did so well.”

You reached up, cupping her cheeks, loving the way your soulmate looked at you. “Just give me a moment,” you said, smiling. “It’ll be your turn next.”

#biscuitblinkeu #blackpink x reader #fanfic #blackpink #fem reader #rosé x reader #rosé x fem!reader #park chaeyoung x reader #park chaeyoung x fem!reader #biscuitrequest

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onnoffwrites · 1 year ago

Text

I have been losing my shit over this damn panel for the past THREE DAYS (more or less) and I need to yell somewhere so it's gonna go here.

It all began when I was writing my fic (I think this was for My Immortal), and I needed to recap significant hakukai moments. And I remembered "hey, I should include this one thing saguru said during sunset manor that was stupidly super gay for no fucking reason" bc like, yea hakukai not canon, but if canon was gonna give me a whole ass confession then I might as well use it. So, like always, I head to mangadex to look for this panel... Except... It's not there... The line... The line's not there... But I remember... I remember something about "the only one to disrupt/disturb my thinking/mind"... Where... I didn't imagine that right? I mean I read a lot of google translated Chinese fanfics but... I REMEMBERED reading that line... In a manga... In English... ON mangadex...

This is where I should mentioned, that if you weren't around for the Great Collapse of Mangadex. Then... Well, so there was this period of time where mangadex just DIDNT EXIST. Bc there was some cyber?? Attack??? On the site??? I can't fully remember. But it like wiped out most of the site. The mangas r just, gone. So mangadex fixed it. It took a while bc they figured "might as well revamp our site and system". And they did. And it's great. And it looks beautiful now, even more than before.

But see. The line I remembered? Yea... Yea that was from before The Collapse. And mangadex let multiple translation groups submit their translations. So u can read diff translations of diff group, see how things are interpreted differently... And... I remembered this one, that I posted here up top, but I remembered there was another. One that had The Line.

And it was driving crazy so, like usual, I asked my cn friend. But my cn friend (why am I still saying that, it's @beingvv , that's the friend) has A Life, and isn't always online, and we love that for ppl. So. I'm still crazy. I can't trust my own damn mind and memory bc why tf do I remember something that isn't there (happened before btw, but that has nothing to do with this).

Luckily, I have a friend who knows jp. UNLUCKILY, I don't have the jp raws and it's from chapter 300 and we are in the thousands. So, I went back to losing my mind. Until I found it again, and realized. Heyyyyyyy there's a whole ass ANIME. So like the baggage my dear friend had the misfortune to be saddled with, I went to find the ep, timestamped it, yelled begged them for help.

This is where I lose my damn mind the first time in the recent weeks.

(thank you my dear piglet, u don't even go here but u tolerate my insanity)

THIS. THIS WAS THE LINE. THATS WHAT I REMEMBERED.

So, I feel a little more sane (bc my mind didn't fabricate a memory again) and also A LOT more insane bc WHY WOULD U SAY THAT, HAKUBA SAGURU 😭😭😭 WHY WOULD U SAY IT LIKE THAT 😭😭😭

In any case I feel validated. Told beingvv about my discoveries (for whenever they come back) not that they need it cn fandom already got the correct translation. And finished writing my fic.

And then Saguru's comeback was announced.

So I've been losing my shit for 3 days on twitter, looking at all my fave KR and JP accounts and the things they say.

And then someone dug up and old tweet thread that talked about this panel. Specifically, op talked about the nuance in the word choice used.

Here's the og thread if anyone wants to read or Google translate it urself.

(mkppyong my love, bless you)

Bc mkppyong talked to a jp acquaintance about ??? Uh I dunno just language I guess. POINT IS. They pointed out that gosho used specific words/phrases that really wasn't needed if all he wanted to say was "the only one who drives me crazy/mad." But he did used them. It's specifically "his thoughts/mind" that's being driven crazy. And that if he wants to just talk about Saguru's mind being disrupted/confused, then there's rly no need to use the words "go crazy"

And then they wrote out a whole symbolism about clocks and saguru and being broken down/disrupted and I lost my shit over the clock symbolism, sue me 😭😭😭

I don't think I'm making sense anymore bUT WAIT, THERES MORE, THE FINAL BLOW

THE THAI TRANSLATION

This is where I expose myself more than I ever want to, but here's a fact. I'm thai

Here's a second fact. I'm SHIT at Thai. I've been bad at this language before I got good at English. My Thais as good as an elementary student. Every time I understand difficult words I get confused bc where did I know THAT from???

In any case, point is, I saw that tweet, read the text, immediately understood it and began losing my shit all over again... And then I doubted... Bc like, I'm not good with this lang anymore... Maybe im understanding it wrong? So I look up Google.

Google: คลุ้มคลั่ง just means go crazy

So I was like, damn guess I'm wrong, read too much into this. BUT SEE BC I LIVE HERE I HAVE FRIENDS WHO ARENT A DISGRACE. And so my friend said:

SO WELCOME TO MY THIRD ROUND OF INSANITY.

HAKUBA SAGURU WHY WOULD U SAY THIS SHIT IN FRONT OF LIKE NINE OTHER PPL 😭😭😭😭😭 BOY WHY R U TELLING THEM UR OBSESSED 😭😭😭 youre driving ME crazy 😭😭😭

So. Here we are. At the end. I have no idea how tf I'm supposed to end this post. I'VE been obsessed for 3 days straight. I don't have a lot of braincell left in me (there weren't any to begin with). I don't have a statement to wrap this post up in a nice little bow. Go make ur own conclusion I dunno.

But I would not have been losing my shit over this stupid panel for a month if it wasn't for the fact that eng translation was missing a pretty crutial thing in what Saguru said. I don't know if this was a mistranslation or a misunderstanding or something, but the English translation was lacking. And I love and have always been thankful and grateful to the ppl who worked hard to translate mangas in their free time, and do it all for free, bc I haven't had any real way to rent/borrow mangas from renting shops/libraries in years. So this was one of the only ways I can read mangas. But, even as I checked the raw panel with Google lens just now, even google translate it as "the only one to make my thoughts go round." No where was there any mention of "case" and "solving." So that's just, multiple accounts of ppl who knows jp, including native jp speakers, all saying that this panel is Saguru saying "the only one to drive me crazy". And man I rly hope this doesn't make me come off as ungrateful or like shitting on the translation team, I'm rly not. But yea. Uh. The translation was wrong. And I remembered that there used to be a diff eng translation. And it led me to go to all this trouble and journey to find out what was actually said. And here we are, at the end.

The only one who could disrupt Saguru's thinking.

The only one who could disturb Saguru's mind.

The one whose sole existence drives him mad.

The only one to make his mind obsess over till he's driven to madness.

Or to use the symbolism mkppyong wrote: the only one to break down the clock, the precise and accurate mechanism, that is Hakuba Saguru.

#hakuba saguru #hakukai #magic kaito #dcmk #sagukai #ramblings #oh god this is long #lost in translation #tbh it's also FOUND in translation #long ass fucking post holy shit #im sabotaging my own fics by tagging this with thr ship tags tbh #now my fic posts are completely buried #edit: not me noticing several typos months later

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lefarte · 9 days ago

Note

Hello, could you write about Samarie being afraid of thunderstorms and the reader comforting her during one?

Shout out to Samarie because I am also afraid of loud noises

GN reader, fluff and comfort

Since the morning, Samarie had been monitoring the weather channel obsessively. You were helpless to drag her away from the screen. It began with a light drizzle and heavy fog. Then an occasional deep growl, and sudden whips of light from outside.

Afternoon came and went, and a window had shattered from a stick being forced into the glass pane. By the time you sealed it, she had already gone into hiding.

The power had shut off through the whole block. Not only the lights had gone, but the heat and water too. You were left in a dead silent house with nothing but a flashlight and the rain drumming against the roof.

“Samarie, please come out.” You pleaded.

No response.

She had made many hiding spots throughout the house. You would find clothes, blankets and snacks mysteriously missing until they turned up in a closet, a shelf, or some other place. She was so tall, but she could contort herself in odd ways to shrink herself into a scared little ball. It was something very deeply instilled into her, almost an animal instinct.

You shivered and rubbed your arm. Goosebumps.

“You’re safe with me,” You cooed. “You know that.”

The lights flickered softly, before sputtering and dying out again. No answer.

“Samarie…”

Something wet seeped into your sock. You instinctively cursed and went to raise your leg to check. Before you could, something cold shot out behind you pressed against your back.

Her ice cold hands roughly clawed into your sides. She needily pressed herself up against you, clinging onto you painfully hard, grabbing at you like a child every time you squirmed. She was sobbing into your shoulder like a baby, her breath short and small and ragged. You dropped the flashlight.

“I’m sorry!” She sputtered into your hair. “I-I’m sorry, my love! I didn’t break it! It wasn’t me!”

She dug her nails into your hips, your stomach, anywhere she could find purchase, trying to press your body as close to hers as she could. Your own cheek was becoming slick with tears from how she was nuzzling into you. She clumsily wrapped her legs around yours, clambering all over you, hiding behind you desperately.

“Ow! Owowow! That hurts!”

“I-I’m so sorry! I’m sorry darling! I’m not trying to! I swear!”

A violent crack of lightning burst out, this one striking closer and heavier than before. She wailed loudly. You stumbled backwards under her weight, rolled your ankle on the flashlight, and fell right on your ass. She landed on top of you.

Samarie whined hoarsely, her voice too tense from apologizing to speak any more, and curled up against your chest.

“Oh, no….” You sighed and wrapped your arm around her back, watching her sniffling and hiding her face in shame. “Poor thing.”

“I didn’t do it…” She trembled, her eyes red.

“I know, I know.” You pulled her closer. “Come here.”

You hugged her weak, trembling figure, softly petting her hair. She whimpered affectionately and pressed her head against you. You kissed her forehead.

“Did the noise scare you?”

She nodded wordlessly, pressing her head against your lips again. You kissed her head twice, and then her wet cheeks, and then her chin. She made a strained noise of pleasure.

You felt around the floor. You grabbed a blanket and wrapped her up in it snugly. “There.” You patted her head

“I’m pathetic,” She muttered bitterly.

You wiped her eyes. “Don’t say that.”

You sat in silence for a bit, with her in your arms listening to the downpour. Brushing through her hair with your hands whenever thunder struck. The trembling eventually subsided, replaced by a soft tiredness around her eyes. The chill had passed. Your body heat together was enough to keep warm.

“Are you sleepy?” You propped your head up with your hand.

She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“Go to sleep. The storm will pass in the morning. We’ll figure out the window situation later.”

With a small defeated sigh, she tightened her grip around your waist. “Okay… I love you.”

You kissed her forehead one more time. “I love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight…”

#I don’t beta read #I don’t edit #I’m a chad. I just write it all straight in the tumblr app and post it #no keyboard or anything #fear and hunger x reader #fear and hunger termina x reader #Samarie x reader #if it’s good it’s good if it’s not idk :p

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for-quill-with-love · 2 months ago

Text

The robin found it's way inside this morning. I'd fed it enough, apparently. I'd already been calling it 'Soot' in my head for some reason.

I set her seeds on the windowsill where she was perched, and she sang her little morning song as she ate.

I was going to make a farm today.

I made myself a hoe and a couple of buckets for water, and as I was checking my comm for messages I found the map. It was new to have a map right in my comm, instead of needing to make one from paper.

And there was this new thing it called a waypoint. I was able to mark my front door with it, and it showed up on the map and in my identifier camera.

Clever. And useful.

I decided to put the farm in the valley below my house, pushing the dirt around to get a flat area to work with and lugging water from the village's farms as it was the closest water I could find.

It was hard work. Familiar, in the way that all of this was familiar to me. I had set up farms like this before; I had the muscle memory for raking my hoe through the dirt to til the soil.

I knew how far apart to plant the melon and pumpkin seeds to give them the best chance to thrive.

But I had a lot of different things to plant, and I wasn't sure how the new ones would grow.

After making sure everything was saturated, I dug through my chests for any and every kind of seed I'd picked up along the way.

There was one that showed up as "tomato" on my comm, that I didn't remember picking up from anywhere. It might have come from the village, I wasn't sure.

It was some sort of vine, though. Maybe it was like the melons and pumpkins? I planted it along the edge just in case.

Corn went next, and then the potatoes and carrots and onions. The onions had come from the ground like a root vegetable, so surely that's how they grew.

And after punching all the grass I had to clear a spot for my farm, I'd found enough seeds to plant a whole section of wheat!

I would probably need more, if I really wanted to have enough for both me and also the animals I'd need to round up later.

I pushed my hair out of my face, wishing once again that I had some way to tie it up and away. Maybe I could do something with the silk I'd been collecting. It seemed too sticky and too fragile to really do much with.

There was a buzz from my comm, and I checked it to see the new message that'd appeared and--

Well, surely I wasn't--

I couldn't find it. I knew all comms worked like that, I had to have a way to get on or off world.

It was gone from this one.

I hadn't noticed, not with the new map and the recipes and the way to identify what I came across. There was no way for me to be able to get off this world. I didn't even have a was to see the address of this one.

Bands of iron were wrapped around my chest and shrinking, tighter than the iron chestplate had sat on my shoulders.

I couldn't stop my eyes from darting, my hand grasping for an axe that wasn't in it's normal spot on my belt. I didn't have a belt on right now. I darted back up the hill, tripping over my feet.

The rest of the day was a blur.

Numb and fuzzy and muffled, like I'd taken on an elder guardian without milk or a fast way through the walls of prismarine.

I couldn't hear anything beyond the thick, sticky silence. I couldn't focus on what was in front of me, the world painted blobs of green and blue and gray.

There was blood in my mouth, like licking a lightning rod after a storm. It fizzed in a way that made my stomach rebel, something that should have been accompanied with the sour-sweet of--

Of something. I'd used my fangs for violence before, not just to tear roast chicken apart to eat.

I was fire on netherrack, blue ice pressing in from all sides and yet the burning refused to leave.

The blue ice won.

I was snuffed out, water dumped on a lava pool and turning me dark and cold and silent.

The world was dark and cold and silent.

I didn't know where I was. And my comm was gone, probably dropped in the grass when I'd--

When I'd done whatever it was that had landed me here.

I curled up in the dark, too tired to think right and too numb to care about the danger that surely should have come from being in a place like this.

This could all be dealt with later. After-- after I'd gotten my thoughts in order

#with love #day 6 #oops #hey fero #this is your fault #no asks can be answered til quill has her com back now #why did you do that m8

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mj2606k · 11 months ago

Text

A Gift From Eywa

Chapter 1 - A Second Chance Granted

This chapter starts out in a flashback, which will be italicized. Once it’s not italicized anymore it’s no longer a flashback.

Na’vi words will be in italics and blue

A lot of the recoms are probably going to be very OOC, I just write them how I interpret them and their personalities.

Miles Quaritch crawled out of the ocean onto the small island, bloodied and coughing violently as he choked up water and gasped for much-needed air. He turned to look at Spider with confusion written all over his face, before Cupcake flew down to land on the island with them. Quaritch hauled himself up onto his feet with a groan and stumbled his way over to his ikran (banshee), connecting his queue to it's own before turning to look at his son. The pair talked momentarily before Spider turned and went back into the ocean, ignoring Quaritch's pleads behind him as his head disappeared under the water and he swam off. With another pained grunt, Quaritch climbed up onto the ikran's back and stared at the place his son had gone underwater for a moment before mentally instructing Cupcake to lift off and fly away, back in the direction of the forest.

It had taken Quaritch many days to get back to the Pandoran forest, having to stop at least once a day to find food and drinkable water for him and his ikran, but once he got there he was quick to put as much distance between himself and the RDA headquarters. His remaining human instincts told him to go back to the one place he was most familiar with on this cursed planet, the one place he would be at least some form of safe, but his survival instincts told him the truth, which was to stay as far away from the humans as possible. Getting an RDA ship sunk would get him in enough trouble on it's own, but once the General learnt that he had failed the mission and Jake Sully and his family had once again escaped? Quaritch knew he would be as good as dead, and he also knew not to put it past anyone in that place to put a bullet between his eyes the instant that Ardmore gave the order. So he told Cupcake to take him away, to fly deep into the mountains until he was sure the humans would never find him; he'd already dug the tracking device out of his bicep on the way back to the forest.

It's another few days of being on his own with nothing and nobody for companionship other than his ikran, when one day while hunting for food he finds Lyle, who had found Mansk and Zdinarsk together only a day prior. They discuss what had happened since the battle with the Metkayina (Reef People) and the Sullys and all come to the shared conclusion that none of them would ever be returning to the RDA. So over the next week they do their best to make a home for themselves; Lyle had designated himself as the one to build their shelter, so while he spent his days chopping down small trees to make a hut and weaving large leaves together to make a roof and new clothing for them all, Quaritch and Z-Dog decided to make themselves responsible for gathering, hunting down, and killing food. Then whether they brought back another small animal or a few fruits that they'd managed to collect and deem safe to eat, Mansk would cook their findings over a fire until they were ready to be eaten.

Everything seemed to be going well for them despite their situation for another two weeks, before Z-Dog was unable to find any more fruit that they were completely sure was edible, and the wildlife around their small camp had grown used to Quaritch and were able to easily avoid his hunting since he was only able to use his knife, which meant only close-distance kills that required the element of surprise. The group of recoms had even begun discussing the possibility of rejoining the RDA, weighing their options on which way they were more likely to survive, but one day while out on a hunt together Zdinarsk and Quaritch found something that instantly gave them hope. They returned to their small camp to tell the others of their findings and they all agreed to go back the following day, and when they did they were greeted by a group of warriors from the well-hidden clan they had found in the mountains.

The warriors took the group to the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk, who through desperate pleading in broken Na'vi they had all been granted uturu (sanctuary) by and were handed over to the clan healers, who took them to the healing caves and cleaned their few wounds, applying ointment and numbing paste where it was needed before taking them to the elder women of the clan. The group of recoms were given real new Na'vi clothing and while Z-Dog assured Lyle that the three of them all thought he still did a wonderful job on the clothing he made, all four of them internally agreed that the real clothing was much better than what Lyle had managed to sloppily stitch together with stretchy vines and large tough leaves. The elders took each of them to separate parts of the cave to change into their new clothing, then once they were done they managed to communicate to the recoms that their new teachers would show up soon to begin teaching them and helping them settle into the clan, and the ladies were right! Less than half an hour passed before a tall Na'vi male appeared in the healers cave, helping a woman who was clearly heavily pregnant over the slight step down into the cave. Despite the man looking and seeming very wise for his years and the woman being so heavily pregnant, they both assured the recoms that they were actually in their early 20s, much like the recombinants themselves.

The group was only slightly surprised when the pair began speaking to them in near-perfect English, despite their heavy accents hinting to the fact that they were not native speakers of the language. The male stepped forward and offered a hand out to Quaritch, a smile on his face as he spoke, "I am Rawm, a gatherer in our clan. I believe this is a handshake, a form of greeting, yes?" With a small chuckle Quaritch nodded before taking the hand offered to him and shaking it, then Rawm reached and shook hands with Mansk, Lyle, and Z-Dog as well. As Rawm began explaining basic customs of the tribes to the recoms, Quaritch felt his attention shifting to the pregnant woman, who had yet to speak other than the initial greeting when they walked into the cave. She looked very zoned out, one hand resting against her lower back as she stared at the empty wall past the recombinants' bodies, her other hand absentmindedly rubbing over her large stomach. He just studied her quietly until she suddenly visibly winced and let out a soft groan of pain, catching the attention of the other four Na'vi as well as the attention of one of the healers further back in the cave.

The healer hurried over quickly, gently directing the woman to the opposite side of the cave before helping her lay down on an angled rock slab that was padded with some sort of mat woven out of soft vines. Quaritch watched the exchange as the woman and healer talked to each other quietly in Na'vi before the healer helped her drink a slightly chunky mixture out of a bowl that made her make a face of disgust. Noticing the lack of Rawm going and checking on the woman, he turned his attention to him before speaking, "Shouldn't you be checking on your.. wife?" He asked Rawm, watching as he puzzled over his words for a moment before smiling again as he responded, "I suppose a "wife" is one of those human words for a mate? Allìra is not my mate, she is my youngest sister. She has, or.. had, a mate a few months ago, but he was sadly lost in a battle with a different clan. She carries their only child, and she is not far from giving birth." He explains to us all, all the men nodding in understanding before they turned to watch Zdinarsk walk over cautiously, gently placing a hand on the woman, Allìra's shoulder and giving her a soft reassuring smile when she looked up at her.

Allìra smiled back softly, grateful for her comfort as she brings up a hand to gently pat at Z's before carefully fully laying back on the mat, rolling onto her side with help from both the healer and Z-Dog before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep, clearly physically exhausted at the work her body was putting into the small life forming inside her.

Quaritch couldn't help but feel his heart stutter slightly as he watched her drift off, his face not showing it but he felt extremely bad for the girl; she was still so young and she would have to go through the birth and the raising of this child on her own.

#mj2606k #avatar the way of water #mj2606kwrites #avatar ikran #avatar #na’vi avatar #avatar writer #avatar 2009 #a gift from Eywa #avatar recoms #recom squad #recom quaritch #miles quaritch #recom lyle wainfleet #recom mansk #recom zdinarsk #recom zdog

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iamtinydinosaur · 11 months ago

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Yesterday when it got dark it started snowing, there has been a little snow on the ground for a week but this time it kept snowing and snowing! So I sneaked into a bag that will protect me from too much water to go on a snow adventure to see how much snow there was!

Some of the snow was cleared and standing here I can only just see over the snow. When I am in a hole dug to the floor you can see the snow here is almost one tiny dinosaur high

The snow was still falling and some snowflakes got caught in my jumper!

On my journey I went through many trees and it was tricky to find the paths in the park, but a lamppost helps me find the way

Many plants and animals live here, I saw some types of berries, I think rose hips and holly berries. There were many blackbirds flying around here, but they were harder to spot in the trees

I also heard a crow friend calling very loud and dancing around in the snow!

#I have still a few more photos #so there will be another part soon!

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nozomi-lapin · 5 months ago

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Allow me to regale to you my tale of discovering Minecraft. The rises and the falls, literally.

Log - Day 1

Upon entering the realm, I first took a better look around the place I decided to build my little homestead. Imagine my surprise when I realized I had built right above where a space in the ground was open! Meaning I wouldn't have to start digging a mine from scratch.

I wanted to explore the area below, but I was still quite afraid of the dark. Especially without any food to keep me full and healthy. It took me three hours last time to find sheep to make a bed. I was not prepared to go into the mines.

I explored the area and found several farm animals nearby! Sheep, pigs, and chickens. I only know of one way to lure them in... Use wheat to lead sheep. I gathered seeds and made a space for a garden. As well as building a fenced area. Night fell as I finished...

(Picture in prev. taken after first time mining) Many zombies surrounded my homestead. I was safe inside, but I felt I needed to fight back at last! I faced my foe...from the safety of my front door. I lured them in and hit them right as they got close to me. Exp gained.

hen morning came (I forgot I had a bed and could sleep through the night), I descended down into the area below. In the distance I saw a skeleton! With no shield to block the arrows, I first explored in the opposite direction. I dug into the stone for the first time...

I had discovered lava! I quickly backed away and plugged up the area. To my surprise, I'd later discover that this lava pool could be found on the surface. Not too far from the homestead.

After some digging and finally discovering coal, I found that there was a water source right below. But without any iron to make a bucket, I could not transport it. I know that water can help with the farming process, so I moved some dirt from above ground to below.

Soon after, night fell again, and I wanted to go even further with fighting against the zombies. I jumped and swung my sword at the zombie. Felling my foe! Little did I know that there was one more right behind me... As you can imagine, I died and respawned from my bed inside.

I decided to try and sleep more from here on out. Using my time to SAFELY gather resources. I dug more in the mine and explored the area. Finding iron and copper and even defeating a drowned from an underground pool! In that time, my wheat had grown enough for a few bushels.

I gathered two sheep and gave them wheat. Birthing another sheep that I may use for food later once it has fully grown. My elation was short-lived as not long after this a group of pillagers had found my location! Crossbows trained on me as I fled into the homestead!

Zombies I can handle within reason, a drowned is easy prey while on land, Pillagers are out of the question! I hid in my house, hoping that they would soon lose interest... But I felt antsy. I didn't want to just sit still! The mine is very close...I could run into it!

I went down into the depths and explored the darkness, lighting it up with my newly acquired torches. As I explored about, I found several more entrances to this underground cavern. Along the way I also found a black sheep doing a magic trick.

Of course, I brought it home and bred it with one of my white sheep. Creating a little buddy with grey wool. I looked around the area close to my homestead and after cutting down a few trees I noticed one that was quite tall, and climbable...

Yeah, I fell the first time I climbed it and had to respawn. That's hubris for you. I tried again and was able to get a better view of the surrounding area. My homestead, and a grassy area nearby with yet another entrance into the underground.

I went over to the area, though I was growing tired and missed the comfort of thinking there may be someone I was sharing my experiences with. To make jokes and laugh at all missteps and silly encounters I may have made. But that will have to wait. For now...

With newly acquired resources, I felt like my little homestead was too little. I needed more space to fit in everything which I had and was going to find. As well as expanding the fenced in area to prepare for when I may find another animal I wish to keep. (skeleton horse)

After I finished remodeling my homestead, I decided to call it a day. While not much has been explored, a lot has been learned. I am more stable in my environment and ready to try and expand my reach!

But first, next time... I need to fix that hole in the roof.

Day 1 Log - Over

#vtuber #minecraft

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ouroboros-hideout · 20 days ago

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Heyllooooo!

16-30-36! Feel free to choose for whom of the two problematic children you've got the inspiration!!!

I am the most problematic of them bc I can't write anything short. But I hope you enjoy the wall of txt.

going to link the ask game to maybe find it again lmao

For Aon

# 36 total control

It was the customary ritual of accepting ‘strays’ (people who didn’t grow up in a clan but in a city or otherwise) that as soon as they agreed to travel with the clan, give away a small tribute to the leader. A trinket, an object of great value for that person. You give a part of yourself to the clan, so to speak

In general, anyone who was useful and contributed to the work and structure was appreciated. But it was only when you became ‘full-fledged again’ that you were really respected.

To gain that “status” the person had to defeat the clan leader Iron in a one-on-one fight to get the object of value, the part of yourself, back. This would prove that they were prepared to give everything for the family and the family would give everything for them.

[...]

The crowd groaned as Irons‘ fist hit Aons’ face with such force that she was thrown backwards, landed hard on the back of her head on the frozen ground and remained motionless in the dust.

Yakow went up from his seat on the crate immediately, a worried expression on his face, but Greg and the doc held him back as the fight would be over as soon someone else would interfere.

And then the counting began like a chorus. One, two, three, four. On and on, but Aon still lay on the ground, blood pouring from her nose and from the laceration on her cheek and the bridge of her nose that had been inflicted by her opponent's mechanical hands.

At 7, as if she was broad back to life she coughed up some of the blood that had run down her throat, opened her eyes and struggled halfway into a crawling position. Just enough so that the counting was replaced by loud clapping and cheering and the fight was apparently still on.

Yakov also took his seat again, still visibly tense and worried about what would happen next.

‘Come on little Petrova, I think that's enough. You were really good today. Let it go.’

How many times she had heard that fucking sentence already. And she was so sick of his self-satisfied tone.

Iron, a mountain of a man in size and strength, circled around her, trying to see if she would get up again or if he could go after some of his other tasks instead.

Aon pushed herself off the ground, watching small drops of blood fall from the tip of her nose and form a small puddle.

She really was almost at her limit. Already. After just a few minutes.

Anger welled up in her. Her metallic fingers dug into the frozen ground.

‘Let's give her another minute, shall we? Or two,’ the man mocked again, followed by laughter from the groups around the fighting ring.

She tried. She really tried to stay calm. To keep control. She had to win. She wanted to win so badly.

The laughter died down. Iron was still prancing around her like a cocky parrot. ‘Okay, I think that's enough. Get up now, little girl,' he said as he turned back to her, but the next word was cut off in his throat as Aon lunged at him, roaring like a wild animal and trying with all her remaining strength to get the man off his feet.

He staggered, the surprise clear on his face. It wasn't quite enough to bring him down. She would never hit a blow if he wasn't on the floor. She tried to wrap her leg around his to pull him down. She panted with the effort of somehow keeping the man's massive body moving. She would only have this one moment to use it to her advantage - and it worked.

She let her anger go, and tried to focus her movements on all the things Iron taught her in the many months of bone breaking training. He slipped, crashing to the ground with her, still caught off guard by the young woman's speed, but would recover in just a few moments.

It was now or never. She lashed out, the joints and connections of her gorilla arms clicking and hissing as her clenched fist came down on his head, delivering a crushing blow.

Iron growled in pain and rage and tried to push Aon off him, but she clung to him with her thighs. A second punch. She only had to hit him once more and then it was over.

She lunged again, but her arm was blocked by his vice-like grip. He looked at her with angry, glittering dark eyes, his gleaming metal teeth bared as blood oozed from between them.

Whatever. She couldn't let up now and instead swung out with her left to give him a second strike and finally prove she could take him on.

Just as her knuckles touched his cheek, the man grabbed her and threw her straight away from him in a high arc as if she were nothing more than a small child.

Aon groaned as she hit the cold frozen ground again, but rolled to the side, breathing heavily, half sitting up, watching her opponent rear up in front of her like an angry bear, rubbing his jaw with a pained face.

Silence surrounded her. No one dared to say anything or make a sound until their leader finally broke into laughter, grinning broadly and clapping his hands vigorously, at which point everyone joined in a howl of victory and cheered for Aon.

‘YAAA!’ shouted Iron, taking two big steps towards her, pulling her to her feet with ease so that she could proudly accept her family's congratulations on her victory.

For Vlad

# 16 In Dreams

The air was cold and filled with the dust that had collected in the abandoned factory over decades. The last rays of daylight filtered through the high windows of the workshop.

Vlad felt his cold fingers. Strange. He looked down at his hands. Real skin.

He rubbed his hands together and walked towards the chair next to the metal press. A very old model. It was still driven by a steering wheel instead of automatic hydraulics.

There was blood everywhere. He looked at the scene viscerally. Trying to understand the context, but it was pretty obvious what had happened here.

The last shreds of tape that had been used to tie someone up were still hanging from the backrest.

He turned round as he heard a metal door slam shut behind him and the rhythmic clanking of women's shoes.

‘Still standing cop? Respect. You're a tough one, huh?’

The woman's face looked familiar to him. But he couldn't place it. A typical gang member. Wild, long, slightly curly blond hair, the usual tattoos that former inmates wore all over her skin. Worn-out clothes. The only thing that didn't fit the picture was her perfect make-up. Especially the bright red lipstick. Something about it irritated Vlad. But he didn't know what.

When she came to a halt in front of him, hands elegantly on her hips with a disdainful look, she stared down at his chest with a laugh.

‘Tzz - Or maybe not.’

Vlad looked at her in confusion, followed her gaze and saw his shirt soaked with blood. Not long after, a sharp pain followed, forcing him to his knees with brutal strength - then he opened his eyes.

He was breathing heavily. It was dark around him. Stuffy. He closed his eyes again. Tried to calm down.

It was just a dream. Confused memories.

After a few moments, he wanted to throw aside the covers in his bed and get up. He wouldn't get another wink of sleep anyway after that episode.

But when he tried to reach for the fabric, he couldn't lift his arms properly. Something around him was constricting him. And it got tighter and tighter as he tried to free himself from it in a renewed panic.

He heard muffled voices around him, but couldn't understand anything. The soft beeping of medical equipment, suddenly he was grabbed roughly and landed on a hard surface.

A bright light finally blinded him as the zip of the body bag he was trapped in was undone and he jolted out of the nightmare.

He looked around, panting. His hands clung to the sheets of his bed. He was in his bedroom in Moscow.

With an exhausted sigh, he dropped back onto his pillow.

# 30 harsh whisper

The door to his parents' large city flat opened and Vlad was immediately greeted with his father's stern face. ‘I am glad you made it. After all.’

Oh… He’s still mad at us.

The young man had to restrain himself from sighing loudly but managed to pull himself together and pointed with the small box of his mother's favorite chocolate in the direction of the dining room, which was just behind his father at the end of the long, elegant hallway.

‘Can I come in?’ he replied in a calm voice.

The old Volkov took a step to the side to make room for his son, but immediately held him back with one hand by the front of his coat as soon as he tried to step past him.

‘I have no idea what was wrong with you last night. Or the last week in general. And I don't want to know about it anyway. But you can be sure that I won't tolerate such behavior here.’

You shouldn’t tolerate him.

Vlad eyed the man with a straight face and let the scolding pass, as he had always done it.

‘I'm sorry, father. I will be on my best manners.’

‘You should be. Your mother is finally feeling a little better today. Don't ruin the evening for her.’

Without another word, the door to the flat was closed, Vlad hung up his coat on the dresser and went into the dining room where his mother was already waiting for the two men and greeted him with a thin smile. She looked thin. Tired. He went to her, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek followed by a polite ‘Good evening, Mama’ and finally handed over the little present, taking the seat at the table towards her.

The first course of the dinner was served shortly afterwards and small talk accompanied the quiet clatter of cutlery on china until Vlad's mother finally approached him to ask if he had already familiarized himself with his new job at the Secret Police.

‘The tasks assigned to me are limited to research and office work at the moment. It's a small step backwards from what I was able to do at the KGB, but I'm sure I'll soon be able to prove myself in the field here too. I can't complain.’

‘Wonderful. You'll certainly get some rest... ’

‘You could already be in one of the top positions if you hadn't been so narrow-minded and listened to me straight away,’ she was interrupted harshly by her husband.

She huffed, looked at her son with a resigned expression and turned back to her plate.

‘I appreciate that you let me go my own way, father. I won't let you... ’

‘One of the best agents. And now you're being entrusted with paperwork because you're not yet ready for action due to your condition. For who knows how long.’

We could show him what we are capable of.

‘It wasn't his fault. Stop always spinning it as if it were otherwise,' his wife replied, knowing that she would start a discussion.

‘It was his fault for agreeing to work with amateurs.’

‘You're the one who did this to him. You should feel guilty and not punish him for it.’

We should show ‘em. Do it.

‘I gave him a chance. In the hope that he knows how to use it. But so far it doesn't seem to be the case -’

TAKE THE KNIFE AND CUT HIS THROAT ALREADY!

Vlad inhaled sharply, his cutlery fell clattering onto his plate and the dishes clinked as he slammed his fist onto the table. He grabbed his forehead with his right hand to counteract the piercing pain caused by the mechanical-sounding scream in his head.

His parents' voices fell silent immediately and they both stared at him in astonishment.

His mother reached out to him, but ultimately hesitated to touch his cybernetic hand to comfort him.

‘What's wrong, son?’ His father sounded less judgemental now, but actually concerned.

‘Please excuse me for a moment,’ Vlad said quickly, his face still a mask of pain, a ringing in his ears. He got up from the table, walked down the corridor to a small guest bathroom, locked the door behind him and leant against the sink.

The ice-cold water he splashed on his face and neck had a calming effect. He could feel the tension in his chest slowly easing. The white noise in his ears stopped.

Why do you let him treat you like shit? You could break that old man’s spine like a stick.

‘Shut up already!', Vlad growled to himself, raising his eyes to the mirror and staring at himself for a long moment, as if he no longer recognised his own features. Shortly after the words had left his mouth he realized the unsettling nature of the moment and began to laugh.

“I am loosing my fucking mind…” he again said to himself in a mixture of desperateness and amusement. It's been almost a year since his ‘accident’ and the many months of recovery afterwards. They told him it was a side effect of one of the many medications he was supposed to take to help his body adapt to the cyberware. But he hadn't taken them for weeks now. But the voice in his head remained. And it was getting louder and louder. And ever more insistent.

He dried his face with a towel and went back into the dining room.

‘Vladimir, is everything all right?’ his mother wanted to know immediately, even before he had taken his seat again.

The young man took a deep breath and put on a warm smile to meet his mother.

‘It's nothing. I had some friends over last night. We wanted to celebrate my joining in SovOil. I guess we got a little carried away and I suffer the consequences. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.’

She looked at him skeptically. ‘Are you sure about this? Isn't it because of that -’

‘Mama, let it go. I'm fine.’

He gave his father a quick sideways glance, who scrutinized him with narrow eyes.

Vlad held out his open hand to his mother as he sat back on the table, the one that had not yet been replaced by cyberware, and she hesitantly reached for his fingers, He immediately clasped her hand gently and continued to smile at her.

“A piece of metal in my chest won't change who I am. You don’t have to worry. “

#ask game #writing prompts #oc: aon #oc: firebird #my ocs

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leekyrainbow · 5 months ago

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Hey there, I just found the post you made about the seablings in a more 'realistic' timeline, and noticed your tags.

So I, as a headcanon gremlin, am now asking you for that 'long ass list of headcanons', if you wouldn't mind.

I FORGOT ABOUT THAT LONG LIST IVE MENTIONED

i will say i never wrote any down aside from the ones ive posted BUT i still have a bunch hidden in my brain. also, i will be mentioning some of the headcanons ive already posted.

so here we go!

SEASON ONE

•even though its canon that Gem and Fwhip are siblings, i like to think that Sausage is apart of their sibling relationship in a found family sorta way

•like lizzie, Jimmy is also an ocean cryptid-demigod whatever they are. They are siblings, so it makes sense to me

•Xornoth was originally from rivendell before he was corrupted, basically was taken when he was a baby.

•Scotts antlers grew when he found the aeor exor lore book.

•fwhip tripped one time and fell into a BUNCH of gunpowder, he had to make sure to not go near anything fire related until he could get it off

•pearl isn't an emperor, shes just a simple farming lady. the only reason why she was ever classified as one was because Sausage and a few others said she was a emperor.

•because of Sausage, he made Pearl a saint by a complete accident and never realised it.

•Gem has a whole room dedicated to amethyst. She sits in it when she needs to calm down.

•joey almost tripped down the stairs leading down to his temple one time. the only reason why he didnt fall was because he had an elytra on.

•(this one is kinda hermitcraft related) with how the empires fell, Joel couldnt find Lizzie and after a few months/years of being unsuccessful. He decided to go with Grian (before you ask, YES Grian was on the empires s1 server if you didnt know) and together the two went to hermitcraft s10.

•scott and xornoth battle it out using their horns

•shrub threw a mushroom at xornoth once when he scared her

•shrub fell down the massive hole she had dug and almost died

•Katherine is like 8ft tall

•Katherines crown is a flower crown that has a undying spell on it. (basically, this means that the flower crown cant die)

•when pix went missing, he got lost in the desert and unfortunately died.

•pix has some shelters from the sun scattered around his empire

•pix occasionally forgets to add a candel to the vigil and only remembers once someone reminds him

•Xornoth could have killed shrub to complete his plan, but decided to wait for the group to come.

•when Xornoth was in the crystal, he cursed at scott for making him jewellery

•Scott and xornoth occasionally get their horns stuck on things

•some things in the alternate reality that scott brought him and xornoth into, remind xornoth of the things from the original reality

•Xornoth has as much control as scott does in the alternative reality

SEASON TWO

•Lizzie uses crutches to help her walk on two legs

•lizzie wears a pink wig

•stratos only gained the floating buildings when Joel was made a god.

•joel was a scrawny boy before he got made an 11ft god

•sausage has a BIG axe, he uses it as a weapon and to cut trees more effectively.

•one time sausage got his big axe stuck in the ground and struggled for half an hour to get it out

•fwhip sometimes goes through other emperors chests for gold

•if proper technology existed in empires, gem would definitely have solar panels everywhere in her empire.

•Even though ollie and gem are meant to be opposites, i personally think its fwhip and gem instead.

•sometimes ollie goes to peoples empires in the middle of the night to dig through unwanted items and people thought he was a racoon

•joey is some sort of animal hybrid, possibly a parrot

•even though joeys empire might be to hide from skeletron, he built a huge ass gate that would give him away in an instant.

•joey putting his empire next to sausages was definitely a decision he did on purpose.

•Jimmy is actually a good sheriff even when he was made into a smaller version of himself

•the mayor of tumble town definitely went missing, Jimmy was in his place in the meantime.

•messing with the fae was a really bad decision for jimmy, as it cursed him for the rest of his life.

•the skull that scott had found was originally xornoths skull.

•xornoth exists somewhere in season two, probably really far away though

•sorry im a xornoth enjoyer i gotta hc him in s2

•like sausage, katherine has a big sword instead of an axe

•shubble one time threw a potion at someone who scared her (like what shrub did)

•pix is really fond of different types of rock, he and fwhip sometimes just talk about them

•though fwhip does mention how the specific rock tastes.

•Shubble has really strong teeth and jaw. she ate rock one time so i gotta hc that

•False went missing, people just assumed she fused with her hermitcraft self or something(please forgive me i dont know falses lore in empires so this one might be canon)

•even though lizzie and jimmy arent fish anymore, they still have a connection to the ocean and to eachother.

•lizzie was the first to find the rift, when she told people about it she was called crazy.

thats all!

i do have more headcanons, i literally just cant remember anymore than what i wrote.

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writingwenches · 2 months ago

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✍ WIP Thirsty Thursday ✍

As always, thanks for the lovely tag @rainwingmarvel7 💕

I was trying to decide today which lil snippets of my Aemma part two would be fun to share, then I decided why not all of it so far LOL read the lil top snippet or the whole thing, live your best life~

I still have a few scenes more to write, mostly Aemma finding purpose in hating her mother, especially after finding out about Rhaenyra/Daemon marriage (Aemma: 🤮), channeling sadness/disgust/hatred into something productive, probably some more Alicent worship. 🧚 Lots to do lots to do~ 🧚

Also, if anyone would like, I do need help naming Aemma's dragon 😈

This is not proof read, and content warnings: panic disorder/horror elements of a psychotic episode brought on by magical nightmares

I tag anyone who wants to! Because I'm still too chicken to overtag people T.T

Aemma Velaryon WIP

Aemma was hallow. Where her memory and her eyes met, there were only flashes. Fire and blood, and flesh and burns. The King received a raven, and called for his Lady Wife. The charred remains of Leanor’s body had been pulled from The Hall of Nine’s hearth.

Queen Alicent had to deliver the news, even she could hardly remember. Pungent floral oils that sunk into the back of her throat, as Aemma shrieked them to the floor, her teeth bared to the gums, her lips contorted around a sound that howled from her deep belly. She breathed dragonfires of rage as she felt every inch of her skin stitched to her bones, her fingers dug into her own flesh to pry the bones from beneath collar. A fist of silver hair ripped from her bloodied scalp before the guards could wrestle her down onto the bed, one for each of her phantom limbs screeching for purchase against their captures. The Maesters forced the vile of red down her throat. Simple milk or tea would not due, they explained to the queen, the Maesters went straight to the essence of poppy.

Aemma’s body betrayed her and slept, her mind trapped inside its skin and dragged to the volcanic bowls of torment.

The Maesters informed the King and Queen it was for her own protection, she could not cause herself harm when sedated, and soon her emotions would pass, it was a simple matter of hysteria.

A simple matter of simple solution.

Burning chains of steel and magma blazed through her skin and down to her bone, the shackles of eternity as she felt the motion of her dead corpse. Death was not a gift dreamed of in the mines of Old Valyria, it was an unknown currency, as her limbs animated around her trapped soul, the shackles of fire and the hammer of her life in hand her corpse resumed her work at the bidding of the fire mages, contorting her to their will, back to work, never to break.

Aemma screamed beneath her skin, slamming her fists behind her eyes as she tried to claw her way through the flesh, she bore her fingers into the bloodied flesh and wrapped her fingers around muscle and tendon, ripping and pulling the sinew looking for the fainted trickle of light to show that she was digging towards something, towards anything. She was trapped within her bones, forced to bore her melting flesh into the rocks and stones to receive what master delights. The gold and jewels that makes master’s eyes shine do deeply that they would raise the dead from their hallowed slumber to continue toiling at rock and shine.

Aemma felt her head being removed from her body.

She awoke to a mundane world, that she was allowed to remain if she did not speak. She imagined a golden needle threaded with silk piercing the skin again and again and again the silk was threaded through her skin and wrapped her mouth tightly shut. She couldn’t be drunked back into slumber if she remained silent. The scabs on her hands were mending, from where she tore at her flesh to stop the burning of the air against her skin. If she bleed herself she would be forced back into the darkness.

Aemma did not move. The phantom echo in her mind twisted around her wrists, the memory of guards holding her down. Four men with beards and gritted teeth, their hair tucked beneath their metal helms. Aemma could see their eyes as she fought against her limbs to hold her down. They waited in her room. When she awoke they were watching her. Aemma made sure the thick bedding was tucked against her neck as she watched their eyes from across the room.

Queen Alicent slept at her bedside, Aemma watched as the embroidered shimmering green threads rose and fell with the queen’s breathing. She seemed to be at peace.

Aemma wondered what that was like? Peaceful rest, without the crawling reminders up her skin and against her bones as her mind itched away at her, remaindering her of its presence, and its consequences.

There was no funeral for her father, not one that she was allowed to attend. The had not waited for her. Aemma heard the news with her lips stitched shut in her mind, unable to react. The salt and sea and floated in her marrow dried and left crystalized coating beneath the part of her brain that housed family. She stared into the mural above her bed, the clouds above Old Valyria, filled with dragons and fire.

Aemma looked into the clouds as she looked into her life, for the rest of her memory, the forward type, she wondered how much longer she would have to wake up, for every morning from here until her hellish fate. She looked at her plate with food that needed to be in her belly, or else she would waste away. The Maesters told the queen there were ways to force the food down, if she protested, the poppy essence makes it easier. On them.

She listen her arm to listen her spoon from the table to her mouth. Her arm was made of stone by the weight of the effort, she imagined the number of times she would need to repeat the action until she was done on this earth.

The princess was not to eat with the princes and their sister, and was found new companions to be her ladies.

—

Helaena had been made to sneak out against the shield of night, riding cloaked on a horse, up the hill to the dragon pit. The silent dragon keeper did little to stop her from descending into the stone depths to claim Dreamfyre as her own.

The dragons hated Aemma with a fire hotter than anything before it. They screeched and screamed as if their skin was boiling, and desecrated anything that moved.

Helaena was not allowed in the dragon pit, because she had always been made to be with Aemma. Helaena had felt it, in her dreams, she had watched herself release the horse and claim her dragon.

The only person who believed her was Aemma. Aemma had seen dragons die in her dreams, watched them fall from the sky, their scales flaking and their bones turning to ash. Aemma knew what it was to dream. She knew somewhere in her marrow the dreams spoke truth, and Helaena was proof that she had been right all along.

The fires were real, the fires were coming, the fires were waiting for her around every corner, around every misplaced step and stone. Aemma must be ready, she must prepare, guard herself against everything frivolous and folly.

“You must open your eyes,” said Aemma, holding onto the face of her aunt and companion, “you must look into my soul and tell me what you see.”

Helaena did not speak, only held onto her niece’s arms firmly, wiling them away from her face.

“You must see as I do! Look into my eyes,” Aemma voice was loudening.

Helaena thought their faces were too close, their foreheads pressed together as Aemma held all of her vision within her eyes. The white circles ribbed with blood and lavenders, Helaena did not like the way her eyes shook, the way they stared into her and her alone. She could not look away, Aemma’s hands held her too tightly.

“Look into my eyes and tell me what you see, do you see the fire?” she asked, “Do you see the fire and death? Do you see the souls being tainted within their own skin?”

Helaenea was screaming now, for her mother or anyone to come and take her away.

“Do you see the torment and cries of the people trampled beneath our feet? The lives lived and died without ever knowing the light of the sun?”

It was the guards that pried her away, at the order of the queen. Four guards, and back into her bed. The Maesters took their time as she struggled against their hold, she cried and begged and pleaded to let her go, to let her be at peace, to let it all stop.

It never stopped, as she found sleep, she found herself in the tormented place, and when awake she was trapped within her own skin.

#wip #oc: aemma velaryon #hotd fanfic #eddie writes

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rancidpancakebatter · 2 years ago

Text

Drop In-Chapter 7 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?

Word Count: 3.2k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying, Anxiety, Depression,

Some negative body image in this chapter and pretty early on. I’m really tapping into the insecure teen years with this story.

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

A/N: Homecoming is happening! Football and Mayhem and Peter

Bit of a filler, because it’s gonna get sad and stressful.

also it's midterms and I'm exhausted so I'm sorry but this is very unedited and kinda...dry? I dunno but it's the best I have rn

You looked over your bed, where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has its limitations.

You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case.

Once that was settled, you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game, so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change.

You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours.

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies, and hope, and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below.

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with it.

You pulled a deep, centring breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter, you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in, and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments.

“Are you excited?”

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection.

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his own teenage woes of old.

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back, and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete, and we just made jokes. At one point, we narrated what we thought the players were thinking as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

There was a tension in your father’s shoulders that he didn’t know he held, but he felt it leave as you told him about your day. It had been so long since he had seen you so animated. You were excited, and he was excited for you.

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding; we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father.

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise, and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter.

Your father answered it at your request.

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us, but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off, but they could both come, and then May could get some pictures. If not, I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad, knowing he was the only one who might care.

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom, and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh.

You stayed on the phone with Peter for a bit while you got dressed, reviewing the plan once again. You decided to stop and get a sandwich on the way. There was a bodega nearby that Peter absolutely loved, and you agreed to go. It was cheaper and quicker than some fancy sit-down meal. And it was special. Something for you and Peter. The thought made you feel warm inside.

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that, he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind.

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class; he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you.

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that orchestrated your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder, yes, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer.

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from halftime, and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures, and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you, but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often.

Peter was hesitant, but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright, and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting, and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving of your peers while juggling heavy instruments was mesmerising. Then the homecoming court emerged.

A stage was wheeled onto the field, and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event, about the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three pairs from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair.

You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside her passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine.

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised slightly and wiggled her fingers with enthusiasm. Peter waved back, and you felt your throat tighten ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused, and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again, and you realize she’s talking to you.

“I like your top,” She mouths again.

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress, but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks.

You go to reprimand him, but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you like that, how could you be mad? All boyish charm and crinkled eyes. You make a face at him, and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at his arm.

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boy toy hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurance that she looked great. Pete is getting frustrated, and you raise your camera in preparation.

He turns to make a face at you. His eyes are captured mid-roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever immortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to upload it later.

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and you’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee.

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief.

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is a gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweetness- and when fresh, it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scouts can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you reach the counter to order, you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane, but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barely see over them. Pete takes another photo of you, and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out.

On your way back to the game, you're splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue, and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips, and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autumn hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light.

You’ve made your way back into the “field.” The concessions lines were long, and your beloved tent was well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved, you almost lost Peter in the crowd until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person.

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety, and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you.

He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take- if any- while munching on your sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out.

You looked up at the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling silver metal. But in case you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief.

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then at the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle, then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed.

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He feigned anger, but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell upon the two of you.

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms dramatically around you both, with his toes barely touching the ground, as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn, and he was delighted to take some.

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some, but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your scrumptious snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to Silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here.”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at each other sceptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half-eaten, rice-crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together.

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter.

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.”

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity.

“Nick, dude. I told you we could, next Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defiance drives his every movement. Although, you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should come back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. Watching LOTR high did sound like a fun evening, but it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter.

Still tucked under his arm, it’s hard to hide from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night, but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go; the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing.

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planning these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.”

Only Nick sounded annoyed by his answer, and for that you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder, and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

You looked over your bed where you had spread out all of your gear and clothes, forming a battle plan and double-checking you had everything you needed. First, was the game. You had agreed that Peter would take pictures of the cheerleaders, the band, and the crowd, the atmosphere if you will, because his film camera- while wonderful- has limitations. You would be in charge of capturing the gameplay, equipped with a year-old DSLR model and a long lens. You repacked your bag, double-checking the batteries’ life and that the sd cards were empty. You made sure to pack a few lens wipes as well as the microfiber cloth, just in case.

Once that was settled you looked over the outfit you had picked out. You wouldn’t have much time to get ready between the dance and the game so you wanted to make sure you were still available for a quick change. You had picked some tight-fitting jeans and a tucked t-shirt. It’s pretty plain, a tight-fitting shirt with cold and navy blue stripes. You had dug around for hours trying to find something with school colours on it, and this would just have to do. The outfit was laid out across your cotton sheets, and beside them was a green bomber jacket. Beneath it lay a grey zip-up hoodie that wasn’t yours.

As you looked at it your stomach started to knot. It carried a lot in its empty pockets. Memories of butterflies and hope and something you refused to label as love were woven into its worn threads. You had been balancing a tightrope between nonchalance and a Chornobyl-sized meltdown for the past few days. You couldn’t tell if wearing Peter’s jacket would hold you up or shove you into the jagged rocks below.

You decided that was a problem for later and instead made sure your dress and accessories were all good and accounted for. You had picked out some tall wedges to go with them.

[maybe describe the dress or sum]

You pulled a deep, centring, breath through your body and stepped into your bathroom. Perched on the counter you began to apply your base makeup. You didn’t go all out just yet, that was for the dance, but you wanted to cut down on things to do later. You applied your base and went with a simple smudged eyeliner look accompanied by thick mascara. You were applying highlight when your father knocked on your door. You beckoned him in and he sat on the tub, his unofficial seat for these moments.

“Are you excited?”

His smile was warm and genuine. You beamed at him through the reflection.

“I’m kinda nervous but also really excited.”

He chuckled at your response, remembering his teenage woes of old.

“Today, school was awesome. Classes were pretty laid back and then the Pep rally was tons of fun. I sat next to Pete and we just made jokes. At one point we narrated the team’s thoughts as they stood behind the principal. They all had these dead stares as Mr Braxton rambled on for like ten minutes. It was so fun.”

“And I know the game is gonna be just as fun. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we suck. Like seriously, I don’t know how our team still gets funding we are so bad. But Pete and I are gonna take pictures and goof off in the stands. Also, I was promised kettle corn and you know I love kettle corn. I’m gonna fuck that up.”

That earned a very loud laugh from your father.

“Yes, you will. I know better than to ask but would you save me some?”

You chuckled at the request. “How about I get you a bag and bring it home?”

You both agreed on the compromise and he continued to watch you do your makeup, occasionally bobbing his head to the music you were playing. You were dousing your face with setting spray when your phone started vibrating on the counter.

Your father answered it at your request.

“Hey, Peter! You're on speaker with me and (Y/n),”

“Hello, Mr (Y/n). Hey, (Y/n).”

You said hello back and he immediately started going into his spiel.

“So I was wondering when you wanted to leave. I know you said you wanted to leave at six but what about dinner? Would you wanna go before or after the game? Or not at all? Also, May wants to take pictures of us but I know I’m coming over to you for the dance. Could she come with? Ben was probably going to drop me off but they could both come and then May could get some pictures. If not I think I could hold her over if your dad promised to take some and send them to her.”

His nervous rambles brought a smile to your face. It reminded you of the way he was before. When he would blush at your kind words and affections. You looked to your dad knowing he was the only one who might care.

“Mr Parker, you know your family is welcome whenever. I’ll call Ms May and get that all straightened out.”

Your father left the bathroom and you heard his jovial voice as he went into the hallway. It made you laugh.

You were recessed and ready and running to the car. You were buzzing with excitement. It’s true, that Peter and you had been a little rocky lately, but you couldn’t help but feel like maybe it was turning around. The way he had treated you this week (for the most part) has been amazing. When you think about it, most of the things Peter did to upset you weren’t on purpose. Sometimes he was just such a boy. But he had been sweet anytime he realized you were upset. As soon as he recognised that he was sweet and caring and careful. He was attentive and kind.

There was a fluttering of hope that lived in your ribs. It told you that things were changing. That yeah, there was that weird patch, but you were coming out on the other side. You were seeing Peter again, your friend, and you had missed him. Today you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. He talked to you in class, he included you in the conversations with his friends. He was happy and smiling all day long with you.

You turned over the engine and switched out the CDs. You wanted the songs that [souttracked] your summer. Songs that reminded you of those carefree days and the golden sun. The weather was getting colder it’s true, but maybe you could make the warmth stick around just a little longer. You could hold on just a little longer.

The game is very uneventful. So far, you’re thirty minutes from Halftime and there have been three touchdowns. Unfortunately, the Midtown Panthers couldn’t claim any of them. Peter and you had split up for a bit to get some pictures and now you were back in the student section. Several of your peers were losing their minds, cheering anytime your team gained more ground on the field. It all felt a little silly to you but you cheered along with them. The shouting was fun. A release of chaotic energy that you didn’t get often.

Peter was hesitant but you eventually convinced him to join in. You moved your arms with the cheerleaders and butchered their chants. You could see Sabrina Dontelle roll her eyes every time you messed it up, but that only encouraged you more. Peter’s laughter and smile was more than enough validation in your actions. His smile was bright and you were basking in it.

You made your way through the throng of teens, pushing your way towards the field. The “halftime show” was starting and you both took pictures of the Marching band. The flags looked majestic as they fluttered in the wind, and the careful weaving was meserizing. Then the homecoming court emerged.

A stage was wheeled onto the field and the principal stood at the podium. He went on and on about how this event was an honourable, celebrated event. About the history of your school and your team. He was optimistic about the end of this game. The crowd erupted into cheers as the homecoming court came out from the same tunnel the team had before. You recognised most faces as they passed, three from each grade. Elaborate dresses and illustrated smiles made their way down the field, accompanied by tailored suits and gelled hair. You found yourself fiddling with your shirt, adjusting your top and jacket. Especially when you saw Gwen. She wasn’t on the court but helping, passing out tairas as the person beside passed out sashes. She wore a beautiful dress, soft white lace over a pale blue tea cut dress. Her make-up was subtle but worked, big eyes with bright lips and matching blush. She looked regal and divine.

She must have sensed your stare. She turned to look at you and Peter, and her smile was grand. You watched as her hand raised sight and she shook it back and forth with enthusiasm. Peter waved back and you felt your throat tighten, ever so slightly. She makes a gesture with her pointer finger and a thumbs up. You look at her confused and she tries to hide a laugh. She does it again and you realize she’s talking to you.

“I like your top,” She mouths again.

You smile and try to tell her that you like her dress but she’s just as confused. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, but luckily from your placement on the field, no one who might get offended by your inappropriate tittering notices. You hear a shutter and turn next to you to see Peter lowering his camera, a dusting of pink across his cheeks.

You go to reprimand him but his smile eats your words. When he’s looking at you how could you be mad? All boyish charm and scrinckled eyes. You make a face at him and before you can even process, there’s a flash and the shutter once again. Peter only chuckles at your shock as you swat at him arm.

This starts a candid war that goes on for the rest of the game. You both make your way up to the stage to take pictures of everyone. You split up the work to get it done quicker. You’ve finished the last one and notice Peter is still working. Sarah Macnimera is being picky about her pose and insisting Peter get a “good one.” Her glorified boytoy, hung loosely on her arm, giving her passive reassurances that she looked great. You raise your camera just in time to catch Peter making a face at you.

His eyes are captured mid roll, only the whites visible. His tongue lulled forward just a bit, as his face fell “dead.” You had forever imortalized his classic eye roll, fake gag combo that you called the “Kill me” look. You look at the preview screen and make a mental note to uplaod it later.

After the homecoming event is over you make your way to the kettle corn stand. The line isn’t very long and You’re bouncing with excitement. Peter teases you for your childlike glee.

“It’s just kettle corn,” He says in amused disbelief

“Peter Parker,” You begin, “There is no such thing as ‘just kettle corn.’ Kettle corn is gift, the best thing to come out of colonization. It is the perfect amount of sweet and when fresh it’s warm. Do you understand? It’s the best food! Only the Boy Scout’s can rival what is happening in this tent.”

When you get up to the counter to order you request three large bags. Peter looks at you like you’re insane but you pay him no mind. Each bag is about as long as your arm and wider than two of your fists. Truly carnival sized. You try to juggle them, telling Peter you’re putting two in the car for later. You can barley see over them. Pete takes another photo of you and you have to say you’re a little curious as to how that one turns out.

On your way back to the game your splitting a bag with Peter. Each kernel melts on your tongue and Peter agrees with you that it’s very good. Sugar hangs from his lips and you find yourself having to look away. Even with the chill of autum hanging in the air, being beside Peter today has made you feel warmer than ever before. You had been starved of Peter Parker, but here he was, filling you up once again. Your heart felt full and light.

You’ve made your way back into the “field”. The concesions lines were long and your beloved tent was in well in view from this side of the bleachers. You could hear the announcers in their box high above calling out the plays as they came. Many people were making their way to the exit, only caring about the court ceremony. As people pushed and shoved you almost lost Peter in the crowd, until you felt his hold on your arm. His big hands wrapped around your forearm and brought you closer to his person.

He noticed the way your shoulders had risen and how you had pulled into yourself ever so slightly. Now that you had opened up to him about your anxiety and that crowds tend to make it worse, he’s been keeping an eye on you. He had never seen you so broken before. You looked so small, so defeated, when he found you on the bathroom floor. He never wanted to see that again. He had made a vow. He would do everything he could to keep you from going into that state again.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded your head and he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He threw his arm around your shoulder and reached across you to get some popcorn. You were discussing what other pictures you two should take, if any, while munching on you sweet treat when you hear Peter’s name called out.

You look up to the source and you couldn’t believe your eyes. Miles Moralize, who had become your group’s mascot in a way, had scaled up the fencing on the bleachers. His bright red hoodie was obvious against the rattling metal. But incase you didn’t see him, he was also waving his arm dramatically, as if waving off a ship in the nineteen twenties. All he needed was a handkerchief.

Peter waved back and pointed his finger very aggressively at Miles and then the ground. You couldn’t help but chuckle and then laugh when Peter looked at you with confusion.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with his brows still furrowed.

You tried your best to reign in your laughter, “You- you look like May.”

He friegned anger but his smile overshadowed any attempt at malice in his glare. He lead you over to where Miles was, where you found the rest of the group. Micheal and Nicholas were talking to Miles as he climbed down, guiding his feet and teasing him about how ridiculous he was. Silas wore a tired expression that only lifted once his gaze fell apon the two of you.

“Oh, thank God! I swear, I’ve aged five years trying to keep these idiots alive for the last half hour.”

He wrapped his arms draumaticly around you both with his toes barely touching the ground as he all but collapsed. You and Peter both chuckled, offering your condolences and commending him for his bravery. You offered him popcorn and he was delighted to take some.

“Thanks! I was trying to get everyone over so I could get some but they got distracted. This kettle corn is so good. I’ve been looking forward to it all year.”

You declared that Silas could have as much as he wanted because he was the only person appreciative of your delcectible snack. He cheered as Peter began to defend himself, but then Mile’s feet hit the ground and everyone rushed over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Nicholas said as he sauntered up to where you were talking to silas, everyone else in tow, “Gang’s all here,”

You and Peter both greeted him and he immediately burst into a fit of giggles. You looked at eachother skeptically, as if silently discussing the clues to this mystery. As if you couldn’t already figure it out between his spacey approach and his glazed gaze, Nick pulls a battered, half eaten, rice crispy treat out of his pocket. You clock the almost “caramel” colour to it and quickly piece it together.

He takes a bite before offering it to you and Peter.

He chuckles when you both decline, “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. Parker here definitely smokes,”

Miles smacks his arm, telling him to keep it down, but Nick ignores him, “And dudette here definitely smokes with him.”

Peter shakes his head and you can feel his breath across your neck from his proximity. “Nick, dude. I told you we could Wednesday. But I’m not gonna now because then I’ll miss the dance. There’s no way you’re getting in there without raising suspicion.”

Nicholas only takes another bite. Defieance drives his every movement although you’re a little lost on who he’s proving wrong.

“Fuck the dance!” He exclaims around a mouthful of sugar and weed, “Who gives a fuck about the dance? You should came back with us after the game. We’re gonna get high and watch all the Lord of the Rings tonight. That’s so much more fun!”

Your smile is growing more and more forced. While you do enjoy these boys, this is not what you wanted right now. While that did sound like a fun evening, it didn’t sound even remotely more appealing than dancing with Peter.

Still tucked under his arm it’s hard to hid from him. You obviously don’t want Peter to pick the movie night but you also don’t want to force him to go to the dance. You wish you could get a read on him. One minute he’s suggesting you go, the next he’s acting like he never wanted to. It’s all very confusing.

“Hmmm,” Peter says, “I dunno. We’ve been planing these matching outfits and everything. It would be a shame not to go.”

Only Nich sounded annoyed by his answer and for the you were grateful. You felt a tugging and realised that Pete was turning you both around. He dipped his head down, knocking your head lightly to catch your attention.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You tightened up your smile, making it bigger. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re still going to the dance.”

You feel his fingers run across your shoulder and the movement is comforting, “Yeah, of course.”

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the-heaminator · 1 year ago

Note

go on then, let's have some horror. i'll give you a choice between prompt 8 or 22 - and why not have it include the uk bros? :)

[ 8 ] "you're insane!"

[ 22 ] "wake up!"

Ao3 Link here

They're so bloody fucking insane so much of the time, and a good half of the time they don't realise it, the rest of the time it is gloriously premeditated, I'm not frankly sure which one is worse. Have what essentially became a very shitty character study 2012 ff.net edge lord style. I am SO sorry Helia. Tw animal abuse, general gore and just like, flesh, all the bullshit of the past Cannibalism, Torture, death, mentions of insanity, gore, non-consensual drugging, Hansel and Gretel bullshit, not in that order, burning, just, bullshit.

Look do not expand this unless you want to kill your dash. its like 15k. so be warned

Alisdair knew that nations tended to have a considerably looser grip on their sanity after major conflicts, hell even he was feeling the effects of The War, he often found himself standing on the edges of cliff faces with no idea of how he got there, he moved in from the coast after these instances happened one too many times, drowning was not a pretty way to die after all, though it kept happening even in the city, finding himself next to blitzed roads and in the woods with not a clue of how he got there.

He needed to stop doing this, he needed to stop drinking so much before bed.

___________________________________________

He also knew that his brothers never had a particularly sturdy grip on what would be considered sanity ever since he had known them, it was a little more subdued when they were younger, but that was a long, long time ago, and even then he could viscerally remember how...transfixed Rhys was with flames even back then, a tree burned because of lightning and Rhys would stare at it for hours afterwards, not entirely present in this world as he did so, he watched the little creatures skitter away from the inferno, not making any attempt to help them.

It was odd the first time, he never seemed to be the type to enjoy others suffering, not then at least, gentle and stout he was, it was odd to see him take so much pleasure out of burning as he did, Alisdair thought nothing of it then, perhaps found it a little strange, but as long as he wasn't hurting anybody nor himself...it couldn't be too bad.

He found Cymru burning a rather large rat.

Albion was there too, all bones and teeth yet, could just about walk and talk, though half the time he gabbled to himself in a tongue that nobody else understood. This was one of those times, smiling and clapping, he prodded the flaming mouse with a stick more than once yelling "Fire! Fire!" over and over again, though not in an urgent way, he seemed to be enjoying it

Cymru had squatted next to him, he was barely moving, scarcely breathing as he watched it screech and scream as it went up in flames, he almost looked like an owl, it was in a little clumsily dug pit, just about big enough for it to not be able to scale its walls, he could smell tallow, this was pre-meditated, he felt sick.

He stood there frozen, Albion noticed he was there first, and picked himself up with some difficulty, he must've been in that position for a while for him to be so stiff, he didn't know how long it took to burn a rat, it was still alive, though its screams were dimming slowly as it was charred, Ma had told them about how nations could bend each other to their own wills, he had never experienced it before, he didn't think he could be swayed so easily, especially by those two, Cymru was kind, not like this, and Arthur was small enough that he still tended to crawl around because it was faster that way.

But he found Albion's chubby little hand in his, gently tugging him to the fire, he couldn't even bring up a shred of resistance, he felt sick, he felt overjoyed, he couldn't take his eyes off it, he found himself laughing.

He didn't know he was laughing, everything in his field of vision was going odd, the rat had finally silenced but its screams were still echoing through his ears three-way, his mind, Albion's and Cymru's, he could hear all of it, he could feel all of it, he could see all of it, Cymru hadn't seemingly noticed him there until now, he had been here a while, how hadn't he?

He sounded giddy, he could just about register him screaming at him, his mind felt a rush of fear which turned to anger as soon as Cymru noticed him being there, he was not like this, he was mild-mannered almost to a fault, Albion was positively howling in joy, his head spun, he vomited anything he had eaten earlier today out, Cymru was near a head shorter than him yet those eyes, usually full of joy or love or just something that wasn't this, he couldn't even name what this was, it was dangerous, like splintered wood almost, glinting like iron in a furnace, he couldn't name it, but he knew he didn't like it.

He ran back to Ma, things didn't scare him much, he was strong, but everything about this had shaken him to his core, both she and Éire looked scared for him, he didn't usually rush in like a storm and immediately cling to Éire's side, she thought he looked clammy and ill, she called Ma, she gently asked whether he had gotten a fright, he didn't have fever, but his eyes were darting around almost mad, his head felt full, it was a wonder he didn't have a fever.

Albion and Cymru walked in not long after, the sun was starting to set and they were always in before it grew dark, Ma wouldn't have it any other way, it was dangerous after dark, as soon as they walked in however, Ma stared at them, something was off about them, both smelled strongly of smoke and tallow, Cymru never looked so owlish, she could feel him lightly prodding her mind, she could feel Albion sleepily draping himself all over it, he was tired, but it was unusual to feel his presence as strongly as she did now, she looked at Alba, staring at the two like they had two heads a piece, Éire bit her lip, she could feel them trying to get into her mind, Cymru felt like a bludgeon of sorts, there was something wrong about him, he smelled like smoke, his mind always grew a little more active after he saw something burn, but never with the fevered intensity of this.

The room started to spin, he could feel Albion getting into her head, different to Cymru, worming its way into the cracks that Cymru had created, his felt less threatening, more docile, but he felt muffling, her head felt full of wool.

She clung to Ma, this was not normal, she understood why Alba was acting the way he was, both were so small, why did they feel like that.

Ma opened her arms to hug them, Alba felt warm and vomited again, he could feel Cymru's mind brush against his, too close for comfort, he could feel Albion worm his way in.

She didn't let them in, that would not be a good idea, even if they were small they could do plenty of damage, though she underestimated how strong it was, Cymru buried himself into her arms, she could smell burning on him, Alba blubbering something about tallow and a rat seemed to have its merit, she could smell a very strong smell of it on the both of them, Albion was tired, usually when tired he grew cranky, not as he was right now, bright-eyed and still laughing, though she could feel on his presence that he was tiring.

Cymru looked at Éire oddly, he did not understand why she was acting so strange, neither why Alba was, he understood a little of Alba, but not why he looked so ill, not why he was staring at him and Albion like they were the fae, what was wrong with him.

He opened his mouth, his voice was a little hoarse from disuse, he sounded childishly concerned "Alba, Éire what happened?" Albion was trying to curl up in the blanket with him after he got out of Ma's arms, he was cold to the touch.

He had stopped his prodding though Alba knew that it wasn't out of mercy, he was simply too tired, it was unlikely that he realised he was doing in the first place, he did still smell something terrible, he curled up in his arms and fell asleep oddly quickly, she told Éire to look after the two, and herself, she needed to go talk to Cymru.

Alba didn't hear the conversation, but Cymru came back looking odd, not scared exactly, but close enough, Albion and Éire had fallen asleep a good while ago, he could almost forget the whole thing had happened but as soon as Cymru came back he could hear, see and smell the rat like it was right in front of him, though it smelled sweeter, burned brighter and sounded louder than he swore it actually did.

He felt sick again and retched though now there was nothing left and drifted into a fitful sleep. Albion small and warm in his legs.

__________________________________

Ma passed and the Romans came, he and Éire were safe, too far up in the mountains to be of much use, practically ignored.

He hadn't seen either Albion or Cymru in a long time, he had no idea what was happening to them, there were occasionally incursions to his land, but even then he could always feel the pressure of the empire on the edge of his mind, though after a while that dimmed, there were no more attempts to take over his territory, it finally was gone, replaced by a different pressure, barely present, sluggish and disorganized.

The Romans must've left, he wanted to see his brothers again, he hadn't seen them in centuries, the journey was oddly quiet, met with next to no resistance, he could feel the presences of more than one, it explained why it felt so disconnected from where he was, it took some time, he was travelling alone after all.

It took some difficulty to find him, he could feel a dull tug towards him, sluggish but present, but he did eventually. Not where he wished to find him, but he found him nonetheless, he was free to roam as he pleased, not tied down by a household or any particular occupation just yet, he still had to earn his bread but even that was not too difficult, he could find or grow it himself more often than not.

Albion was tied firmly to both a house and a job.

When he first saw him he expected less, he himself had certainly had gotten taller since they last saw each other, but he did not expect Albion to age so much over the few hundred years, he was still shorter than him but he was catching up, he was met with fear, he may have looked a little wild, that must be it, Albion had his hair cut short, he was fidgety, when he offered help to cook he refused vehemently, more out of fear than of anything else, he looked ready to bite if he didn’t back down, with a type of fevered intensity that made Alba believe that he would actually do it.

He could not be older than maybe 8 or 9, yet he was living alone, not good enough, he spoke oddly, what he used to speak felt wrong out of his mouth, the syllables slid together oddly, softer than they should sound, he muttered to himself more than he used to, the gabbling he used to do became words, though not in any tongue Alba understood much of, he knew a lick of Latin, but most of what he was muttering was borderline unintelligible, he sounded deranged, he was too young to be going mad wasn’t he?

He didn’t have the bluish film over is eyes that spoke of a weakening mind, they were bright as ever, sure they were a little yellow, yet he was worried, he could be worried for his brother, no? But Albion didn’t let him, he forced him to sit down, the home wasn’t even that, a place behind the stables of the King he had stew, stashed away somewhere cool, it wouldn’t spoil anyways with how the weather was, but it wasn’t particularly much, there wasn’t much to sleep on save for a manky and scratchy wool blanket, it was frankly a little sad, he looked ill, pale and gaunt, still just bones and teeth, he had gotten taller, but hadn’t filled out whatsoever.

He gave what he thought was a lot to Alba, he was stingy with his food, it wasn’t nearly enough to fill him up, but he didn’t ask for more, the stew was watery with barely anything to it, he got half a nibble of something that resembled meat, but that was it. He seemed to have heard something, immediately forced Alba to hide somewhere, there wasn’t too much room, he didn’t see Albion’s face, but it mustn't have looked too good.

Somebody walked in and barked something Alba couldn’t understand, he seemed to respond to Edmund now, he left the place without even half a look at where he had stashed the other, he waited a long time, Albion must’ve hidden him for a reason, so coming out was a bad idea. He finally returned, sweaty despite how cold it was, grimy and shaking ever so slightly, Alba could see he was tired, he looked wrong, sort of scared, he must be sick to be acting like so, he was shaking so much he forced his hands into his cloth to stop it being so visible.

Albion's eyes narrowed seeing him "Why are you still here?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You wanted to make sure I was alive, as you said, I am alive, and it is not safe for you here. So, leave."

That was blunt, but not incorrect "You are not well Albion, let me take you with me."

"I'll be fine, I swear, it is not safe for you here. Leave."

He wouldn't stop moving, Alba wondered how he had enough energy to move so much on so little, it was a little dizzying "Sit first, then we can discuss. Do you have any bread?"

"No, we just ate, didn't we?" He didn't even seem worried, he didn't continue with that, this was awkward, Albion had sat next to him, folded with his head on his knees, how would he even go about this, they hadn't spoken in an age, Albion seemed too tired to care "So you answer to Edmund now?"

"I needed a name, and it was popular enough that I wouldn't stand out, do you not have a human name?"

"No, why would I need one."

"Do you not need to communicate with your..." he stumbled for the word, said it in Latin, and mumbled "Job person, or the people?"

"I do not need to do not often enough to need a name. No. I assume you do."

"Yes."

Conversation died of quickly after that, he wanted to ask how Rome was, he really did, but Albion had fallen into that state just adjacent to sleep while sitting, he hoped the other would relax a little in sleep, too much tension in sleep made the shoulders hurt. He did not in fact relax, not even slightly, tight as a coil of rope, the night was cold and while both their clothes were thick (his rather thicker than Albion's) it still wasn't enough to keep them warm, he knew for a fact that the other probably wrapped himself up tight in the blanket and hoped for the best.

He couldn't sleep like this, not at all, Albion wasn't even leaning on him but he could hear and feel him shivering, he needed to wrap the blanket around him or he was genuinely convinced he would freeze to death, he was still awfully thin, no insulation to speak of on him, he moved, small, slow and quiet, he knew what he was doing, nearly silent, yet Albion woke up and looked around wildly, like he half expected someone to come at him with a knife, he saw no-one, only Alba and convinced himself that it was a figure of his imagination and went back to sleep, this time laying down and covering himself as much as he could without taking all the potential blanket that Alba would take, he was larger than him so he would need more blanket.

Under the pale light of the moon he could see that Albion was feverish, shivering under the blanket, though that could just be because of the cold, he hoped so at least, he wouldn’t interfere, with how skitterish he was, it was unlikely that it would go down particularly well, he wasn’t even meant to be here, he would leave in the morning, he swore.

He still wasn’t the most sure why he made this trip in the first place, it was long and by no means was it easy, it was early spring, the days could be very cold and the nights even worse, frosting over still sometimes, as well as wet, he wasn’t sure what compelled him to do this, yet he did, he knew at least one of them was alive, though the conditions were admittedly not as good as they should've been, not nearly, but he was alive and it was something.

Albion always slept deep, now he woke with the slightest sound, he tried to be quiet moving about, Albion hadn’t moved an inch since he laid down, he could still hear breathing, so he was at least alive, he was in bad enough condition that Alba would easily believe that he could just pass then and there, and even now he knew dying hurt, he had died a few times, drowning, infection, drowning, injury.

He slept with this thought on his mind, not ideal, but he slept nonetheless, he was tired, he had walked a lot, he slept deep once he did.

He was surprised that Albion was up before he was, pale and clammy, afraid looking, but awake “Och, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, what happened?”

“Nothing that concerns you, no.”

“What is it.”

“Nothing.”

“It is something or you wouldn’t look like that.”

“Look, I have church in half an hour, I need you to go, I cannot be seen with a Pict, I would be hanged, as would you, it does not feel very good. So go, please.”

“Eh? You’ve been hanged before.” Alba swore church wasn’t today.

“You haven’t?”

“Why on earth would I be hanged?”

“Robbery, plotting, stealing food, the like.” His eyes were darting about almost violently as he was saying all of this, his voice took a crack he tried his hardest to hide, he started to fidget uncontrollably again, before nothing, everything seemed blanketed, gone all of a sudden, he took in a deep breath “Just go, it is the safest, for the both of us, go a little after I would.”

He nodded, he couldn’t really say or do anything about it anymore, Albion wouldn’t have it, he wondered a little detached why he was taking orders from his younger brother, but he seemed so vehement about all of them that he believed them “Will you not eat anything?”

“No, as I said, church, bread and wine, and on Sunday the household gives me provisions, I will be fine, you can finish the rest of the stew if you wish to.”

He was dressed in particularly grimy clothes though, things didn’t add up, but he didn’t want to call him out on it.

Now he waited, he took up Albion’s offer for the stew, he didn’t finish all of it though, goodness knows Albion could use it better than he. It took a while to make sure everything was clear, he headed out, heard shouting, and hurried back in, this was something he could understand only a little bit of, he heard Albion’s name, what sounded like lashes, a scream, silence, more screams, sobbing, he heard angry shouting, later soft words, and Albion came staggering back.

In his arms lay the remains of a few long dead rabbits, mostly bone with the smallest amount of meat left on them, the meat may have been Albion’s himself, he was bleeding, and badly, chunks of flesh hanging off his face and arms, a finger or three was missing, enough that Alba most certainly would be dead, he seemed not to notice the other, perhaps because of his vision blacking out, or he refused to acknowledge him. He panted, put the rabbits somewhere mostly clean, sat on the floor with a pot of sorts, and started putting his blood into it, his eyes were closed, but he was still very much alive, just about, he kept slumping down, head lolling on his shoulder like a corpse, but he jolted himself back to wakefulness each time that happened.

Scared of death he supposed, his flesh was knitting itself back together as he sat, where his fingers were missing soon grew bone, muscle, on wept as his skin grew back, unblemished and fresh, salty tears making the pain only worse, dripping into the bloodied pot. Least his stew will have salt, he couldn’t afford it normally

How had he the energy to fix himself to such a degree, gaping wounds on his arms slowly stitching itself back together with sinew and whatnot. Not a pretty sight, Alba felt beyond ill, and Albion seemed resigned to this, he could not care less.

Alba didn’t expect to feel him attacking his mind so strongly, he likely couldn’t muster it physically, the jabs were sharp and rapid, but not well aimed, all Alba could feel was fear, what he could feel from Albion was similar, mixed with resignation, almost pleading him to leave, the pot was half full of blood, he knew they could fix themselves if it wasn’t too serious, but whatever this was looked serious, yet the bloodflow was slowing and drying to the clothes, Alba simply stood in the corner, he was too scared to leave, he didn’t want whatever happened to Albion to happen to him, and he wated to make sure that he was all right. He certainly didn’t look it.

Albion managed to croak out, barely “Alba, leave. Please.”

He didn’t reply, how was he still fine after this, what was even going on?

“Leave, Alba.”

The bloodflow stopped, Albion forced himself up off the ground, sloppy and unfocused, he stumbled his way to Alba, he looked worse now, ashen grey, dried blood clotted all over him, hair matted with it and mud, a large chunk of his flesh was simply hanging off his cheek, going blue as his skin stitched itself together as Alba watched in horror, going blue then black, and falling off, dead onto the ground, Albion eyed it, contemplating whether to pick it up, he chose not to, it was filthy now anyway.

Some small colour returned to his cheeks, eyes yellowed and sunken, “Leave, Alba.”

He didn’t want to, he really didn’t, he wanted to hold him, tell him everything was all right, like Ma did, this wasn’t the same Albion, not the one that curled up in his lap when cold and tired, not the one that screwed around in shallow water with stones, gabbled to himself happily as he stared at birds doing their own businesses, he had seen Éire die, she was different after she did, she seemed not to realise it, he had changed too as he died and came back, but this was dramatic, had he died enough times to near become a whole new person, Albion hadn’t realised it himself if that was indeed the case.

He knew he should leave, he pulled Albion into a hug, he could feel all his ribs and his backbone, sharp and with no give, he reeked something demonic, but he was still his younger brother, a small child at that, still just brittle bones and chipped teeth, he sounded so much older than his years “I can still take you.”

Choked, nearly sobbing “N-no, it is not worth it, it will be better soon, this King just hates me, as do his goons, usually I am fine, I swear, he is getting old now, I know he will die soon, his son likes me, I take care of his horses well, he will treat me well.”

Alba didn’t know who he was lying to exactly, himself or to him, but he kept holding him until heavy breathing became slowed to near the point of suffocation, before bursting into painful sobs, Alba could feel him trying to curl into himself, embarrassed maybe? He was not like this normally by any chance, but he was so tired, he shouldn’t do this in front of Alba, he hadn’t seen him in centuries yet he did, he knew he shouldn’t have, yet he did, he hadn’t been held in a long time, and Alba was warm, he was getting blood all over him, he should apologize, he would, he would, once he could bring himself to words that is, he hadn’t missed Ma this hard in a long time.

He couldn’t remember too much before Alba was gone, he was sitting on his blanket, clean and in fresh clothes, but with no idea how he got there, strangely full, where had he gotten so much food from, was that a fever dream, it certainly felt like one, he had ended up places with no idea how he got there, this felt like one of those times.

The pot of blood was stored in a cold dark place, it was growing dark now anyways, he was so tired, always was after he had to fix himself, and he was asleep without a second thought,

Alba was worried, Albion, Edmund, he wouldn’t call him that until his life depended on it, it felt wrong, everything about that felt wrong, sick, frail, and afraid, he felt ill after seeing that, he never wanted to see him with chunks of flesh hanging off him.

_______________________

Alisdair knew that was a lie, Alba didn't

_______________________

Raiders were at his shores, he could feel them, he could feel them stealing, burning and looting from outlying islands, he was old enough to fight now, he had grown accustomed to it after a while, a burning on his peripherals that he couldn't stop, but managed to ignore, he had caught sight of their personification once, he could feel him at all times otherwise, cold, calculating.

His entire arm seized up once, luckily his non dominant one, he couldn't move it for all the pain, what even were these people, what did they want, he was not tied to a house per se, more as the guard to the monarch, not a formal part of the millitary, but he was allowed incursions, the monarch knew of his strange set of circumstances, he knew he couldn't die, not in any way that mattered and acted accordingly, through these incursions he learned a lot about this odd personification, he was younger than he was, by a good couple centuries, shorter than he was, though that might've been just because he was tall, his beard was coming in now, and he was quite proud of that fact, magical in the same way he and Ma were, he didn’t know any more of the type existed, pale hair, almost like snow in the light, braided, eyes that looked like the depths of the sea, he was a good fighter too, for all his lack of physical strength, he made up for it with mind-numbing agility, they had singled each other out on the battlefield more than once, an unspoken agreement that whenever they encountered, they would only fight each other, they were the only ones fit to go against another, they knew they could not die.

So why waste their expertise on people they know could, more fun that way really, and it was good to know the enemy anyways.

The burning dulled when it was in his blood, the burning was doused and extinguished only in his blood, he looked like ice and his blood acted the same, never mind that if fresh it was warm like it, or as any other humans, should be, though over time they settled onto the islands on the vestiges of his mind, they soon stopped being is, they were the Northmen’s now, he could do nothing to stop it, it was calm for a while, the Northmen had stopped trying to take over them, content with their island holdings.

________________________________

Norway, not the best first impression, Alisdair thought, turned out far better than he could’ve conceived then.

________________________________

Edmund was doing worse, far worse than Alba, he wasn’t sure if he had a human name now or not, he was not sure if he needed one yet, currently that didn’t matter, simply musings to keep the mind busy, he had been brought in front of the personification of the Northmen, he could scarcely breathe with how much he ached now, fire, all down his back, he had cramped so hard that his lungs wouldn’t inflate correctly, let alone be able to stand and walk with some sense of dignity.

Yet he did, he forced himself up, he forced his breath to slow, he forced himself to ignore the searing pain, the numbing dizziness, he had to adapt, or he would die, simple as, the personification of the Northmen was so much younger than he was, though a good head taller, if not more, steely sky blue eyes, far better fed too, fighting him would be worthless, he wouldn’t survive no matter what he did, he would get snapped like a dry twig.

A guard came, and he presented himself, not only to the personification but also to the highest-ranking warrior on this expedition, still no official governmental body, the personification stared at him, nearly dumbfounded, he had never gotten a good look at this wild island child before, only seen glimpses of green eyes and sneering teeth, he looked so small, starved too, he thought Noreg was small, this, this was still a child.

The Jarl thought the same, not exactly the highest-ranking warrior, but yet the most senior there, he spoke, the tongue unfamiliar, yet just about understandable to Edmund, English, not Norse, just about “You are the personification of this land?”

“Yes, I am, this area of it, there are more, further out, my brothers and sister.”

“How old are you, child?” He sounded gentle, why did he sound so gentle, they were not supposed to be gentle with him. He didn’t know how old he was.

“I do not know, I have seen the Romans, and a time before them too”

The Jarl was more than a little shocked, this tiny, fragile looking thing had weathered at least 800 years, perhaps more, the personification more so, more visibly so, he spoke up, his voice had started to drop, Edmund’s hadn’t, yet that boy was over twice his age, he could see it only in his gaze, the way he held himself was odd, stiff, as if he was in pain, the same way men injured after falling onto their backs during harvest held themselves, the Jarl kept talking, he kept replying, answers short, snappy and growing increasingly pained and panicked.

“Jarl, I do not think he is well.” Said in a manner that the boy could not understand, pure Norse, old fashioned to be at that.

“I can see that, yes, he is not healthy, could you take care of him for the time being?”

He blanched, he had only ever taken care of Noreg, for short periods of time, he was an invader, this boy would not go quietly, “I-I, look after him? Yes Jarl, I shall try my best.”

He turned back to the boy “Child, what is your name?”

“Edmund.”

“Edmund, this is Magnus, you shall go with him.”

Edmund squashed the blind panic that came with that announcement, that would not help him here, he would have to get out smart, he couldn’t do this by fighting, his face flickered for but a second, fear, panic, resignation all in one, then it was gone, replaced by a dull look undertone by pain, Magnus left, all he could do was follow.

Walking was hard, Magnus walked fast, his legs were longer and he was healthier, he could scarcely breathe enough to walk slowly, his legs barely obeying his orders, let alone fast enough to keep up with this pace, he tried, forced his legs forward, forward, forward, follow, follow, follow, Magnus was far ahead not even after a few minutes, practically panting he tried to run, that didn’t work.

Magnus had sharp hearing, he could hear the uneven footsteps getting farther and farther, and the breathing becoming louder and more laboured, occasionally interspersed by a cough, when he finally looked behind him he could see the personification, Edmund was it, quite far away, stumbling, he was scarcely walking now, held up mostly by the wall and by what he could feel was fear, when he stopped to wait for him, the mild feeling of fear at the edge of his mind spiked violently, his mind registered deathly fear, Edmund was getting into his skull and twisting things inside of his head, Noreg did this sometimes, but it was always far duller, this was sharp, searing, and it was gone.

Edmund had put his head to the cold of a stone, it was the height of summer now, he was sweating both from exertion more than his body could support and from the heat, all that was gone, leaving Magnus disconcerted in his own mind, the boy looked dizzy, far beyond that, he needed to rest or he would fall any second now.

“Edmund, rest, you look like you will fall over

"I…shall be fine, continue, I will follow." An obvious idea to run, but he couldn't of anything better now, he felt like he was to collapse at a moment's notice, he couldn't, the personification could do anything to him while he was down, he couldn't.

Magnus didn't even consider escape, he was too frail to pull it off even if he tried, practically only bone and skin, he waited for Edmund to gather himself, he had been given orders to look after him for the time being, and that was what he would do, Edmund vomited, nothing much, bile, water, and stale bread, the bread wasn't even too bad, a waste of it really.

He couldn't fall.

He wouldn't.

Though he practically did, leaning on a tree for support more than he should do, his stomach was cramping now too, hunger, fear, pain, anxiety, nothing good, he retched again, nothing came out, again and the smallest bit bread, something his guts had seemingly held onto, came spilling out.

White spots dancing around his vision, this wasn't so bad, he was floating, free, somebody was holding him, he was no longer flying, a bottle pressed to his lips, "Drink."

Even now he could come up with a reason not to trust it, slurred, near delirious "Mmm. Could be poisoned."

Magnus could've hit him right there and then, but he looked in bad enough shape that it could finish him off for good, he didn't want a dead personification on his hands, he could deal with people, their existence was fleeting anyways, not a nation, and not somebody whose health had been entrusted to him "It isn't, see." He took a swig, and very resolutely stayed stable, "I swear it is not poisoned, and why would I waste it on you if it was, you would die without it anyways."

He had a point, he could come back though, and it would be terribly embarrassing to go of sickness, he would rather go by poison.

He took a swig, then a gulp, not of his own volition, Magnus held the bottle to his lips, and he was limp enough to let it in, not sure if that was his body conspiring against him or he actually wanted to, he couldn't think, wool for brains bastard he was.

This would be gotten him killed in Rome, he couldn't trust any of those bastards, any food not made by his hand was poisoned, he always saw the jeering faces of Rome's grandsons as he faded from life, he couldn't remember their names anymore, maybe he did, it didn't matter either way now.

All he had to do was wait, wait until his body either have out or had enough strength to properly stand.

It frustratingly did neither, closer to the latter than to the former, he gingerly pulled himself up, Magnus had sat in a nearby rock, eyeing him with what was either concern or distaste, they were very separate but the face could meld together well, maybe his vision was just swimming, he stood up, the lack of blood to his head made him fall down, hit his head hard on the tree, and then nothing once more.

He awoke to Magnus fretting quite like Éire did directly over his face, worried, a stream of obscenities "Fuck, fuck, fuck, wake up, wake up!"

He was awake now, his body wasn't responding, he hadn't died, but had come close, slowly he managed to open his eyes, a harder task never performed.

Immediately he got crushed, he took what he thought was his last breath, it was not, it was a hug, this man barely knew him, a rival personification, yet he was hugging him, he was warm, still had some puppy fat that refused to melt away, he hadn't been hugged in centuries.

It felt nice, warm, he felt real, his lungs struggled painfully, but he didn't pull back, not sure if he had the strength to do so, Magnus put his ear on his chest, the heart was beating, slowly, it should be more panicked, even Edmund knew that, but again he couldn't muster the energy for string fear, he had run out of fear to run on, he was starved, and exhausted, he hadn't slept proper in days, it all was catching up to him at once, the pain of the invasion, he wasn't old enough, at least physically for his joints to be acting up like so.

Magnus was still holding him, not even a hug at this point, simply a grasp, to make sure he wouldn't dissolve in his arms, like honey in warm water.

He finally eased him down after he made sure he wouldn't just die then and there, he pushed himself up, Magnus pushed him down, roughly, but not enough to hurt "No, you rest, I will not travel with somebody as weak as you are without making sure you are healthy enough to walk."

Weakly, lying through his teeth, he was normally too timid to lie, his voice wavered when he did so, his voice wavered now enough as it was, it wouldn't be noticed "I-I shall survive, continue, I shall he following as closely as I am able to."

"That is not very close, we would make faster pace if I carried you, you seem very light, I probably could."

This was mortifying, he couldn't stand being carried, he wasn't so weak he had to be "No, no, I shall be fine in a few moments, do hold.”

Magnus was now having nothing more of it, he was smaller and much lighter than Noreg, and he could carry the other like he would do to a child, Edmund weighed about as much as a lamb, a small one at that, he lifted him, as gently as he could, he could feel his heart rate spiking, all of a sudden he could feel it inside him, before banishing it, he would not be influenced right now, he squirmed to the best of his ability, but failed to go anywhere particularly well, he could no longer swallow down his panic, nor could he keep down much of the water, he tasted bile, he couldn’t vomit it out now, that would be disgusting, not on top of Magnus, he swallowed it, sour and viscous, it was nearly funny how much smaller he was compared to Magnus, he passed into sleep, or sickness, currently the line was blurred.

He healed quickly, he always did, it was a little frightening to see how just a little food and drink, none of which were particularly rich, allowed himself to fix himself up from the inside, at least for now, he could stand straight, though even then he held himself with an injured back, his pride, black and pulsing, often where it had no place to be doing so, only occasionally did it turn on its heel for a burst of yellow cowardice.

Magnus found Edmund to be a better warrior than he could have ever hoped, completely subservient, while frail looking, he was stronger than he looked, in hand to hand combat he was still miles away from even getting close to Magnus, but he healed frightfully fast, and the subservience was borne, he hoped so at least, more out of obedience than fear, fear could very quickly become burning hot anger; Edmund was too timid for anger, it was not easily found within his constitution to be angry, he could try, but that only made him scared, so he stopped trying, it only made things worse when he did, clouded his senses and made him behave odd, imperative to stay focused or he would get thrown around like a rag doll.

He was good at picking himself up and licking his wounds after training, he usually had the element of surprise, no matter what was told to them, mortals did not understand that Edmund had been fighting for enough of his life that he was good at him, he had been running for even longer, he was quick to run and quick to strike, not good in a battle, but enough to keep himself safe, he hoped so at least, it would be murder if it wasn’t.

______________________________

He survived the Vikings because he was adaptable, he adopted their cultures as his own, he hated to say that he grew accustomed to them, but he did.

_____________________________

Rhys worshipped the earth for longer than his siblings had, few looked upon the ground, the leaves in the trees like he did anymore, at least what few were left were rebellious, but even then he was growing weaker, disconnect with ones people tended to do that, he did not wish to convert, he really didn't, but clinging onto the vestiges of a dying population had its effects on him, constantly tired, weak, not something that appealed to the royalty.

He was short and stout by nature, but recently he couldn't keep much food down, and it showed, he was still quite young, his voice had dropped but he hadn't grown a beard, he wasn't even close to adulthood, and he was ageing slower now, Edmund had started to catch up, all limbs, teeth and hurrying.

He was forced under the Normans, rather he gave himself in, he was too weak to continue running for too much longer, he was taken into the household, much as Edmund had been, converted, he felt empty afterwards, but he felt healthier, he put up more resistance.

He never thought he could bring himself to hate Edmund, yet he did, he did as he was told by these Frenchmen without questioning, he said it was because he lacked free will, as nations, personification, they lacked it, they were not human without free will, they were not human without the ability to die stay dead, rejoin with the Lord afterwards, they were not bound by law, nor by morals, for they had none, they had no genuine thought, only a combination of others.

He thought himself immune to human follies, though it was very visible that he wasn’t, he saw how he acted around food, one moment it was there, the next it was gone, he ate with fervour, like somebody would take it if he didn’t eat it as fast as possible, he had seen him falling asleep for seconds while standing, he rarely slept otherwise, his back was horribly burned, healing slowly, but still there from the Harrying, yet he followed around the very same people who did it to him like a well behaved dog.

Rhys didn’t understand why he didn’t even try to fight back, taking what he was given and never asking for any more, quiet and skitterish, he disliked how Edmund looked at him blankly sometimes, nothing in his gaze, no joy, no fear, no contempt, no distaste, it was not known to him how he could empty his gaze so wholly, nothing behind his eyes when he carried out orders, blank, methodical. Most of the time, the rest he saw was fear and anger, he wasn’t sure which one he preferred, though he relished in the mild look of fear he could see in Edmund’s eyes whenever he did something visibly that he was not supposed to, even something small.

Edmund was still small, though now the same height as Rhys was, he believed himself simultaneously above and below humans, above many, below only the lords and the monarch, but he could see Edmund was envious of them, envious of their life, rather, envious of their death, and recently he could feel him fraying, he had been so composed the entire time, but now he was fraying, it wasn’t visible, not just yet at least, but William was getting old, his son was not popular in England, that’s what Albion had become, nor was he very popular in Cymry, he hadn’t changed much.

They carried on doing as they did, mostly separate, he could feel discontent brewing in his own lands, dull and ever present, but not the type that he could see in Edmund, he started to do his orders wrong on accident, harried and stretched like vellum, nearly thin enough to be see through, he waited after every mild misstep like he would be executed, it hadn’t come, not just yet, though that seemed to only make it worse, the blankness he had perfected started to slip more often now, Rhys decided he liked the anger more than the fear.

With the fear he still looked like a child, his younger brother no less, not the leashed dog of the Normans that he had become, talking to nobody in particular during stress, he knew he wasn’t talking to the fey folk, he had been prohibited to do so, and the fey confirmed he hadn’t communicated in a long time, genuinely talking to nobody but his own mind, the king continued to deteriorate, now more rapidly, an accident with the saddle, he had burst his bowels, least that was what the physician said, and now he had to wait to die.

It took longer than it was supposed, 5 weeks, before he succumbed finally to his injuries, Edmund had taken to disappearing for periods of time when he was not needed, the fey informed him that he was in the woods not too far from here, always on one specific tree stump, staring at nothing in particular.

Rhys sought him out once, he knew he felt next to none of the brotherly pull Rhys had to him, if he did it was incredibly fragile and dull, Rhys had made the slightest sound, twigs cracking underfoot, Edmund leapt up from where he had curled up, tried saying in his most authoritarian voice possible, first in English, then in French “Who are you, show yourself, Coward.”

“It is not wise to insult your enemy when you do not know who it is Albion.” Only Rhys still called him that, why was he here.

Rhys didn’t miss the overwhelming look of relief on his face before it was quickly masked “Rhys, what are you doing here?”

“Seeing what you do when you go to rot in the woods, apparently nothing.”

“Yes, nothing, it is quiet here.”

Quiet wasn’t the exact word he would choose, the animals were loud, as was the wind, but it was peaceful, “Do you not speak with the fey anymore? You loved them as a child.”

Edmund stiffened “I was ordered not to; besides I do not wish to be mistaken for a changeling any longer, they already think I’m mad.”

“You do act it sometimes.”

“I do not!”

“You do speak to yourself often enough though.”

“You can hear that?”

“You think I cannot?”

He crawled back to the position he was sitting in, cloak over his eyes as he curled back up, Rhys sat next to him, he lightly poked his side, pinched it while he was at it, he was a little surprised he could grab anything at all, Edmund yelped and curled into himself further, Rhys gave a light little laugh, like the tinkling of bells “You’ve been eating well recently, you’ve filled out a little.”

He looked embarrassed for some reason “I’ve been eating too much you mean, ‘ve been stuffing myself at every chance I'm given.” He sounded mortified “I never eat this much, not a good idea to eat so much, but I'm so hungry all the time.” he pulled out the last syllable, he was whining.

“Nonsense, you are too thin still, don’t you freeze in winter?”

“A little, but if I am working, then I am warm, and the cold has no reason to bother me.”

“You are strange."

"As are you."

They sat in silence for a while, Edmund heaved himself up, hissed slightly as the material brushed his burned and blistered back, muttered to himself something foul "I need salve again."

He said louder "We should head back, lest our presence, or lack thereof is missed.”

He did have a point, neither particularly wanted to leave, yet they had to.

The king died the day afterwards, at least that was when the news came to reach them, William Rufus was crowned, both braced for the inevitable revolts, they came as expected, though Edmund noted that these revolts were less from the people, more from the nobility and clergy, William Rufus was not popular it seemed.

Only under Henry where they put to proper use. They were immortal, at least functionally, they were stronger than other boys their age, neither had yet become men, and since they could not die, their souls, if they had them, could not be judged once and if they died, nor at the Biblical judgement day, they could not suffer after death, they could do their dirty work.

They were good at it too, they understood what they were meant to do, and considering how young they looked, very few of those being tortured expected much from them, especially with the Welshman, he had soft eyes and a soft face, they expected nothing much from him, they expected more of Edmund, he had grown to be older than Rhys by this point, taller too, barely, he seemed much like a fox, eyes darting around wildly until fixed upon a victim, but he still looked frail, he could not do much.

That was often the worst thing they could make themselves believe, they showed no mercy, none at all, and the worst thing, the worst thing was having them force their eyes into yours, it could drive a mortal man insane in moments if they wished to, often they were saved just moments before their minds were shattered, information extricated from the husks of their minds, before being driven to insanity anyways, Rhys tended to drive people to inanity, the type that made them seem possessed, animalistic, crying and screaming until he finished them off slowly, he never rushed these things, slowly cutting bits and pieces of flesh off of them, never enough to kill them in one go, he had been seen tasting the flesh too, others had seen the glee on his face as he did so, it was wrong, but he couldn’t go to hell when he died anyways, they didn't have souls, they were not human, not alive precisely either.

Edmund was less surgical, he could drive people to death simply by allowing himself to feel the cracks in one's mind, finding even the smallest fissure and pulling it apart with such fervour that the mind and body collapsed unto itself, he only did that sometimes he preferred to get his hands dirty, he had perfected opening a man up through the middle, deep enough that he could see the entrails within, without killing him immediately, elbow deep in entrails, pulling open the ribs with his bare hands, the sounds of bones cracking was just lovely, he searched about the cavity, the prisoner usually died after this, some lasted longer, if they did he found their heart, lifeforce of their body, either stilled or pumping with fervour, and pulled it out, still warm, discarding it onto the floor, occasionally he took an ill-fated bite, the bites became more common, he started going for the liver too, if it wasn’t diseased he tended to eat the whole thing, raw too, there was nothing behind his eyes save for contentment after he did that.

They were both going mad, their behaviour had changed over the decades leading to the crusades, so much so that occasionally they seemed like entirely different people. Gone was a timid Edmund and a mild-mannered Rhys, the monarchy praised them, and they lived for that praise, they lived for the death of others, and they seemed perfectly fine with it, they had no morals, they never needed any, selfish and self-centred, obedient to a fault, Rhys occasionally acted up, Edmund was sent to deal with him when this happened, brutal force, and it worked well on him.

They had gone mad, no question of it, and there was nothing to be done about it now, you can lose your sanity easily, it is far more difficult to find it once it is gone, they would say it was freeing, getting rid of the shackles of sanity and normalcy of the mind, they were free, only shackled to orders and scarcely anything or anybody else, it was an interesting existence frankly, terrifying to an outside observer, but great in its own way.

_______________________

They grew to love the thrill of the kill, it was exhilarating, a feeling impossible to recreate, they loved it enough that they sought it out later, the start of a delicious spiral.

______________________

The Anarchy was terrible, everyone suffered as his people, rather his nobility turning on itself, he had felt stretched out before, obviously, but this was something else entirely, he felt not like a person, he was in places and didn’t remember how he got there, he had to support the king, it was his job, but of the found himself sabotaging his own tasks, it was frustrating, but even that passed.

The war with France went badly, he felt ill constantly, he had been sent off to fight, Rhys remained in the country, he had jobs to carry out and the like, he came back wrong, the insanity had rooted itself deeply in his mind, poisoning it and festering, it practically fed on his rational mind until scarcely anything was left, he had been sent to fight for a long time, he had seen a lot of deaths, he had caused plenty, experienced many more, had been tortured, did the torturing.

He came back berilligent and with a fondness for alcohol that bordered on illness, his hands shook if he was properly sober for too long, Rhys hadn’t been doing well either, he had picked up both of their duties, there were more incursions and invasions into his lands, trying to fully cement control over Wales, he vented out his frustrations when he was assigned to torture, he went all out then, it felt good, they were above the natural moral law “Thou shalt not kill.” that only applied to creatures favoured by the Lord, they were not, why would He create them if He wished for them not to return to His arms.

It was bullshit frankly, but he darent to say that out loud, he did as he was told, only occasionally misstepping on purpose, his people were angry too, as were the people of England, he could feel their malcontent without even being their personification, Edmund returned, Arthur now, Edmund was growing rather too old fashioned now, Arthur returned, bruised, battered and angry, and then not long after, the wars of the roses broke out.

Those finished too, Arthur often had to be wrestled, solely by Rhys into a state in which he was somewhat complacent, often he had to be filled with alcohol or he would at like a caged feral creature, Rhys had half a mind to join him, he was detached enough as it was, a little push and he would be reduced to the same as Arthur.

Arthur wasn’t the type to cry, he was too proud to do it, yet as he slept, on the off chance he did, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep, too scared that he wouldn’t wake up, he envied mortals because they could die, yet feared true death, odd, he wept in his sleep, this was worse than the Vikings, worse than the Anarchy, it lasted so much longer, so much more bloody, too many monarchs, he was exorcized a few times, it didn’t work, the priest died as soon as he entered the room, Arthur knew he shouldn’t have done that to a man of the Lord, he forced himself not to as he was bound and crossed, these servants didn’t deserve to be driven to insanity and then death.

His resolve did not hold up, the priest died, and luckily nobody, at least not for a good while, tried to kill him for witchcraft or possession or to exorcize him.

This cleared up eventually too, Henry Tudor coming out victorious, they returned to sanity, the best they could, Arthur now had more official duties, he was taught how to read and write again, he was a smart child, he had the potential for great things, taught in a monastery he fared badly, he was not cut out for the cloistered life of a monk, he was too wild for it, Rhys fared better, he could force himself to be more quiet, Arthur barely could, Rhys stayed in the monastery for longer, as soon as Arthur could read and write he was pulled out, put into official duties.

Rhys liked it, it was quiet, empty, beautiful in a queer way, stone was still, the air was slow, he could pray to the lord, whether he was up there or not.

He stayed there for a long time, came the dissolution of the monasteries, Arthur had grown, he had been forced to adapt to the court, stiff backed with a bland face, again like a glorified pet, he had gotten relatively plump, he ate all he was given, he never dared to reject any, the food was often too rich for him, he ended up vomiting a lot of it out afterwards, Rhys found it easy to tease him now, morseo than usual at least, but harder to get a rise out of him, his face was bland, his eyes held pleading, the country forcibly converted to another church, neither could do anything about it, the dissent surged again.

The ebb and flow they should have gotten used to, but they never managed to.

The new boy-king came in, he died in a blink of an eye, he was fond of Arthur and Rhys, apparently the only ones not trying to push him around, he liked discussing theology with them, looked more than a little scared when the boys of not much older than he was talked about death so casually, spoke of their contempt of the Lord, spoke about war and torture, he knew they were old, but how old always astounded him, he was nothing but a blip in their time.

Then Elizabeth, she also had a soft spot for them, Arthur had reverted back to barely restrained ferality, he was chosen to be a deckhand on Drake's rendezvous to the new world, he was more than an able seaman, he knew what he was doing, even then Rhys was worried for him, drowning was amongst the worst ways to die, especially out at open sea where he would die, come back to life, die, come back and so and so until he contacted land.

He came back with sun bleached hair that had some parts bordering on white, skin darkened by the sun and a filthier mouth than he left with, Rhys was of the more tame sort, at least relatively speaking, he was kept for the court, and he was frankly rather good at it, charming when he wanted to be, calculating at others, he was bitter, of course he was, but he had scarcely any other choice, so he played along, and frankly this wasn't as bad as it could be.

When Arthur came back the first thing Rhys did to him was fuss over him like a mother would, making sure he was indeed alright, most of Drake's crew had died after all, he admitted he had died once, not of drowning, rather of illness, which was fair, it was a small cramped place with a lot of men, it made sense, he was thinner now too, stronger though it didn't look it.

The Queen never married, never sired an heir, Arthur braced himself for a civil wat that never came, simply the monarch of Scotland, it was Scotland now, became the monarch, James I.

_______________

It was a delicate connection, but it stood the test of time more than anyone thought it would do.

_______________

Alisdair hadn't seen either of them properly in centuries, their queen died, they needed his king to be their monarch, it was an odd arrangement, but likely the only thing saving them from all out civil war, James the first of England and Wales, the Sixth of Scotland.

He didn’t know precisely what to expect when he did see them, somehow fate had separated them, and through some divine intervention surely, they would be back together as one, he could just about remember their faces, at least from when they were young, the details escaped him, but all of it was shattered when he ended up seeming them again for the first time, Albion practically looked wicked, Cymru was not too far behind, though he seemed a little more mild, Albion was scanning the crowd, but as soon as he made contact with him, Alisdair could feel the prodding of his mind against his, it felt different than it used to, less like honey, thick and cloying, but still generally benevolent, now it felt less suffocating, but stronger, now like that new laudanum that seemed to be gaining popularity medicinally, he had it once, too much really. It was overpowering and controlling but ecstatic in the maddest way possible, that is what Albion felt like right now.

Cymru seemed not to be trying, his gaze watchful and more searching than he was particularly used to, both of them were unnerving, he had had to have fought the English a lot before, but neither personification seemingly cared enough to write or communicate, they had caught glimpses at battles, but that was all, he hadn’t seen Cymru in nearly a thousand years, they were getting quite old frankly.

He forcibly broke eye contact, they would have to talk later, the crowns were unified, they were now all under one house, they met politely, Scotland’s English was bad, he managed to introduce himself as Alisdair though, they reverted to Latin, all were fluent in the language, it was the best they could do right now, they had all but forgotten the tongue they used to speak with each other, so they had to adopt another.

They finished introducing themselves, Albion was Arthur now, Cymru was Rhys and Alba was Alisdair, they all felt wrong to Alisdair, something in Rhys’ gaze was mad, he had no idea why or how, but he didn’t want to be at his mercy, more so with Arthur, his hair was still bleached for God knows what reason, he must’ve spent a lot of time at sea for it to be that way.

They were all colder to each other than they should have been, a thousand years was a long time though, all were dressed in their finest clothes, yet it felt like things were being mashed together that shouldn’t have been, very little discussion occurred on that day.

_____________________

Alisdair wasn’t sure if that was the best or worst thing to have ever happened to him.

_____________________

Alisdair thought fatherhood suited Arthur, he didn’t expect him to come back from the new world with anything, much less a child, rosy-cheeked, plump and happy even after months of being fed on nothing more than dampened ships biscuits, Arthur had already named him, Alfred, it suited him, he was the type of child that always felt heavier when you carried him no matter what you prepare yourself, like a cannonball of a baby, he had broken Rhys’ nose once, simply because he was moving too much and had hit him.

Happy in the way that he crawled about on all fours chasing insects and occasionally chasing the fae, the fae chased him back sometimes, he always had a cast iron bracelet toward them off, happy and simply all the best thing about the human constitution, Rhys missed seeing one of their kind so carefree, he was so young, still very much a babe in arms, he loved to be carried, Arthur had the arms strength to do so, Alisdair did, Rhys not so much, it always felt like his arms were being removed from their sockets.

The kid was strong that was for sure, but he was still a child, a fragile one at that, Rhys had never seen Arthur care about anything as much as he cared for this child, he cared for himself less than he did for this child, he was never scared for his own life no matter what was happening than he was when Alfred was sick, he got fevers that spiked so high he would start moving like a possessed thing, Rhys hadn’t seen Arthur pray in earnest for centuries, he found him crying over his cradle once after a particularly bad episode, praying to whoever would listen, he never believed in a benevolent God, yet he was still trying, and he hadn’t the heart to interrupt him.

He was a happy child, burned hot as the sun.

Their stance as personifications had faded into myth at this point, only the monarch knew what they were, no longer were they part of the royal household, there was suspicion that they were witches, they aged slowly, 3 men and a child living alone, they all did have their jobs, Arthur was in the navy, Rhys had an apprenticeship as a baker and Alisdair in the masons Alfred, once he was old enough, was left home often, Rhys stayed with him the longest, Arthur was out at sea more often than not and Alisdair was busy.

One day he was just gone, no trace of him, Rhys usually heard childish noises of delight when he came home, usually because he brought bread, and he was always hungry, Arthur had come only yesterday from his latest voyage, immediately fell asleep, he wasn’t even drunk, just bone dead exhausted, he didn’t find Arthur in his bed.

Rhys understandably panicked, he checked the orchards, he checked wherever he had found Alfred before, but he wasn’t there, Arthur could be anywhere, maybe he had Alfred, something told him that was not the case.

Burning was perhaps the most painful way to die, save for drowning, especially their kind, their flesh burned but it regenerated, constantly, constantly, until the fire grew hot enough that they couldn’t keep up.

Alisdair had gone to see what all the kerfuffle was about, he saw Alfred tied to a stake, Arthur next to him, the former was crying, of course he was, dying for the first time could never be rivalled in how much it hurt, Arthur had burned before, he wasn’t worried about himself, he couldn’t see Alfred crying, the ropes were thick ropes, the type used for rigging in ships, this was not the normal rope they used, blessed, Arthur could feel it burning against his skin, while he wasn’t fae, cast iron still burned them, his penance for being so far from God he supposed.

The fire was lit, Alfred screamed and screamed and screamed, Arthur resigned to his fate, it wasn’t as bad if he didn’t struggle, as the fire caught hold of them, Rhys showed up, Alisdair was watching in shocked silence “DO SOMETHING ALISDAIR!”

Alisdair sounded numb “What can we do. We will be burned alongside.”

It took longer for both to die than expected, Alred wailed and cried even as his throat practically was full of flame, he spat them out and screamed, Arthur barely moved, he had done this before, he could feel his flesh burning off and being replaced anew, an odd feeling, he screamed near the need, he knew he couldn’t keep this up longer, someone went mad as he screamed, jumped into the flames themself, Alfred had passed now, he was close to, Rhys held his head in his hands, Arthur was practically flaying his mind right now, another went mad, started attacking the crowd with her teeth and fists, eyes leaking black blood and teeth falling out as Arthur controlled her, she died too, Arthur collapsed on the fire, one last push, telling Alisdair and Rhys to run, and they did.

Rhys loved fire, even now he was enraptured, he just wanted to stare, it might’ve been his brother, but it was just so pretty, Alisdair grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his reverie, he wanted to stay, watch, Alfred’s screams were in his ears but he couldn’t care less, it was beautiful, it was fire!

He died, there was no doubt that they were witches now, Rhys and Alisdair ran, they would be burned next if they stayed.

__________________

Alfred barely remembered this, he was so small, he had blocked it from memory, he didn’t remember hiding in forests and finding another town, he didn’t remember how scared he was if he wasn’t in somebody's arms, and he would have like to keep it that way

_________________

The revolution hit Arthur harder than any of them thought it should have done, Rhys bore the brunt of it, Arthur was now the oldest out of them, Rhys the youngest, Alasdair was more focused on the French bastard child that Arthur had acquired, the child was small and scared, obedient to a fault, Matthieu, it reminded him painfully of when Arthur was small, and while now he was beriligent, often drunk and angry, or quiet and focused to a painful degree, the quiet obedience scared him, he didn’t want Matthew to turn out like that.

Matthew was clingy if given the chance, Arthur eyed him with an odd mix of contempt and...guilt, that was very clearly guilt, he was physically at least not more than 10 years younger than Rhys, he was old enough to look after himself, in theory, he was the type to silently sit in a corner with a crust of bread and not speak even if a dog was ripping his leg to shreds, more than once had shown up and fallen asleep on Alisdair’s or Rhys’ bed with them, or sitting in Arthurs study in silence just to make sure someone else was indeed there, Arthur usually knew when he was there, told him to go to bed, these were some of the few times he didn’t listen.

Arthur put him to bed himself in such instances, they were rare, but they did happen, he usually wanted to hurt Francis, but this was something else, why was his child like this, what did he do to him, he mustn't be too good of a parent if Alfred fought to leave, but he was, at least relatively, he was normal, not with the fear of the Lord that Matthew had.

He liked Alisdair the most, called him uncle Alisdair, which felt like it aged him a decade, fuck he wasn’t that old, Matthew liked sitting with Alisdair when he was in the family house, they had taken the family name of Kirkland, no one could remember their original family name, it was an age ago really, the kid didn’t know how to read, barely knew his letters at the age of what must be 7 or 8, that was bad, the combination of the three taught him his letters, they couldn’t afford a governess at this time, the revolutionary war, and the 7 years' war before that had been quite the drain on their coffers, and they preferred not to have staff over, save for a washerwoman twice a week and a cook

They barely had any reading materials for his age, Alisdair had a lot of books about plants and mechanics that he barely understood, the best they could do was the Catechism, but he learnt his letters eventually, he learned when he had to hide from each of them, he knew to hide from father when he smelled like sweet smoke, liquor and a whorehouse, Uncle Alisdair when he smelt of cheap gin and damp, Uncle Rhys when he smelled like wood smoke and blood, he had to learn, he picked up on their painfully suppressed tics and behaviours, a particular look in Arthurs eyes could spell the difference between a harsh shutdown and a soft cuddle, even if that look was barely different from any other.

A particular way in the way Uncle Rhys held himself, lax or stiff, spelt the way that he might not be welcome in his bed that night, the way that Uncle Alisdair’s voice sometimes went dangerously soft that showed that finding blood on the floorboards the next day should not be surprising, and finding Father deathly pale on the settee should be expected, little details, the little things kept Matthew safe, and warm, curling up in the library near the anaemic fire that they kept in there to stop the books moulding when he was shooed away from the roaring kitchen fire. He treaded on eggshells, but he was noticed as a person, the lesser of a couple evils.

Like Arthur as he grew it was clear he was mostly arm and leg, he was taller than Rhys and the same height as Arthur by 1820, Alfred had tried to invade a couple years prior, he understood why Rhys loved watching fire burn, untamed and wild, powerful, Matthew wished he could be like that, he was closer to the snow that coated his country, fragile, pretty and cold, cold can kill too, he liked Alfred, normally he did, but it was nice to have him get what was coming to him, older than Matthew, taller and certainly sturdier, it was nice to see him missing a limb or three, Arthur wasn’t even disgusted, he had done the same to so many, he had done it to Alisdair at some point, he had done it to practically half of Europe by this point, he was proud.

Alfred didn’t want to be so hardy; he didn’t want to be alive to see his brother dismembering him, it hurt, fuck, it hurt, he looked mad, “Y-you're insane!” It fell on deaf ears, he heard little twittering voices sometimes, this sounded like one of them, he paid no mind to it, father had told him not to listen to the voices, and it made sense, so he didn’t.

Fire, blood, he understood why Rhys liked it so much, it was a bit of an odd thing to realise, but he did understand.

The rest of the 1810s had gone in a haze, Father was practically never available, Jack was clingy and practically impossible to control, Eleanor was still too small to be much of a problem, Aunt Brighid stayed as far away from the rest of them as she could, for good reason, Matthew was pretty sure father hadn’t even noticed, too busy, rushing around, twitchy and most certainly going through cocaine like a snowplough, busy, busy, busy, Alisdair too, always busy, practically never home, always somewhere in Glasgow or Edinburgh, maybe abroad, personally Matthew didn’t mind too much, there was always someone at odds when all were at home at once.

Rhys was home the most often, but even that was rare enough, Eleanor and Jack both had a governess, father was of the opinion that she must be taught the same as Jack, that “She must receive a prime education for a young woman in the contemporary era, she will not be taken seriously otherwise.” and to her credit, despite being younger, she was a fast learner, faster than Jack by any account, and he was a bright boy, just with an incapability to sit still.

She was scary in an odd way, she gave Alisdair heart attacks in the same way that Matthew used to, sitting in the rafters with a book with large eyes staring down at him like an odd owl, one pair blue, nearly purple, and one pair grass green, Matthew liked her, as did Jack, that boy was practically sunshine personified, his memory was utter shit and he had moments of manic disobedient violence, but generally he was practically the sweetest child the world had seen. He practically channelled the sun when he smiled, gap toothed and ruddy, he didn’t deserve to be in such a family, he liked being hugged, the only one who would hug him was Eleanor and even that wasn’t a given. He didn’t deserve this, he deserved so much better, what cruel trick was the Lord playing to make him one of them, immortal, he would slowly be worn done and Matthew did not want to see that.

It should be said that Alasdair never wanted to see Matthew as worn as he had gotten, but it was par for the course for them, they scarcely had a choice in this matter.

Napoleon defeated for the second time returned some semblance of normalcy, Father had started coming back sober and normal-looking, less likely to shout or immediately retire to his study for the foreseeable future, not very often, but more often than before, Eleanor regarded him coldly, which even he didn’t seem to mind very much, it was fair, nothing more could be said about it, but she did eventually warm up a little to him, Alisdair took the piss out of him often, he had apparently started to grey, Matthew thought it pretty par for the course, he was nearly 2000 by this point, he was unaware that Father was the youngest by quite a good margin, Rhys was a good century older than him, Alisdair even more so, yet oddly enough, physically speaking father looked significantly older than Rhys, frown lines, crows feet and grey hairs, and frankly speaking Alisdair wasn’t that far behind, he was dependant on his spectacles to read.

More nations added under the belt of the mother nation, the glorious British Athena was certainly a better personification, one that people could die for, than who it actually was, mechanical and without freedom of thought, starting to age and practically empty without orders, an echo chamber if you would.

When he had no orders, Father often would barely do anything, he usually did have orders, but on the off chance that he didn’t, he seemed not to know what to do with himself, nearly to a frightening degree, Alisdair and Rhys were only marginally better, how long had they been under orders to have completely lost freedom of thought. How long did it take to no longer have a sense of self strong enough to know what to do with oneself if not told what to do. A frightening concept, Matthew didn’t want the same to happen to him over the centuries, he was mostly obedient, yes, but he did know what he could do if he chose to disobey, he doubted they did. How long did it take, he feared it happening to him at some point.

The unification of the many German states sent shockwaves throughout the continent; Matthew wouldn’t have given half a flying fuck if it wasn’t for how paranoid father had been growing. Odd, but questioning it would always be worse.

Jack and Eleanor were old enough to go to a boarding school, Jack came back frightened and beaten, Eleanor came back much better off, shrewd as usual, bitter that she was not allowed to get a proper degree, but oddly lonely, Matthew recognised that look, she had gotten attached to a human, and then the human likely died,, they had all experienced it, they had been warned, but they never learned did they. Jack was quiet, his schooling seemed to not have gone very well, father frankly seemed not to care that he was beaten and belittled, he got a good education and practically it made sense, at least to him, sticks and stones could break bones, but they could heal that without much hassle.

Matthew didn’t oft see red, anger, hot anger especially wasn’t his forte, yet if feelings could kill Arthur would commit mass murder through sheer apathy alone, he did not frankly care, he practically tore his throat out shouting, for a moment he saw fear, half a second if that, fear quickly bred anger, Jack and Eleanor had hidden somewhere, or out in the grounds, they never wanted to hear the fight, Jack hated that it was happening because of him.

It simmered for a good long while afterwards, Matthew could hold a grudge, Arthur still did not honestly understand the problem, but he left it, he had better things to be doing than dealing with whatever this was, he was not used to being challenged anymore, the first and foremost empire of the world now, he was rarely challenged, let alone by his own children, Matthew was simply being odd, had gotten too big for his britches so to speak, he would deal with that later, he had orders to complete right about now.

_________________

Matthew regretted he had a lot of regrets for his relatively short life. One of the things he regretted the most was not killing father at least once during peacetime, he knew he would face the consequences, but occasionally patricide was the best course of action.

_________________

There was a lot to be said about the first world war, and the Second, too much, so I shan’t, what you need to know is that a nation's mind tends to grow a little befuddled over long periods of conflict, and by far were these the deadliest conflicts anyone had seen, this wasn’t a dull ache, it wasn’t a slow poison for the mind, sharp, quick and angry, easily drove mortal men to madness, to a nation it was worse, the youngers had never experienced very much of war, this being a first experience was not particularly good, the nascent personification of Germany had never fought any war before, before being thrust into the two most deadly wars of history in practically everyone's living memory. It frayed them, stretched a couple to madness, Matthew being one of the latter, though relatively speaking, his thread was a lot thinner than most his age was, why that was the case was mostly the fault of Arthur and Francis.

For older ones, it snapped what little thread was holding their humanity, their sanity, their rationality, and their body together, they all did odd things after the war, America and Russia, started another war, cold, not direct, the old empires were fading, all clutched to their power with a white knuckle grip, they had gotten used to having power, unused to being challenged, Arthur didn’t want to be upstaged by his own progeny, but he as a person was too practically unstable to do very much about it, cities were still bombed out, he was missing people, running out of money, colonies were vying for independence, all rational thinking shut down, too much happening for the logic that frankly had only started to come about in the last 2 centuries to remain, reverting to a more animalistic existence, at least for now, until he mind stabilized.

Alisdair was considered the safest right now, the child Northern Ireland was sent to stay with him, Connor, he didn’t know exactly why he couldn’t see Arthur or Rhys right now, whenever he asked all he was met with was a stare that went through him instead of on him “You do not want to know Connor, you really do not.”

Alisdair did not know exactly what he was doing, he did find himself far from home on occasion, but he generally stayed in the vicinity, he would normally wander farther, but held by what must have only been duty towards Connor, had he never wandered too far in his empty minded, tipsy hazes, he could have gone far, he was known to wander.

He needed to stop doing this, he needed to stop drinking so much before bed.

He counted himself lucky that he hadn’t found himself elbow deep in entrails yet, he had done that before, it was never a pretty experience to have to go and hide the body afterwards, nor was it particularly quick either, he counted himself lucky that he was mostly sane right about now.

Arthur and Rhys were not, Arthur couldn’t remember a lot of the year after the second world war, not much at all, Rhys could, and he relished in it, they rarely did this, but their thirst for blood had to be quenched before it got any worse, the lesser of a couple evils, no one would miss just one person, especially now, so many had lost family members that stealing a person off the street could not have been reported as anything, good, dead of night. Rhys looked far less suspicious than Arthur, younger and still with a soft baby-faced look that spoke nothing of his intentions, a crowbar to the head, and he was out.

The man, who fucking knew who he was, they certainly didn’t and didn’t particularly care either, he just had to fulfil their needs and nothing else, he couldn’t remember who he was by the end of it either, woozy as if drunk, tied down to...something seemed to be a bed, he couldn’t remember any faces, only the smallest snippets of voices, he remembered a lot of food, too much food, more food than he had eaten in his life prior, sickly sweet puddings and food too rich for him, he wasn��t allowed to vomit it up, when he tried there was always a punishment, or he was forced to swallow it, where did they have so much money for so much food, the bonds started to cut into his sagging flesh, he couldn’t move, he had been tied up for too long, how long had it been?

Occasionally he could feel himself going mad when one of them entered the room, he could tell there were two of them, at least, they had different voices, one was higher and painfully sickly, the other was terrifying, he didn’t want to do what they told him, he couldn’t remember how they told him, they were in his mind, his body wasn’t his own at times like these, he felt both wonderful and terrible after they left, so empty, he could be used for anything and h wouldn’t mind, mind blank and empty, slow as molasses, he liked molasses, and honey, sweet was it, going mad was a strong word for it he decided, going mad was a bad thing, all he felt when they came was obedience, not even borne out of fear, completely obedient, he didn’t want to think for himself eve if he could, Rhys lowered the amount of drugs given to him dramatically, to see how he was like when on his own mind, he was practically the same, Arthur had done a very good job of breaking into his mind, filling it with sweet nothings, blind obedience, lack of feeling connected to the physical body, Arthur was good at this, he gave no mind to the complicated little scenario Rhys was doing right now, he was getting impatient, but even Athur could be bribed quite easily if you knew how, and Rhys certainly did, Rhys was more interested in before the death, Arthur more interested in during, the man had a soft spot for the human body, he liked to see what was inside it, cadavers could only do so much, yellowed and mummified practically, not how the human body truthfully worked, or rather stopped.

“Patience is a virture Arthur.”

“Rhys we wouldn’t know what a virture was if it bit us in the ass, how much longer are you going to take?”

“Not much longer, he is scarcely human, we need to wait for the rest of it to go, then we can, I swear.”

Arthur had a lot more to do than Rhys, he still had to deal with increasingly finicky international relations, he often came back stressed to the point of violence, their victim bore the brunt of it, Arthur afterwards made sure none of the lacerations would get infected, that would simply just be a waste of good meat, no one would eat infected meat, bullshit, the man scarcely noticed that he was being bled, he couldn’t think straight, or at all frankly, he hadn't noticed his eyes were no longer in their sockets, he could scarcely see before always.

Gone.

No one would miss him, slow cooked was best for such fatty meat, though first Rhys let Arthur play around a bit with the corpse, there was a lot of flesh to get through, and the organs frankly were all shrivelled due to deficiency, the food was rich but not particularly nutritious, the min was physically mush, there was no shape to it, the way he was killed perhaps had something to do with it, Arthur had not been prior aware that it actually liquidized the brain, frankly it was interesting, but he would not look into it too closely right about now, this was not the time, he tasted good when cooked and seasoned correctly.

Alisdair could only wish he didn’t know what was happening, he vaguely knew, he wanted to know no deeper, why were they like this, Alfred had stumbled in Lord Father's footsteps now enough that Alisdair was seeing the similarities and he hated it, he hated this all, Matthew had disappeared off into the woods for too long before he came back little of his well-formed humanity intact, Brighid had distanced herself, she was independent now so she had all reason to, he was left with Connor, he would have easily gone mad as everyone else had had it not been for him.

“Connor, go to sleep.”

“’M cold.”

“Come here.” He climbed onto his lap, he was still small, only about 5 or 6, he was the thing keeping Alisdair sane right now, and he would like to keep it that way, he had fallen asleep not 2 minutes after he lay down on Alisdair, who fell asleep on the armchair not too much longer after that. This was nice, good.

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