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kyluff · 11 months ago

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— ↺ Baby Daddies

✎ gojo + geto + nanami + toji + choso x reader !

✦ summary ➠ some jjk men finding out they are going to be a daddy.

✦ warnings ➠ pregnancy (duh), swearing, mentions of sex

✦ note ➠ Also ps the gojo one is kinda cringe ngl but whatever kinda cute, my fave is the Nanami one I think.

✪ Satoru Gojo

— Gojo had been lounging around on your shared bed the whole day. It was one of his odd days off, so he chose to spend it being lazy.

As he was living carefree and innocently, you had just found out you were pregnant. Not that this should be a surprise.

Sure, your period being very late and the puking in the morning should’ve been enough of a sign that you were pregnant. But you didn’t actually think you were pregnant, pregnant.

But that was the reality you faced now in the bathroom of your master bedroom. You knew you couldn’t hide anything from your frost haired boyfriend for too long, so mays well fess up about it quickly.

You took the positive stick with you as you made your way to the room that was connected and that held Gojo. You weren’t too scared to tell him, because he always made it annoyingly obvious to you that he wanted a baby with you. Every minute he got he would make a comment about how nice it would be to have a child running around, how cute you’d look with your stomach swollen, how tiny baby clothes were and he told you how he envisioned his future child in them.

So no, you didn’t feel much fear. As for you thoughts on the predicament, you also had wanted a kid. Though you didn’t make your opinion as aware as he did, you still wanted to have one some day, and that day was this one it seemed.

You waltzed up to him, throwing the stick onto his exposed chest. “Looks like you got what you wanted.”

He threw a confused look your way. “Huh?” He let out the sound, but it died out as he held the object thrown at him and saw what it actually was. “You’re pregnant?!”

You only nodded, readying yourself for whatever celebration that was going to happen soon. Just as you expected, he sprung up and attached onto you to bring you down onto the bed with him.

“Yes! Yes! This is perfect. Thank you,” He planted so many quick kissed onto you face that they interrupted his sentence formation. “Thank you, thank you.”

“You should thank yourself for this, you are the one who always chooses to come inside.” You remarked jokingly, also wrapping your arms around him.

✪ Suguru Geto

— You sat nervously on the bed that was wrapped in white, thin paper to ensure it was clean for any patient that had to use it. And that patient was you. You gripped your husbands hand harder, looking to find comfort in his eyes.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright.” He smiled and brought your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “We get so see her this time, isn’t that exciting?”

He used ‘her’ to refer to the growing babe in your stomach, but you didn’t truly know the sex of them just yet. He just hoped for a baby girl, hence the use of the pronoun.

Today was your first official appointment at the doctors that you would actually see your baby. You were both feeling so many emotions right now. You were both excited as well as frightened at the same time. You would be able to see your bundle of joy, but there was also a possibility of the fetus having something wrong with them, like a illness.

The door opened and your doctor entered. “Hello, I’ll be helping you for today. My name is D/n, pleasure to meet you.” She thrusted her hand towards your husband, then you as well.

“To begin, we’re just going to start with you Miss mommy. We will perform some basic health checks, your levels and such. How does that sound?” She was very sweet, always making sure to ask if you were ok to proceed.

“Sounds perfect.” Your husband responded for you politely. You added in a nod too.

“Now, let’s move on to what you’ve both been waiting for.” After your procedure was done, it was time for your baby’s turn. “I’m going to perform a ultrasound, you’ll be able to literally see your baby through this! All parents are overjoyed about their first ultrasound.”

“I’d say I’m more anxious, actually.” You muttered, you didn’t want to be a killjoy but how could you not? There was a big step between knowing you’re pregnant and watching your belly grow and actually seeing your baby.

“And that is completely normal! Many say the same too, if you are worried then that is just a sign you are going to be a caring mother.” She had a perfect response for everything. She must’ve been use to all of this already. “Now, I will warn you that the gel is quite cold, but that’s the worst that’s going to happen for this step.”

“Before I start, I ask all my patients if they would like to know the gender.” You both would definitely like to know, since Geto was so keen on it being a little girl.

“Yes please, my husband wants it to be a girl you see.” You informed D/n.

“And as for you? What would you like the gender to be?” She asked you this time.

“My wife doesn’t care much either way. She almost always corrects me when I say our baby is a girl.” Geto sent a look of admiration your way. Everyone took a moment to chuckle, once the moment was over you decided it was time to get it over with.

“Let’s do this, then.” You let it out as a breath. “You ready, Suguru?”

“Not really, are you?” He was joking, half joking at least.

“Not at all.” You responded, letting the man kiss your hand again.

The professional spread the gel all over the surface of your rounded stomach. Once it was to her liking, she turned on the machine and grabbed the device that had the sensor on the end of it. “Let’s see your baby!”

Except it wasn’t just a ‘baby’ the correct term would be ‘babies’ because there’s was two. “Oh, how lovely, you will be having twins it seems.”

Twins? You thought, what would Suguru think about this. So you tilted your head to your husband that was eagerly sitting beside you on his chair. He was in his own world, not noticing you were even looking at him. He eyes were stuck on the screen that showcased the little white and grey blurbs that were your babies.

“And it seems your husband was right about the gender, they’re both healthy, baby girls!” She cheered, continuously moving the wand around your stomach to get new angles.

“You see, I was right!” He pointed out, shimmying closer to your body that was laying down still.

“How do you feel about finding out it’s twins?” You couldn’t help but ask him, anticipating his response.

“I feel that whatever those results would have shown, I would still love you just the same.” He hummed, bringing his hand to your face and brushing your hair out of your face to lay a kiss on your forehead. “I might even love you more.”

✪ Kento Nanami

— Nanami had been at the grocery store, he had to purchase a long list of things. The list contained many things like milk, batteries, lettuce, a pregnancy test or two. Normal things.

Except, this was not normal of course. Nanami especially did not feel normal as of right now, he felt on edge ever since he received the text from you to add a pregnancy test to the grocery list. His phone almost fell right out of his hands at the store when he read it.

And now he was home finally.

You heard his car pull up earlier, so you were already there to meet him at the door once he came through. There was a awkward pause when he laid eyes on you. You didn’t know what to do, you just texted him out of the blue that you needed a pregnancy test. That could only mean one thing, that you were pregnant, or at least there was a possibility of it.

He dropped the bags that he held at the door way of your house where he stood. He quickly sped walk towards you, slightly leaning down to match your height. He brought his hands up to cup your face, he didn’t do anything now, just stare into your eyes. You looked into each others soul, relishing in this intimate moment together.

“You think you’re pregnant?” He asked in a soft voice as not to ruin the moment. You sighed but nodded still.

At this, he closed the gap between your lips and left a intense kiss on them. He pulled back but not too far, wanting to stay as close as he could to you right now.

“Alright.” Is what he said before he left you to return to the previously held bags. He searched through them to find the box that held the stick you needed.

He came back to where you still stood, placing the said box in one of your hands and taking the other in his to hold. “Let’s go the washroom, together.”

You nodded again, following the man that held your hand now. Together, you thought. That single word made you feel warm, it made you feel not so alone in this whole situation.

He opened the door that lead to your bathroom, stilling and letting you in so you could pee on the test in privacy. But you didn’t want that. “Can you stay?” You waited a moment. “Please?”

“Of course.” He kissed you cheek. You sat on the toilet, taking time to just stare at the unopened test before you. Nanami picked up on this, gently taking the box out of your hands and opening the package himself. He gave it back to you now, he hoped that this would send a message to you, that he was there for you no matter what.

You did your thing, peeing on the stick finally. You pulled it back up from underneath you, looking up at Nanami again. “Now we just wait, I guess.”

And wait you did, anxiously to say the least. You had now changed positions. You sat on the counter of the sink, in between your boyfriends legs while he stood. He had been spitting encouraging and comforting words while also rubbing soothing circles on your legs and back. Anything to pass the time and bring you consolation.

The amount of time that was needed had passed. Now it was time to look at the results.

You went to grab the stick but before you could, Nanami grabbed your hand to halt you. “I want you to know that now matter what it says, I’ll still love and support you, ok?”

“Ok.” You smiled up at the blonde, he always knew how to calm you down. He then let go of you so that you could continue with your pursuit of finding out the results.

You flipped the stick over and there it was, two lines that meant you were pregnant. You let a shaky breath out, not sure how to react to this. You looked at Nanami to see how he was handling this, fairly well it seemed. He had a small smile on his face and his eyes looked almost watery.

He took the test away from you, tracing the two lines that went downwards on the tiny screen. He dropped the stick back onto the surface, wrapping his hands around the back of your neck to bring you in for a big, celebratory kiss.

“I am honoured to be able to have a child with you, Y/n.”

✪ Toji Fushiguro

— The black haired man let out a yawn as he rested his feet on the row of benches in front of him. He had his arms stretched across the seats on either side of him too, completely relaxed in his current state. He was watching the boat race today.

This was his favourite hobby by far, he could just laze around the stadium all day and possibly win some money, though he seemed to have bad luck and lose most of it. He didn’t care though, because gambling put him in a good mood, nothing could bring him down. Then his annoying phone ringer went off, signalling someone was calling you. Now that, that could bring him down.

The race was set to start soon, any minute now even. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, your contact lit up the screen. He sighed, there was two minutes left until the boats started racing, he could spare one call with you.

“What, woman?” He drawled out with annoyance evident in his voice. Could you have called at a worse time? He thought internally.

“Get home, now.” Is all he heard on his side of the line before the call was ended by you. Who does she think she is, hanging up on me like that? And only saying three words! Even though he protested in his mind, he got up none the less and made his way to your shared apartment.

After you had ended that call, you immediately felt a wave of anxiety wash through your body. You were in the bathroom on the toilet, positive pregnancy test in hand.

You shouldn’t be surprised really, ever since the two of you started this relationship Toji insisted on having sex without a condom. Now you were forced to face the consequences to your actions, well Toji’s actions really.

You stood up, deciding you should get ready for your boyfriends arrival.

Once Toji arrived, he was met with your figure sitting at the kitchen table. You had your elbows rested on the surface and your hands covering your head. You looked distressed.

He walked up to you, kicking the chair leg you sat on. “What’s up with you? The race was just about to start too and then you had to go and call me all the way over here.”

You didn’t respond verbally, only pulling out a little stick and slamming it on the table in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow, picking the unknown object up and inspecting it. Oh shit, he thought. And that’s what he said out loud too. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit? That’s all you have to say, really?!” You were starting to get angry now, what kind of response is that to such important news.

“What do you want me to say?” He asked, this was a genuine question. He wanted to know what you wished for as a response, did you want to keep it? Or didn’t you? He needed to know.

“I want you to say,” You breathed in. “I want you to say you’re happy, to say you’re happy to have a baby with me.” You whispered.

He wasn’t the best with sharing his emotions, you know this, but he showed it now in his own way. He dropped down to his knees in front of your chair, grabbing each of your hands and bringing them to his lips.

“I wanna have a baby with you.” He mumbled against your hands and kissed them.

✪ Choso Kamo

— Choso sat on the couch while watching the tv play in the living room. The two of you had cooked up some breakfast, it was early in the morning, but it was the weekend so you both could just relax and spend time doing what you want.

You were doing your morning routine in the bathroom, or at least that’s what Choso was told you were up to. Instead, you were nervously awaiting for the results of the second pregnancy test you had used. The first one was positive, so if this one was too, then it had to mean you were pregnant for sure.

You knew Choso had wanted a child ever since you met, he had told you almost every time you fucked. But for some reason, you still felt scared for his reaction once you told him.

Choso, finished his breakfast by now, had begun to feel worried. You have been in there for quite some time now, too long for your usual routine, and he knew how long you usually took. He had witnessed it almost every morning for the past two years. Plus he had to use the bathroom anyway, so he decided to go to you.

He placed his bowl in the sink, wiped his hands and went to go see what was taking you so long. Once he reached the door, he knocked on it. “Hey, Y/n. Everything alright in there?”

Your heart stopped, the white sticks almost dropping from your hands. “Uhm, ya! Almost done!”

“Can I come in, I have to pee really bad.” He giggled, gripping the doorframe in an attempt to hold his piss in.

You let a breath out, trying to ground yourself. This is Chose we’re talking about, he’s wanted a baby forever, and he loves you. He’ll be ok with it, you told your self. You threw one of the tests in the garbage and kept the other, holding it behind your back.

“Sorry, I lost track of time.” You said as you opened the door, allowing your boyfriend to come in.

“It’s fine.” He rushed past you, not without laying a kiss on your cheek though. He placed himself in front of the toilet, ready to unzip his pants, but stopped as he looked your way. You looked suspicious, you were standing by the sink and staring at him. The most interesting fact was that you had your hands behind your back, like you were hiding something.

He stopped in his tracks and came closer to you. “What you got back there?”

“This.” You said when you shoved the test into his chest. You had a smile on even though you were afraid, but you knew Choso would be excited. “You’re going to be a daddy, Choso.”

He brought the stick to his face, he was surprised to say the least, but a good kind of surprise. He had wanted this with you for a long time.

He grabbed you, picking you up and flinging you around in celebration. “I’m going to be a dad!” He laughed out.

“And I’m going to be a mom!” You laughed along with him. Placing kisses all over each other’s faces.

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finn-writes-stuff · 9 months ago

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Hello! Can you write for Gale, Astarion and Halsin's reaction to tav wearing the wavemothers robe? Nsfw please😳

An Intricate Jewel

Tales tell of a most wondrous fish, scales resplendent, an intricate jewel that shone beneath the sea. When it died, the Wavemother gifted its hide as a robe to her most devoted follower - and demanded she drown the sailors that killed her gem-bright fish. - Item Description

Halsin, Gale & Astarion x Reader

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Format: Headcanons

Gender Neutral Reader

Masterlist

I haven't actually gotten to this robe in my own playthrough yet, but I've seen plenty of it online lmao. This one isn't fully nsfw but it's spicy. -Finn

Halsin

"Oh. You look stunning, my heart."

He is openly admiring you any chance he gets. It is shameless because why would he be ashamed of looking at you? Of admiring all of nature's bounty before him.

He's handsy if you allow it, holding onto your hips where the slits of the dress show off your skin. Pressing kisses to the back of your neck just over the collar. Halsin always loves getting to see more of your skin, and this dress is certainly showing it off.

In general, he is a big believer in wearing whatever you want and enjoying it. He's hardly going to get jealous about others getting to admire you, so long as he's allowed to look as much as he pleases as well.

Even better, when you still have water clinging too you after being healed, dripping down your skin and making the dress cling even tighter.

You'll have him pressed up to your back to murmur in your ear about what he would like to do to you the moment you can both slip away.

And once you get the chance, he'll be between your thighs with the skirt pushed up around your hips. And you'll get to see just how long he can gold off before tearing the dress off of you completely.

Gale

"Oh! Yes, well, um, you look lovely! That sure does, well, show off your figure. Hmm. Yes."

This man is bright red and cannot look away from you. Yes, he can be blatant in his own flirting, but you make his brain shut down sometimes. And in this dress? Oh Gods

He is trying so incredibly hard to be a gentleman. He is NOT staring at your legs or the cut out in the back of the dress or how much it reveals of your chest or the way it clings to you as close as he wants to be. He is definitely not thinking about any of that. He missed his spell for unrelated reasons.

Show off in front of him, put yourself in his line of sight constantly. He will be going insane trying to stay polite and focused. And it's always a fun game to see if you can make him trail off in the middle of a monologue about magic.

Gale will spend an entire day suffering and watching you and trying not to say anything about it, but the moment the party breaks camp, he is dragging you into his tent to show you just how much he likes this dress on you.

You've left him so pent up after the whole day. He can't get enough of you, touching and grabbing and kissing you like you're the air he needs to survive.

The dress stays on until he's made sure you are both fully sated for the night. And he swears that if you wear it again he won't be so patient.

And if he's going to make a promise like that, he shouldn't be surprised when you wear it the next day.

Astarion

"Ohoho, please do say you're all dressed up for me, love."

He thinks this is delightful and would do the same thing if he could find something flattering enough.

Trying to tease him with it? No, that's his game. He's teasing you by letting his hands just barely touch you, appearing behind you to whisper in your ear about how delectable you look. Then slipping away before you can say anything back.

If he's noticing anyone else paying you too much attention, he'll make fun of them for it, but he's also likely to stick closer to your side, his arm around your waist. Showing the world that you're his.

He's the least worked up about the dress, but he likes it when you still stay by his side regardless of how much attention it gets you. He's just as much yours as you are his, and he'll be more than willing to reward you for being such a sweet thing all day.

He wants to see the way the fabric presses into your skin when you arch your back and let him sink his teeth into your neck.

#finnwrites #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 #halsin x reader #halsin #halsin silverbough #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale of waterdeep x reader #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion acunin x reader #headcanons

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alpaca-clouds · 9 days ago

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Arcane Season 2 - How Bad Pacing Can Ruin Everything

So, Arcane season 2 ended. And I am sorry, I need to vent.

I am honestly not sure whether the rumors are true and this were originally meant to be more seasons. The Riot CEO apparently denies it, but then again, I have seen CEOs confidently go out on stages to talk about a project which they knew was cancelled at that point in time. So, sorry, but I will never ever trust a CEO. Lying is like 50% of their jobs. Being greedy is the other half. Sorry, not sorry.

I am gonna write something about disability in Arcane (overall) during the next few days, but let me just talk a bit about the pacing issues of season 2.

Spoilers for season 2 - all of it - obviously.

Believe me or not, but I know the exact issue of Arcane season 2. It is called: Too many characters. Too many plotlines. It is something that easily happens when writing an ensemble story (no matter what the format is you publish the story in - it happens in books, movies, shows, games). At times it works fine if you manage to weave the entire ensemble into the same main plot. But as soon as you wanna give everyone their own little storyarc with a bit of their own themes, it often goes haywire. Either you will end up dropping some characters to the side and not properly finish up their story, or you will end up rushing everything. Neither is gonna be good.

Here I am mainly thinking... Was the entire Black Rose/LaBlanc stuff planned to be there from the beginning? Was it put in later? I mean, given that the entire story felt like it might set up Mel as a Champion for LoL... How do I put it? Mel was too overdesigned in the show, to not be a future Champion. That was my feeling from the beginning. I don't know if they gonna make her a Champion, but man, it feels like it.

But no, the main issue really is the pacing. There is just too much stuff happening.

I will remain, that the thing that shows this better than anything was the second "arc" of season 2. Episode 4-6. And the general way the entire Caitlyn, Vi, Jinx thing plays out. We have the following things happen in the first six episodes of season 2:

Cait's mother dies

Cait swears revenge and asks Vi to assist her as an enforcer

Vi does not want to. Ends up getting drunk.

Vi decides to do it anyway.

They do a bit of chemical warfare for good measures.

They go down there. Fight Jinx. Vi cannot do it - partly because Isha.

Cait breaks up with Vi and becomes the evil fascist dictator

Vi becomes an alcohol addict.

Except, never mind, Caitlin is already feeling shitty about it next episode.

Jinx gets Vi and Magic Pixie Dreamgirls her out of her new-found addiction.

Jinx and Vi are good again. They go help Vander.

Cait meets Vi for the first time since the break up. They instantly are back on the same page.

Like, there is so many plothooks in this storyline alone that do go completely unexplored.

There are two characters here, that do play a role in the last three episodes too and that felt like they were some proper characters at some point. Those two are Maddie - the Scottish-dialect enforcer girl - and... Frankly, I do not feel like looking up the name. The big burly one, who after the break-up takes care of Vi.

Those two feel like they were at some point meant to be more real characters. But because of the pacing, they are barely ideas. Maddie starts making out with Caitlyn because...? I don't know. Because I literally do not know anything about this character but "she is an enforcer", "she is queer", "she is attracted to power(?)", and thats it.

And the other guy goes with Vi because... Uhm... I don't know. I know literally nothing about this chaaracter other than that he is big and an enforcer. *shrugs*

It most certainly feels like there was some planned version of this show, in which Cait and Vi both had a proper corruption arc. In which we really saw the two of them struggle. In which we actually saw Piltover and Zaun under the control of Commander Caitlyn and Noxus, and saw the horrible things they were doing and what it was doing with Caitlyn. In which we also saw Vi struggling with addiction and stuff.

But that was not the version we got in the end. Instead in this version... things go magically well.

Hooray?

Same with Jinx. Her mental health issues just magically get better when Isha is there, because that is what the story needs to happen now.

Here, too, it also feels like huge chunks of the story are missing. It feels like there was a story going more into the relationship of Sevika and Jinx for a bit. But if that story had been there once, it was most certainly no longer there. It was hinted at, yeah, but that's it.

And then there is the entire magic plot.

Look, I think among the fans of the LoL Lore I am not the first one to say: "Yeah, trying to marry the worldbuilding of Arcane to the established Runeterra worldbuilding does not work, because of the magic." Runeterra so far was always a fairly high magic world - at least that was implied by comics and short stories. Magic was a common thing in this world. Otherwise we could not have that many magic champions and a whole place whose entire thing it had been: "We are anti-magic Nazis building mage concentration camps!"

When Riot said, that Arcane was now the main canon, A LOT of fans of the lore were like: "You get that it is not gonna work." And yeah, Arcane Season 2 clearly shows how it doesn't work.

Because the way they put in the entire "Mel is magic, also the Black Rose is a thing" stuff just... It did not fit in the entire plot around it. Because Arcane had been designed as a world where magic was very rare and strange. But now Mel had to be magic and somehow had to be connected to the Black Rose.

Also... What the fuck even happened there in the end? Why put that in? Why make Mel go against LaBlanc? I am sorry, but that was simply too much for this plot. The entire Black Rose stuff stuck out of this plot like - pardon the pun - a thorn.

Generally there are several relationships that feel, like they had at one point been a whole more explored, but then got dropped to the wayside.

As I said, Sevika and Jinx are definitely an example. Ekko and Heimerdinger as well. I also feel like what was episode 7 of the show was probably originally more than one episodes and slower paced - though it still to me was the one episode in this, that kinda worked in of itself. And that the Ekko and Jinx relationship was better established.

I also feel that Viktor and that echo of Skye was probably at some point supposed to actually have talks. Like: "I will miss talking to you." - "No, you won't." Okay? THEN SHOW ME THEM TALKING PLEASE?!

Which kinda brings me down to the main thing that happened because of the pacing issue. Season 2 of Arcane knew only two extremes in terms of "Show, don't tell". Either it goes full "music video" in whcih indeed it just shows us shit without context or dialogue - or we get the information just via dialogue, in a complete tell.

This also shows in the last episode, with the entire thing of Piltover asking the Zaunites for help, after brutally surpressing them forever. Yeah, I see where they were going with this. About being the bigger people and planting seeds and what not. But frankly, there might have been a time and space for a story like that, if properly told (you know, with giving more of the Zaunites a voice in this story, showing more of the conflict and spacing this plot out over several episodes). But a) it was not properly told, and b) a world in which several genocides happen while Trump somehow won a second term is not that world. Yes, b) is not the fault of anyone working on Arcane. That was simply bad luck on their part. But a) is very much their fault - and even if we did not have a Palestinian Genocide and no second Trump term: Without a) being done properly, it would not have worked. It would have just not felt quite as miserable.

You know, the most frustrating thing about this was, that... While I think that one way or another I would still have hated how the show handles the topic of disability (again, I will write about this during the next few days), I generally might have liked the same plot, if it had been given the needed space to breathe.

Like... Sure, I would have never really been on board with "fascist Caitlyn", or rather with "fascist Caitlyn, who gets then forgiven by everyone". But I could have somewhat swallowed it, if that forgiveness had to be earned. But because of the breakneck speed of this show, it never got earned. I am not even talking about redemption arcs here - those are always a headache - but specifically about the fact that Caitlyn gets instantly forgiven by everyone.

Also, lol. The entire thing with Ekko convincing Jinx to come along off-screen. That was unelegant.

Heck, it feels in the first four episodes, as if there was an arc being set up for Sevika in general. And it feels like that arc needed to happen, given that Sevika ends up on the COUNCIL OF PILTOVER in the epilogue. However, that Arc just does not happen. Then, like... why set it up?

That is general the issue. There is a lot of set-up and very, very little payoff to any of it.

And here is the thing. I have heard people argue about whether or not this was meant to have more seasons. But frankly: I do not think that the writers who wrote season 1 would have written this story this way had they known it would be two seasons.

Mind you, compared to some people I would not rate the writing in season 1 higher than maybe 6 or 7 of 10. It was solid, but not overwhelmingly great. But season 2 in comparison is a 2 of 10, maybe a 3 of 10, if I am being gracious.

And frankly, I do not think any writer, who is in any way worth their salt, would write a story where a main character goes evil, and then do exactly nothing with it. I mean, sorry, us writers, we are a dramatic bunch. And we will not resist the drama being served on a silver platter unless we are forced too. I cannot imagine a single writer, who will go with the end of episode 3 and then not write a bunch of angst with Caitlyn and Vi - unless they were forbidden.

And mind you, CaitVi is by far the ship I am least invested in. But it is simply such a glaring example of where the plot is rushed in a way that it hinders the character arcs.

Oh, and also... Lest. Lest in the first six episodes clearly felt like a character, who was going to play a role. Only to then disappear to not be seen again during the finale. What happened to Lest? Is she dead? Is she alive? I guess we'll never know.

*sighs* I am sorry. I really am. I am just... very disappointed. This has been a mess. And I think it would not have needed to be.

Like, the animation is still the most pretty thing ever made in the world. But man... The plot? The plot sucks balls. And not in the sexy way.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane critical #arcane spoilers #league of legends #riot games #media criticism #character writing #pacing #netflix

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lisafication · 1 year ago

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Digging Graves for your Morals; Or, The Ethical Problem of Outlawry

Hello, yes, I am here again. This one is shorter, I swear (it’s under four thousand words, even). If this is the first post from me you’re seeing, this is a follow-up to my prior essay posted here on the game The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, although it should be able to mostly stand alone.

At the end of my last essay, I touched on both the game’s nearly uncompromising moral scepticism and relativity, but I didn’t really dig into it. I outlined that the game only textually frames actions as ‘morally bad’ in the context of a morality set by the society and the world that has treated them as no better than farm animals raised for the slaughter. Well, I have a lot to say on the topic of ethics on the topic of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, so buckle in, this one’s going to talk about the social contract, moral scepticism and everyone’s favourite topic: Mrs. Graves.

As usual, this was originally posted and formatted for on Sufficient Velocity and you can perhaps more easily read it there. Spoilers abound, and my content warning from last time still applies.

She’s not too hot on either ethics or her mother

The Meat of the Matter

Since a lot of this is optional or otherwise missable information, let’s review the premise the game gives us. If you’re already aware of all of this, I apologise, it won’t take long.

First off the bat, the quarantine at the start of the game was a hoax-driven money-making scheme of which you can pick up more-or-less all the relevant details of. This is entirely missable and by the time it’s possible to discover, our protagonists have better things to dwell on and have dialogue about, so I’ll give you a summary of what you can deduce from reading the notes and thinking about it.

The quarantine is an organ harvesting operation, as per some documents you can discover in the wardens’ office. They entrap the residents, test their blood types and starve to death those they deem surplus to requirements — alternatively the starvation itself could be their method of ‘preparing the harvest’, there’s evidence in both directions and it hardly matters — harvesting the organs of the others for sale. As our protagonists are AB-typed, the ‘universal recipient’ or ‘most selfish blood type’, they’re some of the first on the chopping block.

If you read through the newspapers and the documents in Mr. Washing Machine’s car, you can discover that ultimately ToxiSoda are responsible, and a similar thing is happening in a different city under the guise of a ‘chemical leak’. Should you further investigate matters, you will find mentions of the ‘man behind it all’, the doctor, or the Surgeon, as the fandom have been referring to him — you may recall Mrs. Graves mentioned someone similar! Yeah, he’s the guy who runs ToxiSoda, who are themselves partners with the water company that faked the parasite outbreak in the first place.

It’s all a life insurance scam, apparently

How much the details of the operation matter is something open to interpretation — it might just be something for players to figure out and Episode 3 will not cover the Surgeon at all, or he might play a major part; it's not particularly relevant to this essay. What matters is that it happened at all — indeed, it’s fairly easy to justify Ashley and Andrew in everything they did in Episode 1 (flashbacks aside), arguing that if they’d made any other decisions they’d have died — an argument that the victims dug their own graves, even if the Graves siblings put them in them. How correct that is is a matter of debate, but that you can make the argument at all matters, and we’ll be returning to this later. In my last essay (and again in the introduction here), I made an analogy to farm animals, raised without love and for slaughter. Let’s put a pin in the ‘for slaughter’ part for now and take a look at the ‘without love’ part.

That’s right, it’s time to meet the parents.

As Andrew notes, there are significantly more compelling reasons for you to say that

They Fuck You Up, Your Mum & Dad

They really do.

Our charming protagonists are, as with many things depicted in this game, an exaggerated, almost farcical example of this phenomenon — one that’s just grounded enough to still feel very real, just like the siblings themselves.

The late and lamentable Mrs. Graves is just the same: originally a teen mother, hopelessly out of depth with two difficult children — even if one was good at masking it — and an unreliable, emotionally unavailable (at least to their children) partner who can’t hold down a job, ends up foisting them off on each other and doing a Parental Negligence because she simply Cannot Cope. That’s the real part. The part where she gets paid off by an organ harvesting operation to leave them to die, that’s the borderline-farcical exaggeration that throws all the nooks and crannies of her character into sharp relief.

Mrs. Graves does not have a good relationship with either of her kids. Having self-admittedly fobbed the job of raising Ashley off on her son, to the degree that they did not even celebrate her birthday as kids, both of them hold differing degrees and types of resentment for her.

For Ashley, it’s hate — perhaps not quite so clear cut as that, as it’s her that calls for the eulogy and she shows some potential signs of discomfort while cleaning up her parents’ corpses, but by and large, it’s fairly simple and straightforward, as usual for Ashley. The sentiment is not exactly unreturned, either.

This brings Ashley’s heart great delight!

The most clear incident raising her from everyday ‘neglectful’ to ‘wow she wanted nothing to do with this kid’ is the optional ‘birthday cake’ scene, obtained by finding the present in Ashley’s first ‘transitory world’ dream, in which we see Ashley’s birthday and the founding of a lemon cupcake tradition between Leyley and Andy. She has received nothing from her family, notes that her ‘friends’ would say they were busy before she even told them the schedule and Andy takes her out to buy cupcakes with his pocket money.

This scene gets a callback in Andrew’s dream later. Just remember to Ask Nicely, rather than Kill Her.

Parents of the year, everyone.

So with Ashley it’s as straightforward and obvious as she herself is — she hates her mother, her mother hates her. With Andrew, as with Andrew himself, it’s a fair bit more complicated. His mother is a much more nuanced figure, who is believable in her role as an unfortunate teen parent who was trying her best. He has a degree of trust in her against, seemingly, his own good judgment In her conversation with Andrew, she acknowledges her fault in raising him and seemingly sincerely tries to offer him a ‘way out’, an olive branch.

I think many people have had relationships where they might say this

This scene in particular intrigues me, because she is acknowledging fault in a way that Andrew strictly avoids doing — and well, there’s nothing Andrew likes more than a good way to avoid acknowledging any fault of his own. With her dominant relationship over their father as a model for Andrew to draw comparisons to his own relationship with Ashley with, it’s no surprise that the narrative resonates with him to the point of ‘Accept’ being many people’s first completion.

Of course, that’s not all there is to it. There is a fascinating contrast with her later conversation with Ashley, where she — despite accusing Ashley of brainwashing Andrew — refers to Leyley and Andy as ‘two psychos’ and states that she always knew they were responsible for Nina’s death and that, implicitly, they owe her for not turning them in.

There's something about mother-daughter relationships here that I just do not have the time or reading to dig into, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, when Andrew interrogates her on her possession of their death certificates, she has… an interesting, plausible story about a life insurance scam and claims that she really did think they died in the fire, implicitly denying the claim that she sold them. It’s entirely possible that she’s describing the details of the ‘scam’ correctly — you can even buy that she genuinely does care for Andrew in some way, if not Ashley, but her claim about being an honest, grieving parent shocked at their deaths… doesn’t add up?

This is a very normal reaction to your supposedly dead children showing up in your house.

As Andrew himself notes after hearing her story, she’s full of shit. This gets into speculation, because there are a few ways to read this, but the most plausible ‘gist’ is that she and her partner were paid off in money and jobs to not raise a fuss — the surgeon she mentioned is almost certainly the founder of ToxiSoda, remember?

The overwhelming difference in presentation between how she speaks to Andrew and Ashley invites investigation — and when Andrew turns down her offer and tells her he isn’t interested in her offer in Decline, her reaction isn’t… despair, it’s shock — and well, there’s a good reason for that.

Why do you think she did it in the first place?

This is the happiest we see her

Well — it’s so she can finally fit into society. That white picket fence, that idyllic 1950s life — hell you can call it the American Dream. She wants that, or as close to it as she can get — the working-class teen mother, living in poverty, aspiring to the middle-class. It’s a very common, very real and very grounded motivation.

And to that end, she effectively sold off her children. It’s no wonder she can’t fathom why Andrew wouldn’t choose the same.

That’s the part that makes you think — just like the deaths in Episode 1, well- maybe the siblings are justified here, too. It’s a weaker argument, but it’s still one you can make under many common moral paradigms today — what goes around comes around, all that jazz. Just look at how awful she was to Ashley.

She’s finally found what she’s been striving for.

Here’s the thing, here’s the thing though — what, reasonably, could she have done? Andrew and Ashley briefly highlight this in conversation about Ashley’s ‘friends’ in Episode 1 — was she supposed to fight gunmen to try and break them out? Throw food to the balcony from four stories?

Moreover, as she herself says to Andrew… would anyone really have been able to do better than her in her position? She was seventeen when Ashley was born, living in poverty with a partner who couldn’t even remember Andrew’s name when he was a kid. Anyone would have had difficulty, let alone with these kids.

Her evils are — they’re not any deliberate action, but rather… prompted inaction. She didn’t have the emotional energy, resources or plain capability to properly parent her children, she didn’t have any solutions to their murder of Nina in a state so blatantly hostile to its underclass, she didn’t have a way to connect with Ashley and she took the money rather than fight a futile and likely suicidal battle against a corporation and its armed goons in a dystopian setting.

Ashley, notably, does not deny this.

Her sin is the one we’re all, I think, guilty of — that of not trying hard enough, that of inaction in the face of difficult tasks, of not standing up on principle because it’s just too much that day and you don’t have the spoons, you’ll do it tomorrow (no you won’t). It’s a petty, everyday kind of evil — that of not doing enough.

Is that enough to condemn her? Certainly, there’s a pretty manipulative read of her that likely has some truth to it — in the locked door in Ashley’s dream in ‘Decay’ you can discover that she has a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul — but consider that lens — the game won’t make up your mind for you, so you’ll need to choose that for yourself.

The dad is interesting in terms of negative space — but he’s mostly important in that he doesn’t matter, so I decided to not fit him in here. He has art, though — just no sprite, because, well, he’s never mattered to either sibling.

The Contract We Call Society

Right, it’s time to get a little bit Theoretical in here. Not much, but a little. Social contract theory is a complex topic with a lot of nuance, much of which I will be eliding in the name of not writing a twenty thousand word paper on semiotics, law, and anthropology, but the short analogy is… the idea that as long as you play by society’s rules, as long as you are a good citizen, a good person, the state, or the community, will take care of you.

In a number of ways, the harshest penalty levied by many historical states and legal codes was not death, but rather the criminal status of outlawry, a practice that’s cropped up a number of times in history — the practice of no longer being protected by the law. This meant one could be killed or worse with impunity — you were no longer protected by mob justice and, while overexaggerated as a term of reference, certain texts from Medieval England refer to outlaws as bearing a wolfshead, ‘for the wolf is a beast hated by all folk’. Never minding that wolves are actually delightful, this was a time when wolves were actively hunted and sold by people — and the same was intended to happen to outlaws. They were ‘fair targets’ as far as society was concerned, no longer to be treated as your fellow citizens.

This was the gravest punishment on the books, for most of these legal codes — something saved for those who had broken the social contract so completely that there could be no turning back (civil outlawry is… a bit different, that’s not the topic here). Among others, a modern critique of the concept is that it offers no incentive for improvement, no incentive to change or to cease harming society — if an outlaw has none of the social contract’s protections, what reason do they have to obey… any of the social contract? If that seems familiar, well, let me ask you this:

What if the state or community fails its end first? What responsibility does the innocent outlaw have to that contract?

It’s an interesting phrasing, that the world is better off.

It’s time to talk about the incest, and part of why it’s there. The cannibalism too, but that’s less impactful here. If you’ve seen me elsewhere, you might have seen me say that the incest is a load-bearing narrative pillar — in large part due to it being a critical facet of the siblings’ relationship, but in another large part due to it being an equally critical part of how the game uses taboo.

A taboo is in this context something that is considered repulsive and to be avoided by society. It’s a more complex term than that — you can also use it for certain sacred actions or utterances that are only permitted to certain people, for example — but that’s what it is here. Swearing, premarital sex, BDSM and murder are, approximately from weak to strong, some example taboos held in modern Anglospheric society.

Strong taboos are a staple of horror — they shock, they disgust, they draw people’s attention and it’s that last one that’s critical here. Incest is a very strong taboo — while I am absolutely not segueing into its historical context, the very well-established Westermarck effect gives it a certain timelessness and immunity to desensitisation that most other taboos don’t have — murder, to contrast, is a taboo we’re largely desensitised to in modern media and works of modern media have to put in actual work to make a murder seem horrifying — through atmosphere, cinematography, evocative prose etc.

And this is important because the use of taboo I’m covering in this essay is that the incest is used to invite judgment — it is so ingrained as a ‘wrong thing’ in people’s brains almost regardless of background that it forces the player to engage with the work morally. And that’s where the fun starts.

I’ve mentioned before, very briefly, about the juxtaposition of tone between the Burial & Decay endings, contrasting with the very monstrous difference in morality. Burial is remarkably light-hearted — they play around with the drain blockage, they joke about their mother’s personality and this is further exaggerated on the Love path, where Andrew is much more comfortable with casual contact and the two make a game out of how far they can throw their parents’ skulls, the humour is directly contrasted against their abhorrent actions.

I’ll be real Ashley is far more merciful than I, I’m shuddering at the thought of that gunk in my hair

In comparison, Decay is… bleak. I’ve seen it being referred to as being ‘emotionally sandblasted’ and, yeah I think that’s fair — it’s uncomfortable, it’s heavy and it’s just not fun. And this is the route in which, if you chose Trust into Accept, Andrew has bought into the narrative that his mother’s offered — that he can fit just fine into society if he wasn’t stuck, if not for Ashley — the route that ‘fits’ most closely to the social contract, to Andrew feeling the guilt that we think he should and hating the monsters that they’ve become, as the social contract deems them. Given the pains the game takes to attach the player to the protagonists, this normative moral ending is very easily interpreted as the bad ending.

And well, isn’t it?

Thing is, as mentioned above, the social contract has never held up its end for them. The game takes careful pains to point out to a viewer that they’ve never had the life that society promises people, so why do its moral standards apply?

The game invites you to judge the characters, and in the same motion, asks you from what principles you judge them, making a pretty good guess in that, like most people who haven’t spent a large amount of time navel-gazing and reading some very boring books by very dusty old men, they come from the society around you.

Love even has Ashley express this sentiment directly after the incestuous dream — she asks you — well, Andrew, but this is also something for the player to mull over — why this is what’s engaged your morality or sense of revulsion, rather than the desecration, cannibalism or murder.

Andrew and Ashley are both very funny and very fascinating in this scene.

And that’s the framing that it casts all of its own moral judgement in — even the ‘tar-soul’ aspect is… well, it’s unclear what it even means. Mrs. Graves was a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul, after all. Other than that, it’s society and the world being better off without them, rather than any kind of assertion of objective morality. Due to the present of ‘soul colour’, we’ll presumably see the game make some moral statements in Episode 3, but as it stands?

It’s nearly completely morally sceptical, in and of itself — it’s not interested in moral assertions or education, it’s interested in making you question your own morals. Deconstructive (not that kind), rather than dialectic, to be mildly pretentious.

It uses taboo and shock to invite moral judgement, but then uses tone, charm and our instinct to look for the happiest end for our blorbos to get you to recognise that these are principles you yourself brought into the game, rather than any it’s handed you.

To summarise: you’ve brought these principles in from society, but what do the siblings, the protagonists, the villains to the world, owe society? Enough that they should follow them? It failed them first, after all.

Closing Thoughts

This one is a bit less energetic than the last, tragically — my sleeping schedule is the stuff of nightmares recently, I love windy weather. Wait, no the opposite. Huge thank you to everyone who commented on the last one, you are the wind beneath my wings and the main reason I managed to get this out this week.

This essay is a bit more interpretative than my last one — certainly, there are alternative readings and I’ve been toying with the idea of deliberately taking a reading I don’t like very much and writing from that perspective as a demonstrative exercise recently — mostly that you shouldn’t just take my word for things!

Otherwise, if the last bit at the end seemed murky, I apologise — I did try to write a more detailed version, but firstly, it was three thousand words and secondly, I re-read it the next day and I could not understand what the fuck I was talking about. Personally, I blame Derrida — suffice to say that I strongly recommend playing through it with an eye towards considering culpability, morality and why you think certain characters are more or less forgivable than others, and for what deeds. See what you get out of it.

I managed to keep one particular thread open to wrap up with here — I try to keep speculation on Episode 3 content to a minimum in the main essays, but it should be fine here — you might have noticed that I refer to Episode 1 and Episode 2 being on something of a spectrum of justifiability, with the siblings’ actions being ‘more’ justifiable in Episode 1 and ‘less’ justifiable — but still justifiable if you try — in Episode 2.

To continue the thought of the happiest ending being the one in which they step the furthest away from common morality and to further jar the viewers’ sense of morality by contrasting societal morality and blorbo-oriented morality, Episode 3: Burial could continue this trend in having a major victim be someone who, well, has done nothing wrong and isn’t even guilty of bystander syndrome.

I wonder if there’s any good candidates, someone who’s sweet, harmless and will indisputably be an innocent victim…

…I’m sure she’ll be fine

#the coffin of andy and leyley #tcoaal #analysis #essay #ashley graves #andrew graves #mrs graves #nnnnot sure what the next topic will be #might do a deranged take on purpose #this one and the last one have been very grounded #I'll get to my asks tomorrow #probably #I've been busy sorry

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peterparkersnose · 2 years ago

Text

Folded

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: attack description, clicker attack, nightmares, anxiety, wound description, angst, denial of feelings, alcohol mentioned, swearing, mentions and descriptions of gun use, near death experience (if u can’t handle the game don’t read)

HAPPY LAST OF US DAY!!!

a/n ive played tlou 3x and tlou2 2x (going through my second round rn) so shut up pls i dont want any of the ‘you only like joel bc hes pedro’ fr come on ive been playing this game since i was 12. (i’m not like other girls 🥵) jackson joel just does something to me mmmm. wrote this nov 18 ‘22 saved for today

Don’t forget 9PM EST on HBO Max

summary Y/N gets attacked by a clicker during an intense time with Joel

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read time: 12 mins 28 seconds

You could feel the air escaping your lungs at a dangerous rate. The rifle at your side slammed against your thigh as you kept running. The thick forest was just as you remembered it; wet, cold, and dark.

You were outnumbered. Mostly runners, but you spotted a few clickers. The brush on the forest floor wasn’t helping. Your heavy breathing and the sloshing of your boots against the snowy ground were making too much noise.

Where the fuck was Ellie?

3 bullets. Rifle was empty, spent that on some sharp shooting up the hill on some runners you and Ellie found in the town. How stupid were you? Those were an easy kill with a knife. But your childish games on who could get the best headshot left you empty.

Your heart dropped as the rock formation appeared. It was too high. It covered the forest like the earth split into two. That is when you came to terms, and you had to come to it quickly.

You were going to die.

Soon enough, the first runner appeared. Easy kill. One down, maybe 7 to go?

Where the fuck was Ellie?

The next one came. Two down. Three at a time now? A fucking clicker followed them? You wished the brush was tall enough to hide in.

It was useless fighting off three runners at a time with a clicker on their heels. This was it. Death.

The stone wall was cool against your backside. You hugged your knees to your chest as you pulled out your handgun.

At least the clicker would have a good meal.

Shot- one down. Shot- another. The clicker sped up. Shot, wounded but not dead. Quick slice with the knife. Dead.

The shrieking screams of the clicker engulfed your senses as the monster came running at you. It’s flailing arms we’re the last thing you were prepared to see.

You felt the hands on your shoulder. Dead hands of a monster, unspeakable to most. The hands grabbed your shoulders, but no bite came.

Just blinding white noise and a splatter on your face.

You had convinced yourself you were dead. You would never see anyone again. You had died the same death as your father years prior. The death that left you alone.

“Dad?” you managed to mutter out.

The white noise turned into ringing as two hands held your shoulder and shook you.

“Y/N? Y/N please, are you okay?”

Ellie.

“Maria I found her! Here!”

Cloth material wiped over your eyes and they opened. Ellie, splattered with blood stood in front of you with the most panicked look you had ever seen on the girls face.

“Your okay!” she yelled at you, wrapping her arms around you.

Sitting besides you two was the headless clicker that should have killed you.

***

You should be dead. Get this horrible life over with. Dead with your father, with the mother you never knew. Living a life without this disease, these creatures. Free of pain.

When you woke up in the medical wing you were pretty sure almost the whole town was there. You felt like an item on display at a museum. Looking over all the eyes, you most definitely were not searching for his. The whole reason you volunteered to go out with Ellie that day instead of Dina. And of course, he was not there. Why would he be?

“She’s awake!” someone yelled from the crowd. Every eye in the room seemed to fall on you at once. The nurse pushed past the group of people and went to your side.

“For heavens sake! Get out!” the nurse yelled to the group of onlookers. “Give her some goddamn space.” you heard from the crowd as people started to walk towards the exit.

Everyone wanted a look at the girl who survived a clicker attack.

“Hey,” she said, slowly approaching you and sitting on the chair next to your bed. “Ellie!” you exclaimed, embracing the girl tightly. “What happened?” you asked Ellie, releasing your grip on her and settling back into the bed.

The bond had been there since the day you met her. You always remember the look of the scared little girl on the back of Joel’s horse when they first entered Jackson. The bond you two had helped her grow into the person she is now. Ellie had always described you as an older sister. But Ellie was always there for you, and you for her. She was your best friend, platonic soulmate. And a damn good shot.

“I killed it,” she said bluntly. “I-I came at the right time it was about to bite you and- you should have seen it Y/N my shotgun did a number on that thing.”

“A-am I infected?” you asked, looking down at your body for the first time. Your tank top was still on, your jacket was missing. Your jeans were covered in dry blood and smelt of pine needles.

“It’s been three days. You got some pretty nasty scratches though. Sick looking if you ask me. Scars of a warrior.” she added, referring to her tattoo.

And that’s when you saw them. The claw marks were sewn shut on your left shoulder. Your eyes widened as you began to panic. You began to squirm and the pain set in.

“Hey, hey calm down. She took care of you. Best nurse in town, I made sure.” Ellie said, grabbing your good shoulder and stroking your arm to calm you down.

“The doctors said if your vitals stay stable for the next few hours you can go home. Dina and I cleaned up the place for you,” Ellie smiled, stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What have people been saying?” you asked, holding her hand tightly in yours. “That your a hero. You cleared out that building and we found a stash of food that’s going to last for… well, probably a good year. That’s amazing Y/N! They found baby formula for JJ- tons of it. You were right it was the old warehouse.”

A small smile rose to your lips but Ellie could tell what you really wanted to hear about.

What Joel had been saying.

And Joel hasn’t said much. Tommy had told him a brief description in passing of what happened when it was happening. He figured you were dead when they sent out a rescue wagon for you. He even watched as Maria’s horse lead in your body. Ellie was sitting with you in her arms screaming for a nurse, your whole left arm was covered in blood. What was visible of your face was white as a sheet and you weren’t moving. Joel had to silently give up the inkling of what could have been. Hell, you were the first girl who he even considered after his divorce over thirty years ago. It had to end one day and he had to silently agree with it.

“I don’t…” Ellie began, following with a sigh. “Y/N, don’t get yourself worked up over it. It’s not worth it.” Ellie began, knowing her friend too well. “Did he even come and see me?” you asked, looking to Ellie’s eyes. She couldn’t look into yours. She closed her eyes for a quick moment and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“Am I a fool?” you asked her. “I’m not sure,” she replied, weary.

The whole reason you went with her instead of Dina was because of Joel. You most definitely could not face him that day after the previous night.

He had knocked on your door a little after nine. He noticed a change in your demeanor today when he came in the room while teaching the some of the kids how to shoot. He wanted to make sure you were okay. Joel felt like he had some responsibility over you to make sure you were always okay because of what happened.

Joel was the one who was with your father when he died.

Sure, he was older than you. You weren’t sure exactly, but he was younger than your father by many years. The attraction from your end started when you saw him drunk off his ass during a celebration dancing with Tommy in the bar. It was the most unconventionally attractive thing, but it flipped some switch in you. When your dad died he taught you how to perfect your aim and kill efficiently. Never crossing any line because you were his dead friend’s daughter. And you were so close to Ellie. Ellie wasn’t too fond of your crush that you confided in her, but she grew to love the idea. Her family.

He came and visited you a little after nine. You were about to slip into bed before you heard the knock on your door. The night was cold and your pajama pants and thin tank top was not cutting it. You invited him inside. He had brought you a tiny gift to lift your mood; a bottle of gin. Your favorite. And you two drank at least half of that bottle of gin. You talked about everything from your father’s death to the time Tommy accidentally washed his clothes with Maria’s pink bra and still has an abundance of pink clothing to this day. The gin was most definitely speaking when you told him how you felt.

And he left.

“Let it go for now- okay? We’re gonna get you out of here and back home.” Ellie reassured you. Nodding your head, you fell back into the cold bed and closed your eyes just wishing it could all go away.

Home was empty as it could be. The bottle of gin sat on your coffee table. Your bed was made for the first time in years. Your work station was organized and all of your pens and art supplies were cleaned. You had remembered when Joel gave you those pens, he found them one day and thought of you. Your rifles now hung on your wall. Definitely was Dina’s idea, but you liked it. A tiny gift wrapped in a beige paper with a tiny bit of twine around it sat under your newly mounted rifles.

“Woo hoo. Christmas.” you said to yourself sarcastically. Kneeling down, you opened the package.

Bullets.

For safe keeping, ~Maria

Of course it was from Maria. She always played the mother you never had when she wanted to.

The immense feeling of sleep hit you like a brick wall. I guess being attacked by a clicker and living was a strenuous activity. All you wanted now to do was sleep. Unmaking the nicely folded sheets, you melted back into your bed. The sun was setting in your window and the horses were coming in for the day. You could hear them trotting past your window. You wondered if Joel was just feet away. It was what now… Thursday? You couldn’t remember if he still did the Thursday shift or if he switched with someone else. Who cares, sleep was creeping up slowly and the thought of Joel set you out cold.

The forest was blacker than usual. Without a doubt, you recognized where you were. Running again. All you seemed to do was run now these days. Taking a brief look back while you ran through the forest, you stopped as you realized a whole hoard of clickers were just at your heels. You didn’t have time to react. They were on you ripping your flesh off your body. The dream never seemed to end. You felt each bite and tear of your flesh until-

“Y/N!” Maria screamed, shaking you awake and still being mindful of your wound. “Fuck!” you screamed, sobbing into her arms. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you continued, squirming in bed as she held you.

Your door was wide open and it was now pitch black out. The screams alerted security, and they called for a search of the town. Tommy quickly found the source of the screams and sent Maria in.

Standing outside your door was Tommy, peering in on the sight of his wife with you.

“Gather people. She needs to be watched.” Maria commanded Tommy as she held your shaking body. Too many people had left their homes now to look at the scene and disrupted the peaceful night.

Ellie sat with your head in her lap, slowly stroking your hair trying to get you to fall asleep. “Don’t worry. Nobody in this town will let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The whole previous night you didn’t sleep. You stared at your wall and just thought. And that whole day you delved yourself in drawings you hadn’t finished or poems you had the inspiration for. Took a shower. You looked through your closet and picked out a fresh outfit. You tried all the little things that usually worked on your old self, but your old self was gone.

That bottle of gin sat on your coffee table and haunted you throughout the day as well. You didn’t have the heart to throw it away, or the mindset to drink it. So there it sat. Pitiful.

You were at a loss for words. No words could describe the immense amount of pain re living that memory caused last night.

Ellie began to hum a tune. It was sweet and reminded you of something innocent. Your eyes began to get heavy. “You ready?” she asked, fluffing up your pillow. Reluctantly, you shook your head yes.

The absolute end was there and tiredness finally seeped in. Distraught sleep left and peaceful sleep took its place.

Ellie dimmed your lamp and smoothed the covers on your bed. It reminded you of the time you took care of Ellie years ago when she was sick. “Sweet dreams,” she said, giving your forehead a brief kiss.

Mumbling was heard outside your door, but you didn’t care.

The field was beautiful. Finally, peace. The flowers stemmed beautifully and the sun shown down on your face. Your hands ran through the fresh green grass. Laying in the rays, you suddenly felt the field get smaller. Sitting up, you realized the sun had disappeared and the field was getting smaller and smaller by the second. The sudden edge of a forest was getting closer and closer. And then with one blink you were back. The forest erected around you. You were back.

“No, no…” he heard from your house. Joel’s interest peaked from the grounds left in his coffee mug to the silent struggles in your bedroom. He lifted himself off your porch chair and looked through your window. You were writhing in bed.

“Ellie!” you let out the first yell. It was so loud that it startled Joel to his core and began a flight of panic. Joel didn’t hesitate to burst your door open. “Ellie don’t leave!” you yelled again.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. A loud groan of pain came from your lips. Joel’s heart sank as the feelings on guilt he felt for letting you go on patrol that day set in once again.

“Y/N!” he whisper yelled, yanking your body over to face him. Your eyes shot open. Ripped from the dream into another one.

You looked him up and down. This wasn’t real. It was another dream. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shut them tight, praying you would wake up somewhere else.

“It was a bad dream,” he whispered, resting his hand on your thigh. His thumb patiently rubbed your thigh as your breathing sped up. Your legs matched up perfectly, knees facing him. Your face was buried in your hands that were now grasping at your eyes.

“Stop it,” Joel hissed, grabbing your manic hands tightly. “This isn’t real,” you cried out, sobs following it.

His heart seemed to break into a million pieces when you started to full on cry. The last time he dealt with a crying girl it was Ellie. Wait- no, maybe it was Sarah. He honestly wasn’t sure, but it was most definitely years ago.

“Everything is alright. I know how it is. I-I didn’t sleep for a few days after my first clicker encounter. Those things are nasty fuckers.” he said, his hand returning to your thigh trying to soothe you. He was clueless on what he was supposed to do.

At this point, you realized you weren’t dreaming. He was here. His hand was on your thigh. He was sitting on your bed. You were in a tank top that cut a little too low for your liking.

Your teary eyes looked up and met his. He hadn’t moved his gaze off of your face. He gave you a soft reassuring smile.

Joel cursed himself for letting his feelings creep back in. This was wrong anyways, he felt sick any time he thought about you. The pit of his stomach couldn’t handle it much more, he had pretty much forgotten about you (as much as he would like to admit). But when Tommy assigned him second watch of you that night, he just knew it had trouble written all over it.

“Go back to sleep now. Pretty girls need their beauty sleep.” he said, instantly regretting it.

That line worked on Sarah, but in a whole different way with a much different meaning. He wanted to suck back in the words as fast as he said them.

Letting a tense breathe go, he steadied himself on your bed frame and made his way to the door.

He had made his way to the door as you spoke.

“Joel?”

His hand stopped his motion as it rested on the top of your door frame.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around.

“W-will you stay? Just for a little bit.” you said, stuttering as you realized how large his body was compared to your door.

He paused. “I suppose.”

You moved your legs so he would have enough room to sit next to you. You heard his knee crack as he sat down on the low rise bed. His legs sat upward as he leant a hand behind your legs to steady himself.

“I’m sorry.” you said. It had to be said, what better time than now? “I don’t want to hear your apologies.” he huffed. “It was inappropriate.” you spit out again. “No- Y/N, stop. Please.” he asked. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I sleep I go… back there. I can’t.” you whimpered. He sighed, groaning and wiping his brow.

“What would you like me to do about it? I can’t do anything.”

“Stay.”

Joel was left confused on how your calmness met his angry tone. He knew you well, he was surprised you weren’t screaming in his face. You didn’t take shit. You were being patient for once in your life.

Oh, how you’ve changed since the attack.

“I’m here. What more do you want from me?” he asked. His tone had extra edge of anger to it that was fueled with a faint passion.

In the darkness, you reached for his hand. It was coarse and dry, with many various scars and callouses you could feel just with a slight touch. He instinctively pulled back a bit, but gave in within the second. Wrapping your fingers with his, you places his hand back on your thigh.

“Y/N I-”

“The thing you were doing before on my leg. It was nice.”

“Oh,” he said, defeating the original thought from his head. His thumb began slowly moving in circles once again.

You were showing him what you needed.

He watched as your sad face closed your eyes and sighed. You felt safe for the first time in days.

Joel felt the pit in his stomach widen and fully consume him. The girl who practically raised Ellie from when she arrived; his dead friend’s daughter; one of the best damn killers in all of Jackson; Y/N. God, he was in so much trouble with his morals.

“I’m too far deep in this shit,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him. “What?” you asked.

“I can’t…” he said, beginning to shake his knee up and down. “What?” repeated yourself in a confused tone.

His strong body swept over yours. He grabbed your shoulder ever so softly and perched you in his arms. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

No initiative had to be made besides the movement of your lips against his. Your hand wrapped itself in his hair, playing softly as he held your back strongly. A slight moan came from his lips that he instantly regretted when you accidentally tugged ever so slightly on his graying strands of hair. For the split second that you two separated gasping for air, he pulled you tighter.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been fighting this,” he whispered on your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you sighed, staring back at his scruffy face.

Joel came back to his senses. He felt different. He could never go back to the same person he was a minute ago. His world revolved around something new. No more obsessing over patrol and how to appease Tommy. No more worrying over how Ellie could handle herself. No more worrying about his aching joints and the fear of getting older. Something new became the center of his universe. He had folded.

The girl laying in his arms who now rested her head against his chest.

“You really need sleep darlin’,” he sighed. You sighed in resistance.

“You want me to stay?” he asked, looking down at your exhausted face.

“Please.”

You moved over in your bed as he made himself comfortable. Joel never realized how much larger he was than you until he slept with you in his arms.

You layed on his chest as one arm wrapped around your shoulders. His hand rested comfortably on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” you whispered. He placed a small kiss on your head. Your arms wrapped around your stomach, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. The only sound in the room was your soft breathing.

“Go to sleep now. Your safe with me, my sweet girl.”

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @jmillerswife

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 11 months ago

Note

I'm not sure if your event is open just yet (potential time differences) but may I request Lilia, as the ghost, with the prompt 6.Bump in the night with romantic, fluff and maybe a bit of horror cause we know Lilia likes to scare people please?

I'm so sorry if I didn't do this right 😅

Bump in the Night; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, implied romantic feelings/pining

Content Warning; Swearing, light fear

Word Count; 700+

A/N; I hope you like what I came up with, Lilia will always be a little imp. And don't worry about formatting, you did everything perfectly!

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

You were grumbling to yourself as you lit some candles while holding a flashlight under your chin.

The power had gone out due to a blizzard, right when you were in the middle of catching up on your favourite show. But the weather didn’t care about the plotline or the barely warm soup that was now sitting sadly on your stovetop. No show and no dinner, you were shit out of luck tonight by the looks of it.

So instead, you grabbed all the candles you could find, a small horde of blankets, and hunkered down.

You fidgeted around, picking at some loose strings, and tapping to the beat of the battery-operated clock.

… bored bored bored THIS SUCKS bored bored bored …

You dragged your hands down your face. Why couldn’t the power go out while you were asleep? Why did it have to go out on one of your only quiet nights to yourself? Why couldn’t the power wait until you had your dinner?

The wind howled outside as if it were mocking you.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and the candles snuffed out, one by one. Not by a draft, or wind, but as if someone was pinching off the flame. The room was cast into darkness, only the pale blue light from outside lighting everything up in a dim silver cast.

Face the issue at hand that had all levels of nope nope NOPE written all over it? Or, hide under the blankets like you were a kid again?

… you hid under the blankets. You reasoned it wasn’t from fear, but rather to conserve your body heat, since hey, the candles died out due to some unforeseen and totally normal reason.

But then you smelt something burning.

There was no power though, nothing was working so why was something burning?

You shuffled to the kitchen and peered out from your blanket cocoon.

The soup, which was barely lukewarm, was now a charred mess of black sludge.

“The hell,” you hissed, eyeing the baffling liquid. Part of your brain was screaming DANGER DANGER DANGER!!! And the other part? It was mourning the loss of your dinner.

A breathy chuckle was in your ear.

You wanted to move, but you couldn’t. You were frozen in place by some unseen force.

You felt delicate fingers trace the back of your neck before they came to a stop at a pulse point, which was easy enough to find since your pulse was beating like a trapped bird trying to escape a cage.

“You always look the same,” the voice whispered, the chuckle and playfulness long gone.

The voice flitted closer, and you could make out a hazy figure in your peripheral vision, but just barely.

The figure, a petite figure, came to a stop in front of you. The only thing about them that felt physical, that was the most clear, were their magenta almost red eyes. They bore down on you with a weight; of knowing, of countless years, of longing, and a mix of grief and mischievous — an odd combination.

“What do you want,” you asked, fighting your mouth to spit out the words.

The man, you assumed the spectre to be a man at least, gave you a soft smile.

He took your face into his cold hands, or at least tried to, and rubbed circles into the apple of your cheeks. “Many things, dearie,” he sighed softly, “but only if you want them too. I’ll leave if you want me to. I just want to see you happy.”

An odd thing to say when you nearly gave me a stroke.

Despite that near stroke though, you didn’t sense any malevolence from the ghostly figure who held you softly. And despite his cold touch, he was nothing but warmth, but in the sense of a weak candle.

One must just take care of the flame to see it grow.

Time after time, Lilia would find you, his spirit drawn towards yours.

I love you.

Never really said, but it would end in the same way. Him quietly loving you from the sidelines until he found his opening. An opening into your life, and your heart.

~~~~~~~

Taglist; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @moonsoup01637 @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

#dove does events #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #i tried my best and i hope you like the direction i took it in #lilia why are you giving me issues? LET ME WRITE YOU YOU SILLY MAN! *lilia proceeds to fly away chuckling*#gilf enjoyers rejoice!#i always struggle with tags since i only want to tag relevant stuff; the rest is just ramblings or easter eggs #i need to start writing again; yeash #adding to my masterlist in a bit; have some things i need to do #please ignore most of the tags; i don't know what i'm doing half the time in them

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sapshorelines · 6 months ago

Text

SUMMER TRIP | ATEEZ 9th MEMBER AU

★・・・・・・★

ATEEZ were given a two week trip to a summer house, what could possibly go wrong? (platonic relationship, alcohol mentions, swearing, reader is the eldest, fluff/crack) (not proof read | 2.2k words) Authors note: I apologize for the lack of content, I have been busy with other things. Also, I am going to try and change my format a bit! [🌊] = name

!! NOTE !! None of my works represent any IRL people. These works are purely meant for entertainment purpose and shouldn't be taken seriously. Do not steal any of my works and reupload them to other medias

MINORS DNI

★・・・・・・★

“We're here!” [🌊] was abruptly woken up from his nap as Wooyoung yelled out in the car. He opens his eyes for a few seconds to see everyone taking off their seatbelt. But [🌊] closes his eyes and attempts to fall back asleep, until he feels a large hand on his shoulder. “[🌊]-hyung, it's time to get up.” Yunho whispers. [🌊] would lift his head up, then Yunho would start laughing. “Hey, you ok?” [🌊] looks over at Yunho confused. But [🌊] looks like a grumpy grandfather that got woken up from the best nap by his grandkids. “Your face looks swollen.” San joked, making Yunho laugh a bit harder. [🌊] would just glare at San. “C’mon hyung, we're here at the house.” Yunho pats [🌊] on the shoulder as he would get out. So, where are they? Well, ATEEZ was given a two week break at a summer house near the beach. There wasn’t any film crew, no media, nothing! Although they did have security nearby, we won’t talk about it though. All they had to do was to give updates on social media and film for their vlog series.

[🌊] would exit the car looking like a zombie. “Yah, [🌊]-hyung, you good?” Wooyoung was laughing his ass off at the site of the eldest. Yeosang who had the camera to film for the vlog walked over to film [🌊]. Pretty much everyone was surrounding [🌊] making fun of him. The grandfather of the group was pretty much being bullied. “Anyway, help me take our bags in!” Hongjoong then ends the terror for [🌊], dragging the younger members to help him.

–

“There’s only four rooms.”

All of the members were in the living room, now learning that they were lied to. The house said it had five rooms but it had only four. All their luggage was with them and all nine of them just sat around the living room. “I can sleep in the living room-” [🌊] suggested, but was cut off by San. “No! Last time you did something similar you accidentally fell off the couch and hit your head on the table!” Yeah that did happen, everyone thought he died but nope. [🌊] lets out a sigh in defeat. “Well what do we do?” “Why not play a game? See who gets paired up with who.” Yeosang suggested. In which everyone agrees too. And after trial and error, and a lot of chaos. The rooms went something like this. Yeosang and Jongho, Hongjoong and Wooyoung, Seonghwa and Mingi, San and Yunho and [🌊]. Luckily, the trio were placed in the master room, so all is good, right?

Anywho, [🌊] immediately made his way to the room carrying his bags along with him. He enters the room and tosses his bag off to the side and immediately collapses down onto the bed. “Hyung! You can’t sleep again!” San chuckles as he enters the room afterwards. “Mm’comfy.” [🌊]’s face was in the soft blanket, San walks up to the bed to sit down next to the elder and.. Well he was right, the bed is extremely soft. “Well, we gotta check the place out.” San says as he attempts to get [🌊] up. Though [🌊] tried to drag San down to sleep with him. “No- Hyung-” San tried to fight back from being pulled down, but in the end [🌊] won. Meanwhile Yunho just stood there at the doorway filming the whole thing, laughing.

–

“C’mon let's go!” Wooyoung says as he runs out of the backdoor and down the patio stairs that lead to the beach, followed by some of the other younger members. After unpacking and checking out the house, some of the members wanted to go to the beach and run around. Meanwhile Seonghwa and Hongjoong went out to go get food to stock up, that would leave the grandfather of the group, [🌊], to watch the rest.

“Wooyoung wait- you need sunscreen!” [🌊] calls out, but it was too late. But luckily San ran after him. [🌊] was finishing up packing the needed items to bring out, Mingi and Yunho were helping too. Distance screaming can be heard as Wooyoung flees from San. “Hyung, let me carry the bags for you.” Jongho offers as he walks over to [🌊], “It's fine Jon-” Before [🌊] could even finish his sentence, Jongho takes the bags from [🌊] and walks out, making [🌊] sigh. Yunho carried two small umbrellas and Mingi carried the cooler, looks like they were gonna be out for a while till Seonghwa and Hongjoong got back.

So the four went down to the beach where they saw Yeosang filming San chasing Wooyoung down. Good times. “Where do we want the stuff?” Jongho looks around. “Mmm, why not over here?” Yunho points out a spot, in which the rest agreed on. The four walked over and started to set up stuff. Meanwhile, San was dragging Wooyoung over so he could put sunscreen on him. “San, sunscreen is in the bag.” Yunho points over at the bag behind him, in which San goes over as well as dragging Wooyoung along. “Hey [🌊]-hyung, are you planning on going out into the water?” Yeosang walks over to the elder, “Mmm, probably not today.” [🌊] says as he sets down a towel on the sand. “Well, you should at least put some sunscreen on hyung, let me-” Yeosang turned around to get the sun screen, but noticed that San, who had the sunscreen last, was not near the bag. Then, Yeosang and [🌊] turns their heads to the shore as they hear laughter. Wooyoung is basically in the water now and San is yelling at him, classic.

After a few hours, the front door to their vacation home opens as Seonghwa and Hongjoong walk in carrying loads of bags filled with different food, drinks, and snacks. “Where are they?” Hongjoong asked as he looked around, making his way to the kitchen. “Perhaps they’re still on the beach? They said they were gonna go to the beach but I guess they’re not done.” Seonghwa replies as he follows Hongjoong. “Why don’t you go look for them, I can deal with bringing in the rest of the groceries.” Seonghwa says as he puts down the bags he was carrying onto the table.

“Mmm, fine.” Hongjoong wanted to protest and continue to help him but he knows Seonghwa will still pressure him to do something else. So, Hongjoong goes out to the back patio that overlooks the beach. He can see umbrellas, towels, and other stuff along with two people sitting in the shade. He then see’s four people out in the water on surfboards, now who is who- “Oh- hey hyung.” Hongjoong jumps, hearing the voice, but then notices that Yeosang was sitting on a chair reading a book. “Didn’t realize you two got back.” He says as he closes the book and sets it down on a table next to him.

“What are they doing down there?” Hongjoong asked.

“[🌊]-hyung, San, Mingi, and Wooyoung are wanting to tryout surfing. Yunho and Jongho are relaxing. I came up here because I was hungry but I didn’t feel like going back down there.” “Oh, fair.” Hongjoong says as he looks back out to the others that are struggling to catch waves, distant laughter can be heard along with the loud crashing waves and breeze.

“I can help Seonghwa-hyung with unpacking the groceries.” Yeosang says as he goes back inside. “I’ll go get them.” Hongjoong says as he would make his way down to the others.

—

“Who wants to go explore downtown with me?”

San says as he was pretty much standing there ready to go out already.

Most of the members were tired out after going wild in the ocean, some of them scattered around in the living room laying down as the fan was on max and the AC on.

“Yah! How are you not tired?” Wooyoung sits up from the couch. “I had a nap silly, I just woke up and I wanna do more stuff!”

Wooyoung groans as he plops back down on the couch, then feeling a smack on his leg. “Ow-” “Be quiet.” Mingi grumbles as he was disturbed from his slumber. Wooyoung mocks him by mumbling what he said.

“I can go with you.” Seonghwa says, “I still need to get a few things but I wanted to save it and see if anyone wanted to come along.” “Oh! Alright, I think [🌊]-hyung wanted to come too.” San turns around and looked down the hallway to where his room was, seeing [🌊] walking out ready to go but still trying to wake up from his beauty sleep. “Anyone else?” San turns back around to look at the others. “I’ll go.” Yeosang then gets up from the chair he was in, “Give me a few minutes.” He says as he makes his way to his room he was staying in. “We’ll wait!” –

Fastforward and the four are out walking around downtown. The group have already visited some small shops within the town, getting a few souvenirs and such.

“Oh look! Ice cream!” San looked to his right and pointed out a small shop that was coming up, of course it was an ice cream shop.

“Could we get some?” “I guess? We would need to ask the others what they want.” Seonghwa rubs the back of his head, a bit hesitant to buy anything else as they already went on a spending spree as well as lunch. “We already had lunch-” “It says here we can do take out.” [🌊] cuts of Seonghwa, this man was already on their website. “Yeah but I already spent-”

“I can buy it Seonghwa, don’t worry.” [🌊] pats him on the back, “Can one of you text the group chat and ask the rest what they want.” “Yeah sure I can.” Yeosang says as he pulls out his phone. “Imagine if they had those chips.” San chuckled. “Oh god I hope not.” [🌊] groans, remembering that one thing they did ages ago.

—-

Fastforward and it was now evening. The sun was setting on the horizon and the group were getting ready for dinner. Half the members were cooking while the others were in the living room hanging out. Meanwhile, [🌊] was in his room taking a nap.

[🌊] was tired, even after a nap earlier in the day. No wonder why their fans called him grandpa.

The door opens to their room, revealing Wooyoung walking in and over to [🌊]’s side. “Hyung, get up, Dinner is ready.” Wooyoung shakes [🌊] shoulder gently. [🌊] lets out a groan as he would slowly sit up. “C’mon hyung.” Wooyoung at this point was trying to drag him out of the bed.

[🌊] was able to get up and walk with Wooyoung to the living room, everyone was at the table with their food, and luckily, alcohol.

[🌊] chuckled at the sight. “It’s our first day here and we already have drinks out?”

“Well tomorrow is supposed to be boiling outside, too hot to even be in the ocean. So I figured we can just get loose and use the heat as an excuse not to do anything.” Seonghwa says as he sits down at his chair.

“For how long will this heatwave be in effect?” [🌊] asked. “Few days.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anywho, let's dig in!” Wooyoung says as they start to eat their dinner, wonder what could go wrong?

—-

“What do you mean I made a difficult equation? I failed math!” [🌊] sat there dumbfounded as he stared at a whiteboard that sat in the living room that Jongho had founded while drunk off their ass last night.

“I don’t fucking know, you were the one who did this! I remember you doing this!” Jongho pointed back at the whiteboard. Jongho wanted to drink less last night so he had some memories of last night. “I even took a video of you explaining the whole thing and how it can fuck up the economy.”

Meanwhile, Hongjoong was lying on the couch suffering from the worst headache ever along with Wooyoung and Seonghwa. The others were still asleep.

“You still did it anyway!” “Ya! Shut up! I’m trying to sleep!” San yelled out in the room he was in, and audible smack can be heard in there too, probably Yunho telling him to be quiet.

“Also, I should remind you that Mingi and Yunho tried to recreate some fight scene from some show that I can’t remember but it ended up turning out to be some rugby pileup as the others join in including you, and this was WHILE you were explaining how some idiot can ruin an economy.” “What the fuck…” [🌊] was just speechless at this point, slumping back in his seat.

“Ow! My fucking leg!” Wooyoung says as he pulled his leg out from under [🌊] and tried to kick him, but this man was sore as shit.

“Ya! Don’t do that to your hyung!” Hongjoong slaps Wooyoung gently on the shoulder. Meanwhile Seonghwa fell back asleep, unphased by the others yelling.

“You’re gonna need to go get medicine for all of us y'know?” [🌊] looks at Jongho.

“Didn’t we already bring some?”

“No.”

Jongho lets out a sigh, “Fine, fine, I'll go out right now.” then making his way to the door to get ready.

“Fucking kill me.” Wooyoung groans. “Hush.” [🌊] snaps back at him. “Go get me ice cream hyung.” “...It’s nine AM, why the hell do you want ice cream?”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?” “No.”

This would continue for another five or so minutes, this is going to be a crazy trip for them.

★・・・・・・★ thank you for reading!

#saps fanfics #x male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop fanfic #fanfics #ateez #ateez x male reader

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tourettesdog · 2 years ago

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DPxDC Prompt where when Jason is resurrected, he does not become fully conscious. He lays in his coffin, at rest while his body slowly absorbs the ambient ectoplasm of Gotham and tries to fix the improper formation of his core.

The rest is not altogether peaceful. He often has nightmares, and has no way of escaping them. The ambient ectoplasm in Gotham is sustaining Jason, but what repairs the ectoplasm is managing are agonizingly slow.

Danny has been living in Gotham for awhile, having moved there with Jazz as soon as she turned 18. Gotham has its own host of ghosts, but Danny feels at ease without the constant strain of ghost fights.

That is, until he feels something amiss in the Gotham cemetery.

The cemetery feels wrong, in a way Danny can't place. It reminds him of Amity, how restless it is-- only different. Wrong. He keeps visiting the cemetery, trying to find the source of that feeling. The entire graveyard is saturated with it, and all Danny can do is sit in the graveyard and talk into the quiet. He lets emotions flood from his core, trying to exude an air of calm that might settle whatever restless spirit haunts the grounds.

It works, at least. The sense of restless agitation eases when Danny flares his core, settling into a quiet comfort.

It becomes stronger, too. Danny can feel it coming from a newer section of the graveyard, and he curiously wonders why he's drawn more and more to a single line of headstones.

Wonders why the one on the end seems to stand out, the name Jason Peter Todd burning itself into his dreams.

Wonders why he feels a kinship with this boy's grave, when he can't even see a ghost attached to it or feel any resonance of a core. Nothing stronger than the blob ghosts that haunt the grounds, at least.

Only ever those strange emotions and that restless energy that quiets with the sooth of his own core.

Yet one day when Danny visits the graveyard and flares his core, he's startled when another one answers his.

[I originally posted this prompt in the Batpham server and it ended here, but several of us expanded on it and what I’m posting after this are the additions I added in that discussion, some of it edited.] Jason never actually digs out of his grave. When he finally awakens and tries to dig at the coffin he actually slips through it into the soil above. A hand thrusts its way through the soil and pulls him the rest of the way up

Danny is the only one present when Jason comes out of his grave-- when he pulls him free, a ghostly inversion of Robin who he knows to be a halfa. In his confused state, however, Jason does not linger in the cemetery. He runs off, and even though Danny's half ghost and can get around fast, Jason is now too and knows the city well enough that he manages to slip away. He's terrified, confused beyond reason, and hiding.

Jason hangs about the city, and at times he goes up on his favorite gargoyle to think-- and that's the first time Babs sees him. She thinks it's just a mistake-- her own imagination-- because as soon as she looks again, he's gone.

But it keeps happening. Dick swears he sees Jason near the manor grounds when he goes to visit. Alfred swears he sees him in the rear view mirror of the car one day. Tim swears he sees him while heading home one night. Bruce sees him on patrol, long enough for the two to lock eyes, but before Bruce can even open his mouth he's gone. And Danny isn't helping, because he's Looking for Jason still, trying to help, and this suspicious kid keeps turning up in the weirdest places and at a glance he looks like Jason too.

And it fucks with Bruce's head so badly. He can't say anything about it for days, and when he shakily admits it to Alfred the butler tells him he saw the same thing-- and when the others also share this, all of it lining up too perfectly, that's when Bruce approaches the grave and finds it empty.

During this, Jason naturally grows more bold after his initial shock and confusion dies down. He's a bold and smart kid, even if he's confused and afraid. He's just trying to investigate and see how Gotham (and his family) are doing and figure out how he can approach Bruce. He sees Tim and can’t help but feel forgotten and replaced, but without the rage from the pit he's trying to be a bit more level-headed and think things through.

Jason is also learning more about his new physiology, which keeps him distracted and his mind busy. Trying to figure out himself as much as those around him. But some things still haunt him and cannot be so easily ignored.

An encounter with the Joker sets Jason off.

Jason sees the Joker and that rage and hurt builds inside of him and he manages something similar to a wail. It's the most broken sound Danny's ever heard. It's nothing like his wail, it's more like choking and static and more a feeling in the chest than a sound. Jason died from inhaling smoke and didn't have any dying screams. It’s a shattered, raw wall of reverberating emotion that has no justice.

And Danny goes to it-- stumbling, because it's raw enough to punch at his core-- and he just finds the kid he's been looking for knelt on the ground, keening and sobbing his heart out. Danny goes to comfort him, tentatively wrapping an arm around him while they're surrounded by Wreckage (and a clown-shaped dead body).

And when the bats get there they finally get a good look at the specter they've been seeing all around Gotham, and it's absolutely Jason-- with another boy beside him... And the Joker's body, twisted and bloody. But when Bruce gets close, Jason startles, visibly terrified and hurt, and Danny hides them both from view and whisks Jason away to hide him.

Bruce let the Joker live-- and now Jason has killed the man and that horrified expression he caught on Bruce's face won't leave his head. He feels like a monster, destroyed with grief and hurt, and doesn't know what to do.

Danny takes Jason home, and he’s just a fucking Mess. When they get to the apartment Jazz is just about to leave. She was sleeping but the reverberating “wail” woke her and she’s been in a mad dash to grab all of their weapons to storm out and see what the hell has happened.

But right before she can leave, Danny appears with Jason in tow and all of Jazz's questions die on her tongue when she catches sight of the kid. Danny's told her a lot about Jason since he first met him-- and about the cemetery even before then-- and she's been trying to give advice and help out in whatever was she can from a distance. And now, seeing this kid actually here and just the sheer wreck that he is, she can't help but feel fiercely protective of him. She doesn't even know what happened down in the streets, just that Jason's in distress and needs help.

No questions asked, she helps Danny sit him down on the couch, wrap a blanket around him, and make some hot chocolate to try and get him to relax. She certainly has plenty of questions she Wants to ask, but that's not what's important right now. Right now she just has two severely shaken boys that need a safe place and time to calm down.

And even once she knows what happened, Jazz is nothing but supportive. Hell, she's happy to see the Joker is gone, but she doesn't focus on that because it's also not what's important. Instead she just does what she can to make a comfortable space and lets Jason know she's there to listen if he needs to talk.

And at first Jason is hesitant around Jazz-- and alarmed at first that Danny brought him to someone he doesn't know-- but Jazz is so patient and understanding. Jason can't help but relax around her. In a way it hurts, because it reminds him of his own family, but he'd rather have this than nothing, not knowing what reception he'd get back at the manor.

Danny's terrified Batman will want to hunt them both down. He knows this kid used to be Robin, but Jason's own reactions to Batman aren't making Danny feel more secure. If anything, he has a bone to pick with Batman himself now.

And Bruce is just left to reflect on what's happened, knowing that something of his son is still lingering. And he can't stop thinking of that Feeling the wail Jason made left in his chest. He keeps going back to his empty grave, hoping he might find him there. Hoping he might get to apologize to more than just the flowers.

Danny finds Bruce at the grave-- as Bruce, not Batman-- and he puts it together. He thinks he already knew it too, since while he refused to look up Jason Todd's name, it's Too Familiar.

Danny confronting Bruce angrily, expecting the man to rise to his challenge, but all he's met with is just a grieving father who desperately wants to see his son again.

And Bruce recognizes this kid and knows Danny knows where Jason is, but instead of demanding to know where he is he just asks if his son is okay. Because after feeling that wail and seeing what he saw that day, Bruce knows Jason must resent him. He doesn't even know what Jason is anymore, but he knows he's still the kid he loved and he's hurt and Bruce doesn't think he can fix that. He just wants to know if he's okay, and for Danny to tell him that he's sorry. That if Jason ever want to come home, the door will always be open.

Jason is terrified too cause he truly wanted to kill the Joker, but he didn't expect to If he was going to kill him, it would be in a way he could feel with his hands. But the way he did it was in an uncontrollable show of power that he's not sure he could have stopped.

And Danny keeps trying to reassure him that he not only will get a better hold on his powers, but that he's not a monster. That what happened wouldn't repeat itself because the only reason it happened in the first place was because that was the man who Killed Jason and ghosts are emotional beings. It’s still a struggle.

Unfortunately, the Fentons make their way to Gotham. News of what is clearly a ghost killing a person-- villain or not-- is big enough to reach them in Amity. Jazz and Danny were only in Gotham because the parents couldn’t stomach their son being Phantom-- assumed Phantom was overshadowing Danny and turned a moment of trust into one of betrayal. The siblings were trying to lay low, but... well it was Phantom that was seen with the other ghost.

The Fenton parents come to the town with an entire Arsenal and approach the Batman, going on and on about ghosts, how dangerous they are, and in particular how dangerous These ghosts are. They lament about the Death of their own son, and the entire time Bruce is just-- shocked. He wasn't even sure what Jason was, and while the word ghost does seem to fit it still feels like his heart breaking all over again.

And he can't forget how broken Jason seemed, and how protective this Phantom was of his son. He doesn't believe the Fentons, but he does Fear them. He fears what they might do, and that's when he learns about the GIW and that these people are acting Lawfully in telling him, to his face, that they want to hunt down his son.

#dpxdc #dpxdc prompts #dogprompts #ficlets #kinda lol #as always you're welcome to use only sections of a prompt if preferred #feel free to pick out parts you like and don't like

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mcyt-trios · 1 year ago

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PROPAGANDA:

Architechs:

they're just. incredibly fucking stupid when they're together. it's like they lose every single skill they've ever had once they see each other. there's not a single interaction without giggling and you can tell they're genuinely having a great time which leads to AMAZING VIBES.

made SAHARA, played gold together in skirts, awesome dynamic, iconic, fought side by side, fought each other.

They are sososososo iconic. They were the best of buds during S6 and S7, they did so many shenanigans oh my gosh!!!!!! They are besties (S6-S7 is where you can see it the clearest, but also Iskall helped them cover up the Perimeter with Grian and Mumbo and a lot of other hermits, that has to count for something) They are business partners (Sahara, //which they made actual IRL merch for as well//) They perpetuated a running gag throughout the entirety of S7 (“get good lol” “I Got Good!” “OK LOL” “Get Gorgeous LOL” “FOR THE LOLS” <- all excerpts -the first one from their video titles) They fought on the same side of the Prank War together (Team-G, with Molebo Gumbo as a double agent against Team STAR) A ‘harmless’ curse of binding dragon head prank by Grian on Iskall caused the formation of the Dragon Bros. So many shenanigans. Hermit Challenges is the tip of the iceberg. I love them so much, they are my comfort trio PLEASE THEY ARE SO INCREDIBLY ICONIC LET THEM WIN. *cough* I mean, I am extremely and utterly normal about them :D

Campfire Crew:

CAMPFIRE CREW THE ABSOLUTE GUYS OF ALL TIME. CAMPFIRE CREW THE PINNACLE OF ACCIDENTAL FORESHADOWING THE TOP TIER OF "IT'S NOT THAT DEEP BUT IT COULD BE" WATCH AS LOYALTY EATS THEM FROM THE INSIDE OUT IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO END THIS WAY YOU SAY FINAL THREE AND YOU COME OUT WITH THE FINAL THREE. there is literally SO MUCH i could say about campfire crew and absolutely none of it would be enough. death games are prime material for interactions of all time and the campfire crew is absolutely knocking it out of the park. they lose their first lives planning around each other. they live in the same house (they live in different houses). they're scheming against each other. they're working with each other. they're two people who have FOUR KILLS EACH and one hapless innocent man. they're three people who swore a pact over a campfire and despite everything ended up holding to that pact. every time they play rock paper scissors, someone dies. the innocent, in death, turns them against each other, despite this not being how the game works. they reveal their roles to each other and it has this entire sense of inevitability -- of everyone having ALREADY KNOWN what was going to happen. it doesn't matter that two of them are going to kill everyone else on the server. you get that "innocent's" loyalty and you have him for life. paranoia is nothing next to a need for blood and connection. i have a normal amount of emotions over "i swear my loyalty / i offer my fealty / uhhhhhhhh same." do not @ me

#mcyt-trios #mcytblr trio bracket #polls #round 2

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dellalyra · 1 year ago

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Figure You Out 𓇊 Choso Kamo x Reader

Band AU!Choso 𓇊 friends to lovers 𓇊 7k

CW: smut, lots of it, filthy, swearing, fluff, p-in-v sex, fem reader, pining, mentions of alcohol, oral f!receiving, creampie, possessive choso, acc really sweet

A/N: My first AU! Also my first Choso writing! Based off and song included is Figure You Out by Vóila - I don’t own the song or anything I just love it and it gave me brainrot for this. Tonssss of requests coming up for family formations so stay tuned and also always if ur under 18 go away

When he met you, aged 5 – you were a ball of sunshine. A radiant angel that oozed love and warmth from every pore. The moment you sat beside him in the schoolyard, both too shy to join the other groups playing on your first day and offered him an animal cracker with nothing but a shy smile – he thinks it was then.

He’s pretty sure, because he can’t think of a moment since then that he hasn’t been hopelessly in love with you. You stayed glued to each other for the next 15 years, you practically moved in when his grandpa died – leaving him to care for a 10-year-old Yuuji alone – hell, you’d helped him forge the guardianship documents since he was only 15 himself.

Every teenage romance, every test, every class, your first kiss with the guy from your history class, his first kiss with the girl from his music class - you’d dealt with everything side by side.

It wasn’t your typical unreciprocated love though, not like he thought.

You pined for him equally. Every girl that passed his way, every hardship with raising Yuuji, every empty gig - you’d been there. Hell, you’d sat beside him as he got the tattoo on the bridge of his nose and applied ointment every day after to help the healing.

You remember being terrified on your first day of school. All of the other kids seemed bigger, louder, more frightening. Then you saw a boy sitting on the bench, legs hanging off with his dark, shaggy hair falling over his face. You decided to listen to your mom,

“I know it’s hard baby, but even if you can make one friend today - you’re doing amazing.”

So, you chose him.

You sat beside him quietly, thinking of what you’d want as an offer of friendship – something yummy.

So, you popped open your transformers lunchbox and silently tapped him on the shoulder, smiling – and offered him an animal cracker.

He had looked up at you, and your 5-year-old mind had never seen eyes so dark – eyes which soon crinkled in a gentle smile and a soft little ‘thank you.’

You think it was then.

That must have been the moment, because a day hasn’t passed since that you haven’t been in love with him.

If an omniscient outsider had been looking in on you both, they’d have seen identical trains of thought. Around 13, all of ‘those’ thoughts began. Yours always seemed to encompass dark eyes and dark hair and gentle hands. His always seemed to feature a sunshine smile, H/C glinting in the lamplight of his room and your soft, rose scented skin.

Not that either of you would say anything.

Things only got worse from there.

When you were about 14, you both realised you were in love with the other. But how could you ruin 9 years of friendship for something as silly as love?

At 16, you both realised that love wasn’t silly. Not when you worked in tandem to get you, him and Yuuji ready for school. Not when he smoked his first joint and got the munchies but only for your cookies. Not when he held back your hair when you got drunk and vomited for the first time. But how could you ruin a friendship like that, at the risk of losing the other.

So, nobody said anything.

Everyone knew.

Yuuji even knew, and he’s only 15 now.

At 18, after graduation, Choso’s big brain got him an internship at a lab, flexible hours so he could still care for his brother but decent pay. You took over your family's florist, the only think you ever wanted to do. Around that time, Choso’s true passion took flight too. His band, Death Paintings, began to book some small local shows. His songs, along with his band mates Eso and Chez – had started to try write some songs too, along with the alt rock covers the usually played.

Then, at 19 – you met him. Geto Suguru. Tall, dark and handsome (not that you had a type). You liked him, he liked you – you started dating. He was charming, smooth as fuck, fun to be around and smart.

Choso didn’t mind Geto a huge amount. He wasn’t a terrible guy, didn’t get pissy about your best friend being a guy like other guys had (probably because he and his best friend, Gojo, had a preternatural kind of ‘friendship’). He was pretty chill, nice to you. You didn’t laugh as much around him, but that was okay, he’d fill in the gaps. He hadn’t stayed completely celibate either, he’d dated a few people – one girl Yuki who was really cool and you ended up staying in contact with, but she left to travel the world with a parting message for Choso to tell you he loved you – fuck, she’d kick his ass if she knew he was still being a wuss. He’d hooked up with some people after some gigs too, frequently on nights you went home with a date too.

He remembers you rang him one night, saying Geto was taking you away for the weekend – he said that was awesome, and questioned why you felt panicked.

“Yeah, it’s great. But Cho, the Airbnb - it’s…” You flustered down the line.

“It’s what?” He replied, smirking at the sounds of you fighting to shut your suitcase in the background.

“It’s on the goddamn 50th floor of a skyscraper with panoramic views of the goddamn fucking city.” You huffed.

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah, oh shit!”

“Ya tell him?” He asked, flicking the pencil across the desk from where he’d been hitting down lyric ideas.

“And say what? ‘Oh, hello Geto thank you for this surprise trip to a ridiculously expensive penthouse for the weekend – sadly, you gotta shove your plans in the fucking trash because I’m terrified of heights, bye!’”

“Maybe word it differently, but yeah, that’s the gist.”

I’d never forget shit like that, he thinks.

Stop being a pick-me, Jesus Christ Choso. He also thinks.

“Right, we’ll – I gotta go psych myself up to spend 2 days sleeping in a collapse waiting to happen. Love ya, Cho.”

I love you too.

Fuck, he should just say it. Maybe it wouldn’t go as bad as he thinks.

But he never does. He just stays quiet. He won’t lose you, he’ll take you however he can have you in his life.

He brought you on a date one weekend too – you told him about it over ramen on Sunday night, a picnic in a cute park where you and Choso had tried tandem biking when you were younger – but Geto had driven you there in his Benz. Flashing wealth wouldn’t steal a heart like yours. He remembers the glow on your face as you both failed miserable at the biking for about an hour until you both got the hang of it – he swears your giggles and peals of laughter that day has to be the sound you hear when you get to heaven.

He introduced you to some new people, who you were going for drinks with one Friday night too – you didn’t really want to go, but Geto seemed to really want you to meet them. They were successful people, he thought you could get contacts to expand your floristry business to an international level by hanging around them. You told Choso you weren’t going to do that over your dead body, your shop was yours. It was quiet, it was peaceful, it was a family business. It did pretty well financially, making enough to make you pretty comfortable for a girl in her early twenties – but you worked hard, and you were damn good at your job.

“Then why are you going?” He shrugged as you watched him pluck at the strings of his guitar aimlessly.

“Geto seems excited. Gotta hang out with your man’s friends, right?”

His friends love you. They plead with him daily to confess to you. They actually already have a scrapbook on how they want to split best man duties at the wedding.

He was unloading a delivery of flowers one day into your shop with you, he had a free day and offered to help you out with some stuff around the place. You immediately jumped at the chance to spend time with him, seeing him – your favourite person – there, in your favourite place. The boy you loved helping you run the life you loved – shit, you thought, I’m dating Suguru, I can’t say shit like that anymore. You have to get over him. It was hot that day, your breezy light blue sundress even feeling too hot, so Choso was boiling in his black cargo pants and black T-shirt and was completely unaided by the weight of the buckets of fresh cut flowers he was carting back and forth. He paused for a moment in the back room of your store as you began to organise the delivery. Chugging his water, you noticed a bead of condensation running down the slope of his throat.

I wanna lick it off. Shut the fuck up, inner Y/N.

It was like having an angel and a devil on your shoulders.

But Choso only made it worse.

The heat was obviously too much in his all black ensemble – and so he could continue comfortably, he pulled his black T-shirt over his head by the back of the neck and left it on the counter.

Thank heavens to anyone who was listening – that he didn’t spare a glance at you.

You eyes widened and jaw fell as the sight before you. Muscled, thick arms and broad shoulders – scattered with tattoos, including the one on his bicep of a small daisy that you drew – fell into a chiselled chest, and abs that would make Adonis weep for their beauty. The sweat made his pale skin glisten and all you wanted in that moment was to feel his solid planes up against your skin – feel his heat seeping into you, into every single crevice. Your eyes flicked up, and the action of removing his shirt had caused some of the hair from his twin buns atop his head to fall loose – they fell and framed his face, drawing focus to the eyes you fell in love with. You didn’t really need the help today, you just needed to see him. To be near him, to hear his voice and see his smile. He’s so perfect, you think, you’d never met someone with a heart as big as Choso.

You heard a cough behind you, and you spun around.

“Oh my god! Suguru! I thought you were working today!” You hoped he didn’t notice your ogling, as you wrapped your hands around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Suguru really was gorgeous, like model beautiful. You’re lucky to have him, you repeat to yourself, and it’s true but he’s not - don’t finish that thought.

“Hi baby, I am. I’m just on my lunch break but I had a surprise for you I wanted to drop off.” He says as he kisses your cheek and hands you an envelope, then notices Choso.

“Hey Choso, how you doing, man? How was your show last weekend?” He asks him.

Stop being such a good guy and let me hate you.

“Hey man, yeah it was a good turnout – got a couple more coming up soon so come along if you get a chance.”

Why am I inviting him? Shut up, Choso.

Their conversation is interrupted by your gasp.

“Suguru! Wow! This, these must have been really hard to get, thank you so much – I can’t wait to go with you.” You smile, but Choso can see it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It’s no problem, you said you like him when I was playing him in the car a while back, so I got us front row.” He said, and Choso quietly excused himself, not before sneaking a peak at the concert tickets in your hand.

Your favourite artist was playing next month one city over, how did he not get you tickets for that instead? I’m on six waiting lists for them.

When he gets home that night - he’s pent up. He’s not angry, or frustrated. He’s not sad or resigned. Maybe he is, maybe he’s all of those things. He’s just feeling so fucking much right now that after saying goodnight to his brother and his boyfriend, Megumi he makes his wait into his makeshift studio in the back of the house.

The second he sits down, and pen meets paper, the words fall out like a fucking tsunami. After the words, come the notes. After the notes, comes the riff and it snowballs. Soon enough, he’s got a whole fucking song on his hands.

The next day, he rings Eso and Chez and they come running over to listen to what he’s come up with.

When he plays it for them, jaws fall slack.

“Holy fuck bro.”

“Fuck – I’m gonna try fall in love with my best friend if I get to be able to write shit that good.” Chez muses.

“Please fucking don’t, that’s me. I see enough of you as it is.” Eso cringes.

That afternoon and evening and well into the night, the drums and bass are added and it’s perfect.

“We’re playing this next weekend at The Tech, no questions.” Eso announces.

Choso clenches his jaw, this song – you can’t hear it. It would ruin everything, this perfect balance he’s so carefully curated.

But they were right, his soul went into that song and it’s fucking amazing.

“Fine. But absolutely – Y/N cannot know. Nobody tells her about the gig, she can’t come and she sure as shit can’t hear this song.”

Yuuji heard all this, because he’s eavesdropping. Megumi smacks him across the head, but he doesn’t listen. He knows what he has to do, and he whips out his phone.

Yuuji: Heyyyyyyyyy so IDEA Cho is playin a gig next weekend and he’s all shy about it n shit bc he’s dumb and won’t tell anyone but u should totally not say anything and surprise him!!! He won’t tell u abt it but it wld be a fun surprise for him!!!! Besties and all that wooohoooo

Your phone pinged with a message, and you smiled at the message. Choso had always been bashful about his talents, and you usually had to hound him to get the details of his gigs – but Yuuji was your little spy, and surprising him was a great idea, so after replying in the affirmative, you set your phone back down and continued dinner with Suguru.

The week came and went, and Saturday soon arrived. The gig was at 10pm, so at 6pm when your doorbell rang you were surprised.

Behind the door, stood Geto. His pretty face seemed uneasy in place of its usual languid smirk.

“Can we talk?” He asked.

Oh, shit he did see; he saw me basically salivating over choso in the store last week. Gigs up.

“Eh, sure. This sounds ominous.” You awkwardly giggle as he walks in, hands in his pockets and sits at your kitchen island.

There’s silence for a minute, as you pour some coffee.

“Neither of us are being honest. With ourselves, or each other.” He shrugs, a small smile on his face.

You cock your head, a motion for him to continue.

“You’re in love with Choso.” He sighs, but still smiles.

You freeze. You were right, gigs up. You lean on the counter and look at the ceiling. There was no point in acting anymore, and you didn’t think you had the energy to pretend otherwise anymore.

“I’m sorry Suguru.” Your tears well up now, guilt overtaking you.

“Don’t be, I’m not.” He shrugs, sipping the coffee.

“What?” Your head whips to him.

“You’re in love with Choso, I’m in love with Satoru.” He smiles.

You’re actually… not shocked. It makes sense. Everything does. It all makes sense.

There’s a beat of silence before you catch each other's gaze, and you both begin to softly laugh.

“We’re fucking idiots, Suguru.” You say, running to wrap him in a hug.

“You’re an idiot. It’s just you now. Satoru told me he loved me last night, I told him I loved him too, have done since high school. You’re probably gonna hate me but – it was the best night of my life.” His lazy smirk has returned.

Despite just hearing you were technically just cheated on – you feel elated.

“Suguru, truly – I am so happy for you. You’re a good man – and I’m – I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you from the get-go. Truth is I’ve always been in love with Choso and, I’ve been trying to get over him for years.” The tears are back again. You try to will them away, but Suguru swipes them off your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re a dumbass.”

“I know.”

“You’re still going to his gig tonight, right?” He asks.

You nod.

“Go get ready. I gotta go, but – I am sorry too. For how things worked out, but I’m glad I met you. Tell him tonight, Y/N. I think you’ll be surprised.” Suguru says, waltzing toward the door with that easy confidence that only he has.

“I’m sorry too, Suguru. I’m happy for you, really.” You shrug, smiling.

He opens the door and just before he leaves, he turns.

“Wear that baby blue set under your outfit - it’s fucking sexy as hell.” He says, winking at you as he closes the door and your jaw drops.

You’re left alone and as you stand there; you break into laughter.

That might have been the weirdest break up in history.

But – maybe, this was your sign.

If things could work out for Satoru and Suguru – maybe you could get your happy ending too.

By 10.15pm, you were walking in the door of the bar. The place was packed like a tin of sardines, and the first thing you heard was the Smokey tones of Choso’s voice mingled in with cheers and drunken singing from the audience, people were clamouring to the front to get a better view and place to enjoy the gig. The place must have been completely sold out, by the looks of things. You went to the bar and ordered a Gin and Tonic and sang along under your breath to the songs you’ve heard thousands of times as you sat in on practice sessions as the guy's test audience.

After about 15 minutes, you found a nice spot to lean against a pillar far enough away from the stage that you won’t be seen. You just want to enjoy the view for a while, he looks so beautiful under the lights. Signature buns gleaming with sweat under the lights and guitar hanging loosely off of his shoulder, another all-black outfit – tight black long-sleeved shirt with rips around the collar and black cargo’s again – your favourite on him. They make his ass look damn good.

You could hear murmurs in the audience as people passed, everything ranging from “Damn, I’d climb that front man like a tree,” to “the things I’d let their lead singer do to me would have me sent to hell,” and it make your skin crawl. Not that you disagreed, actually the opposite. You never used to feel such jealousy, hell you had set him up with some people but sometimes it reared its ugly head and tonight it was raging – pulsing through your veins like it was making its home there. You shake your head, looking back up at him. He looks so at home, so peaceful on the stage – that usual tension and awkwardness in his shoulders are gone when he’s on stage. You think happy Choso is the most beautiful Choso.

You were broken out of your thoughts by Choso’s words.

“Um – next songs a new one.” He murmurs into the mic and is met with cheers and applause.

The beat starts up, and you don’t recognise it. You always heard the songs first, before the other band members sometimes. You let yourself relax; he’s probably just forgotten. You take a swig of your drink.

I heard he got you a penthouse

on the westside when will he learn

That you're afraid of heights?

Choso’s voice croons through the room and you blink – wait, like that weekend Geto took you on? Did he take inspiration from your situation? That’s cool!

I heard he got you a new Benz

with the white wheels when will he learn

That you like to tandem bike?

Like the picnic weekend? He really had! That’s cool that your slightly mismatched relationship had been fodder for this song. No wonder he hadn’t told you, he was probably worried you’d be mad.

Mm mmh and I hate that

Wait, what?

His voice begins to swell, and the passion in his voice is something you’ve never heard in his covers of other artists, or in songs written by the other boys. This was new, the pain, the raw emotion seeping into his chords was so powerful it felt like the energy of the room changed completely.

And then, you heard the lyrics.

I could love you with my eyes closed

Kiss you with a blindfold

Figure you out (mm mmh)

I might hold you with my hands tied

Show you I'm the right guy

To figure you out

Your heart stops, you drop the glass you’re holding but the sound is swallowed by the rasping delight of Choso’s voice booming through the speakers as he holds the mic and you stare at his face, eyes closed, and you could swear you can see his very soul in his body at that moment.

Because it hits you,

This song.

You weren’t just some inspirations.

You were the song.

He wrote it.

About you. For you.

He loved you.

Holy shit.

I heard he got you some new friends

with some big dreams when will he learn

That you already got your own? (Mm mmh)

Oh, I heard he got you the front row

at the rap show when will he learn

That you like The Rolling Stones?

You began to walk forward, still near the back of the crowd but close enough now that you’re within range for him to see you.

The chorus finishes, and he opens his eyes and his heart nearly drops from his body and his blood runs icey. You were there, standing, slack jawed and staring him in the eyes. You’ve heard the fucking song and you fucking know. It’s not hard to figure out when you hear it. How did you know? How were you here? He locks eyes with you, and sees tears glinting even from this distance but then – the corners of your lips, they quirk up into a smile. Wide, and so beautiful his breath almost catches. Your hands fly up to your mouth in surprise. He hopes to whatever power there is that’s a good reaction, because fuck, this is make it or break it. This could be 15 years of friendship and the love of his life gone.

Fuck it, damage is done now.

Might as well make it a good show.

And I've been thinking

Of all the little things

That you've been missing

When will you learn?

He wants you to understand, he needs you to feel what he’s telling you in this song. So, he pulls every fibre of himself, every ounce of love he’s ever had for you and spills it onto his guitar and down the mic.

I could love you with my eyes closed

Kiss you with a blindfold

Figure you out (mm mmh)

I might hold you with my hands tied

Show you I'm the right guy

to figure you out.

His eyes never leave yours, and your hand drops from your mouth and he almost missed the moment of your mouth.

Four tiny words. He can’t even hear them over his own voice and music, or the cacophonous crowd.

But he sees them.

You see them on your lips.

I love you too.

He can’t help it. The smile takes over his body as he holds one of his hands in a fist to his heart as he stares at you through the crowd. Eso and Chez have seen what’s going on now too, and the drums and bass get some extra oomph poured into them at the sight.

I could treat you so much better

I've known you forever figured you out

You throw your hands up into the air, he saw you. He heard you; he knows. He knows you love him.

He loves you.

Fuck, he loves you too.

I could love you with my eyes closed

Kiss you with a blindfold, yeah

Figure you out (Figure you out, yeah)

I might hold you with my hands tied

Show you I'm the right guy

To figure you out

With a final cheer, the song comes to a close and without even a goodbye to the crowd, Choso’s guitar is left abandoned on the stage as he pushes through the room toward you and then you feel large, warm, calloused and oh so sweaty hands grip your waist and your feet leave the ground as you notice you’ve been hauled by Choso onto his shoulder and he’s walking toward the backstage area with you.

Privacy.

How very Choso.

The sound dies down but you can’t even find your footing when your feet touch the ground because before you even open your eyes, you’re pinned against a wall – and you’re suddenly engulfed in the smell of sweat, smoke and sandalwood cologne. Hands are on your cheeks and then lips are on yours and this might be heaven. You meet Choso’s lips with equal passion and ferocity – years of longing and desire and love spilling into a kiss because words just won’t be enough right now, and he just has to taste you.

He tastes like rum and coke, his favourite drink to have before a show and with a hint of spearmint gum and his lips just slot so perfectly against yours you think that they were puzzle pieces destined to fit like this forever. One hand finds its way into your hair, and the other to your waist to pull you flush against his chest and yours find purchase in his raven hair, wild from the show. You vaguely hear a door open and close – as if someone came in then very quickly left, but you couldn’t care less. Not when right now Choso was everywhere. His hands clutched you tight against him and you’ve never felt more on fire than you did in that moment.

The need for oxygen soon overtakes your need for Choso and you pull your lips away. You rest your forehead against his, both pairs of eyes still closed, but you can see the small smile on his flushed face.

“Do you mean it?” He whispers.

“Every word.”

“Me too.”

“I’d hope so – you just sang a whole song about it.” You laugh and he follows suit.

He kisses you softly, almost chaste.

“I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids, since you gave me an animal cracker to buy my friendship.” He says, and you feel his lips move as he speaks.

“I’ve love you too Cho – since you let me buy your friendship with an animal cracker.”

You can feel him smiling into the kiss now, it grows messy – all teeth and giggles and shaking hands.

He stills.

And pulls away.

“Oh my god – we can’t, you’ve a boyfriend. What about Geto?” His eyes look panicked.

“In love with Satoru. We broke up earlier – he knew I was in love with you, told me to come and get my man.” You lean into him, cupping his cheeks so he looks straight down at you and his gaze softens.

“I’m all yours, Cho. I always have been.”

And that’s the final straw. You hear a sound you never thought the man capable of making as he grabs the back of your hair and pulls you in by your hip and fucking growls into your ear. You shiver.

“We’re leaving.” He says, grasping your hand and dragging you out the back door. Before you can think he��s lifted you onto the back of his motorcycle and plopped a helmet on your head, then he’s swinging a leg over and you wrap your arms around his stomach – as he revs the engine to life and takes off. You know he’s going back to your place – but you can’t focus when you can see his thick thighs flexing as he straddles the motorcycle and the purring of the engine does little to quell the heat between your thighs. As he parks up, he lifts you off the bike and once again throws you over his shoulder as you squeak in delight – he was so much larger than you, and the feeling of being manhandled like this was making you weak in the knees.

He takes your keys from your purse and opens the door, slamming it shut behind him and not even pausing as he strides straight for your room.

You’re unceremoniously tossed onto the bed and you love it and you squeeze your thighs together in the hopes of some form of friction where you need it most. He stands at the edge of your mattress and rips his shirt over his head before he falls down on top of you. Arms caging around your head and one thigh slotted between yours, the kiss that follows is all consuming. Devouring. You place your hands through his hair, pulling his silky raven hair from its buns and you tug slightly, and he bucks his hips into yours with a groan.

“Angel – please. Later, tomorrow, whenever you want - I’ll make love to you, properly. Show you how much I love you but right now, I gotta fuck you. I need’ta feel you, alright?” He growls into your ear, restraint quavering.

His words send a flush of wetness into your already ruined panties. That’s what you want, no - that’s what you need.

“Cho – look at me.”

And he does, the fire in his eyes is scorching and you stare right into it.

“I want you to fucking ruin me. Please, Cho.” You whine, and he can’t take it anymore.

Your shirt is being tugged over your head, and you can see him being so gentle - he’s trying to be, as least. You reach around and unclip your bra, flinging it across the room as he shimmy’s your jeans and panties down your legs. Had had worn the baby blue lingerie set – not that it mattered how in a heap on your bedroom floor.

Your senses clicked back into place and you were brought back down to reality. You were bare, naked as the day you were born, laying on your bed and about to have sex with Choso. Your Choso. Your best friend, your other half. The man you have always sworn you were destined for. You can’t help the tears that well up as you look at him. The light from your lamp behind him illuminated him in the most beautiful light and your breath hitches with a sob which startles him.

“Fuck, angel - what’s going on? Am I taking it too fast? We can stop – I don’t expect anything. Just talk to me.” He sits beside you now and you don’t even let him finish his sentence.

“I’m just happy, Choso. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.” You say as you flip you both around so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Fuck angel, you’ve no idea. Always had me so fucking hard from doing nothing, have me feeling like a virgin all over again.” He says as you unbuckle his trousers and start pulling them down his thighs, as he finishes the job for you.

He pauses for a moment, his turn for a reality check.

His eyes scan your naked figure, no art could do this justice. No dream of what you looked like under your clothes, no wet dream could come close.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on. How are you even real?” He says, gripping your hips and sitting up to capture your lips once more.

“You’re one to talk.” You tease as you gasp, feeling his desire clearer now with just his black boxers between you.

All softness was gone now.

He laid you on your back, laid a big hand over your lower stomach to keep you still and spread your thighs with his other.

“Gotta fuckin taste you. God, such a pretty pussy. Knew you’d be just as perfect down here.” He’s not even talking to you now, just rambling.

And he wastes no time in getting what he wants, face diving into your slickness and tongue exploring your folds like a man parched. The feeling of his wet mouth on your most sensitive parts makes you whine and gasp as he laps at you like an ice cream cone – once he wraps his pretty pink lips around your little Pearl of nerves you know you’re done for. You were already so worked up, you know you won’t last long. You didn’t even realise he’d slid a finger inside until he thrust in a second and curled them up into your squishy spot inside making you gasp out a stuttered version of his name and he groans into you – the sound of his name on your lips being said with such pleasure could almost make him cum on the spot, and he realises she’s grinding his hips into the mattress like a horny teenager. He’s ready for use his trump card now, he knows your close – can feel you clenching your thighs around his head. He stops suckling on your clip and you protest the lack of stimulation until you feel it – oh my god, how had you forgotten? The small, solid, metal nub laving against your clit was his fucking tongue piercing and within seconds, he had you gushing all over his face and fingers and moaning out like you never have before – vision completely white as you body shakes and waves of pleasure control your movements. He lets you ride out your high on his face before lifts away, reaching for his pants pocket before a tiny shaking hand is stopping him.

“Cho - I’m clean, and I’ve a coil, and I know you’re clean too. You don’t gotta wear one.” Your lashes flutter at him as his heart stutters.

“Angel, are you asking me to fuck you raw?” He asks, incredulous as your wide eyes blink innocently as if you don’t know what you’re doing, and you nod up at him.

He lifts his head to look at the ceiling to try and regulate his breathing, so he doesn’t just finish then and there. He must have done something really good in another life.

Your eyes scour his body, and you land on the bulge in his boxers, it looks big, heavy straining against the fabric, and you can see the wet patch where his tip has been leaking arousal this whole time. You wrap your fingers into the waistband and pull them down to free him. His pretty pick cock slaps up against his abs, spreading shiny pre across the sweaty skin there and oh he’s big. You always thought he would be, from outlines you’ve seen in swimming trunks and sweatpants. He’s perfect, 7.5 inches or so – and girthy, so deliciously girthy that you know the stretch will send you to heaven. You wanna taste him, but you need him inside you like, yesterday.

He hissed when you grip his length and spit into your hand to allow you to pump him a few times before you lay back and open your legs, inviting him into you. In the blink of an eye, your hand darts into your bedside drawer and a bottle of lube appears, no matter how prepped and wet you are you know you’ll need it to take him.

He takes it from you and exhales a breath as he squeezes some onto his cock and spreads it around and the sight is glorious. You always had a thing for guys jacking off, and seeing Choso palm and tug at his own dick was peak dream-fuel.

He spreads your folds with deft, nimble guitarists fingers and you hook your ankles around his back as he begins to push in and you both hiss at the feeling, the first taste of your union.

“You good, angel?” He asks, always such a sweet boy.

You bite your lip and nod at him, clutching at his back to pull him deeper and he obliges by filling you the rest of the way with one smooth thrust and when he bottoms out a string of profanities from both of you fills the air of the room. You lust addled brains pause for a second.

“I love you, Cho.”

“I love you too, angel. Please, be mine?”

“I’ve always been yours. All yours Cho. Make me yours, claim me.” You whimper and with that he pulls out only to slam his hips back into yours and he begins to barrel his hips into yours with the speed and force of a jackhammer and your breath is taken from your body.

“You want me to claim you? Fuck, such a perfect cunt. Made for me, you were made for me. I’m all yours, forever – angel. Jesus, squeezing me so tight. Cock’s all yours, angel. I love you.” He groans as he watches himself thrusting into your wetness.

He hooks your ankles over his shoulders and you can see the bulge in your tummy from how deep he is and you wordlessly grab his hand and press it to your tummy so he can feel himself in you. He’s possessive, that much is clear – so you know it’ll drive him wild.

He actually fucking whimpers and you’ve never heard anything hotter and you attach your lips to his neck and suck a dark bruise onto the juncture of his neck and shoulder and he bites down on your throat leaving clear indication of where he’d been. You feel your peak approaching fast and he does too, he pulls down to watch your face as you cum.

“Cum for me pretty, I’m so close – where can I – fuck, where can I cum?” He whimpers into your skin.

“Inside Cho. Please.” You reply, sounding so fucked out that his hips grow sloppy and he twitches into your magic spot and you clench around him, and the fluttering feeling of your tight walls as you cum around his cock sends him over the cliff with the most powerful orgasm of his life.

He thrusts a few more times, savouring the feeling of your heat. As he pulls out, his eyes are drawn to the sight of your mixed spends leaking from your clenching hole and he swears he’d immediately hard again.

You grab his shoulders and pull him beside you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You’re incredible.” You whisper.

“No more than you, angel.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose as you giggle.

He relaxes and clutches you into him.

“So, ehm – are we like, yaknow – do you wanna… maybe?” His eyes dart around the room and you struggle to connect the lustful, dominant, possessive man who’s just fucked you into your mattress with the shy, kind boy trying to talk to you now.

“Yes Cho. We’re dating. I’m your girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” You giggle, swinging your legs from the bed and waltzing to the en suite door.

“That’s the best sentence I ever heard.” He says, with a hazy, fucked out smile.

You whisper sweet nothings into the night as you clean up together, and find time for another round before you finally drift off in each others arms, limbs entwined. No more separate beds at sleepovers, just wrapped up in each other.

Nothing had ever felt more right.

A 15 year old boy, curled up watching a film with his boyfriend jumped when his phone buzzed.

Big Bro: I know it was u little shit that told her abt the gig. She heard the song.

Yuuji: idk what ur talking about 😇😇😇😇😇

Big bro: idiot. But I’m not coming home tonight - I’m staying at hers. So, thank you – even if ur a menace to society. Megumi can stay, u can stay w ur bf bc I’m stayin w my gf.

And the boyfriend in question jumps out of his skin when Yuuji jumps up cheering.

“They got together! ‘Gumi! Look, Y/N’s his girlfriend! YES!” Yuuji is jumping in the air like he just won the lottery.

Megumi rolls his eyes, but mutters.

“Fucking finally.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso smut #choso kamo #choso imagine #choso au #band au #jjk smut

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remukko · 20 days ago

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Pokémon Monochrome Micro Theory - "Mortality Theory"

So! With the @pkmn-monochrome blog reaching it's ASSUMED climax today, everyone's REALLY looking forward to how the story will end, or what CODY's fate will end up being. CHARIZARD has told CODY that she could skewer them, and asks the question on if the world would even allow CODY to die. Now, I've got my own thoughts, and I want to share them here as a sort of micro-theory.

This isn't something I do usually, so excuse me being a bit rambly or scrappy with the way it's formatted!!!

(I will be naming "Hacker" and "Trainer" Cody as "Cody" and "CODY" respectively. Just so you know which little critter i'm talking about!)

Here I want to predict an answer to one thing: Will, or CAN CODY even die? (I promise this is interesting!)

I will say immediately that I don't think it's even possible for CODY to die, at least not by being murdered or harmed. Why?

Well, Cody made the Pokémon Monochrome rom-hack which us, the players, get ahold of. The hack is altered and warped to the will of Cody during the development on the hack, to reflect their own thoughts, preferences and views. Thus the logic which the world follows should line up with Cody's own will.

The most obvious example of this is quite obvious: The three ghosts & CODY themselves are reflections of Cody's thoughts and mind, as implied and directly stated by several characters such as CHARIZARD.

Where am I getting with this? I think that Cody was against the idea of the permanence of death, and thus CODY will not be able to fully die until the cartridge rots, or their own code is altered or removed.

Now that might sound absolutely crazy, but hear me out! I will try to back up my idea.

Exhibit A: The GHOSTS

Three of the most important characters in the storyline of Pokèmon Monochrome are the ghosts of PIKACHU, BLASTOISE and CHARIZARD. This shows that they returned to life after their passing or removal in the game. I see this as them being anomalies - things that aren't meant to be but are, simply because of Cody's own mindset regarding the topic of death. Even after the GHOSTS arguably die again, such as CHARIZARD, they are shown to return the moment the flute is played at their grave. No matter what, they can always come back, and continue to torment CODY.

So if the GHOSTs are able to come back from dying twice... Why can't CODY?

Exhibit B: CODY

Now, CODY themselves! I think this one particularly striking, as CODY is practically stuck in a form of purgatory after Cody died - refusing to die at all costs. Note that the tower is a literal purgatory meant for the player character after they get a GAME OVER. Due to Cody's will, they were kept alive inside of the game in some way upon their passing, forming who we now know as CODY.

Aside from that, they also suffer from some injuries: Lacking wrists, with the inside of their cuffs being filled with a glitchy static... Correct me if I'm wrong, but I recall it being said that it was a form of in-game censorship to cover up the flesh and bone? I swear the author of Pokémon Monochrome stated it somewhere... and if memory serves me right, it's a massive detail! As it shows CODY doesn't show physical pain on major injuries, or at least it would go away rather quickly...

Exhibit C: Spark's Comments

Throughout the duration of the blog, Sparklingdemon (the author of Pokémon Monochrome) has shared some canon details about Cody and the world of Pokémon Monochrome, and a recent post regarding Cody has intrigued me, and is a big cornerstone in this whole theory.

Sparks stated that as Cody was developing the hack, they wanted to subvert the trope of a typical poképasta. For example, they stated that Cody wamted no Missingno, no dead Raticate, no self-aware protagonist, and... most importanty to the theory: No blood and gore.

If Cody's will is brought upon the world of Pokémon Monochrome, this means that CODY's body can recieve no further harm than it already did. Beit torn, bitten, shredded... they will always remain in tact.

Now, how does this all connect?

I firmly believe that, even if CODY were to theoretically "die" at CHARIZARD's hand. it wouldn't be long before they return due to Cody's thoughts against the very idea of death.

Because the world was molded strictly to Cody's will, their reincarnation (for the lack of a better term) will remain alive inside a purgatory of their own creation.

It doesn't matter how many times they die, it doesn't matter how many times they're mauled, CODY will remain stuck until the destruction or decay of their cartridge. Or you know, if the players started a New Game.

Or at least, that's what I reckon. Hey, at least they'll only have to endure it for less than 15-20 years instead of an eternity...!

All in all, I can't wait to see what happens today, I could ramble about connections and theories related to this series all day!! But I'll spare you the details. I sure hope we won't have to put this theory to the test.

#pokemon-monochrome #pkmn monochrome #creepypasta #theory

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keter-kan · 3 months ago

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Okay!! I've been working on something for a really long time with some oc's that are near and dear to my heart ♡ I've gotten quite a bit already written, a bit less edited. I'm thinking of doing some more in-depth posts about the characters and their lore, if anyone would be interested! Possible first chapter post tomorrow?

Also, you're not allowed to make fun of me for the shit formatting of this post. I'll figure it out eventually, I swear.

tw: heavy mentions of sa, p*dophelia, abuse, death, murder

•

Broken Legends

Prologue

Leandra’s father abused her as a child, but everyone could see that clear as day. The people knew of the king’s predilection for little girls, but none seemed to care enough to do much about it. Either that, or their fear was too great to intervene. Blood right, birth right, sovereign right, whatever they wanted to use as an excuse for the deranged, disgusting behavior of the man whose father’s father staked his claim on the coastal kingdom of Aphoreum.

He never touched his son; little boys weren’t his taste. He rarely touched his wife—may her soul flow freely—but she certainly seemed to keep him in line. Until her death, there was a restraint to him that withered away as she did; rotting and leaving a smell no one could erase from his soul.

Queen Imogen died under seemingly un-mysterious circumstances. She didn’t fall suddenly ill after a lifetime of health, she didn’t claim abuse, and she certainly didn’t suspect that someone quite close to her could be the cause of her failing body. Everyone mourned for the appropriate period of time.

Everyone except the children, of course. They still find themselves mourning the idea of a mother they could barely remember. To Leandra, her mother was strong and wise, the way a woman should be. To her older brother, Callum, there was the abandonment of the only woman who would unconditionally love him. She chose to remember a legacy, while he was bound to the anger he felt towards the undeserving dead.

The first child, the original heir, was sickly; an affliction seen often in the more recent royal blood. Really, though, the only difference from the royal blood and that of all peasants was its incestuous nature. That was something the Terrance Reign brought back to the royal line after nearly a century of free marriages.

Heir to Aphoreum, Prince Terance VIII, died peacefully in his sleep on the night of his tenth birthday. Those who said his mother killed him to give him a better life soon found their heads in burlap sacks, so not many say that anymore. It was soon after Terance was dead that their mother went to join him.

Callum was named the successor to the throne just a day after his mother’s funeral. After the grand ceremony, as the succession of High Councilors and Noblemen kissed the stones at Callum’s feet, Leandra’s father took her away where no one would see for the first time.

From that moment forward, Leandra had a new understanding of her place in the palace. While her brother grew up to become the king he wasn’t meant to be, her father taught her what being a woman of royal blood really meant: when her brother left on his journey to become a man, she would go with him and ensure pure heirs.

Aphoreum’s soul was born of the blood shed by those who fought and killed the demons plaguing the land. Countless villages were saved, small kingdoms sprouting throughout. As men pushed forward, demons fled back to the oceans, leaving Aphoreum to be conquered by whoever was left. At least, this is what was taught to the people.

There are thousands of dusty and cracked scrolls of parchment scattered throughout all cities and towns in Aphoreum containing the history of the land; how the Gods rewarded us with lush fields and bountiful rivers for banishing all of their enemies to the sea. That is, to this day, where they are said to dwell.

Things started crumbling at the end of Aphoreum’s War, started by none other than Terrance the First. It took five generations, yet they reigned victorious. For the first time since anyone could remember, the entirety of Aphoreum was ruled under one king. None of the other prior kingdoms were proud of that. With their previous rulers executed during the Reckoning—the day Aphoreum’s War was officially won—they fell into disarray. Villages plundered, women sold to richer men, entire ways of life decimated under the fist of a barbarian king. For King Terrance VII, the duty to uphold total power over all of Aphoreum was a goal only completed by the iron fist of his forebearers. He held to the pride of men who fought for honor while he sat upon his plush throne.

Leandra was literate thanks to an old wetnurse that her father had killed when she was eleven. Once she was no longer needed to feed Leandra’s bastard half siblings, she was sent with the Wind. After that, the only person ever present in Leandra’s life was High Councilor Jonas, a man who never touched her unless to pat the top of her head. He taught her of Natural Chaos and what tarnishes the soul, but he also taught her that there are good odds and ends in the world, too. She just had to look very hard to see them.

Jonas was the sole educator of both Leandra and Callum, but also their father before them. He was a truce sent from the church to Terrance VI, begging him to forgive them for not modifying their scripture the first time he asked. After Grandpa Terrance killed the High Priest residing in the palace chapel, they changed their tune. Jonas, however, understood the weight of the duty he’d been assigned. To teach the young is to mold the innocent in whatever way you see fit. But not every child is as easily molded. Terrance was a child full of hate, instilled in him by his own violent father. Callum seemed to be taking after his father in more ways than one, although Jonas continued every day to try to stray him from that path. Leandra, however, was different.

Before being sent to the palace, Jonas’s congregation of High Councilors—beknown to him or not—swore upon themselves that they would right the wrongs of the Natural Chaos afflicting the royal blood, whether that be by violence or sacrifice or any other means necessary. This was a promise the church sat upon for far too many generations to count if it hadn’t been for the numerals after each king’s name. But they had to bide their time. They had to bend their rules, change their faith, modify their scripture, all to appease the man they planned to overthrow. Another mighty aspect of the Terrance Reign was the slow and steady separation of the church from the crown, an unspoken duty bestowed to each heir as the generations passed.

It was through Jonas that Leandra learned of the world, the scrolls of scripture being her main escape, but not the modified texts of the Terrance Reign. Jonas was molding Leandra to be the savior Aphoreum needed, and this was the beginning.

Leandra would read the stories of the Gods who seemingly abandoned her. She found solace there, between the pages of their legends. The comfort of long forgotten rules set by wrongly worshipped Gods was the only kind of comfort she could afford.

Terrance was of a breed of man who more closely resembled their primal counterparts: feasting, fucking, and fighting. Not much else crossed his mind.

There are those who know better, despite class or background or who sits upon Aphoreum’s throne. But the rage projected by King Terrance found a home in the hearts of his men, creating a society of violence. There were few pockets throughout the kingdom where none could be found, most of which were under attack by those taking after their king.

On the day Callum turned twenty he found himself embarking on just such a conquest, yet one of a much different scale. A Wandering is any man’s rite of passage, giving him a year to stake his claim away from his family someplace else amongst the Waters and Winds. If they never returned after a year’s time, they weren’t ever meant to be a man. With Callum, however, his Wandering was an expedition into the known world with an army at his back and a ship full of wine. As were the odds of all those who could afford it, he would likely return more of a man than those without the gold in their pockets.

It was a simple plan with a grandiose design, allowing a full year of celebration for the future king of Aphoreum. Ships made of the finest timber harvested from the southern coasts, casks of wines and spirits shipped from around Aphoreum, clothes and finery made by request for his highness. With him would go his soon-to-be wife, Leandra.

The relationship Leandra shared with her brother wasn’t one of solidarity. He was to be his father’s spawn as Leandra was to be an instrument in his success. The moments of torture and humiliation caused by her father were in preparation to be used by the future king. Knowing this, she harbored many emotions for him, none of which she understood. She knew he was tainted the same way their father was before him, and their children would be after them, and she prayed that something—anything—could steer her fate in any other direction, for she knew his never would be.

When Jonas approached her after class, crumpled parchment in a High Councilor’s shaking hands, she took it without question. She looked in his eyes and saw the pain he felt, the longing for the Gods to make the world what it once again should be.

When she unfurled the note, she needed no further explanation than what was found there. Stained with the sweat of her mentor’s hands, four simple words bleeding into the page; Jump. You’ll know when.

The final weeks leading to her brother’s Wandering were full of tension. Leandra unfurled the parchment in her hands night after night, feeling the scratches of ink fade away as she rubbed it between her fingers.

Jump.

She could barely contain her excitement. She was going to weasel her way out of the chain of command. The only man who ever truly understood her the way the Gods intended had devised a plan for her to escape.

You’ll know when.

Stiff in her seat at the Grand Table, Leandra watched her plate as the men feasted around her. Tomorrow morning the Wandering would begin, and as the fleet of Aphoreum’s ships left the harbor, she would have to be ready to flee at any moment. She knew what Jonas meant about knowing when: she needed to wait for a message from the Gods. She would pray and worship and fast and deny herself the pleasures of life to prepare herself for the message she knew the Gods would give her. She would be ready.

When the sun rose over the harbor the following morning, Leandra was at peace for the first time since she was last held by her mother. She felt as though there was finally a real purpose to her plight in life and that she would be able to break the mold that her many greats-grandfather had created here. She felt as though she—alone—could crumble the system built by generations of the world’s most appalling men.

They set sail on a glorious day. Callum made a speech just after King Terrance, pushing the entire kingdom into a week-long celebration. Bottles broken, oars heaved, sails unfurled, and they were out of the mouth of harbor in just a few hours’ time.

For the first week of their voyage, Leandra didn’t speak with Callum. Not that he had much to say to her, anyway, besides the remarks of needing to secure an heir before the year’s end. Every night he’d mention it, and every night she’d comply, silently awaiting the sign promised her.

After that first week, Leandra grew a bit restless. And the week that followed that one made her even worse. The further they traveled from Aphoreum, the more the bruises left by her father healed, the more Leandra thought that there wouldn’t be a message, or maybe she had missed it… She started toying with the idea of living a life with her brother and what that could entail for her. She couldn’t stomach the thought of living in a world that her Gods had forsaken, but if she could make her brother see things the way Jonas had intended, maybe there could be a change.

When she finally spoke to her brother, she asked him if he’d care to know her, because, really, they just knew so little of each other.

He said he very much would. He was strong, but he was nervous. He couldn’t ever rule the way his father intended, but he wanted to try.

She said she could help him, if he’d let her.

They were children. What little they could have learned through life was filtered through their father’s vision. But he wasn’t here with them now.

The storm hit just three days from where they would dock. As the rain pelted the decks of the ships and the waves swelled, Callum’s men remained calm. They knew how to work a ship in a storm. For a while, everything remained intact. The fleet, the men, even Leandra.

But the storm became something else. After countless hours of toiling under the whip of rain and wind, the air started to become heavy with the stench of something bigger. As the waves turned from rolling hills to staggering cliffs and the raindrops into daggers, the men started to lose themselves.

The young ones jumped first. Callum was called from his cabin, forced to peel Leandra from his side. As she huddled amongst the furs adorning the mattress, Callum entered into a scene from the pits of the Gods’ hatred.

He was met with a force of nature never defeated by any king. As the ship was flung from one wave to the next, Callum’s men were dropping to their knees and scraping themselves towards the rails, throwing themselves into the raging sea. As he inched over the deck, grabbing the rigging and buckets dropped by his men, he saw a look on their faces that reminded him of his mother’s corpse in her ornate casket; there was no soul within them. Not anymore.

Screams were swallowed by the waves and the winds, words lost and breath wasted. As Callum pleaded with his mean until his throat was bloody and cracked, it overtook him.

She was calling to him. No, no…

Singing.

It was subtle at first, a slow drone playing at the base of his skull, humming away as he grabbed at his men bent on suicide. The more he pleaded, the harder his skull thrummed, filling his head with a desire unknown to man. As the irritation started to spread and his screaming and howling continued to fail, the soft beads of sound started to poke pin-pricks in the humming, driving Callum to gasp and shake with momentary relief before again being swallowed by the desperation. As another wave threw the ship far off course and doused the men in water colder than ice, he broke.

“Mother?”

She was there. Her golden hair cascading down her shoulders, her naked form hovering above the railing of the ship, situated the way a God would be. When Callum locked eyes with her, he felt that she was truly there, waiting for him to reach her.

She called to him, sang to him, cooed over the man he had become. Tears mixed with the rain and sea as they poured down Callum’s cheeks. He slowly made his way towards her.

Leandra emerged from the cabin as the thrumming started to overtake her. Her shift whipping in the wind and her hair matted to her head from the rain, she saw the horrors on deck.

The Gods had sent their message.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, too, but they didn’t get the chance to meet the wood of the ship. Leandra trusted her Gods. She trusted Jonas.

She jumped.

There was no sound as she hit the water. There was no cold embrace of the ocean, no being swallowed by the waves. She let herself be taken fully, succumbing to her fate.

Although she wasn’t expecting pleasure, nor was she expecting the pain.

Hands grabbed at the shift plastered to her skin, ripping it from her body in mere seconds. As the thrumming ceased in the back of her skull, she was taken in a way no one had taken her before. Not the man slaves who lurked after her in the palace, not her brother who she grew to love, not even her father, who defiled her in a way no other living thing could.

While her soul was ripped apart, shredded down to the sand that littered the ocean floor, she knew her Gods had forsaken her.

Leandra had no recollection of returning home. One moment she was suffering the pain of all the Natural Chaos, and the next she was dragging herself across the wharf, blood trailing in her wake. The moon was full.

Jonas found her and took her back to her father at the palace.

Her skin was burnt, her hair missing in chunks. Her bones poked through her skin like they wanted to free themselves from its cage. Her eyes drooped in their sunken sockets, unable to comprehend the world around her. She cried her story to Jonas, who begged her father to let a healer see her, even just one from the church. He refused.

For Leandra was with child, and heavily so. Her body, slowly failing her, was feeding something inside of her that wasn’t human.

She was pregnant when Jonas lifted her from the harbor, but the progression of her state was faster than it should’ve been; her stomach bruising and aching and protruding more every day. Her bones became brittle, her legs sitting at crooked angles and her neck unable to support the weight of her head. Upon the next full moon, when the tides were high, Leandra called for Jonas with what little strength she had left.

He leaned down to her ear, her breath almost too light to decipher the words.

“Please,” she whimpered, “don’t let him kill my daughter.”

That night, as her screams of labor began, Jonas pleaded once again with the king. Terrance, with a glare in his eye, allowed for a wetnurse from the palace chapel. He wouldn’t permit anyone besides himself and Jonas in the chambers, let alone a practiced healer. The nurse was the most she would get.

When she arrived, the horror that overcame her hit a part of her soul that hadn’t ever been touched before. The king demanded death to the child upon delivery, bolting the door behind them as he left.

When Jonas asked her to defy him, her soul said yes, as the woman had done for him many times before.

She died without seeing the full moon that night. As her child took their first breath, Leandra took her last.

Her child was a beautiful monster. A writhing mass of body, shifting in form while the wetnurse clung to his mottled skin. Within a moment, the child opened his eyes, and ceased being a monster. He was a baby, covered in his mother’s blood, eyes peering into those of the woman who held him.

When the king asked for proof of the death of the monster upon the following morn, Jonas provided a mangled piglet’s corpse. The wetnurse, covered in cattle entrails, told Terrance it took more work than she’d have thought to kill such a small beast. He was satisfied.

Leandra’s body was burned in the kitchen fires by Jonas’s hand, as Terrance commanded. There would be no funeral. There would be no knowledge of the children who failed at their Wandering. That would be the end of their stories. Terrance would find a concubine to produce a legitimate heir amongst the few cousins he had left. Aphoreum would live on.

But so did Leandra’s child, deep in a forest untouched by man, left in the hands of powerful women that the Gods would grow to fear.

#art #be nice #my art #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #english #literature #fantasy #dark fantasy #fiction #oc #oc writing #short story #story #original story #original character

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lycankeyy · 1 month ago

Text

Okay here's the whole thing I filled out with boyf in-character enjoy his one total braincell if he's lucky. I'm putting zero effort into formatting this bc tumblr is glitchy on my phone blank template is here

(cw: sexual humor. also a bunch of intentional typos and gratuitous swearing)

1. Okay, first question: what’s your name, age, and gender?

- they call me boyfriend im 19 and i sap the gender out of the music

2. How would you describe yourself, personality-wise?

- fuckkk man idk. im p chill i think ig im pretty cool. pretty swag pretty gamer

3. What’s a typical day like for you?

- welll I wake up at like. 11 usually at earliest and I hang out w one of my partners sometimes I watch movies w em or work on music. not a lot going on usually

4. How do you wind down at the end of the day? Do you even wind down?

- most of the time i literally just wait until i crash out sometimes gf and peeks gotta drag me to bed lol

5. What is your earliest memory?

- UHHHHH oh god uhhh. I think. When I was like five we went to a festival or smth and we went on one of those twirly things and I made my dad spin the thing so hard I threw up LMAO

6. What is/was your relationship with your parents?

- i mean p good i think but we dont rly tlak anymore thats mostly my fault tho

7. What do you do when you’re bored?

- succumb to the madness mostly

8. Do you regret anything you’ve done?

- i mean not like currently

9. Do you dress to be functional or fashionable?

- bro i wear the same exact fucking outfit every day to be honest with you lol. It's not like I'm fuckin going anywhere

10. Who are your best friends? How did you meet them?

- DUUUDE assuming my partners don't count gotta shout out my man darnell we've been workin on a collab ep recently it goes hard as fuckkkkk. we met back in the stupid therapy program back in middle school he introduced me to pico n nene

11. Have any siblings? If so, what is your relationship?

- yea got a big sister and a lil bro. they're both sweet but kinda clueless tbh. technically got other stuff goin on too but im kinda worried that ill get like the government on my ass if i talk abt it

12. What is your job? Is it tiring or difficult?

- closest thinf ive got to a job is music ig and nah. really wouldn't rather be doing anything else even if it payed more tbh. when I get burnt out I wanna die but thafs not a big deal lmao

13. When you’re going through a rough time, do you seek help or consolation from others?

- on a scale of liek paper cut to nearly died how rough are we talking

14. How easy is it for others to gain your trust?

- ive been told im pretty trusting but i feel like any person whos meant to hurt me was pretty upfront abt it so ┐(´∀｀)┌

15. What is your sexuality, if you don’t mind me asking?

- all the time all the time

16. Do you have a significant other? What are they like?

- "a" singular. lol. lmao even. bros asking if I got one singular partner lmao try two bitch and thyere the best most important people in the world

17. Have you ever lost a loved one?

- not like perminently

18. How often do you act on impulse? Does it ever backfire?

- lsiten if i do it all the time then like statisicly it only backfires like 40% of the time okay

19. Do you believe in ghosts?

- I believe in everyone bro

20. How about aliens?

- aliens are hisyorically very mean to me but ig i can just then believe that they can be better people. or aliens

21. What traits do you value the most in others?

- uhhh probably like being just nice ig? idk i think it can take a lot more effort than people think to be considerate and stuff I appreciate when people are nice even if they have a reason not to be

22. Do you dream often? What are your dreams like?

- i used to not to but somethings happened and now I get them all the time. don't really want to talk about it they're mostly just weird

23. Are you a light or heavy sleeper? Do you sleep in?

- my partners say im such a heavy sleeper that one time i slept through gf falling off the bed in the middle of the night but I was asleep so I can't cofnirm

24. Okay, this is a bit personal, but… Have you ever (uh) “done the do”?

- dude like u wouldn't believe

25. Do you have any pets?

- nah but I think it would be cool to have a guinea pig they seem chill and I appreciate their vibes

26. Ever been drunk before? How often do you drink?

- i try not to toooooooo much but i think i have a hard time telling when too much is too much. dont tell my parents

27. Are you respectful to authority figures?

- they only have as much authority as you give them. manipulate a landlord today

28. What kinds of movies do you like you watch?

- https://youtu.be/HgjyQ0_coJo?si=L5Bzhey5cxaoNpWU

29. Do you have any guilty pleasures?

- ██████ █████ █ ███████ ████ ███ ████ ███████ ███ ████ ████████████ ██ ███ ███ ████ ██ one time nene found it in my dresser and I almost DIED wait was this question not about sex stuff

30. What would you say is the happiest memory of your life?

- ohh thats hard uhh. happiest is hard to qualify i think. I think I'm happiest whenever I think abt waking up next to my partners

31. How about your worst memory?

- thats a good question

32. What did you aspire to be when you were young? Did that dream change as you grew up?

- i didn't think I'd be fuckign anythang

33. How far would you be willing to go to get what you want?

- u gotta quantify what I want here tbh. is it like a chocolate bar or one billion dollars. cuz id kill someone for a billion dollars. honestly i might also kill someone for a chocolate bar but like not as badly

34. What is sure to ruin your day?

- idk nearly dying again probably

35. Do you have any nervous habits?

- uhhh sometimes i mess with my hair and when i get rly upset i pull at it til it hurts. i used to scratch my face a lot when i was upset too but it freaks ppl out so i try not to if i can help it

36. Play video games often?

- i tryyyyy but i get distracted so fast i play a game and im like oh shit this reminds me of another thing i was gonna play n then i go play that and then I never FINISH ANYTHIGN

37. What kind of things do you laugh at?

- https://youtu.be/47EOSLWu-EI?si=kuzPv2Vndl91Oj3C

38. Favorite genre of music?

- BROOOO ok gonna be basic as shit and say breakcore. also a huge fan of speedcore and drill & bass but breakcore is my home. i wishhh it wasn't called this but my favorite like subgenre of breakcore is probs lolicore not for any fuckin weird reason but just bc the way the vocals are usually mixed scratches my brain sooooooo fuking good. listen to various types of ads by loli in early 20s and youll get it. i fucking love experimental breakcore my favorite album rossz csillag alatt született mixes breakcore+dr&b w classical and it's sooooo fucking good it's SO good i need to learn more fuckin instrument plug ins so I can make shit like that. in general i just love music that feels like it's fuckin drilling it's way into youre brain and rewiring it i want the music to fuckin labotomize me fr

39. What do you think your spirit animal would be if you had one?

- idk maybe a rat i like rats. dude imagine if i was a rat like ritz we could have cheese together. we can do that anyway but it would be more awesome

40. Have an accent of any kind?

- yea autism

41. Chess or checkers?

- checkers i have no idea how to play chess but it sounds convoluted as fuk

42. Do you feel sentimentality toward a particular object?

- i love my laptop even if I get a new computer and this thing breaks completely im keeping this laptop ily laptop

43. Are you generally pretty secretive, or are you an open book?

- im like accidentally secretive i dont even try like wtf do you mean im supposed to talk about shit

44. What are you most embarrassed about?

- i feel like this was addressed in the nene thing

45. What are your deepest fears?

- have you ever seen that fuckin brony stuff where people get teleported to pony world as horses gf is obsessed with that kinda thing but that's TERRIFYING if i woke up as a horse id fuckin die of a heart attack

46. How desperate would you have to be to lie to, steal from, injure, or murder another person? Do you do any of those things regularly?

- i like the implication that i would admit to murdering ppl on a regular basis

47. Do you have any scars? How did you get them?

- it's so fucked up i got this scar on my face and it's so bad bc I don't even scar that easy like i get into fights my entire life but i only got one scar just bc some weeb tried to kill me. like ok

48. Say someone has mistreated you in some form. Would you immediately lose your temper, hold a grudge, or simply let it go?

- you wouldnt believe my epic power to do all of those simaltaneusly

49. How do you deal with physical and mental pain?

- max volume noise nothing can hurt me if the Loud

50. What is your ideal place to live?

- never thought abt it tbh ig anywhere with my partners

51. What was your childhood like?

- just 18 years of stupid therapy programs and stupid special ed classes and ppl telling me how to think and how to act and like I was 4 years old forever i don't careeee

52. What is your favorite kind of weather?

- i think snow is pretty

53. How important to you is friendship? What about romance?

- i think they're both pretty great but idk i feel like urself should be most important bc idk shit happens and ppl leave so if you dont like yourself youre just gonna be stuck with some miserable loser who doesnt have any friends as ur only company

54. Have any disabilities, weaknesses, or allergies?

- i feel like in a hypothetical situation i would be pretty weak to godzilla

55. What’s your favorite thing to eat?

- SPICY FOOOOOOOD my spice tolerance fucks hard i will drink hot sauce. right now holdbon

56. Do you have kids? If not, do you picture yourself ever having them?

- could you fucking imagine.

57. How well can you sing?

- idk but i like it

58. Are you particularly confident? Does your confidence level change if less people are around?

- if nobody got me i know i got me

59. Do you like shopping?

- delivery apps were invented for a reason

60. How do you interact with strangers?

- tbh i usually just tune out anyone that's not talking to me LMAO

61. Have you ever been betrayed by someone you loved?

- not like perminently

62. If you could change anything about yourself, what would it be?

- don't like this question

63. If you could meet anyone from the past or future, who would it be?

- fuckkkkk my gf isn't home rn can I pick her

64. If a genie granted you three wishes, what would they be?

- money bigass house and then I wouldn't use the last one so we could just vibe forver

65. Do you like attention?

- ask pico

66. Are you glad I’ve run out of questions to ask?

- ig bc im puttin off chores ily though

#💛#fc!bf #funkycule au #there is One reference to rgbfverse LMAO #long post

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fallstreakfeathers · 1 year ago

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WHERE LIGHT DWELLS

Warnings: au typical trauma, biting, Sekido bites you but not in the Fun Way, septic shock, vomiting. Not formatted for tumblr bc it takes forever on mobile We are now formatted for tumbl.hell, Reader is gn and not described.

Word Count: 8,085 8,385 8597(update as of 6/18/24)

If it's unreadable, try it on Ao3 : Where Light Dwells

( Taisho Secret: I don't like sekido.)

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Part 1

Your car purrs along the deserted backroad; a not-so-short-shortcut home to avoid the traffic on the main highway. The radio sings in the background, not that you’re really listening to it. You can’t even tell what’s playing over the wind that whips past your open window. Some old classics. Maybe country. It cuts in and out as cell service wanes. The scenery that blurs past your window is more interesting than whatever song manages to glitch its way into your car. You think that the atmosphere could fit a horror movie despite the daylight- it’s dilapidated enough, at least, and the wind pushes the canopy in a way that makes the creaking branches look as if they might just snatch you up. You drive over a pothole and the bumper jumps, jerking you in the seat. You wince. That definitely wasn’t there last time you traveled this way, but with the size of the storm that damaged the shingles on your neighbor's roof just a week ago, it was a miracle there were no downed logs. Yet. A dark, unusual shape catches your eye as you navigate the pits and ruts of overgrown foliage and litter amongst a twig-strewn dirt road. At first you ignore it- after all, it’s probably just another bag of trash someone’s dumped in the woods. But, something about the shape of that shadow tugs you back, and you hesitantly slow your vehicle and put the gear in reverse.

Gravel and dead leaves crunch under the wheels as you stop, and the closing door startles you in the uneasy peace of the forest. Even the birds seem quiet today. With cautious steps, aware that you are alone in the woods on a backroad that is so rarely traveled anymore that it’s more grass than dirt, you creep towards the dark figure and peer over the side of the ditch.

Your face pales. That’s… there’s a hand poking out from under a large bush. And ragged clothes that don't hide whatever it is from the suffocating heat. You’re trying not to freak out, praying it’s a mannequin, or even someone's… personal toy. Anything but a corpse. It stinks, a rotting, pungent sweetness that turns your stomach, and you can’t tell if it’s whatever is in front of you or if it’s the miles of trash and dead plants around you. Several steel wires had been wrapped around a cedar tree behind the bush, and you swallow hard as you see the iron is stained red. You hope it’s rust. The wind dies down, and you swear you can hear labored breathing as you crouch in the ditch, trying to see under the bush without sticking yourself in reach. Your heart sinks further.

There’s an adult man hiding under the leaves, and you can tell from his pointed ears and the horns that curve out of his forehead that he's a demon. Someone's pet, from the looks of the rusty tag hanging from chains way too tight on his neck. Red, swollen bug bites pock his arms in a furious itchy red. You pull your own sleeves down. The bindings cut his flesh, leaving gaping wounds that cross around his body. They look inflamed, from what you can see. Something yellow oozes from a few of them, mixing with the blood soaking the ground under him.

There are several deep punctures in his arms that are obviously from another demon’s teeth. Possibly even its horns. You peer around, trying to see if this is some kind of sick trap. A joke. But you’re as alone as you were when you stopped the car. As alone as you thought you were. The wind changes and the smell hits you full force. You stumble back clamping a hand to your stomach as you try not to retch. The demon pulls his trembling hand back from patches of light as the leaves move, trying to hide his sun-burned skin from the heat. Demons… the sun hurts them much faster than it does humans, you remember. At least, prolonged exposure does. From what you’ve heard. Not that you’ve ever dealt with demons. You’ve never even met one, except for the unfortunate, skulking thing your friend kept around. The girl wouldn’t even meet your eyes, shoulders hunched and tense like she was expecting to be hit for even breathing. Her ratty hair had hidden her face. You disapproved of the concept of a demon ‘pet’, but your friend insisted it was better than a dog or cat. Traditional pets couldn’t do household chores. Or wash your car. The demon stilled under the bush, his eyelids shut tight with an ugly grimace on his face. Sharp fangs poked at his bottom lip. He was curled in on himself as much as he could with the bindings. His long, dark hair was matted with twigs and grime, and he trembled. With what, you couldn’t tell. Pain? Cold? Maybe both. You shift on your feet, a twig cracking under your weight. It seems to echo on the otherwise quiet road. In a split second, the demon lunges from the bushes with a vicious snarl, his hands outstretched before his body is snapped back by wires that held fast and branches that creaked in their reluctance to release him. You lose your balance on the gravel as you scramble backward, seconds too late. If it hadn’t been for the bindings that tied the demon to the tree, you’re sure he would’ve been upon you. For now, though, drool drips unbidden from his growling mouth, and the demon’s blood-red irises stare at your crouching form with a furious, biting hatred that had you shivering almost as much as he was. He did not want you here- that much was obvious when he attempts to lunge once more, spitting gore and drool on the ground with a howl. The chains and wires whined, creaked, snapped bark off the cedar tree as much as they dug bloody ruts into the man's skin. Then, to your surprise, he slinks back into the bushes and collapses with a pathetic groan. His eyes dart around, unfocused and… confused. Like he didn’t know where he was. You quickly finished giving him his space, breathing heavily. It was horrifying, seeing a sapient being act so beastly, but if someone could chain him to a tree then you couldn’t bear to think about what he must have been through. He’s delirious, you realize. And obviously aggressive. Scared, you tell yourself. Probably scared. Hopefully just scared. The sun is high and the demon shakily pushes himself against the tree to hide again. It’s quiet now, except for his ragged breaths. After several minutes pondering options, you hear the demon move again. He’s in the shade, straining against the creaking metal wire and rustling bush. They seem like they might snap from the struggle, but they cut his flesh more instead. He hisses, struggling like a flailing dog. You look away, unable to watch while the demon stumbles around. He can’t move more than a couple feet in any direction, and the more he moves the more entangled he becomes in the bushes. It’s quite obvious by now that he isn’t thinking clearly. You worry that the chains cutting into his throat will choke him to death, or he’ll die of blood loss. He hasn’t stopped growling, and any time you move he bares his fangs at you with a glare. You take your opportunity when he stops to rest a moment.

“Hey! Hey,” you gently call, raising your hands in a surrendering gesture. The demon swings his head towards you, eyes flashing. He loses his balance more than once as he waits for whatever you’re about to do. But, the growling stops as he stares, and he only releases an occasional hiss if you shift on your feet too much- a warning not to come close. You heed it. You feel like you’re trying to calm a bear. The demon’s wounds aren’t healing, you notice with a frown. Odd. You’ve heard that a demon has much better regenerative capabilities than humans do. They heal within hours. Sometimes minutes, depending on genetics. Unless something is wrong. You wonder if that something has to do with the petals smashed between the chains. A sweet purple color amidst the rusted reds and dying leaves.

He collapses once more, wheezing, and you make your decision. You can’t leave this man to die here, but it’s very obvious that nothing would be accomplished if you couldn’t earn even a little of his trust. You stand yourself up, ignoring his grouching, and quickly return to your car with a final glance around the area. “I’ll be back, okay?” You promise. He doesn’t believe you, pretends not to hear- has no reason to. You’re just another human. Like the bastards that took his brothers. That bound him to this horrid tree. You’ll drive off and you’ll never return. Probably won’t even drive down this road again. You’ll drive off… and he’ll suffer slowly until death finally frees him. Sekido winces quietly as the door closes and the engine roars to life. He’s too spent to move any further than to fall into the brush again, but he doesn’t think himself pathetic enough to try to crawl after you as you drive away anyhow. He’d tear his own throat out before he let himself be that weak, even in his delirium.

A knot rises in your throat as you turn a sharp corner. You knew nothing about demons. Didn’t know how much time you would have to save this man’s life. The forest whipped past. Then, you lost sight of him. I am going to die here, Sekido thought. He was going to die at the side of an abandoned road in agony and despair, and nobody would ever care for him or care that he was…. That he is scared. He covered himself with the bush to the best of his abilities, trying to fight off the chills without letting the cursed sun burn him anymore than it already had. And then, he closed his eyes with a groan. He hoped this would be the last night. Hoped he wouldn’t wake again. Hoped his brothers were someplace better than the hellhole he’d been thrust into.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

Time crept along slowly, minutes felt like hours, but eventually Sekido had fallen into a fitful sleep. However, his brief respite was interrupted when the sound of a car door slamming startles him awake just forty-five minutes later. He holds himself still. Just wants to die in peace. Is so dizzy he could’ve sworn the trees are dancing above him. Footsteps crack on dry gravel, hesitating a moment before retreating back to the vehicle.

You approach him again slowly, trying not to scare the demon any more than you knew he already was. Or make him angrier. The emotions are so often intertwined, you muse to yourself. In your nervous hands is a package of raw meat and a wide-lipped water bottle, and for a minute you consider the intelligence behind what you were about to attempt. Demons don’t eat human food (according to the website you hastily searched up in near panic), but they can eat most meats. Usually uncooked, it had said. No need to waste the effort preparing an actual meal. Demons could even go long periods of time without eating at all, though it wasn’t necessarily healthy. Food was to be ‘used as a reward’, the website had said. Taken away as a punishment. They needed water as much as any other living thing, the article had admitted in its explanation of the twisted expectations of demonic obedience and training. Your nose scrunched in disgust at the casual cruelty. You hoped the demon would at least take the water.

“Hey,” you softly say, crouching on the ground out of the demon's reach. He stares at you as you approach, snarling lowly. His sight locked firmly on you, even as the wind blew strands of oily, matted hair into his face. But, he didn’t lunge, and that was a good sign. Hopefully. You took the opportunity to visually scan the parts of him you could see. His injuries looked even worse than when you’d found him, and with eyes that seemed to sink into their sockets, he was obviously dehydrated. You wonder how long he’d been strapped to this tree. Part of you thought it best if you don’t know.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? I’ve got water.” You shake the clear bottle and take another tentative step forward. “I just want to help…” It was strange, speaking to a human-shaped being like he was an animal. But you didn’t know how else to talk to him. Weren’t sure if it would make him worse to be spoken to as an equal, or if he even understood your words- if he was as feral as he looked.

His eyes are full of doubt. Glazed. Humans don’t help. Humans take, are selfish. Lie and destroy. Beat you senseless for surviving. You can tell how sick this poor, trembling man is- even through the growling and drool. Sweat drips off his face and his skin is so ashy anyone would mistake him for a corpse. Except that he is still yowling his displeasure like an untamed cat. He watches the water longingly. Desperately. “Please let me help you,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice quiet as you unscrew the bottle and hold the water out, approaching the demon sideways and angling your body away so you wouldn’t be crawling directly towards him. You hoped that you would seem like less of a threat that way. That’s how the internet had said to approach a stray dog, at least. There was no advice on how to get close to an angry, scared, feral demon- aggressive demons should ‘just be put down’, the sites had spoken. Your arm is just out of his reach as you await his reaction. You shuffle another step forward. He snarls again, spitting and stumbling to his knees. Droplets of blood wet the crumbling, sticky leaves. His unfocused gaze finds the water again, but he doesn’t seem to believe this isn’t some cruel trick, even as he sniffs the air at you. Your eyes mist at his stench. You aren’t sure if the demon is even aware of the way he smells. You hope not. Somehow you think that might be for the best. You wonder if he can even feel shame, dehumanized as he is. You don't let yourself entertain the question of whether someone inhuman can even be stripped of his personhood. The wind ruffles through the bushes again and the dying sun casts long shadows in the forest around you. It makes the demon look more skeletal than he did before. His eyes squinted in fury, teeth clenched so tight it must hurt, like he couldn’t believe the gall you must have to even approach something like him. You knew you would have to push past your own fear before this man would ever let you help him- and that you are his last hope. Nobody else would help an aggressive demon- much less take care of him. Too much work, some posts on that horrible website had said. Not worth it, others lamented. Better for everyone to just cut their necks and get a new demon than to deal with something that’s broken. You weren’t going to let that happen.

And so you gulp your anxiety down, trying not to let your arm shake the water out of the bottle. No use drowning the forest floor. His eyes, red as the blood that drips from his wounds, are locked solidly on you if they aren’t flickering about like a shadow might attack him. For a moment you fear he’ll lunge. When he tenses, you freeze until he stops trembling again. Like a macabre game of red-light-green-light.

Your thighs burn. He’s ready to fight you off. That much is clear even with his sickly pale skin and panting breath. Even if he can barely stand. Even if he’s so dizzy it seems the breeze might blow him over. “Please,” you beg quietly again, moving another few inches closer to the shivering demon. A mistake. He howls with panicked eyes, springing towards you and catching your arm before you can do anything. Just as fast, he sinks his sharp teeth into your forearm with a violent snarl, ignoring your screams. He bites harder, dragging you under him as you kick at him. You drop the water bottle and it tumbles, diluting the bloody ground. The demon hovers over you, pinning you to the moss as his blunt nails dug into your flesh.

You could feel the second your skin gave way and ripped. His body quaked in his violence, even as you sobbed. “Stop!” You wailed. You swear you can feel something cracking in your arm, and shriek again as his teeth grind further. Your vision blurs. You push your leg against his stomach, hitting against his head with your free arm in hopes of getting him to release you. It does nothing to stop the hissing beast atop you. “I’m sorry! Please!” You cry. You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. You know that nobody travels these roads, which is why the demon was dumped there in the first place.

Nobody would help you. You were entirely at the mercy of a violent, sick demon out of his mind with rage (terror). Your blood is hot, painfully so against his sticky tongue.

Almost sweet. He’s not sure if it’s the chills that have wracked his body for the last two and a half days, or if he’s just so starved that anything in his mouth burns like an open wound. A flicker of emotion passes over his face, disappearing as quickly as it came but you recognize the fear through your tears. He’s terrified of you, of the lies you’re surely speaking, of your impending attack, impending violence, even as his drool mixes with your blood. You can’t breathe against the grip he has on your neck, and you know it’s going to bruise if you get out of this alive. Flailing weakly, you push against the demon again, grabbing at his cracked, flaky horns, and again it’s useless. Even in his half-starved, dehydrated and ill state he is so much stronger than you. You… vaguely remember something about that on the website as black spots dance across your horizon. “Don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” you rasped, trying to swallow any amount of air to soothe your burning lungs. Petrified. The demon doesn’t let go, but he isn’t biting any harder. You hope… you hope maybe you’ve gotten through to him somehow. You wonder if anybody would ever find your body out here. If so, would they find the demon as well? You hope he doesn’t have some transferable disease. You curse yourself for stopping your damn car. You hope he remembers to let go of your throat as you finally fall to the darkness and go limp under him. You don’t feel him trembling, collapsing against your chest with a weak groan.

-------- ≪ °✾° ≫ --------

Your throat burns, feels like sandpaper against the flesh as you wake to starry skies and a deeper, throbbing pain in your arm. Something heavy lays over you. Shivering. Muttering something as it twitches. Your clarity returns and your vision adjusts to the dark, revealing the demon that has fallen over you like a limp doll. Pale as death. Exhausted and groaning in his sleep. His eyes flick under the lids. The demon's teeth had abandoned your arm. Left gaping, circular holes that you don’t look at lest you panic. You take in your surroundings with nothing but the moonlight illuminating the deserted forest road. The water bottle had been drunk- what was left of it, anyway- and left crumpled on the ground. Streaks of blood painted the inside, like the demon had tried to sweep up any of the moisture that refused to fall with his tongue. You winced, moving your injured arm, but stopped when the demon grunted. His body jerked in his sleep, brows furrowed. Cloth had been tied tight around your wound- the man’s hand was still touching the wrappings. He must have used the last of his strength to prevent you from bleeding out, using scraps he tore from his own filthy, barely usable clothes. And then, he fell from the effort. It would explain the haphazard way he was draped over you. Your nose wrinkles from the stench, and you have to try yet again not to choke as you feel his greasy hair brush your face.

The poor thing seemed to have a permanent scowl, his face downturned even in his restless sleep. You make use of the opportunity to take in his appearance more.

He was almost entirely human-looking, except for the two curved horns on his clammy forehead and the wine-colored cracked skin that stopped before his brows and also colored the underneath of his eyes. His nails, long but blunt, had bits of dried blood under them. You couldn’t tell if they were naturally that dark blue color or it was the dirt caked to them. The demon looked as if he would have been quite built had he not been so emaciated. Even his face, sickly as it was, seemed like it had a hidden beauty to it that couldn’t be marred by his ragged trousers and worne wife-beater that was barely passable as a shirt anymore.

His weight against you is uncomfortable- sharp bone poking in all the wrong places, his breath quick and harsh against the quiet night. You breathe shallowly yourself in an attempt to avoid absorbing his fetid air. Sweat continued to drip from his forehead. You slowly, carefully, hold your uninjured hand in front of his dirt-caked skin and frown. You could feel his fever from an inch away. The wires tying him glint in the moonlight when he shifts. You had bolt cutters in the trunk of the car, along with a cooler of bottled water and more meat. He hadn’t eaten anything- the package was too far out of reach and now ruined by the sleeping sun. Your arm needed to see a hospital. He had missed any arteries, thank God, but you probably needed stitches. And antibiotics. Who knew what was in a demon’s saliva. But… Something in you knew you couldn’t leave this demon alone here, even with the injury he’d inflicted. If you left the demon here and went to the hospital, if the staff found out he was the one responsible, he would be killed without hesitation. Without compassion or compromise. As your thoughts trickle through like a stream through pebbles, you wonder if you might just be crazy.

You had to be.

The demon stirs, slowly opening his eyes. His hands press against you as he blinks, clearing his vision. He growls again with a sharp grimace, then he looked away, scowling tensely at a bush. Like he could light it aflame with his anger. Of course. Was he ever going to stop growling and giving you the stink-eye? It had surpassed the point that it was no longer frightening you. Now it just made you sad. It seemed as if he had no real control over his reaction to people, even if that person was trying to help. As if the anger that found its way through his clenched teeth was instinctual. You wondered if he’d ever had a moment of peace in his life.

You stay very still, trying not to scare him. Or make him angrier. With his weight against your sternum, it's not like you could really move if you wanted to. Quietly clearing your burning throat you open your mouth to speak, then close it, unsure of what to say or how to break the ice. What do you say to a demon who nearly tore your arm off a couple hours ago?

His eyes narrow, and for a brief moment you worry he might attack again. When he doesn’t lunge, despite his feral gaze, you finally speak. Maybe you could still work your way into his trust? Or at least, get him to stop jabbing you with his elbow.

“If you let me up,” you rasp quietly, softly, almost a whisper, “I can get those wires off of you. And get you food and water, but… but you have to promise that you won’t bite me again.” Your eyes are misty from the pain that throbs in your arm. Gravel digs into your back, and despite your compassion for a demon you knew probably had not an ounce of love shown towards him, and your honest wish to help, you are very scared of what this man might do to you if you tried to do anything without his acceptance again.

He studies you intensely, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head, contemplating your offer. Like he knew you’re his last chance. He finally nods with a derisive snort, shakily leaning himself off you and slumping against the cedar tree.

You slowly move back, away from his reach, and realize that you don’t even know what to call this man. “What's your name?” You weren’t expecting an answer, weren’t even sure if the demon could speak. For a long moment there was nothing but silence while he continued to gawk at the ground, then- “Sekido,” he muttered quietly. His voice was deep, hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Like a gravel road. You waited for him to keep talking, but he doesn’t.

Just stares at the dirt. “Okay… okay,” you take a deep breath. A name is progress, even if minorly so. “Sekido, I’m going to go to the trunk of my car. I have bolt-cutters in the back. I’m going to get that wire off you before we do anything else, okay? But I can’t do that if you’re going to bite me again. Do you understand?” You prayed he understood. Prayed that he’d let you get this over with. Prayed this was a bad dream and nobody could be so cruel, and you’d wake up without a bite in your arm and gravel embedded in your elbow.

Sekido’s body stills and he nods slightly, just barely noticeable. “Fine, human…” he grumbles. Spits ‘human’ like it’s a disease. As you shuffle to your feet, your legs numb and tingling, pondering the inhumanity that led this man to be tied to a tree, you think it might as well be.

You limp to your car and open the trunk with one hand, shuffling through the random assortment of items stored there (you’ll use them someday) until you reach a small red toolbox. You take the mini bolt cutter and trudge back to the rut. “I’m going to come beside you, okay?” You’d definitely learned your lesson about approaching this man without explicit permission. You weren’t eager to risk a repeat, so for now you would narrate everything you were about to do (in an effort to keep him from panicking) and wait for Sekido to confirm that it was okay.

He eyes the tool in your hand with scrutiny, trying to read your true intentions, and finally gives the slightest nod of his head. The wires cut into his skin horribly- far worse than you’d originally thought. Every movement sawed them deeper. Some areas, the few those odd purple petals were absent, had begun healing over. Quite literally trapping the metal inside flesh. You couldn’t force yourself to imagine what that felt like, but you cursed quietly. “Sekido, I… I don’t know how to cut these things in a way that isn’t going to hurt,” you admit slowly. “They’re in you pretty deep, and-”

“-Just do it!” He snapped, glaring at you viciously. “Or are you too stupid to cut me free?” You blink at the insult. This demon… is not very nice, you think.

Not that you really blame him. Some part of you thought it was a good thing that he felt okay enough to hurl insults, so you said nothing in return. Maybe he didn’t think he would be punished for it. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care at this point.

At least he was cooperating.

“I’m sorry.” You lift the pliers to cut the first wire, and it twangs loudly, springing away with coiled force. Sekido jumps slightly as the wire breaks, then glares at you again like you weren’t supposed to see that minor display of weakness. Sticky crimson drips from the open wound. “You’re slow, human. Cut me free.” You ignore his impatience, unwilling to harm him any more than he already was. They were good cutters, but the vibrations left from the cut metal sent ripples into your hand. Rendered it numb. Spilt trickles of blood from the wound on your arm that you caught the demon glancing at once or twice. Finally, all but one had been cut from Sekido’s body. The man had torn the metal strings from his healing body as soon as they’d been clipped, despite your horrified gasp. Saved you from fumbling with them like an idiot.

Now, only the one wrapped around his neck remained. You were in awe that anyone could survive these injuries, even a demon, and you stare with hesitation at the wire cutting his throat. That is an incredibly vulnerable area. Sekido, to his credit, kept himself rooted to the spot throughout the process, but he flinches violently when you reach for his neck. Still, he does not bite you again. “Hurry up, stupid human. You’re wasting time,” he grumbles. Tries to hide his shaking hands by gripping his thighs so hard it tears through the cloth. His sanguine glare seems like he’s challenging whether you’re brave enough to even attempt it. “It’s gonna be okay,” you whisper. You aren’t sure if it was for him, or for your own state of mind, as you finally reach his neck. As your fingers finally make contact with his neck and the wire, the demon abandons his bravado with wide eyes and a sharp growl. Within milliseconds, his hand grips your wrist, digging into the skin. “Sekido.” His eyes have glazed again. He wobbles a bit, shifting on his knees with a labored groan and steadies himself with a hand against the moss-covered ground. “Hey, look at me,” you coaxed gently, your voice a mix of concern and compassion. As you reach out, your hand delicately covers his. He hisses at the contact, but you don’t pull away. You realize, now, that even if you managed to get this demon free- even if you get him to a vet- he will never survive the week. His chance at rehabilitation is slim at best. He would never be able to handle people or the basic expectations society has of demonkind. You wonder if he even knows how to respond to kindness. Or his own fear- you couldn’t imagine not being terrified in his circumstances but Sekido seemed to consider it a weakness. Even if you saved him tonight, he would be executed before the end of the month for his behavior. For what society believed was nothing worth saving. Unless… “It’s gonna be okay,” you reassure him with startling conviction. You’d keep him. You have to, and there’s not a doubt in your mind now that you’ll have a new, half-feral companion in your house come tomorrow. Somehow, you don’t feel so afraid anymore- not of this man who does not know kindness’s name. He desperately needs to. You just hope that he can deal with that.

Finally, Sekido releases a heavy breath and lets go of your wrist. “Quickly,” he orders, tilting his neck just enough to expose the horrible steel binding. The tension in the air is palpable as you gingerly push a finger under wire, fingering away one of those gentle purple petals, your fingers stained red.

You can feel Sekido’s studious gaze on you. The intensity makes you want to crawl away and hide. You shake the thought from your head and continue to unwrap the cords. The pain in his tense posture is undeniable, but he holds himself still again until the wire slowly begins to loosen its grip on his throat. You can see the relief wash over him as the pressure fades, but the blood flows steadily now.

Another glint of steel beneath the blood forces bile up from your stomach again.. The wire had crossed over itself, pushing its brother deeper into Sekido’s flesh than you’d initially thought. Whoever tied Sekido to this tree wanted him to suffer until his death. Until the steel beheaded the man. You wipe away the misty tears threatening to form. How could anyone possibly be so cruel to any living being? Much less to something so human? “There’s another one,” you manage to tell him. “Sekido, I’m not sure if I can…That one is so deep, I…What if you…” Your voice trails off, your concern too heavy to speak. The depth of this wound is staggering, and the thought of worsening his condition looms ominously in your mind. Wilts away the courage you’d managed to keep thus far. Sekido’s lip curled, his patience wearing thin with your hesitation. The demon grunts irritably, his tone laced with anger and frustration as he retorts sharply- “What? What if I bleed out? Idiot human, I’ve been doing that for days!” He grabs your wrist again, and this time he thrusts it to his neck, nearly bloodying the rest of your hand in the wound. “Get this fucking thing off me!” He barked. His pale fangs glinted in the moonlight. “I don’t care if it bleeds! Cut it off!” He’s breathing heavily, grips your ankle as you stand up. You slip one blade of the cutters under the wire without another word, at an angle in an attempt to not touch the exposed flesh underneath. Then, as he opens his mouth to order you again you press the blades together with all your strength. It snaps and you hear Sekido’s teeth crash together again. Sends vibrations up your injured arm. You yelp, collapsing beside the demon and curling over on yourself and clutching your bitten arm in an attempt to mitigate the pain with a groan.

Sekido stares at you, gazes at your injury- the injury he caused- and looks away as you catch him.

He won’t apologize. You don’t expect him to, wouldn’t ask it of him. Somehow you know that’s not in his nature.

Instead, you slowly gather yourself as the pain fades and back away from him- give him his space. Now that he had no reason to force himself to accept your presence you weren’t sure how he would behave. So you rise shakily to your feet and turn to stumble your way back to the car. He watches you. Stares into your back as you put the tool back in the box and contemplate how you could get the demon to follow you now. Thanks to that stupid website, you knew that demons were trained to follow a human's command- under the threat of punishment usually, should the demon refuse. You would never hurt him, but… maybe you could order him into the car? But, would he even listen? You are not his master. You open the backseat door anyway, turn to face the demon who’s eyes seem to glow now in the moonlight. “Sekido,” you start firmly, hoping you wouldn’t have to order him like a misbehaving dog. “I would like you to get in the car.” Sekido’s eyes harden, and his body stiffens. He does not move, glares at you like he’s been doing all evening. After a long and awkward minute of staring at each other, seeing who might break first, you steel your resolve with a shaky breath. “Sekido, get in the car,” you order him firmly, though not unkindly. He stays for a moment. You think he might refuse again, but then he slowly, dizzily, stands up and limps his way forward. You want to help him but he snarls when you take a step forward, so you let him crawl from the ditch by himself. He pauses before the door. Grumbles a quiet, “I hate all you humans,” and then slumps over on the seat before pulling himself completely into the car. You almost allow a small, fond smile. What a brat.

“You can hate me as much as you want. I wouldn't dream of stopping you,” you replied. You were shocked he was complying so quickly, but it suddenly made sense when he collapses completely in the back. Only then did the thought pass that perhaps you should’ve laid some kind of cover on the seat to protect the leather from the blood and filth. Returning to the back of the car, you grab another bottle of water from the cooler and uncap the lid. You hold it out to Sekido. “Slowly.” Sekido stares at you, then the water, and now your extended hand. He grabs the bottle. Then, he sits there with it, just… staring. “Please drink?” You wait patiently for a few moments, shifting awkwardly on your feet, but he does not drink. You knew the water would be like heaven to his parched throat, but he simply held the liquid, quivering. What else did that awful web article say, you tried to remember. Ah. That’s right. Demons weren’t allowed to have anything, own anything, use anything without permission. Only people own things. You were sure now that Sekido’s previous caretakers had beaten him for simply eating or drinking. Surviving. He obviously wanted the water- his eyes hadn’t left it- but…

You frown, and Sekido gives you a long look- mistaking the downturn of your lips as dissatisfaction with him. You look up at the bright moon, steeling yourself for again treating this person as less than, because there was no other way to get through to him right now. “Sekido, drink the water,” you order quietly. He clutches the bottle, crinkling the plastic as he raises it to his lips immediately. Sekido flinches when the cool water drips on his sunburned chin, then he tips his head all the way back and swallows the liquid hungrily. He’s drinking so fast he’s nearly choking on it, and the bottle is empty in seconds- before you even have a chance to request he slow down. “Give me more,” he says bitterly. “I’ll get you more,” you promise slowly, “if you can keep down what you’ve swallowed. You drank that really fast…I want to make sure you don’t get sick, okay?”

You hope he’ll understand your concern. “When we get home, you can have as much as you’d like. And some food, too.” You’d decided against feeding him for the time being- just until you knew he could keep liquids down. If he couldn’t handle water, he definitely couldn’t handle anything as heavy as meat. Sekido glares at you from the back seat. He tries to take a deep breath, but coughs instead. “Just give me more!” He snaps. You want to, you want to more than he knows. “You’ll get more, Sekido. But we have to make sure you don’t stress your stomach. I swear, you’ll have so much water you’ll be bored of it!” His lip curls, and he slams his clenched fist on the leather. “Give it to me now!” he bellows angrily, gripping the back of your chair hard enough to leave imprints from his long fingernails. He didn’t seem concerned at all about consequences anymore. You flinch hard at his volume, startled. Even with all his snarling and grumping, he’d yet to shout at you. You shake your head in frustration, but you could see the desperation in his wrath. In an attempt to keep control of the situation, you take a breath to calm your voice, and you close the back door. “Let’s go home, Sekido,” you say as you slump in the front seat, nose scrunching at the putrid smell that’s invaded your vehicle. You wonder if you’ll have to have the seats scrubbed- remind yourself that it isn’t his fault. Sekido’s head jerks toward the doors as the lock clicked and the engine roared to life. You glanced in the back seat, at the demon you met only hours before- a stranger now trapped in this vehicle with you. His trembling had gotten worse, even with the uncomfortable heat in the car- a burning warmth that brought sweat to your brow. You exit the car again, unlock the rear door, and pop the back hatch to grab an old blanket you’ve kept for emergencies. “Here,” you hold it out to Sekido with your injured arm. He glances at the blanket, then slowly at you- does not take it, even when you push it a little closer. Does not make a sound.

So you make the decision for him and carefully wave it over his back. “Try to relax. Just a little… if you can.” The back door closes before he can respond, and then you’re slowly stepping on the gas pedal to leave the crackling gravel road. You don’t crack the windows.

The overwhelming reality of his situation hits him like a crashing wave, and he clutches the blanket tightly over himself- grateful your eyes are on the road and not on his pathetic display of weakness. It is the first time he’s had such a simple comfort in longer than he remembers. A sigh leaves his cracked lips at the minimal relief it provided. He is alive. He is alive, and in a car, and someone saved him. Believed he was worth the trouble. It didn’t matter now the reasons behind this odd human’s relentless pursuit of him despite his aggression. All that mattered was that he would survive tonight, even if you would inevitably abandon him. Even if his head was swimming, and he couldn’t focus, and it took all his strength even to sit up. Even if his stomach cramped, and his wounds hurt, and he was still bleeding crimson pus on the leather seats. Even if the heated cushions and warm air did nothing to stave the chills that kept him shivering like a dog. Why on earth was he still so cold?

“Who are you?” Sekido’s gruff voice drifted from the back seat.

You give him your name, tell him you’re nobody special- was just passing by on the road. Couldn’t leave him there. He listens with an almost-amused snort.

Stops cold when you ask him about himself, if he has family. For a long minute, the car is silent except for the sound of the wind rushing past. You peer in the mirror, and see his eyes are closed. Maybe he fell asleep. You wouldn’t blame him for it.

Would be grateful, even. Then, slowly, quietly: “I… had… family.” You could barely hear him. It was like the words had to be forced from his throat. The wind whipped past the closed window with a hollow sound as the treeline closed in, leading you into a tunnel.

“Can you tell me about them?” Part of you was afraid of pushing too much, afraid that he wasn’t ready to talk about something personal, so you don’t hold your breath as you awaited his response. You just drive, sailing smooth around bends and corners as you try to bring this tortured soul home- attempting to make the journey as gentle as possible. “Three brothers,” he said simply, his voice heavy. “I had a father… a long, long time ago. Dead now, most likely. The old coward…” he trailed off. He didn’t seem to hold hate for this father of his- despite the insult, there was little bite in his words. You decide not to press further about that one yet. “Tell me about your brothers,” you replied softly. “... Aizetsu is the youngest,” Sekido said slowly. “He’s always sad about something, but… kind. Compassionate.” The demon shifted, shivering and pulling the blanket tighter against himself, hoping the pressure might ease his nauseous stomach. “Urogi is obnoxious, loud and stupid. He never shuts up. Always too damn friendly with everyone. Always has enough energy to go around…” He coughed with a grunt and sigh. You glanced in the back, making sure he was alright but said nothing to ask about his condition. Somehow you knew it would only anger him to be seen in this state of supposed weakness. “Karaku is the eldest under me… and so different. Karaku never gets angry about anything. He’s the most relaxed of any of us. He always had to be touching you… I-... I hated them,” Sekido lied, choked wetly on his own untruth as he tries to bury his emotions the way he buried his head against the seat. Tries to slow the rapid bump-bump-bump of his heart before this strange human hears it. He had no control here. But then, when had he ever had control of anything in his life? “They sound entertaining,” you offer, thinking of your own family. You wonder what yours is up to now, as you pass fields and factories that dot the side of the road. The familiar sights meant that you wouldn’t have much farther to drive. You can’t bring yourself to consider what might have become of your demon’s siblings.

“They are…” He stopped with a frustrated mumble, trying to choke out the words. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and he snarled at his own patheticness, grateful you couldn’t see past the blanket covering his head. “They were all I had,” he finished so quietly you had to strain to hear him over the hum of the engine.

Your own heart ached at the bone-weary exhaustion in his voice. Part of you wanted to tear apart the earth until you found Sekido’s brothers, but you don’t know what they look like and you couldn’t bring yourself to make this man an empty promise. For now, you settled with being glad he was with you, and hoped he would tell you more about himself eventually. Though he had trouble getting the words out, talking seemed to help quell his nauseated stomach a little. “Thank you,” you said, “for sharing. It means a lot.” “Mmmn,” Sekido grumbled quietly. He was trying to act indifferent in an attempt to keep himself calm, but you thought you could feel his appreciation all the same. Even if he didn’t show it in his stoic, angry face. “Just… drive,” he sighed. You allow yourself to smile as you watch the road in front of you. Sekido’s bossy attitude would be considered a good thing- it meant he might trust that he wouldn’t be hurt for it, and if that was the case then he was welcome to be as commanding as he wanted.

The car was silent for several minutes, except for Sekido’s uncomfortable shifting in the back seat. Then he let out a pained groan. You were already concerned about his awful wounds. You’d hoped they’d start healing, like demons usually do- like you’ve read they usually do, but now that you’re stopped at a traffic light and can finally turn to see him again, you can tell they’re just as inflamed as they were before you got Sekido into the car. The website had said that wounds heal typically within minutes, except if something is wrong, or a demon has bad blood. Perhaps Sekido was a low-end demon? Your eyebrows furrow when he releases a small whimper, holding his head with his elbows on his knees. What if… What if something terrible happened before you could get him to a doctor tomorrow? He was incredibly sick already, though the worst had been coming in waves. “Sekido?” He sat back, his head swaying dizzily while he looks at you. Sekido’s bleary gaze wanders aimlessly, unable to focus despite his heavy blinking. His face is pallid, like it’s been drained of blood. “... don’t feel good…”

You debated pulling over but didn't, despite your urge to tend to his distress. You don’t want to upset him more and you were so close to home now anyway. He opened his mouth and you thought he might say something, but all he does is moan again through clenched teeth as he shudders and holds his stomach. “Sekido, are you okay?”

Drool drips from the corner of his panting mouth as his body wavers. You watch him anxiously. Sekido’s eyes go wide, and his chest heaves, spasms so harsh you can see it in the mirror.

And then he retches.

You can hear it splash on the floor, and your own stomach kicks. “Oh. Oh, God,” you say, one hand against your mouth, pulling over. You crack the window open. Sekido, sits up again with a hiccup, slumps his back against the seat with vomit dripping from his nose and sweat from his brow. Doesn’t have the strength to be disgusted with the bile covering his lips.

He said nothing- looked close to falling unconscious. Or worse, your fear told you. You still know nothing of demons except for what that website promoted, but… he really did look like he might be dying. Sekido’s hands tremble more. You’re trying not to vomit yourself from the smell, bitterly sour and somehow so much worse than the original scent of decay and dirt that had permeated the vehicle with him. You look glance at his wounds again, and the angry infected flesh around them as he falls over again and stays there. Reaching back, you gently pat his upper arm, wincing as the movement sends a spike of pain up your own forearm. “Hey…” No response. “Sekido?” You shake him, an icy fear shooting settling in your chest. Something was wrong. “Hey!” Finally, he slaps your hand away with a whiney grunt. Something was very wrong. You shake your head. This demon cannot wait until tomorrow for a doctor. He needs one right now. You tap letters into your GPS system, then your face falls. The nearest 24-hour emergency veterinarian that takes demons is 3 towns away- that's over an hour drive!

Sekido pants something to himself, convulsing with a pitchy groan. His eyes squinted, rolling back as he huffed.

“Hey, you stay with me, okay?” You say with a pained smile and a firm squeeze on his arm. “I told you that you’d be okay, didn’t I? You gotta try to stay awake for me.” “...Tired,” Sekido grumbled quietly.

“Don’t sleep, Sekido. Don’t you dare.” ‘Don’t make me a liar’, you wanted to say. Couldn’t bear the thought of breaking your promise now. Didn’t know if he would wake up again if he slept. Couldn’t bear the thought of this man dying in the backseat of your car after everything.

You weren’t going to let that happen.

Tires squealed, quickly turning the vehicle around. You hoped the streets would remain as empty as they have been. Prayed no cops were on the prowl tonight, as you take a deep breath and push your foot on the gas pedal. Wind tears through your hair, howling as it passes in your race against time. Every second counted.

#pet au #sekido/reader #sekido and reader #hurt/comfort #kny sekido #demon slayer sekido #demon slayer pet au #arkwrites

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