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life-needs-a-bit-of-headcanons · 4 years ago

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I have never asked for anything before and I don't know if this where I request. But uh can we have some fluffy yandereiplier x gender neutral reader? Like yandere gets jealous but instead of killing the person, Yandere just like, gets protective in a soft way? I don't know.

This sounds so cute :3 Thank's for the request!!

Fluffy Jealous Yandereiplier x Reader

* (y/n) = your name

*(y/f/n) = your friend's name

A/N: I'm not sure I did it right so if you have any constructive criticism or want it to be fluffier feel free to tell me and you can request something more!

• You two had been friends for a long time, you'd recently moved house and schools so you were new to the area and prepared to make new friends and Yanderipier loved every second of it, he loved you completely.

• Yandereiplier didn't love you at first sight. Looking back on it he thought he did but in all honesty? no • There was no "love-at-first-glance" or romantic music swelling or cherry blossom petals falling around you, none of that.

• Instead, it was a buildup, it was a quiet but undeniable build-up.

• He fell in love with your jokes he'd hear when he was walking by With the way he'd see you handle yourself in front of others while he was across the classroom, with the way you looked at him always so kindly when you spoke to him in class, with the way you were nice to him no matter what. And he began to get infatuated with the way he'd see your smile stretch across your face when you laughed and the corners of your eyes crinkled and he knew it was a real laugh. He fell with the way you were.

• And he fell hard.

• He even started to love how you walked, memorising how you carried yourself on different days feeling different things; Your handwriting, from the notes you'd passed to others during class and he mimicked your writing down to each letter, your 'style', and how he thinks you'd look so cute in one of his sweaters, honestly everything about you that you deemed unimportant, that you may think is nothing specifically tailored for you but since it's you doing it of course he'd love it.

• And this love for you, this infatuation of you, this want-no this need to be with you, to see you happy and make you happy planted seeds in his heart that blossomed in his chest, twining between his ribs and spreading to every fibre of his being. His chest ached every night when he was alone with his thoughts and his shrine of devotion from things he borrowed from you, little things you wouldn't miss, and made in your honour. He loved you. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

• He watched you whenever he could, seeing your movements, noting who made you happy, what about them made you happy and how he could replicate that in himself. He was desperate for you to feel as good as you made him feel. And he was good at it too! Until you had sneaked up on him to properly introduce yourself, making him jump and drop his notebook adorned in love hearts and glitter.

• Your smile was so warm. Infectious. His face blew up in the deepest red blush you had ever seen, but excusing it as general anxiety you mercifully didn't comment on until later on in your friendship.

• Yandereiplier.EXE has stopped functioning. Systems overheating, blushing too furiously. Shutting down speech ability.

• The heavy aching in his chest from the flower of love you unknowingly nurtured and bloomed instantly lifted when you looked at him. He felt lighter, fuller, so so happy, feeling his rapid heartbeat pounding away. He felt as if you two were the only ones in the school, in the world, in the cosmic universe. He liked that thought.

• You had crouched down to pick up his fallen notebook but he had enough composure to beat you to it, and lo and behold you brushed hands. He wanted to never wash that hand again but knew you would probably like someone with better hygiene.

• You two were good friends from then on, joking about how that moment could have been in "Anime's top 10 most romantic scenes,"

Yandereiplier would always sputter at that.

• By now it had been a few good months, you two were inseparable. He'd always be giving you gifts, things you never knew how he'd know you liked. And sometimes things that he personally liked, like his prized hello-kitty hair clips and sticker packs that only you were allowed to touch beside himself, it was like a trust pact. You'd exchange secrets, stories and gifts, sometimes, to Yan's immense pleasure, even clothes.

• He knew everything about you, from your likes to your perfume, to your tells to your fantasies.

• He thought he knew everything about your life.

• He thought he knew everyone in it.

• But he was proved wrong. So very wrong.

• When you hadn't replied to his good morning text like you do every day he was instantly filled with worry. He knew your routine, that text message went off 5 minutes after your alarm, he always wanted to be on your mind in the morning so always texted you and if the alarm failed then the text tone would wake you.

• He was pacing around wondering if he should go to your house to check on you or if doing so would overstep any boundaries, trembling at the thought you'd finally had enough of him or were in danger.

He could barely be able to survive if you'd had enough of him but he knows he wouldn't be able to live if you were in danger and he wasn't there to protect you, the very thought sinking its claws into his mind and crawling up his skin leaving a trail of frigid goosebumps in its wake. • He grabbed his backpack and ran on out of the house way earlier than usual, sprinting to your house with the toast from breakfast in his mouth since he didn't have the time to spare to eat it at home on his way to yours.

• And when he got to your house, his stomach fell and the blooming flower in his heart burnt with a fire that licked at his skin, scathing his organs and clogging his lungs with thick smoke and reducing his once light and happy heart to cinders. And with the last embers he possessed, he managed to find the will to take the toast out of his mouth and say "Hey (y/n),"

• You turned around to see him, overjoyed as your two best friends will now get to meet each other! "Yan! Hi!" you said still hugging your friend, "This is (y/f/n), they surprise visited me today!"

• Yan gave a meek wave, too enraptured by the biggest smile he'd ever seen on your face, every vein in his body burning with guilt and anger he wasn't able to make you smile like that.

• (y/f/n) turned to see Yan and greeted them happily, still clinging on to you, "So you're Yan? Nice to meet you," they smiled.

• Yandereiplier would have said a curt hello, probably just ignored them completely were it not for the twitch of guilt he knows he'd feel to be seen as rude in front of you.

• "Hello (y/f/n). Nice to meet you too," he strained to smile

• And it was like that for the whole day because your friend not only had to walk you to school instead of Yan, but they furthered their surprise by spending the day at the school for some stupid transfer day and it was ruining everything. They weren't supposed to be able to touch you like that! Yan, as much as he hated the thought of you being uncomfortable, did try to look for any sign you were in discomfort but knew every conclusion was his bias.

• They had their arm around your shoulder. They made you laugh and smile all day but he loves your smile too much to be angry at that but his mind did wander to different ways to torture them should they be the cause of your smile vanishing. He watched, gripping his pen tightly in frustration as he watched from across the classroom how close you two were, how you easily talked fondly of secrets that had taken him months for you to be willing to share, you were joking, teasing each other, sitting closely, swapping stationary, whispering, the pen broke and splattered ink all over his hand and his work.

• What did they have that he didn't? What did they have he couldn't replicate in himself? What did he have to do to get you to love him as much as you obviously love them in whatever way you do.

• You were all sitting together at lunch, Yan quietly eating from his bento box while still, you and your friend talked. The rage still bubbling and blistering inside of him. But he kept quiet. He began shaking, anger coursing through his blood attacking all his thoughts. But he kept quiet. The heavy weight in his chest returning, aching for you once again despite being just a bit away, the crippiling aching. But he tried his best to keep quiet. The need to be the one by your side, to not only see you happy but make you happy, the need to be the one there making you happy because if it's not him then that means he- ... That means you don't need him. If someone else can make you happy just like you deserve to be then.. then it doesn't matter if it's him. If anyone can do it then he isn't needed specifically. You don't need him. Not like how he needs you.

• A shaky breath shook from his lungs, as he placed his chopsticks back in his lunch, the food now making him nauseous.

• His mind iitches to darker thoughts. Of hurting your friend. Of taking you far away so you rely on him; so you need him.

• ...

• No.

• No that isn't right he hates that.

• You'll never love him if he ever did anything like that.

• You deserve so much better than that.

• So, instead of waiting for you to love him as much as you do (y/f/n)

• He'll make you fall for him. No one can be him except himself and in that way, even if it's only in that way, he is irreplaceable. And you deserve someone as devoted as him.

• He marched back on out there pouting heavily as he watched you two sitting so close. He's on a mission.

• He takes all of his courage and he sits beside you, blushing like crazy to the point your friend thinks he's sick but he assures them he's fine as he offers you some of his bento, offering to feed you with his chopsticks so he can lean in close and try feel you blush too.

• Yan touches you more throughout the day, all where you're comfortable and have previously said you're okay being touched, trading books you brush fingers, he says there's a spider on your head so you can get close and "remove it and save you!", he wipes an eyelash from your cheek and smiles, saying for you blow it off his finger to make a wish, sending you notes holding compliments and doodles of hearts during class so you can once again brush fingers little things like that.

• Yan is also constantly offering you things much more than usual, he already got you little gifts, you'd help him overcome most of his anxiety about spending hours, days, even weeks worrying over picking the perfect present for you and instead giving you whatever he thinks you could possibly like, like shiny and pretty rocks, cute pencils, his favourite most prized hello kitty hair-pin, you didn't accept that last one knowing it would destroy him to part with it which hinted about what was going on.

• As much as Yan knew you, you also knew him.

• You knew his breath would get shaky when he wants something but is too scared to ask for it. You knew he was being more clingy, not that you minded in the least, except for he clearly wanted to do more.

• You knew he didn't want to burden you with his problems so he likely wouldn't say what it is, especially with someone he didn't know all too well around.

• (y/f/n) excused themself for a bit while Yan who was currently fawning over. the band you said you liked last week he memorised all their songs just so he could talk about them with you and hear the facts you knew about them that he already knew but loved the way your eyes lit up when you told him what you thought was something new.

• Thanking any gods, demons or supernatural entities for the time alone Yandereiplier engulfed you in a hug from behind, arms securely wrapped around your chest and face nuzzeling against your hair. He would have done this earlier but he didn't know if you were okay with this sort of affection in front of people so as painful as it was, he waited for so long to be alone with you.

• "Hey Yan, are you doing okay?" • "Of course! I'm with you, my darling!" • "Aww, your darling?" you teased him, his face once again exploding in a deep blush as he buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide his shame.

• He really meant his darling. No matter which way you interpreted 'darling' to be, he meant it as so much more.

• This was the last thing that tipped you off to what he was really after,

• When your friend returned, Yan was hyping himself up to be able to leave the warm hug that let you be in his arms, desperately waiting to not tear himself from you but even more desperate to not make you uncomfortable.

• "Heya y/n!" your friend called

• You held Yan's arms in place, leaning back against him, holding him in place. Yan now wasn't the only one with a mission.

• A long drawn out wheeze escaped his throat as you felt his face heat up against your shoulder through your clothes, slightly worried for him, you turned your head to him while (y/f/n) talked about something Yandereiplier couldn't bring himself to pay attention to you as he savoured the moment, memorising every feeling, every touch, every scent, everything he can as if it were his first time ever being near you, locking this memory in place so he can remember it for those cold lonely nights and for the rest of his life.

• The when saw Yan again, you saw his mouth fall open, bobbing open and closed like a fish as he struggled to articulate his thoughts while you stood before him in the sweater he left at yours a while ago. It smells of his cologne and he can smell it on you.

• His sweater. His.

• He was sure he had ascended at the very moment for the angel he saw wearing his sweater, in his clothes, his. His!!!! And he promises to worship you and treat you like the Angel you are, even if you don’t always see it in yourself. You are his Angel. And the flower bloomed in his chest all over again.

• You're his and he is yours. That's how it always will be.

• And he supposes, it's not all bad having (y/f/n) around. He'll do whatever it takes to keep you happy. He'll protect whatever makes you happy too.

• (y/f/n) also has so many good stories on you that Yan adores hearing and he gets to hear more about your life!

• Just don't forget him. Please. He loves you. So much. He'll always love you. No matter what.

#yandere #yanderiplier #soft hcs #yandere fluff #markiplier x reader #yandereiplier #markiplier egoes #mark fischbach #markiplier #I dont think I added anough fluff and I am very sorry for that #I'll try again sometime!#or if you request it again I'll #try again then :'3

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zaptap · 3 years ago

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a few months ago or something i got back to my pokemon rewatch i started in gen 6

well, it’s a rewatch in the sense that i’m watching the dubbed episodes over again, but on the other hand i’m watching the japanese episodes for the first time (having only started watching those in late gen 5). yes i’m watching every episode twice basically which is kind of insane, but once i get to the end of the 4kids dub it’ll just be the japanese version (though that’s over 400 episodes in)

when xy&z introduced the “meowth’s ballad” ending i’d recently gotten to the episodes with “meowth’s song” so i immediately caught the reference. unfortunately i fell out of the habit of watching it just 10 episodes before “type: wild,” an ending that was remade in the sun and moon anime, so i didn’t recognize that when it showed up a few years later

the good thing about having taken a break from that though is now a lot more episodes are subbed! and this post got long so if you want to hear more about that i’m shoving the rest under a readmore

originally there was a group called PocketMonsters that subbed from late gen 4 to the middle of gen 7 (before disbanding in 2018) and they’d do an original series episode whenever they found the time, but they only got through 40-something episodes. after i got through those i switched to watching raw, which is sort of ok since i know a fair bit of japanese and i’d watch it after the dubbed version (giving me a general idea of what’s being said, though the dub changes things of course) but i’d still prefer watching it subbed

but then in 2020 a sailor moon focused group called Sea of Serenity showed up and started subbing the original series. they released all the kanto league episodes in 2020 (as well as the first movie), all the orange islands episodes in 2021 (plus the second movie and both movies’ pikachu shorts), and as of 2 months ago they said johto was basically done and just needed to be revised, so it seems like that should come out soon too (at my current pace i should be done with the orange islands in 2 weeks, but if it’s still not out then i can definitely take a break)

other than that, based on what i’m seeing on 9anime there’s still about 80 hoenn episodes that haven’t been subbed at all (though as i understand it some of the episodes that are subbed aren’t done very well, but i guess it’s better than nothing), and i’m also having trouble finding subs of many of the side story (pokemon chronicles) specials. 9anime also lists almost all of the dp episodes, except the clip show that never got dubbed (which is weird because you’d think that’d make it a bigger priority?) but i’ve also heard that a lot of those ones haven’t been properly subbed either

fortunately we’ve consistently had everything subbed since gen 5, first by PocketMonsters (who were several weeks behind, at least during gen 5-6 when i watched them, but at least they did good work), then since gen 7 it’s been done by Some-Stuffs, who’ve released the episodes on the same day (very impressive compared to the situation when i started watching the subs in 2013, so i’m very thankful for all their hard work)

anyway my original intention when i started was firstly to rewatch the dub (and only the 4kids dub, so that gets accomplished towards the end of gen 3), and secondly to watch the episodes i’d never seen in japanese before (which only applies until i get into gen 5), but i think i’ll keep going after that since the past few generations have been the best ones so i might as well just rewatch those too. several years from now when i get that far!

#pokeani #pokemon

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patriciasage · 4 years ago

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Title: double trouble

Author: Patricia_Sage

Fandom: The Adventure Zone - Amnesty

Pairings: Indrid Cold/Duck Newton, Dani/Aubrey Little (mentioned)

Summary:

Aubrey feels like her heart has crawled up into her windpipe. The flame in her hand flickers erratically. Two copies of Duck stand before them, breathing hard and holding their hands in the air. Ned, pointing the NARF blaster at them both, is attempting to appear confident, but Aubrey can tell he’s panicking.

“Shit, Duck,” Aubrey says, “Why didn’t we think of a code word?”

[posted in full below the break, but you can find me on AO3]

Aubrey is scared shitless, but she won’t admit it.

This abomination isn't like anything they’ve faced. Before, hunting them felt like finding a dangerous animal that had to be put down. This one is intelligent and intentional, and the attacks are personal. Knowing the abomination had taken Dani’s form sends a shiver down Aubrey’s spine.

Eugene had told Duck that he had seen some ‘alien activity’ at Pins & Needles, the bowling and knitting club, so the Pine Guard was sent to investigate.

“You’re not supposed to split the party,” Aubrey whispers.

“But a group of three people cannot investigate two noises at once, Aubrey,” Ned replies, continuing to sweep the staff room with his flashlight. Aubrey is comforted by the flame in her hand as both a light source and a weapon. “Besides, Duck can take care of himself. He has a sword, for goodness sake.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have his powers anymore and he didn’t bring his helmet! I’m worried about him.”

“There’s only the bathrooms left to check and then we shall be reunited. Nothing to fret about, my dear.”

Except, there is something to fret about. A shout echoes through the building, followed by a loud crash. Ned and Aubrey look at each other for a second before sprinting toward the sound. “Duck!” Aubrey calls. A loveseat is overturned in the knitting area and a ball of yarn has made its way halfway down one of the lanes. There’s no sight of their friend.

The phone behind the front counter begins to ring. Before Aubrey can think about answering it, there’s another sound.

A crash followed by some swearing. It’s coming from the area behind the lanes. Ned makes his way to the carpeted path on the edge of the room. Aubrey runs directly down Lane 3, her combat boots skidding slightly on the smooth wood. When she reaches the end of the lane, she doesn’t stop to think before she hits the floor. She propels herself into a slide, feet first, crashing through the bowling pins and the plastic curtain and emerging in the back room. Ned flings open the door, out of breath, just after Aubrey gets to her feet. They take in a strange and frightening sight.

Duck is on the floor and he is grappling with someone who is also wearing a ranger uniform. The person underneath clips him with a punch to the side of the head and dislodges him. It’s dim in this back room but Aubrey can see his opponent’s rugged features, now. It’s Duck.

Duck reaches amongst some bowling pins and retrieves Beacon. He swings it down with ferocity and Aubrey lets out a startled shout as it moves toward her friend’s face. But the attack is intercepted by another Beacon. The two swords wrap around each other like snakes, spitting insults.

“False! Ephemeral!” One of them snarls.

“Pathetic duplication! You cannot compare to Beacon!” The other shouts.

“Fuck,” Aubrey says.

Ned steps forward in the hallway behind the pin-dispensing machines. Aubrey clambers down next to him as he draws the NARF blaster. “Halt, Ducks!” Ned commands. “Step away!”

Both Ducks look up from their tangled position on the floor. The one on top attempts to yank Beacon back, but the two swords are linked together. The force of their sword tug-of-war causes both weapons, still entangled, to be flung in the air. One of the Ducks reaches for Beacon, but Ned takes a threatening step forward. “Hey!” They both freeze. “Stand up and kick the swords to me.”

Aubrey feels like her heart has crawled up into her windpipe. The flame in her hand flickers erratically. Two copies of her friend stand before them, breathing hard and holding their hands in the air. Ned is attempting to appear confident, but Aubrey can tell he’s panicking. “Shit, Duck,” Aubrey says, “Why didn’t we think of a code word?”

They speak at the same time: “I told you!” / “No shit, Aubrey.”

“Alright. Everybody, remain calm,” Ned says authoritatively. He levels the NARF blaster between them. “Tell me something that only Duck would know.” It’s incredibly cliché. Aubrey resists the urge to roll her eyes.

The two Ducks speak at once, again: “Uh, that we hooked up?” / “Like how we slept together eight years ago?”

Aubrey’s jaw drops and she looks over at Ned, scandalized. Ned adjusts his grip on his weapon, flustered and embarrassed.

Aubrey hits him in the arm with her non-flaming hand. “Ned, you idiot, the Bom-Bom looked through all your memories when you were in that hotel!”

“Right,” Ned mumbles, blushing. He clears his throat and attempts to look intimidating again. “Tell us something only Aubrey would know!” Aubrey groans in frustration.

Duck One, on the left, speaks up. “We don’t have time for this, y’all. The more we fuck around, the more time it has to figure out how to get past us.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Ned shouts.

“We can’t let it get away again, Ned!” Duck One reiterates. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Shoot us both.”

“What!?” Duck Two protests.

Aubrey sees Ned make a decision. Her heart races, but she’s frozen to the spot.

Ned shoots the Duck on the right.

Except his flesh doesn’t come apart in scattered orbs of light. He doesn’t scream like a malfunctioning computer. Red blood, and lots of it, pours out of the wound in his thigh. Duck collapses with a very human yell. “Fuck! Ned!”

The abomination takes advantage of this moment of distraction to create a rift. It steps through, smiling with Duck’s face. The rift closes and Ned’s second foam bullet embeds itself into the wall.

Aubrey and Ned run to their fallen friend. Aubrey feels sick at the sight of his pants darkening with blood. Duck lifts his shaking hands off of the wound for a second before pressing them down again, hard. “It’s not – fuck! – Doesn’t look like you hit an artery. But holy shit, Ned! I could never take a bullet, but I really can’t take a bullet right now, man; I’m just a regular guy! Fuck!”

“I’m so sorry, Duck. I thought it would be very improbable for the abomination to volunteer to be shot.”

“And you thought I would volunteer to be shot!? Fuck, man, you should have done what it said and shot us both. This is worst-case scenario shit right here. Dammit!”

“Yes. I’m –” Ned looks absolutely miserable, but he steels himself and turns to Aubrey, who has stalled next to the growing puddle of blood on the carpet. “Aubrey, go to the front desk and call an ambulance. Bring back the first aid kit under the counter.” He takes off his jacket and places it on Duck’s thigh, replacing the ranger’s hands with his own.

“How do you know it’s under the counter?”

“It’s always under the count– go, Aubrey!”

“Right!” She takes off running, this time through the door and along the side wall. She jumps over the counter and frantically scans over the bowling shoes before finding the landline on the wall.

The phone rings just as her fingers are about to touch it.

Aubrey answers, “H-hello?”

“The ambulance will take too long. I’ll be there soon.”

The voice is familiar, often heard through a telephone. “Indrid! Wait…was that you calling, before?”

“Yes, Aubrey,” he replies a little harshly. “I was going to tell you not to shoot my boyfriend.”

Her first instinct is to protest, correct him that it was Ned who pulled the trigger. Instead, she says, “I’m sorry.”

Indrid sighs and the sound pushes against the receiver. “No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’ll be there soon.” The dial tone rings in her ears.

About five minutes later, the bell above the front door rings. Aubrey and Ned, crouched over their injured friend in the back of the alley, share a meaningful look. Duck is slumped against the wall, pale and bleeding through the bandages. They’re ready to protect him.

There’s a deep fluttering of wings and the scraping of claws on the wood flooring. Then…nothing. It’s almost impossible to hear footsteps on carpet. Aubrey raises a fist of flame and Ned readiest the NARF blaster at the door.

Ironically, they’re relieved to see a monster step through. He’s so tall he has to crouch under the doorframe, wings folded close to his body. His huge red eyes glow in the dim room, flickering in Aubrey’s light. A pair of clawed hands raise in response to Ned and Aubrey’s defensive stance, the other pair holding onto a white box. He chitters in a way that Aubrey assumes is meant to be calming. All she can focus on is the movement of his sharp, terrifying mandibles.

Duck speaks up from behind them, his voice weak. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Hello, Duck.” Indrid reaches out a clawed, dark hand and hands Ned another first aid kit. He must have brought this one from his Winnebago or from another room in the building. “You need to add more bandages – tighter – if he’s going to make it to the hospital.”

Ned nods and gets to work. Aubrey wonders absentmindedly why he’s so calm about this. The moment she saw the bullet go into Duck’s leg, she just about passed out.

Indrid turns to Aubrey and tilts his head to the side in a swift, insectoid motion. Aubrey has only seen him in his Sylph form once – the time they asked for his glasses at the Winnebago. If she didn’t know he was a friend, she would be absolutely terrified right now. As it were, she’s still a little unsettled by his proximity. He towers over her, dark and frightening.

Indrid seems to notice her reaction. Shoulders hunched a little, he draws a pair of glasses from a pouch on his waist (like a moth fanny pack, Aubrey thinks). When he puts them on, he becomes the pale, tall, slightly disheveled man she’s familiar with. He’s wearing an old sweater of Duck’s, emblazoned with one of The Smiths’ album covers. Indrid looks a little uncomfortable. Aubrey realizes with a jolt of guilt that it’s because of her.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’m just not, you know, used to seeing you as the Mothman. You can take your glasses off if you want!”

“It’s alright, I understand,” Indrid replies. He fiddles with the large lenses and shivers a little. He keeps his disguise on. Aubrey feels bad for making him feel self-conscious. Empathetically, she thinks of how it would feel for people to look at her and act scared or unsettled. Just because he’s a giant, frightening moth doesn’t mean she should make him feel bad about himself.

Before Aubrey can make an attempt at a better apology, Ned speaks up. “Won’t you be spotted transporting him to the emergency room?”

Indrid’s head tilts back and he freezes for a moment, evaluating potential futures. He returns to the present with a sigh. “He’s going to pass out before we get there.” His hands clench in frustration. “I can’t carry him in my human form.” Indrid turns to Duck. “Sorry, Duck, I’m going to have to leave you on the sidewalk outside of the hospital and call in from a payphone. Too many questions.”

Duck manages a weak shrug and grimaces. “Well, shit. Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Indrid glances over at Aubrey before taking off his glasses again. Aubrey makes sure to keep her face neutral as the Mothman appears in front of her once more. Ned scrambles out of the way. Indrid kneels and his claws dig into the carpet. When he stands up, he has Duck cradled gently in his top set of arms, the other two providing support. Duck is a big guy, but he looks almost small surrounded protectively by Indrid’s wings.

Aubrey thinks about how most people would find Dani scary in her Sylph form, but all Aubrey sees is the woman she cares about, the woman she would do anything for. Indrid must be like that for Duck. Even though the Mothman’s transformation is significantly more intense than Dani’s, this is his authentic self. As the four of them make their way out of the back room and past the bowling lanes, Aubrey can’t help but notice the comfort the two take in each other. Duck buries his fingers in some chest feathers while Indrid’s free hand gently strokes his hair. It’s kind of…cute.

Ned opens the front door to the bowling alley and peers around the parking lot. “Coast is clear,” he says, holding the door open for everyone to step through.

Aubrey turns to Indrid. “Take care of him.”

“I will,” Indrid replies, then takes off into the sky with a powerful beat of his wings.

Aubrey and Ned watch until Indrid’s form disappears into the night sky. Ned sighs and Aubrey looks over at him. He looks like he’s about to crumble from guilt. He’s much bigger and taller than her, so all she can do is place a comforting hand on his arm.

“Come on, baby driver, let’s hit the road.”

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years ago

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WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter seven: a little death

word count: 11.1k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: gore. so much gore. "a little death”? more like a lotta death. yeah it’s just blood and guts, and then john is kind of a fucker for like .0000005 seconds

notes: hi folks! we've got another big'un, a little more john/elliot centric with some plot threads starting to weave together. i'm really excited with where things are going and how things are shaping up, and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

special thank you to @shallow-gravy for lending me her eyeballs to proof this chapter <3 dani and sylvia both are characters of @starcrier's beautiful talented mind and she was kind of enough to help me fill out the cast for the world i'm working on!

as always, thank you so much to everyone who reads/comments/kudoses/likes; whatever your form of support is, it really means the absolute most to me and it's the whole reason i keep going!

“Well, well, well, Mr. Seed!”

It was Sylvia’s cheerful voice that first put a smile on Elliot’s face. It was the ensuing expression on John’s face when he realized he’d have to slide into boots worn by at least twenty other people that kept it there. He grimaced as he set his own perfectly tidy shoes to the side and pulled the first Wellington on.

John had done the right thing by swapping out the collared shirt he’d been halfway through putting on into a black turtleneck—still, certainly, more expensive than perhaps any item of clothing Elliot herself had ever owned, but less pretentious than a silky button-up.

“Right size?” Via asked.

He forced the grimace into a smile. “Perfect fit.”

With a satisfied nod, the blonde turned back to Elliot and handed her the lead to the horse she was going to brush—a hefty Clydesdale that plodded out of his stall obediently. He nosed her pockets for treats, whuffling against her offered but empty palm before she started tying him to keep him in place for a good brushing.

“You look fit as a fiddle and ready to ride,” Via announced, clapping John on the shoulder once he’d gotten his shoes swapped out. “What do you think? Wanna climb on up?”

“On that?” John asked incredulously when the blonde indicated the bay.

“Yes sir. Hugo’s great for beginners.”

“Hugo’d be great to stomp me to death,” he muttered. “Ah, no thank you, Sylvia—I think I’ll stick with the ground for now.”

“Suit yourself.”

She gave Elliot’s shoulder a quick squeeze before setting off at a brisk pace. At the barn, Via always seemed to operate on a different kind of frequency—she was still quick to smile and quicker to laugh, but there was definitely something more businesslike going on. John watched her go for a minute, mouth downturned in a frown, before his gaze returned to Elliot.

“So,” he said, “what are we doing?”

“I’m brushing Hugo,” she replied primly. “You can...give him a treat, or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to do something?”

Elliot sighed, patting Hugo’s neck and giving him a scratch. The bay turned his head, regarding John for a moment before bumping his muzzle against her hip affectionately.

“Here,” she said, holding out a brush. “You can brush him.”

It was John’s turn to do the regarding, then, eyes darting down to the brush and then back up at Elliot. He did still look a bit ridiculous—walking around in the Wellingtons, brushing loose wisps of hay that had somehow managed to cling to his turtleneck, the normally perfectly-slicked back hair falling loose and unruly. As John weighed the brush in his hand like it was some kind of artifact, he gave Hugo an awkward pat on the nose and one stilted brush along his neck.

“Great,” Elliot chirped. “Just keep doing that, but...better.”

She stepped away, leaving John with the horse and heading down the main hall. She’d taken about five steps before she heard John go, “Wait, where are you going?” and she turned to look at him, brows pulling together in something close to pity.

He looked so uncomfortable. And it was so good.

“To brush another horse, honey,” she replied, voice dripping with sugar. “What, did you think we were going to hold hands while you made yourself useful?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gotten mouthy,” he said, eyes on her as she clipped a lead onto her usual equine companion, a handsome palomino named Butterscotch.

“I’ve always been mouthy, John.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them, filled only by the occasional whuff of horse breath or John muttering a swear. Elliot had just gotten into the rhythm with the palomino, gliding her hands and the brush across his neck in slow, even strokes, when John said, “So, you’ve been coming here a lot then, huh?”

Elliot let out a sigh. “This is supposed to be my quiet time.”

“I’m just curious,” John replied. “What made you want to start spending time around big, smelly animals?”

She dropped the brush in a bucket, fishing out the comb and starting to work on some of the knots. “Doctor’s orders.”

John made a low noise, agreeable even though she thought that he might be burning over there. Back in Hope County, he’d been determined to know her—get inside of her, get in the nitty-gritty, dig his elbows up into her guts and gore and figure out every little thing about her and what it was that she was keeping from him.

It made her wonder if he had read the file Joseph had compiled on her. It had been given to him, after all, like a trophy. Like she was a trophy, a gift from Joseph to him. His reward.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe that is what John thought; that all of his ragged attempts at convincing her that what they’d had, those fleeting moments, had been love. But she’d seen the way he’d looked when Joseph had praised him, the way he tiptoed around himself and his true nature, always with a foot on Joseph’s side and one on hers. Now, watching him stand awkwardly to the side of a giant Clydesdale, making an attempt at integrating into her daily life—it was almost sickening, to think that she had been the prize in some weird game for Joseph’s approval.

“Left him all alone with Hugo, huh?” Sylvia asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and reminding her that she’d been brushing the same spot in the palomino’s mane for a while now.

“Ah, yeah,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat and focusing on a different spot. You make me sick, she wanted to tell him, the warmth of the morning evaporating in the wake of her anger. You make me fucking sick, I won’t forget it, I can’t forget it, fuck you fuck you. “He could squirm a little. Builds character.”

Via’s eyes narrowed playfully, squinting at John as he gave the bay a hearty pat on the neck. “Not an animal person, huh?”

She felt her mouth twist wryly, wanting to say something vicious. Something mean. Something—

( I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you, )

“City boy,” is what she ended up supplying, to which Via went ahh, as though that explained a lot. In a lot of ways, it did.

“How’re you holdin’ up over there, buddy?” the blonde called down the hall, Hugo’s ears flicking in her direction. John glanced up and planted a smile on his face that was so canned Elliot thought he couldn’t have seemed like he meant it any less.

“Fine,” John said, like he was on automatic, and then quickly added, “Great, actually. We’re bonding, Hugo and I. The two of us.”

“Yeah?” Via’s head tilted. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Yes. A pair, he and I.”

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “You can take him on a walk then.”

“Huh?” came the intelligent reply, followed by the unceremonious drop of the brush in the nearby bucket. “What?”

“Take him out, stretch his legs a little,” Via explained, her voice warm. “He’s a nice boy, you two are pals. Should go fine.”

John grimaced. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Elliot had to swallow back a laugh when Via asked, “You don’t know how to walk?”

The brunette sucked his teeth. A little smile was on his face, but it was the same kind of smile he’d given Elliot when she said something particularly mean-spirited—and though Sylvia West was clearly not a mean-spirited person, she had yet to find John very charming at all. Jury was still out, after all. Elliot was sure that bothered him.

“I’ll show you,” Elliot sighed, after a few seconds of Via waiting patiently for John to explain himself. “Just unclip the—”

“Don’t stress it, Freckles,” Via interjected gently. “You’re busy with Butterscotch. I’ll help John.”

She hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Via was saying, take care of yourself. She was saying, put yourself first. She was saying, you don’t have to jump to do the stuff all the time. But it had been so long—so long of trying to prioritize herself and choosing other people.

You don’t have to Atlas this thing yourself, deputy, Jerome had said, like she wanted to let someone else handle it, like she wanted to be alone with herself.

But before Elliot could convince herself that it was more important that she show John how to do something fairly self-explanatory, before she could protest that Via was too busy, the blonde picked up the brush, put it back in her hand and crossed the hall to John with great purpose.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled,” Sylvia chirped at John, unclipping the lead from the hook in the wall and setting it in his hand.

“Thanks, Sylvia.”

“No sweat, that’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

“Lot of money, having people walk horses around?”

She flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Tons. I fill my pool up with hundred-dollar bills just for fun. Swim around in it and everythin’.”

John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He glanced back at Elliot, their eyes meeting for a moment—and maybe it did make her regret, a little, all of the poison she’d been thinking about him; maybe seeing him standing there and jesting with Sylvia and giving her that boyish smile made her regret thinking about how much she hated that he wanted to know her, all of her, all of the yucky, nasty bits of her that she wished didn’t exist.

Watching him walk out the front of the barn in the rubber boots, Hugo plodding along amicably behind him while Sylvia chattered, made Elliot wonder what it would have been like if he’d kept his word; if he’d meant it when he’d said that they would leave Hope County. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she and John were meant for each other like he’d claimed. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she didn’t want anyone else, maybe she wanted someone who kissed her when she was still covered in another man’s blood, who didn’t mind when her fingers itched and burned for acts of violence.

Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was it for her, Elliot thought while John and Sylvia walked the Clydesdale in a big loop around the snowy parking lot. Maybe she never would find someone who loved her, all of her grit and gore and venom, the way that John did.

The way that he’d looked at her scar, then a wound, with adoration, his hands red with her blood. The way he’d said, It’s going to look so good on you.

“That’s okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, feeling the palomino’s velvety muzzle bump her hand impatiently for her attention. “I’m—”

Not ‘I’m’. It wasn’t ‘I’m’ anymore. It’s not just about you, anymore.

“We’re,” Elliot amended, swallowing thickly, “just fine being alone.”

If she said it enough times, maybe she would learn to believe it.

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“You really never walked a horse before, huh?”

John glanced up, his gaze darting to the blonde that had been walking alongside him as they circled the parking lot. This is not what he wanted to be doing. When he’d said he was coming with Elliot to the barn, what he’d anticipated had been something closer to getting time with her—out of the house, away from the dog and her mother, and in a situation that was more comfortable for her. She clearly liked coming here, or she wouldn’t have strongly considered objecting to his tagging along.

Hm, something inside of him said, doesn’t that say something, that she doesn’t want you in a place she feels happy and safe?

No. Not really. Not in the least.

“I haven’t,” John replied after a moment, realizing that Sylvia was waiting very patiently for his answer, without rushing or prompting him. That was probably why Elliot liked her. “It’s funny, I grew up in Georgia and never seemed to be around a horse my entire life.”

“That is funny,” Sylvia agreed, without laughing or cracking much more than a polite smile.

His eyes narrowed. He pushed a smile onto his face, the rope hung loosely in his hand as Hugo trailed along beside him, content to brush at the ground with his nose once in a while. John thought, there’s got to be a way to figure you out. There’s got to be something. What did Elliot say to you about me, Sylvia? What did she tell you that’s making you this obstinate?

Just as John opened his mouth to say something, the blonde said, “You know, I don’t like you much, Mr. Seed.”

He closed his mouth, stopping at the far end of the parking lot. Sylvia turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what I did to disenchant you, Sylvia, but—”

“I spend a lot of time with troubled people,” she interjected, and infuriatingly she did it so kindly that it almost lost its insulting edge.

Swallowing, John’s brain scrambled rapidly, looking for some kind of footing before he began as amenably as possible, “I hear equine therapy is beneficial to plenty of people—”

“Doctors and therapists send folks here all the time to try and get some kinda relief. I don’t always know what it is, but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl in there—she came in looking more haunted than a cemetery, and the way she looked when I first saw her is the same way she looked when I caught y’all on the street.”

The polite smile dropped from her face. “I don’t like that she got that look back.”

John bit back his venom and said, “To be frank, you don’t know anything about our relationship.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sylvia replied lightly. She turned to him, and reiterated with pointed firmness, “All the same, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, John Seed.”

“You’re awful polite,” he said tartly, “for a woman who doesn’t like me.”

Sylvia sucked her teeth in a gesture that was reminiscent of going come on, shaking her head again and huffing out a sigh. “You strike me as a man that hasn’t ever been just plain old disliked before,” she said, planting a hand on his shoulder even though he easily had two or three inches on her. “Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless, John. Jesus Christ, people been givin’ up on you that fast, huh?”

John blinked rapidly. That was not the answer he had anticipated. The words rattled around in his head, clanging painfully loud, foreign and unfamiliar and scary in how it felt to have someone, Sylvia, look at him and say, people been givin’ up on you that fast?

Mentally scrabbling, he brushed her hand from his shoulder and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t understand putting yourself through the trouble of being nice to someone if you don’t like them, that’s all.”

“People can change,” Sylvia told him plainly. “After all, you said you’ve never been around a horse before, right?”

“Well—”

“And now here you are, walking a horse around an empty parking lot in Nowhere, Georgia. I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you?”

John snapped his mouth shut. There was something unsettling about the way Sylvia was looking at him; like she was seeing him, really, right then and there, after knowing her for so little time. It was the same—

It was the same way Joseph looked at people. Seeing them, for exactly as they were, with everything they brought to the table. So why did it feel different when Sylvia looked at him? Why did it feel different from Joseph when she looked at him and said, I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you? Why did it feel more real?

“You’d probably best head back in,” Sylvia continued after a minute, smiling at him brightly. “Hugo’s an old man, he doesn’t like to be out that long. Much rather prefer to be inside and warm.”

“Yeah,” John said after a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I’d better.”

He didn’t like this, not at all. He especially didn’t like the feeling of Sylvia, a woman who blatantly did not like him, seeing him.

Turning, John started back across the parking lot to the barn, the hefty Clydesdale trailing obediently behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly to the doorway that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; pulling it out with his free hand, John brought the horse to a stop and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, John.”

It was Joseph. Speak of the devil, something in him whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder at Sylvia beginning to trek down into one of the riding yards.

“Joseph,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m so happy you called.”

“How are things going?” His brother’s voice maintained its typical serenity, but there was a strange idleness to it, like he wasn’t fully invested in their conversation. It was unlike him, to sound like this—to sound absent, or troubled.

“They’re good,” he began cautiously. He wondered if Isolde had told Joseph about him hanging up on her. It would be just like her. “Really good. There was a doctor’s appointment yesterday—” That Elliot didn’t let me go to, he thought, as Joseph made an agreeable noise to show he was listening, “—and the baby is healthy. Really healthy, and good, and next week we’re going to find out the gender. Elliot’s been going to these stables because the doctor thinks it’s good for her stress—”

Joseph’s voice cut in over him, sharp and impatient. “Do you know what’s going to be really good for the deputy’s stress?”

He shifted on his feet. “It’s just, she’s been talking to the doctor about it—”

“There will be bombs dropping, John.”

“I—know that,” he replied quickly, glancing back at the barn and seeing Elliot dusting her hands off on the top of her jeans, having put the palomino away. “I know that, Joseph, I promise, I—”

“There will be no baby to be worried about,” his brother continued, “if you and our sister are not here when they fall on us.”

Joseph bit the word out, sister, like it was a cyanide pill crushed between his canines. Just hearing his brother’s voice change like that made John’s throat feel tight. The anxiety of hearing Joseph’s displeasure was rising up high and hot in his throat, and Elliot was walking towards him, head cocked to the side curiously, and if she knew he was talking to Joseph she was going to go ballistic. She would, and he would be back to square one—and he’d only just gotten a little bit closer; the feeling of the soft skin of her throat beneath his fingers from earlier that morning still lingered, burned in his memory.

“I understand,” John said automatically, pitching his voice low. “I do, I’ll—”

“You have a week left. I won’t wait for you.”

“Joseph—”

“I’ve given you great freedom to fetch your wife and child, when I have every reason to have left her to Hell.”

His stomach wrenched. He knew it. He knew Joseph was angry about it. Regret flooded him; he should have stayed back in Hope County a little while longer, until Joseph was done in his solitude, to talk to him first. “I know, please, if you would—”

“The next life is something that has to be earned,” came his brother’s voice, sharpening as he spoke, “and your wife has done nothing but reject the absolution that I—” He paused. “—we offered her, at every turn.”

I know, John wanted to say, but could not; what would be the point? What would it matter? He’d said it a handful of times already, but Joseph was angry, he was so mad, so mad, and all that time spent back in Hope County felt very suddenly like it had amounted to nothing.

“The gates will be closed to you.” And then, his voice harder now: “Tell me you understand, John.”

He gripped the horse’s lead tight. For a second in time, the comedy of it all—trailing after Elliot into a stable, joining her and her friends that didn’t like him at a bar, listening to her mother expertly sliding in barbs—had been overwhelming. His life had temporarily become a rom-com, and by the season finale they’d make amends and everything would be fine.

This was a reminder that was not how things were going to go. He didn’t have the leniency to just take however long he wanted; there would be no time to make friends, even ones that looked at him and said, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless.

Get Elliot and baby. Bring them home.

“John.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I understand, Joseph.”

“Good.” Joseph paused, and then after a moment: “And no secrets, John. I’ll know if you’re keeping something from me.”

The words washed a strange, cold sense of dread over him. For a second, John thought, have I been keeping a secret from him? Have I been lying to him about something?

Elliot had stopped a few feet away, her head tilted inquisitively. She was far enough that John thought she might not be able to hear him, but still he turned his head like he’d seen something interesting back in the parking lot when he said, “I would never do that.”

There was a little exhale on the other end of the call. “I know. You’ve always been good.”

Something frantically pleased lit up inside of him, rapidly firing the neurons in his brain. Good, they said, chanting, we’re good, we’re good, he said we’re good, Joseph thinks we’re good.

Just as John opened his mouth to reply, Joseph said, “We’ll talk soon,” and the line clicked. Call Ended, said the screen when he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to Elliot, who’d started making her way over to him again. Something in his chest sank a little; he quickly tucked it away, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

You’ve always been good.

“Who was that?” Elliot asked as she came up, rubbing her hands together in the cold absently. John gestured for her to head back inside, and she did, letting him fall into step between her and the horse.

“Just a wrong number,” he replied with a little smile. “It’s a new phone. I’ve been getting them a lot.”

“Ah.” She didn’t sound convinced, but he supposed he never expected her to. “And how was your walk with Hugo and Sylvia?”

“You would be surprised to know I feel much the same as before I walked.”

Elliot’s mouth quirked up at the corners, tugged into a smile. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen that little smile on her face, but it was the first time that it didn’t feel forced, or driven by something sour or venomous.

John offered, “Sylvia has confessed she’s not fond of me.”

The redhead next to him made an inquisitive noise, though she didn’t remark on it. He imagined this was not news to her, given the way they’d been chatting when he’d come back from warming up the car the other night. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t spike a little bit of jealousy in him; that Elliot found it so easy to connect with Sylvia, even though they had history, even farther back than Eden’s Gate, if he was going to be a stickler about it. And he was. He wanted to be.

A little, he thought, maybe he was jealous that despite everything, Elliot still found some way to make a friend that defended her so fiercely.

Stupid, he thought, letting Elliot take the lead from him. It’s stupid. I have people who will protect me too. Jacob, and Joseph—

“But you already knew that,” he added after a moment, watching her. The redhead moved with a kind of surety around the horses; there were no darting eyes, no furtive glances out into the distance, searching for an invisible threat that only she could see.

“Well,” Elliot replied, “you didn’t really endear yourself to her. She met us in the middle of an argument, and then you proceeded to try and use your snake charms—”

“My what?”

“—on her, and that’s just not really her style,” she finished plainly, working to take the halter off and then sliding the stable door shut. “You don’t have all of your little cultists here to chant ‘yes’ at you whenever you please. You have to make a real effort with people.”

“I am,” John snipped out, “making a real effort.”

“Mm,” came the reply as Elliot slung the halter over her shoulder and started heading off down the hall without waiting for him.

“Elliot—”

“John,” she replied amicably. “I’m not going back and forth with you about this.”

He closed his mouth. Every single nerve-ending felt violently frayed from the onslaught; first Sylvia, then Joseph, and now Elliot. John could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes. Even though he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the second Joseph had praised him, there was still a knot in the pit of his stomach; just there, rolling tight and painful, reminding him that he still would have preferred that Jacob called instead.

Elliot returned, picking a loose piece of hay off of his shoulder and dropping it to the ground. “We going or what?”

Regarding her carefully, John said, “Only if you’re done. We’re staying however long you want.”

“Oh, are we? It’s all about what I want now?”

“It was always about what you want.”

She gave him a look. As she shrugged the heavier coat back on her shoulders, and he tugged the boots off, Elliot said, “You know how you’re always saying I need to find a new catchphrase?”

John pulled one of his shoes on. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Elliot continued. “The whole ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Elliot’ bit just doesn’t hit the same when you spent the whole time lying to me.”

“I—” He let out a frustrated breath, pulling his other shoe on. “I meant it when I said it, Elliot.”

“Fucking me,” Elliot replied, “does not amount to giving me anything I want.”

“But it is what you wanted,” John retorted.

“Among other things.”

“Among other things,” he agreed.

They stood like that for a minute, regarding each other with tight expressions and the sourness of their exchange still lingering in his mouth. John exhaled through his nose and passed a hand over his face. It was one thing to be on edge because Sylvia had come right out and said she didn’t like him; another to then follow-up with a conversation that reminded him of his existential dread; yet another to be putting up with Elliot’s vitriol.

“When I said,” he began, “that I l—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“When I said it, I meant it,” he amended tartly. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, too, but I meant that.”

“Yeah?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “You didn’t mean to tell me that I’m never going to find someone that’s going to love me and all of my ugly too, is that what you’re trying to say? That whole ‘no one’s going to love you with all that red in your ledger’ bit was just a fun little jab—”

“No,” John replied evenly, feeling that petty little spike in his chest, “I meant that.”

His words seemed to catch her off-guard, immediately unseating her. The expression that crossed her face was bewildered; the animosity had fled it, and instead what replaced it was hurt—bright and blooming across her features, flushed under her skin in a gorgeous high color. It wasn’t unlike the flush in her cheeks from when she’d been frenzied by the killing of Kian, and it looked just as beautiful now, too.

John thought, I love her, just like this. Wretched and wicked and furious with me. Hurt and needing.

He had seen her in fury, in grief. Watched the remains of what happened when she sank her teeth in down to the bone, whether it was to kill or to howl in her sorrow. And he had loved her then, too.

I meant it, he thought, because no one is good enough to love you except for me.

“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Elliot replied after a minute. Though her words carried with them the same cadence any other angry response would have, her voice sounded small, like he’d sucked the wind right out of her sails. “What you think, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know fuck all about me or what kind of person could love me, and—” Her lashes fluttered. “And fuck you, John.”

John watched her expression for any giveaway that he’d gotten where he wanted: inside. Before, he’d known her quite well—could gauge her anger and her grief and catch it before it exploded. Now, with the baby, things had changed a little.

“I think I’m familiar with exactly the kind of person who could love you,” he said after a moment. And then, gesturing ahead of him: “Shall we?”

The tension in her jaw tightened, flattening and flexing the muscle when she clenched her teeth. Those spiteful little eyes; he’d missed them, missed the way she’d looked at him. As of late, she’d gotten too comfortable withholding her attention from him.

Get Elliot and baby. Get home.

It was a mantra now, running its track in his head over and over until it wore a rut into his brain. As Elliot brushed past him to walk to the car, and he fell into step trailing behind her just a foot or so, he let the words sink in. He’d gotten distracted; strayed from the path—but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Joseph was right. He was good, and he would just have to make Elliot see that.

One way or another.

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Staci Pratt was doing alright, all things considered.

The Veteran’s Center was empty. Had been for weeks, in fact—after a particularly tense call with Joseph, Jacob had evacuated most all of his Chosen except a select few into the bunker and locked it down. He’d grabbed his keys, looked Pratt dead in the eyes and said, “I want to see you sitting in that chair waiting for me when I get back, Peaches.”

How long was he going to be gone? That was a question that had been sitting on Pratt’s brain for the last two months.

It might have been more than that; it honestly could have been a little less, too. He had no idea. Three days after Jacob had left with his chosen, and left Pratt in the Veteran’s Center, the radio chatter had fuzzed out. Interrupted by something. A day after that, he saw strange convoys along the streets.

Well, he’d thought, Jacob did say to stay put.

So, stay put he did.

There was food, and water, and even though the snow was falling, the place stayed pretty warm. He hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice on the radio for weeks. He’d stopped checking it. He thought that since it had been so long, maybe Jacob and the others were—

“Staci,” came a sweet voice from the other room, “come here, quickly!”

Pratt pulled himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but pleasantly so; like he’d been grounded to the earth, finally, at last. For a second, the floor seemed to stretch out under his feet, as far as he could see; the leaves, having blown in before the snow through then-open windows, folded and melded against his shoes. Like they were trying to be with him. What had he gotten up for again?

“Staci!” The sing-song voice came again. Dani, he thought, taking an unsteady step forward. Shit, Dani’s calling me. That’s what I got up for.

“Coming,” he managed out, taking a few steps and then catching his momentum and carrying himself into the next room over. The glossy-haired brunette was sitting with her legs tucked up at the desk, watching the security monitors avidly. Sheridan had come knocking a few days after the convoys had passed, and at the time, Staci had thought she was some kind of test—after all, Jacob had said to stay put. Sitting in that chair, waiting for me when I get back. That’s what he’d said. Getting up for a pretty girl at the door was directly disobeying him.

But he’d let her in, because she smelled good and smiled at him with pearly teeth and a cute accent he couldn’t place, and asked if he had room for her in the building, and said things like, You can call me Dani, if you want!

That was what—four weeks ago? Maybe more? She’d made herself at home, explained she’d gotten lost from her family and that she’d been worried because she saw strangers with guns running around. She had food, and water, and warm clothes, and—

Drugs. The “herbal” kind. It will open you to the influence, Dani had told him, giggling when he blinked owlishly at her. Brings you closer to the earth, Staci. It feels nice, I promise. Pratt thought it might have been Bliss, at first, but it was different; it didn’t jar him on his way down, the crash felt so much gentler, and Dani offered it to him to use whenever he wanted, and he just wanted to feel. Good. For a little while. That’s all. Just a tiny while.

It wasn’t hard, to feel good around Dani. It was like he’d spent all that time in constant fear and stress, listening to Jacob tallying body counts from Elliot. Sometimes the redhead would suck his teeth and say, what the fuck is my brother doing with that girl? and shake his head, and the idea that Jacob Seed wanted to turn Elliot into a perfect killer had washed him with a cold, ferocious dread.

Then, Jacob had left. No more body counts. No more radio calls, listening to the redhead’s urgent voice from the other side of the door. A tiny while had turned into four weeks, and now he was here: stumbling his way into the security room where she was curled up. Somewhere in the distance, a little alarm bell went off in his head. Jacob would be so mad, that alarm bell said. He would be so mad, so fucking mad, so so so mad.

But the thought was a small voice, easily washed out by Dani’s blinding smile when he got close.

“You remember I was telling you about my family?” she asked. She was tearing tiny bites off of a piece of fruit leather; Pratt reached blindly around in one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of beef jerky.

“Yeah, you said they’d be looking for you,” Pratt replied. That was weeks ago, he thought to add, but did not. “Did you find—?”

His eyes fixed on the screen. It was a stranger there, on the screen—which was to be expected—but she didn’t look like Dani. Not at all. They looked to be the same age only, but the woman on the screen had short-cropped, light-colored hair, and she was swathed in dark fabrics high up to her throat.

“That is my sister,” Dani told him excitedly.

“No way,” Pratt said, blinking at the screen. The woman on the screen was obviously not related to Dani by blood. He watched her move, wraithlike, a ghost skimming along the side path up to the F.A.N.G. center—one of the only places Jacob had left some of his Chosen out and about.

Oh, no, he thought suddenly. Oh fuck, this is bad. Oh fuck, Dani’s gonna watch her sister get killed, holy shit—

“We have to stop her,” he blurted out, starting to fumble around for one of the radio’s batteries—he was sure he could charge it up enough, he was sure, he was sure, slamming the walkie talkie on to the charger he’d conveniently left off because he didn’t want Jacob calling for him—when he saw the flicker of one of the Chosen coming out around one of the building’s corners, suspicious. “Um—that guy, he’s—”

“Shh, shshsh,” Dani said, waving her hand at him and watching the screen. “Do not be so noisy. I am watching.”

“Dani, you don’t understand,” Pratt tried again, more urgently, “that man is going to—”

The brunette made a sharp little noise, a quick tst, and planted a bit of fruit leather in her mouth, knee tucked up against her chest. It was like she was watching a movie. It was like—

Oh, God, Pratt thought, swallowing thickly as the figure of Dani’s “sister” came scooting around the corner behind the Chosen. She was going to get killed. She was going to get fucking murdered, right there on screen, in front of this nice young woman who’d been nothing but kind to him, and he was going to have to explain to her what it was he’d watched Jacob do and—

Something sleek and metal glinted on the video feed. Dani’s sister was not sneaking, anymore, but grabbed the chosen’s shoulder with one hand and drove the point of her blade straight into the junction of his shoulder and neck.

It was hard to make out expressions on the screen, details and nuances, but there was one thing clear from the woman’s body language: she was not troubled, fighting for her life, and she had done this before.

“Dani,” Pratt whispered, feeling his stomach lurch when the knife was pulled out of the Chosen’s neck, arterial spray coloring the ground in black and white on the computer screen. “Dani, what is—”

“You are going to miss it,” Dani told him, shooting him an annoyed look.

“Miss what?” he croaked. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see whatever it was Dani was afraid of him missing. The only thing he wanted was—

But she reached up, snagging his hand and squeezing it absently. She had been doing that sort of thing a lot—touching. She’d bring his hand to her pulse so that they could breathe in tandem, touch their foreheads like she was checking him for a fever, take his hand while she walked through the halls and looked around. Another thing Jacob would be furious about, if he found out.

When he found out.

Dani’s hand offered him little comfort now, though. She leaned in to the screen a little and murmured, something in a thick, rolling language that Pratt couldn’t quite make out, and said, “Oh, how many people do you think are there?”

“I don’t know,” he said, fixing his eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know, a lot, Dani, there’s probably a lot—”

There were a lot. There were a lot of them, crawling around the F.A.N.G. center, and he watched Dani; watched her watching the screen as her sister—“sister”—dispatched each one of them with distinct, violent ease. Like it was a dance. One, two, three, waltzing as she picked up whatever she could find and used it to incur blunt force trauma.

Blood, everywhere. Viscera when she shot both kneecaps of one out. Spray when she pushed yet another’s face into a broken plank of wood, falling off of the side of the building. The picture was in black and white, but even still, Pratt could see it: red, everywhere. Red in the snow. Red on her hands. Red on their faces, on their clothes, on her knife on the gun because she twisted it out of one of their hands and pushed it into his mouth and fired, insides painting the wall of the building behind him.

So. Much. Blood.

“What—” Pratt swallowed, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Suddenly, feeling like the world was a conveyor belt under his feet didn’t sit so well anymore. “What is—?”

“This is the important part,” Dani told him. “You have to watch her. Återfödelse.”

“What does—”

“Shh.”

He watched. He watched, and he wished that he hadn’t, because the woman on the screen shrugged out of her coat, pulled some black latex gloves out of her pocket, and snapped them on.

And then, she gutted them.

Like fish.

Stripped their shirts and jackets off. Cut them from the hollows of their throats down to the tops of their jeans—which she had enough generosity to leave on them—and then scooped their insides out like a butcher at home in her own work shop. Scooped them, dumped them, sat them up against the wall of the building. The woman moved with the unhurried but thorough, single-minded pace of a woman determined to finish her plate and lick it clean.

He was going to be sick. He was going to be fucking sick. He pushed the forgotten bag of beef jerky onto the countertop beside the computer. Dani must have thought he was offering it to her, because though she was fully engrossed in her sister’s work, she said sweetly, “Oh, no thank you. I am vegetarian.”

Pratt pulled away from the computer screen and the chair where Sheridan sat, admiring the bloody gore being laid out before her. The world pushed and pulled in his vision in time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat; he stumbled into the next room, reaching blindly out of muscle memory alone before his fingers found the edge of the trash can and he could bend over and throw up whatever was in his stomach.

He was wrong. This was worse than Bliss—Bliss was one kind of trip, and you knew immediately what it was going to be from the start. But this? This was a fucking nightmare. Each time he closed his eyes he kept seeing them, Jacob’s Chosen, entrails scattered in the snow and jaws lax and ribcages split open.

Fuck, he thought, breathing over the trash can as another wave of nausea hit him. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck—

“Oh, Staci,” came Dani’s sugared voice, teeming with pure, unadulterated sympathy, rippling bright pink and blinding in his vision. How long had he been knelt over the trash can like this? “Are you feeling unwell? It can be a lot, you know. The first time you see it.”

“There—” Pratt lifted his head weakly, looking at the girl who’d happened to wander in here, just after he’d seen those glossy gray vans patrolling the area. Separated from my family, she’d said. “It happens more?”

His words came out in a wail, pitching almost into hysterical. Dani clicked her tongue, smoothing the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was supposed to comfort him.

“Of course it does,” she told him, crouching beside him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “Återfödelse. Rebirth. It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.”

The last thing he wanted was for that woman—Helmi—to do anything for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion of his adrenaline and the crash of his high digging straight into his skeleton.

I have to get the fuck out of here, he thought. I have to get out of here and tell—tell the others—tell Jerome and Hudson and Elliot and—

“It is okay,” Dani murmured, planting her hand on the back of his neck and giving it a little squeeze. “She knows I am here. That was good thinking, to get the radio all charged up.”

It took every ounce of his strength not to moan in misery at that. The brunette smiled at him, radiantly and with pearly teeth, and he was suddenly filled with dread at the idea that there may be someone out there worse than the Seeds.

“You should lay down, get some rest,” she suggested gently. Coming to a stand, Dani glanced back at the monitors, and then back at him, lips still quirked in that pleasant little smile.

“You will want to be at full speed when she gets here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things in the car were uncomfortable. That is to say, Elliot was still nursing whatever wound his honesty had given her, and regarding him warily out of the corner of her eye every time he attempted to strike up conversation with her.

I’m not going to apologize, John thought resolutely, between the stop at the pharmacy and the house. I meant it. I’m not going to apologize for something I meant. And mean. I know I’m the only one meant for—

“What is going on?” he asked, slowing to a crawl when he came to the turn up the Honeysett’s driveway. It was packed with cars—lining the parking area in a little cluster. The redhead beside him let out a frustrated, agonized little moan, burying her face into her hands.

“It’s Tuesday,” Elliot replied tartly.

“Okay, and?”

“Tuesday’s the day mama has all of her debutante friends over.” She shifted in the passenger seat, gesturing with her hand. “Well, you gonna park or what?”

John’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Great. An audience, a crowd, for the impenetrable, unshakeable tension sitting just there, right between them. But even now, it was a relief; all of those weeks spent without her had reminded him that even when things hadn’t been the most ideal, when they’d been fighting constantly, at least it had been something. As long as she wasn’t acting like he didn’t exist.

“Can’t wait,” is what he said, pulling the Jeep down the long drive and parking it where no one would need to have him move it later. Through the glass, he could see gauzy shapes milling about, drenched in amber light; Southern women, hair curled and faces powdered and the flowy fabrics of their loose-fitted (and yet, somehow still miraculously tailored) clothes, martini glasses in hand.

Elliot said, “Stepford housewife does seem on-brand for you.”

He shot her a dry look. “I prefer my women with a bit more bite to them.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

So, it was going to go great, then.

As he made his way up the steps, Elliot paused, turning and looking at him before they could reach the door. He looked at her expectantly; eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t have to tell you to behave,” she began.

“No, you don’t.”

“But I will anyway.” Elliot’s hand rested on the doorknob. “These women are nicer than mama. They’ll want to know all about you, ask you tons of questions—I need you to give them vanilla answers. The most vanilla. You’ve gotta be as unthreatening as a wafer, John.”

Still recovering from the pleasant swoon of hearing the words I need you come out of Elliot’s mouth, John said, “Scout’s honor, Ell.”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. Loose wisps of ginger hair tumbled out of the half-pony she’d slung her hair in, and her eyes darted—unsure, wetting her lips, like there was something that she wanted to say to him but she didn’t quite trust herself to.

“I’m—” She stopped.

“They’re going to wonder why we’re standing out here.”

“I’m trusting you,” Elliot bit out. The words were almost as sweet as I need you, he thought. “Trusting you not to...take advantage of the fact that I may or may not have omitted important information about what was going on back home. I would really like it, John, if we could get through this evening without my life coming apart.”

The urge to reach up and brush the hair from her face, cup her cheek—it burned in his fingertips, itching. But he kept his hand at his side and said, mood instantly elated by the idea that Elliot needed something from him, “No nuclear bombs dropping tonight, my love.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We get in and we get out, no casualties.”

“Just like old times,” John agreed. “Sans the ‘no casualties’ bit, of course.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. He thought she might have been trying to stop herself from smiling, but the expression was wiped so quickly from her face that he didn’t have any time to dwell on it too long before she opened the front door and he was hit with a blast of heat and floral perfume.

Oh, yeah, he thought, stepping inside after Elliot to the sound of bright, vibrant chatter cascading over soft music playing in the background, that’s debutantes.

“Is that Elliot?” exclaimed one woman, perhaps a few years older than Scarlet, coming to a stand and setting her glass to the side as she hurried over to wrap Elliot in a hug. “My goodness, look at you. You dyed your hair, didn’t you? I love it, it’s beautiful, sugar.”

“You’re home late,” Scarlet remarked as Elliot shrugged out of her jacket, perched on the couch. Boomer had come racing down the stairs at the sound of someone’s arrival, little feet tapping excitedly against the carpet as he begged for Elliot’s attention.

“We had to make a stop, mama. And—thank you,” Ell replied, clearing her throat, returning the embrace for a second before she pulled away. The interaction was an interesting one to watch—and gave him, perhaps, more insight into the dynamic between Scarlet and Elliot than his wife would have wanted. After all, it wasn’t Scarlet getting up to embrace her pregnant daughter after not knowing where she was all day.

Elliot turned and gestured to John with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hands had gone to Boomer, though, rubbing his ears—more for her benefit than his, it seemed. “Delia, this is—um, John. John, this is Delia, she’s—kinda like my aunt.”

The woman, Delia, turned bright eyes on him. “Well, um John, isn’t it nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, hugging him tight and filling his senses with perfume and chiffon.

“Pleasure,” John replied, beaming, “is all mine, I assure you, kinda Aunt Delia.”

She’d been right, of course. All of the women in the room regarded the two of them with nothing short of warmth, glowing curiosity—certainly, they gossiped, but nothing quite as scathing as Scarlet Honeysett’s own impression of him and even, to an extent, Elliot. For the most part, the matriarch’s disdain of him was carefully bottled, though she made no move to greet him or show him off like a mother-in-law ought to.

“John is Elliot’s husband,” Scarlet said lightly from the couch, where the other women made various noises of feigned excitement and disappointment alike. He could about hear Elliot wanting to crumple in on herself.

Delia left one hand on John’s shoulder, the other affectionately twisting one of Elliot’s coppery curls and letting it fall to the side. “Dyed hair, married—honey, is there somethin’ you haven’t been up to? And what about a weddin’?”

John had never seen Ell turn into such a shrinking violet before. She blinked owlishly at the women—even the one she claimed close enough to be her Aunt—and shifted on her feet.

“We didn’t really think about it,” Ell managed out shyly, cheeks flaring pink. “And no, I haven’t, but—well, except—”

Painful. It was painful, how much she was suffering through this. “It was an unconventional thing,” he supplied easily, flashing a charming smile. “We thought about maybe having a nice reception, but we’re just not in a rush right now. Can’t do anything nice in the middle of winter, after all.”

Instant relief flooded Elliot’s face. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Finally,” Delia hummed, “a man who has some taste. You know, Scarlet, my boy’s been trying to find indoor places to have his weddin’. I asked him, what, does he think folks want to be sweatin’ like a sinner in church the second they step foot in there? It’s no less than—come here, John, honey, you can sit with me—no less than two hundred guests, and...”

John let Delia manhandle him into a chair nearby the fireplace. It had been quite a blow to his ego to have Scarlet regarding him with so much disgust, like he wasn’t even worth her time of day; even now, when his mother-in-law came to a stand, beckoning Elliot into the kitchen with a single elegant hand into the kitchen, she barely spared him a glance. Like he was nothing.

That’s where she gets it from, he thought dryly. Honeysett women.

“John, you ever been to one of Scarlet’s Christmas parties, honey?” Delia asked him, jarring him out of his thoughts. He planted a polite smile on his face.

“Unfortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity,” he replied lightly. This was easy—older women, dying to know more about him? Easy as pie. “Christmas is next week, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Delia replied, patting his hand. “You’ll have to come. I mean, of course you’ll come—Elliot will be there. Where are you staying? Scarlet didn’t put you up in a motel, did she? I’ll tell you what, I hear the most awful stories about that place. In fact, just the other day, Justine Adler was telling me...”

The woman launched into another bustle of gossip, busying herself with pouring a drink which was then promptly planted in John’s hand. Somewhere close to halfway into that, Scarlet and Elliot returned, the older woman resuming her spot at the center of the couch and Elliot sitting herself on the ground beside him, back to the fireplace.

He leaned over, as the women burst into glittering laughter, and said, “Wanted to sit by me instead of your mother, huh?”

“She told me to pretend like we like each other,” Elliot muttered back. “What are you drinking?”

John flashed her a grin. “Delia made it for me.”

“Elli,” Delia said sweetly from the chair, “do you want somethin’ to drink, too?”

Elliot flushed. “No thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

The conversation resumed, and John let a few beats go by before he leaned to the side again; this time, he pitched his voice lower, and he saw Elliot tuck the hair behind her ear. “I like when your accent comes out,” he told her, turning his head to look at her, and she did the same at the same time, putting them almost nose to nose. “It’s cute.”

“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.”

“I’m counting on that elephant’s memory of yours, Elli.”

“John, are you fixing to get glassed or what?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from hitting his face again. She had to behave here—she couldn’t kick up a bit fuss about it. But even when she asked him if he was trying to get his face bashed in, a little bit of wry amusement bled into her voice, like muscle memory demanded the jab be more playful than threatening.

“I’ll drink to your health,” John added amenably, “and merciful nature.”

She squinted at him, the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a smile.

“Sure, John,” she replied. “You’ll need all the help you can get on that front, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the last lady had left and the glasses and plates were cleaned up, night had fallen deep and dark over the Graves (Honeysett) home. Elliot thought she’d never been more tired her entire life than she had been sitting through that little gathering, listening to the women ply John with questions about what he did and what he was doing, and how did they meet, and wasn’t he just so happy to be down here in Weyfield? Wasn’t he so pleased to have Scarlet as a mother-in-law?

To his credit, John upheld his promise to behave. He took only one alcoholic drink from Delia and spent the rest of the time sipping it, engaging more freely with the other women than she’d seen him do with her own mother or even Sylvia—likely because they had no reason to dislike him. On a surface level, John Seed was a very charismatic man. Charming. Thoughtful. Perceptive. He laughed and he made the ladies laugh, and even her mother seemed a little pleased; not without her carefully placed jabs, but for a second in time, Elliot felt less like she was going crazy and more like a normal girl. A real girl.

It made her think about the night she’d first met him, almost two years ago now, and the way he’d looked at her and said, a lot can happen in a week, beautiful. She’d been a fucking fool back then, and in a lot of ways, Elliot thought she still was a fool—but at least she was on the defense. At least she felt comfortable with the idea that her baby might never know John, in any capacity.

She was ready to cut and run, if needed.

And why haven’t you? Something inside of her asked, as she moved up the steps and stopped at her bedroom door. Why haven’t you cut and run already?

“Elliot?” John turned to look at her, pausing when she did. His eyes were inquisitive. No, not inquisitive—prying. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

Lonely, another part of her replied. We haven’t cut and run because we’re lonely.

“I’m sure,” she said after a second. “Nice try, though.”

“You’re still mad,” he said, his voice rumbling teasingly. His eyes darted over her, lingering on her mouth before fixing on her eyes. “Didn’t I do good? Just what you asked?”

“You—did,” Elliot allowed after a moment. It was true. “But of course I’m still mad, you fucking idiot. You told me no one was ever going to love me, and that you meant it.”

John sighed. There was a brief moment where he neither said nor did anything, but after a second he reached up and swept the hair from her shoulder. The gesture made her skin prickle; anticipation curled at the base of her spine and began its stretch, luxurious and leisurely, up to her neck. Tight, tingling anticipation, when his fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Push him away, she thought.

“I do mean it,” he said, “because, I don’t think—”

Push his hand off of you.

“—anyone else is going to love you—”

He was closer now, much closer than before, like she’d blinked and suddenly he was there, in her space. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; the smell of his cologne washed over her, drowning out all of the alarm bells in her head, speaking to a creature inside of her that craved comfort.

“—the way that I can love you.”

John’s forehead brushed hers. So close, too close—but she thought about waking up this morning and the way he’d put his hand just there, in the same place, the way he’d murmured concernedly, you said you’ve been sleeping fine.

“Ell.” His voice was pitched soft, low, something safe and warm and just between them, his fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull, and now their noses brushed, and John had crowded her up gently against the doorframe, just the way that he knew she liked. “I want to kiss you.”

Elliot’s throat felt tight. I want to kiss you too, that wretched, sad little thing inside of her said, but instead she thought of something else—she thought about John, holding her under the water, and John, saying enough of that sad little whimpering, deputy, you’re pulling on my heartstrings, and John, spitting mad, telling her he was never ever going to take her back even though no one was going to love her because of the things she’d done.

“Can’t,” she managed out, her voice hoarse. “You can’t.”

John exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting like he was trying to stop himself—from saying something, doing something that he wanted to do very much but would regret later. It took a second, but once she gathered herself, she reached up and gripped his wrist with her hand, applying just a little pressure—and that was all it took for him to drop his hand from her neck.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. It sounded more like a way to console himself rather than an answer to her. He passed a hand through his hair.

“We can’t.”

“Okay, alright. No kissing.” He lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “You’re the boss.” The brunette’s eyes glided over her face for a moment, almost ruefully, before he stepped back and started heading down the hall. “Goodnight, Elliot.”

She stayed put, up against the doorframe to her bedroom, fingers curled into fists. Everything in her felt like it was burning—rioting, that she had denied herself something that might give her some temporary relief, some temporary pleasure.

But it wasn’t just about her, anymore.

“John,” she said, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why are you even here?”

He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued, hating the little tremble in her voice, “did you come here because you wanted to be with the baby and I, or did you come here because you were mad we left?”

Elliot watched the muscle of his jaw tense and tighten, flexing as he tried to come up with an answer. And he was, having to come up with one, because he was doing that thing where he wanted to say something that was true to him and would make her happy.

And she didn’t want that. She just wanted him to be honest.

“Alright, good talk.”

“Elliot, listen,” he started, and she stepped into her bedroom, shaking her head.

“Goodnight, John.”

She closed the door behind her, pleased to not hear any follow-up knocks on her door or John’s voice coming through the wood. It was five minutes of waiting before she finally dragged herself into her pajamas, put a sleeping pill in her mouth, and crawled into bed with Boomer curled into her knees.

That’s okay, Elliot thought tiredly, shifting and closing her eyes. That’s alright. It can be just you and I, baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Staci?”

Roused from his sleep, Pratt lifted his head. When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been sleeping? He struggled to a sitting position, clearing his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly to try and get them to focus. It was Dani’s face that came into view, then, her hair slung up in a ponytail and her nose scrunching up in an amused little smile.

“Good morning. You must have been exhausted, you slept for so long,” she teased him, and for a second he felt relief flood over him. It had been a dream. It had all been an awful dream. Now, more than ever, he was sure that he needed to get to the Resistance—take Dani with him and get out of this fucking nightmare of a building. Yeah. Then he’d feel better.

“Yeah, I must have been,” he said a little sheepishly, his voice rough from sleep. “Hey, d’you think we could—”

“Is he finally awake?”

The voice that came from the other room filtered straight into his brain, crisp and sharp and distinctly un-accented. The sound of footsteps echoed across the tile before an unfamiliar woman filled up the doorway, leaning one shoulder against it and regarding him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.

No. Not unfamiliar. Very familiar, painfully familiar, disgustingly, awfully—

“Yes, Helmi,” Dani replied warmly, “he is awake. It was his first time seeing Återfödelse.”

The woman, dark and swathed in fabric up to her throat, swept her eyes over him. “Dani told me you puked.”

“I-I-” Pratt tried to function through the panic in his brain, rioting bells going off nonstop. Helmi had washed herself of any blood, that did nothing to erase the image of her driving a man’s face into a splintered plank until he was skewered on it, or the way she had methodically emptied out Jacob’s own chosen and propped them up.

To get found. To send a message.

“You?” Helmi prompted, her voice flinty. “You what, boy?”

“He is still coming down,” Dani said, pouting her lips. She no longer struck him as affectionate on an equal level, but instead gave him the distinct feeling of a girl fawning over a cute animal. An animal she thought was also stupid.

“Why do you think he’s been holed up in the big one’s base of operations? He’s their lap dog,” the blonde bit out. She took a few steps over, leaning down—she was tall, but dextrous, her mouth curving in a smile that was distinctly threatening. She reached up, and when Pratt felt his body flinch, she grabbed his chin. “Aren’t you, doggy?”

“I-I’m not!” he said quickly, jerking his face out of her grip. “I’m not, I swear, I don’t even like the Seeds, I swear I don’t, Jacob was keeping me here and then he got everyone in the bunker and—”

“Wait,” Helmi said, eyes narrowing. “You know where the bunker is?”

“Yes!” Pratt said quickly. His eyes darted between Helmi and Dani, nervous. “I do, I know where it is, but—but no one can get in without Jacob now. Everyone in there is locked down until h-he gets back.”

“I told you,” Dani said to Helmi eagerly. “I told you he was helpful, Helmi.”

Helmi sucked her teeth, giving him one last scathing once-over before she planted a pleasant smile on her face.

“Come on, doggy,” she said, grabbing Staci’s shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. “You and I are going to make a little trip. And—”

She paused, thoughtful, even as Pratt scrabbled to push her hands off of him. They made his skin crawl—long and elegant, but he had seen what they could do. What they had done. Helmi shoved the walkie into his hands, as well as a heavy coat.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about our friends the Seeds on the way there?”

#fic: witching hour #john seed x female deputy #my writing #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #ch: helmi #ch: sheridan stark #ch: staci pratt #i have sated my desire for blood and now we can get back to getting these two idiots to fucking kiss already #far cry 5 fic #far cry 5 oc #john seed/female deputy #fc5 oc

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

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Moving day (Harry potter)

They say that any move can be stressful and the adjustment period of living with new roommates can be hard for the first few days, even if your new roomies happen to be your older twin brothers. And not making things any easier though they of course love and support you, is that your boyfriend is coming with you for the move, and as such you had to tell them about the special arrangement. Still stories over the phone apparently didn't fully paint a picture and now Ron and Draco are waiting for the twins to stop staring and let them in. The twins themselves were wearing matching white t-shirts and blue jeans. Ron was in a loose and long sleeved black shirt and black cargo pants, and Draco took the cake. what with the pure blood ex bully being in green cover all's (with crotch snaps!) and a black t-shirt it looked like under the cover-all's. and by how swollen and BIG Draco's crotch and rear looked, the boy was easily rocking 3 nappies. "Interesting..fashion choice." George said finally. "Inner child and all that." Fred said.

Getting Draco inside Ron got his big baby of a boyfriend sat down in the living room to get to know his unca's better while Ron went and unpacked, not a easy job to do since they were making use of a magic suitcase so there was at least a few hours worth of work needed for Ron to do. If your wondering why Draco wasn't helping with the unpacking well, He was a little guy in more ways then attire and a bored/grumpy Draco trying to be 'helpful' never ended well. He could of had one of the twins help him but with it being their first time watching Draco, he figured 2 on 1 gave them a fighting chance against his bratty baby boy.

"So..Cripes..you really wear nappies huh?" Fred asked,leaning down for a closer look at the bulky seat of Draco's overall's and nappies. Draco, who had been leaning forward to get some of the baby blocks they had for him to play with gave a annoyed look as this was the 5th time Fred had asked that. deciding that those who get that close to his butt with no care about their own safety deserved what they got and scrunched up his face. George realized what was happening and started to cry out a warning. "Fred wait get back from hi-" but at last the cry came too late and indeed only made things worse. Fred's poor mouth had opened, and with the distraction from George, Draco moved his diapered rear backwards, almost in slow motion and finished his long sputtering but muffed fart on his unca's face. With the deed done and Fred on his back and gagging, George glared at Draco. "what cha do that for?" he demanded, folding his arms. "But unca George, I'm just a widdle boy and NEED my diapies, Unca Fred should of realized he was playing with fire.. or gas." Draco said, doing his best 'i'm so cute you can't stay mad at me' faces and voices. and unlike Ron who had seen them all and could resit, This was Georges first and he instantly melted. "well,m just don't let it happen again. Do you want some ice cream?" George asked Draco of course knew he wasn't suppose to have any, ice cream made him a super duper pooper..Butttt He was just a little boy and lessons had to be learned all around. Fred finally got up and like wise was about to throttle Draco but the power of the puppy look and he was de fanged as well and went to go and smash up some cookies to crumble over Draco's ice cream. '..heh..yeah. I could get used to this~' he thought.

Ron had been hard at work for a hour and came out to get a glass of juice from the fridge. he noticed Draco was nuzzled on the crotch with his brother and smiled, he was glad they were getting along and didn't wanna say anything to spoil their fun. chugging his juice down and getting a refill, Ron just happened to look in the sink and froze, seeing three dirty bowls that had clearly had ice cream in them. "Ohhhh No. No no no.." Ron said, a knot forming in his tummy. coming out of the kitchen and hurrying to look out into the living room he heard the first poot and toyed with just running before the smell reached him. cries of disgust and whimpers of pain were heard and it delayed Ron enough that he didn't escape the stink field in time and was welcomed to the truly rotten smell of a lactose intolerant like Malfoy having dairy. Nose hairs burning and eyes watering Ron sighed and headed for ground zero. Fred and George were each half out a window, Fred on the left and George on the right. Draco not surprisingly was squatting down and hunching, fists closeted and gritting his teeth. from the look of focus on his face and the sweat you'd almost swear he was doing a power up from a anime. at least till you noted the massive diaper that had forced the crotch snaps open (and Ron looked and noticed some of the buttons on the floor) Spotting Ron in the door way Draco started to cry out daddy, but it was over taken with a guttural groan as a cramp hit him. the diaper, which was already racing for his knee caps jumped in size and Ron found himself glad he hadn't taken Harry's advice and gone with muggle diapers, they'd of had a blow out by now! "D-Daddy tummy hurt!" Draco whined and whimpered, tears going down his cheeks and holding out his hands as his knees wobbled. technically Ron should of let Draco suffer, to enjoy the spoils of his win at getting ice cream and suffer butttt...that just wasn't the kinda daddy Ron was. conjuring up a clothes pin for his own nose, and a dummy with a large rubber teat that found it's way into Draco's mouth, Ron came over and hugged the stinky boy. He also once he noticed the twins were trying to escape out the windows, shut them on the twins trapping them but not hurting them. well, not hurting them till anther spell had the back of their knickers get yanked up for twin wedgies. "OWWW! Stoppp Ron knock it off!" "we'll get you back for this!" "mmmmhmmm. I'll be back to free you after I change Draco..or I can let you two go now and you can change him." Ron said, smirking. "...You know, after the first 10 seconds this feels kinda nice." Fred said. "Could do this all day." added George. "For the record you two will be changing him at some point." Ron laughed. "Now hold on.." George started. "You never warned us about him being like..THAT every time that he goes!" Fred protested. "Hmm? oh he's not. but you dipsticks let him have dairy when he's lactose intolerant. reap what you sew." "..If he knew he couldn't handle it then why did he have three bowls of it!?!" "because he's a baby duh. he just likes yummy things and doesn't think about later." A whine from behind and Ron smiled at the huffing Draco who with one last watery fart seemed to be done..and oh my. the diaper had gotten SO shit swelled that it looked like something out of a cartoon show, Draco had basically made a bean bag chair of sorts! in fact if he hadn't of just stopped pooping he might of been picked off the ground! "Jesus sweetie, you have any bones left in you?" Ron asked fascinated and semi worried at the same time. (and maybe a little pride, that was his boy who had just made a super big present.)

The only way to move him at this point was a levitation spell and Draco hated it. the damn things always made him queasy to his belly even though he'd been used to moving much faster during a quditch game. Still there was no way to change him in the house without getting the mess everywhere and his new uncles seemed to have a high enough stone way around the back of their large yard. "oh look, they have a garden back here..you can provide all the fertilizer from now on!" Daddy teased and Draco tried to glare but the cheating bastard tickled the big babies tum tum making him giggle around the paci. Sat down slowly with a loud squish and a horrible smell being released, Draco whined and held his own nose and waved a hand. "heh, yeah buddy, Stinky.":Ron chuckled then opened his diaper. stinky as it was, Draco couldn't help but giggle even in the outdoor setting as Ron turned green in the face. charming a gas mask onto his face daddy was apparently ok and Draco huffed and crossed his arms. "No fair! cheating!" was what he wanted to say, but just gibberish came out instead because he also refused to let the dummy out of his mouth.

45 minutes later (give or take a century from Ron's POV) and the little guy was all cleaned up and his 'treasure' so to speak disposed of. The twins had manage to get free by seeing what Ron had been dealing with they decided to hold back on their revenge so they wouldn't have to change Draco today. Or at least that was the plan but after carrying Draco in just his diapers (him sitting on Ron's lap, snuggling into him and looking more like a little toddler then the high school graduate he was) when Ron came out of their room, Draco was hiding behind him and still had the dummy in his mouth. just he was sucking on it BIG time and almost giving the twins ideas. then Ron stepped out of the way and the twin's jaws dropped. If his first outfit had been shocking, and his just diapered look adorable, this look was kinda sexy and having the twins who had considered themself hetero till just seconds again were desperately trying to justify thoughts of what they wanted to do with Draco. "Boys..let me introduce the other side of your new nephew..his niece side." Ron chuckled.

Draco's cheeks were bright red, daddy had promised no sissy stuff around his brothers but said this was his punishment for being a little piggy! So now his short blond hair had a light pink bow in it, he was wearing a very short little girl party dress, complete with a bow on the back that daddy had to tie and of course was a mixture of different shades of pink. whine knee high socks were on him and a pair of black Mary janes on his feet. 'At least daddy didn't put make up on me this time." Draco sulked around his paci, waddling forward with the same bulky cloth and rubber pants he'd had before. His his Mary-janes making a clip clack sound on the floor Draco got in front of his unca's and griping the hem of his dress, curtsy and bowed his head. "so..you two think you can try this again and NOT fuck it up?" Ron asked. "I uh..I.." Fred stammered, apparently locked up in resisting the urge to fawn over the little cutie. "You know Fred, i think we could do a smash up job this time. even handle any diaper changes!" George said. "Glad to hear. no take backies." Ron said and turned to go back into Draco and his room to finish working. as he turned a low rumbling sound was heard that turned into a series of wet farts. "Uhhh Ron?" Fred squeaked out as the back of Draco's diaper ballooned out from under the dress. "No take backsies. " was all Ron said then shut the door. "...Still think letting them move in was a good idea?" "Oh shut up!"

the end

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commander-rahrah · 4 years ago

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RESIDENCY: SECOND CHANCES (AN OPEN HEART FIC): PART THREE

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan. Please note that both pairings are present in this fan fiction — off & on, at the same times, and the relationships do ebb & flow. Please keep this in mind. Thank you.

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T

Word Count: 5400+

Description: Ethan returns home from the Amazon thinking he is ready to face reality. Jordynne, Ethan and Bryce are all present in this chapter.

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Well this took much longer than anticipated! Thank you to everyone for being patient, and reaching out about Residency! It means a lot to know people are still reading it, and are waiting for updates! I am nervous + excited for Chapter 10 to finally come out next Saturday! How are you feeling about it?

As always any likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list please just let me know!

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy @owleyes374 @lahelable @mayar-mahdy @paisleylovergirl @nicquix @emilymay100 @octobereighth @llamasgrl @timmagicktoad @lilyofchoices @msjpuddleduck @mfackenthal @paulfwesley @ccolz88-blog @mindlessdreaminxo @jooous @lapisreviewsstuff @choicesarehard @themingdynasty @omgjasminesimone @hopelessly-shipper @binny1985 @perriewinklenerdie @jens-diamondchoices @indiacater @chasingrobbie @writingsbymissy @dimitriwife @tacohead13 @amy-choices @mrsmatsuo @checkurwindow @imrookieramsey @mrsmatsuo @bitchloveskcbaseball

Previous Updates: Residency — Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen Part Fifteen Part Sixteen Part Seventeen Part Eighteen Part Nineteen

Residency: Second Chances -- Part One Part Two

PART THREE

And just like that he was back on a plane.

Ethan had spent the remaining month of his project with the WHO in a daze. He threw himself into his work — even more than before. He didn’t give himself a moment to stop, to idle. If he did the thoughts would creep in like they had on that beach. Or like when he had foolishly opened up to that nosy Doctor in camp.

So he just kept going and going and going.

And now he sat on the plane home, staring blankly at the TV screen in the back of the chair in front of him. A book was in his hands — the front cover curled in underneath the back as he held onto it tightly. Probably too tightly. He watched the tiny animation of the plane slowly tick forward — representing them soaring through the sky. Tiny white letters flashed along the bottom of the screen.

6 hours and 14 minutes remaining.

6 hours and 14 minutes until he would have to face his reality.

He let out a loud sigh — his head falling back onto the headrest.

“Not a good book?”

Ethan’s dark brows furrowed at the voice — annoyed at whoever was speaking so loudly. Adjusting himself in his seat, he moved his head forward again before he realized that the question was being directed to him.

The woman across from him had angled her body towards him, leaning out in the tiny hallway of the plane with a soft smile on her face as she waited for him to reply.

The furrow in his brow deepened. “What?” He barked back.

“Is your book not good? I was eyeing it in the airport store before we boarded.”

“Actually no. It’s not good. You saved yourself $5.” His words were short and clipped. Final. This stranger needed to learn some social grace and leave him alone.

“Oh. Right.” She seemed to have gotten the hint, and he watched from the corner of his eye as she turned back to sit in her seat properly. He looked at the small screen again.

6 hours and 13 minutes remaining.

“I’m sorry... but why isn’t it good?” Her voice rang out again, but it sounded anything but apologetic.

Ethan let out a long breath through his nose, flashing the woman a look before replying, “It’s fiction.”

“So?”

“Fiction, fantasy — that’s what people want. But reality is what people need.”

“Oh. You’re one of those.” She turned away from him again, grabbing onto the magazine in her lap and starting to flick through the pages with feigned interest.

His jaw set in a hard line, “One of those what’s?”

“A Mr. Serious-Type. You can’t read for pleasure, you only read for knowledge. You probably read textbooks for fun.” She rolled her eyes.

Ethan almost felt his look twitch into a smile. She had almost read him right, “I write textbooks for fun.”

She looked at him quizzically, “What are you a professor?”

“Doctor.”

“Oh wow.” Her eyebrows shot up, “And I guess a pretty good one too if you write textbooks?”

Images of the patients he had failed flashed in his mind. Dolores being wheeled into emergency surgery to never return. Choking his failure out to Naveen and begging him to stay in the hospital anyways. “Most of the time.”

“I’m just a photographer.”

Apparently this stranger was insistent on keeping up this absurd conversation. “That has its own value in the world. Don’t discredit what you do.”

She let out a chuckle, “I think doctor is higher up than photographer.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

The woman blinked at him in surprise, “Do you usually argue with strangers on airplanes?”

“Do you usually force conversations with strangers on airplanes?” He countered.

A smirk spread across her face as she settled into her seat a little more. “No. But you haven’t checked the flight tracker in over 3 minutes.”

“I—,” Ethan’s blue eyes flashed to the tiny screen again.

6 hours and 10 minutes remaining.

He gave her a bewildered stare. “You did that on purpose?!”

“I was watching you watching that thing. It was driving me crazy.”

He set his jaw in a hard line, feeling annoyed. “I — “

She flashed him a wide grin, “You’re welcome Dr. Serious.”

Ethan sat in stunned silence for a moment. This woman’s antics ... they reminded him of her. Of Jordynne. Isn’t this exactly what she would do? Poke the bear. Distract him enough to get himself out of his own head. Bring him back down to earth.

“So are you counting down the minutes because you’re so excited to get home? Or because you’re dreading getting back?” She asked sincerely, a half smile on her face as she waited for his answer.

He pursed his lips for a moment as he thought. This whole trip has been about running away. Escaping to get a break and restart. But he had missed home. He had missed his work. He thought of Jenner living with his father for the past two months. All the great coffee he could have once he was back at home.

Ethan let out a conflicted sigh, “Is both a valid answer?”

“Completely.”

“Then both.”

That was two strangers now that he had confided in. Who was he? He felt like he could barely recognize the man speaking right now.

But he realized he didn’t have anyone else to speak to about it. The two people he would open up to were the two people he couldn’t. He didn’t want to disappoint Naveen even more than he already had. And Jordynne... well, that was the whole point of this. To not talk to her. To not open up.

He was supposed to go back to how things were before. Restart, refresh.

Back to the cynic. The man of convictions. Dr. Serious. Dr. Terminator.

So why couldn’t he?

______________________________________________________________________

A content sigh left Ethan as he settled onto the familiar stool in Donahue’s.

Now this was the old Ethan Ramsey. Sitting at the corner of the bar, drink in hand away from the crowd of people.

This is what he needed. To get back into his normal routine, to fall back into his own rhythm. A night at the tacky bar was exactly what he would be doing the night before his first day at work.

Reggie approached his corner of the bar, tossing a rag over his shoulder before leaning up against the counter casually. “So you’re back.”

Ethan nodded, taking another swig of his beer.

“And you were...?” His question trailed off as he waited for him to jump in.

“In the Amazon.”

“For vacation?”

“For work.” He said simply, placing the pint glass down carefully.

“You’re a weird man,” Reggie said with furrowed brows. “You should check out the beer garden — while it’s still nice out.” He said simply before turning to go help a couple of people standing at the bar.

A half-smirk spread across his face. Short conversations like that was exactly why Ethan liked Reggie. They made remarks, he gave him his drinks and he let him be.

Just like how things used to be.

Good — it was already working. The reset was working.

Stretching off of his stool, Ethan grabbed a hold of his drink before weaving around the crowd of people and tables. He decided to take Reggie’s suggestion — the view of downtown Boston was nice out there too and maybe it would be a little less crowded.

As he went to step outside his feet suddenly planted to the ground unmoving.

He was frozen in the door frame leading to the beer garden — condensation dripping from his beer, pouring over his warm hand.

There she was.

He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t prepared himself for her to be here. It was one of her haunts now too.

Everything he had forced back in South America — all the memories and thoughts — all of that work evaporated. Like that — they were gone.

He had forgotten the effect Jordynne had on him. Miles away in the rainforest had made him forget the real, visceral effect she had on him. His palms had turned warm and sweaty, his heartbeat was picking up and had started to climb up his throat.

How was it that she was the first person he noticed in the crowded venue?

She was dressed for the warm weather — her tan shoulders and collarbone revealed in a yellow tube top. Her blonde hair was pulled half up, framing her face that had gotten even more freckled the last couple of months. She was clinking her pint of beer with her friends, a wide smile stretching over her pink lips. But confusion replaced it as her eyebrows furrowed, then her eyed searched around the beer garden until they landed on his frozen figure.

Her expression softened — the furrow in her brows disappearing and her mouth opening in surprise.

Ethan’s body unconsciously carried him over to the table, his grip tightening on his glass as he got closer. He hesitated in front of her table moment, before

finally meeting her green eyes, “Rookie.” He said with a nod, waiting for her reaction.

She hesitated for a moment, licking her lips before speaking, “It’s good to have you back, Doctor Ramsey.”

“Yeah...,” Doctor Ramsey. Not Ramsey. Not Ethan. Professional, formal, distant. “Good to be back.” He gathered himself up, before casually flicking his eyes towards the rest of the table. He didn’t fail to notice Lahela and his proximity to her — his shoulder almost pressed up to hers. He had a hard to read expression on his face — which Ethan assumed could only mean that they had started things back up again. “Doctors. Enjoy your evening.”

He marched back into the main bar quickly — his heart pounding. He found his familiar stool and slid back into it — holding himself steady with the edge of it for just a moment.

Reggie eyed him, before turning his back to him. There was the sound of a glass clinking before he silently slid a filled tumbler towards him. “You look like you need something a little harder than your beer.”

Ethan gave him a warning glance, before pushing his beer to the side and taking a large gulp of the scotch.

“So it’s still her, hey?” The bartender asked, watching him as he put glasses into the dishwasher — steam swirling around his forearms.

His thick brows furrowed, and nose scrunched up, “What?”

“Blondie. I don’t know her name. I know she’s out in the beer gardens right now— that why you came running back in here?” Reggie’s eyebrows were raised high on his forehead.

Ethan set his jaw into a hardline. “I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh, sure... Blonde, legs for days, works at that life and death factory of yours.” He put a glass down for a moment so he could fix Ramsey with a good state, “Actually, I think the last time I saw you in my bar all those months ago you were leaving with her.”

That was the last time Ethan was here. The celebration after her hearing. They had barely lasted 5 minutes in the bar before they had left together in that yellow cab.

“Touché.” He raised the scotch tumbler up in a mock salute before taking another gulp.

“Don’t try to pull one over Reggie. I see all.”

“She still in here a lot?” His finger ran over the rim of the glass as he waited for the bartender to answer.

“Not every day like the usual riff-raff from the hospital. But enough that I recognize her.”

“Have you...,” He hesitated for a moment. Should he really ask it? But his curiosity got the best of him, “Have you noticed her with anyone?”

“She doesn’t come here alone if that’s what you mean. And she’s also not dancing on tabletops and sneaking away with anyone either.”

“Right.” He wasn’t sure what to do with that information.

Ethan went on high alert as he noticed Jordynne slip inside from the beer garden — waiting at the corner of the bar to place an order.

Reggie noticed her just after him and he gave Ethan a knowing look before taking her order.

He had to keep forcing his blue eyes away from her — staring down at the amber liquid in his drink, the neon lights behind the bar, the never-ending commercials on the television.

But the sound of shattering glass caused his ears to perk up, and he turned to look at Jordynne immediately. She was standing in shock — her mouth opened in surprise.

He watched as the aftermath of a scene unfurled. He instantly recognized Thorne from the hospital — clutching his mangled hand to his chest, his jaw was set in a hardline. A young woman was next to him — her face was blank but he could see her grasping her bloody leg — pieces of glasses were sticking out of it.

Ethan pushed off of his stool, abandoning his drink and marching over to the trio quickly.

But before he could react Jordynne had rushed forward, grabbing the back of the Thorne’s jacket and pulling him back away from the young woman with a strength Ethan didn’t know she had, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She snarled — her face was filled with fury as her voice rang out.

“This bitch broke my hand! I’m a plastic surgeon! Do you have any idea how valuable my hands are? I’m pressing charges! And by the time my lawyers are through with her—“

Her white teeth bared at him as she went to speak again, stepping closer to him. But Ethan got there before she could do anything else.

“Garret. That’s enough.” He growled, putting his body in front of Jordynne, one hand behind him softly pushing on her torso — stopping her from coming forward. The other hand was raised up at Throne, ready to push him back a lot harder if he needed to. “You still got one good hand, don’t you? Put it to use and call yourself a cab.” He glared down at the man, his nostrils flared.

He felt Jordynne’s body disappear from against his hand and heard footsteps retreating. He didn’t break his eye contact with Thorne — trusting Jordynne could handle helping the other woman.

“Get out of my way Ramsey, that bitch owes me.” He spat, trying to look over his shoulder to see where the woman had went.

“Did you hear me? I said call yourself a cab.” He repeated, enunciating each word.

Thorne pushed his face closer to Ethan’s, flaring his nostrils at him, “You might have people in your pocket in the hospital, Ramsey. But out here, this is the real world. And you don’t get to dictate me.”

“Is that so?” Before he could react, Ethan angrily grabbed onto his collar and pulling him for Reggie to see. “Shall I?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Get that idiot out of here!” He yelled as he crossed over the bar with a broom in hand.

“Gladly,” Ethan snarled, dragging Garrett towards the exit.

“That blonde chick — she your pet or something, Ramsey? You got real heated as soon as she was involved.” His voice was a bit strained as Ethan dragged him out of the bar. Luckily there was a yellow cab idling nearby and he was able to wave it over.

“Shut up and get in the cab.” He said through gritted teeth, doing his best to ignore the comment.

“‘Cause I swear I recognize her from somewhere...” He hinted, catching onto the door of the cab with his good hand to stop Ethan from pushing him into it.

“You know what I seem to remember? How you got your sexual harassment case at the hospital buried. I wonder what would happen if you were charged with it outside of the hospital too? Might not be very good for practicing.” Ethan pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the emergency services button.

“Fine.” He spat, “But I won’t forget this.”

“Neither will I.” Ethan pushed the man into the car with a hit more force than was necessary. A growl escaped him as he watched Thorne’s smirk through the window as the cab pulled away.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. That was the exact opposite of what he had expected for his first night back home. With heavy steps, he walked back into the bar — feeling a couple of stares on him as soon as he entered.

Jordynne’s green eyes found his as he walked back to his stool. They were crinkled with worry for a moment before the look suddenly vanished at the sounds of her friends coming in from the beer garden.

“Whoa, Jordynne what went down in here?” Elijah asked, rolling around the broken glass by the bar carefully.

“You know Dr. Thorne, the plastic surgeon? He wouldn’t leave this girl alone. It got intense.” She crossed her arms over her torso, a look of disgust on her face as she looked over the aftermath of the scene.

Reggie tutted and shook his head as he swept up the broken glass as she told them what happened.

“I always knew that guy was gross.” Jackie matched Jordynne’s expression.

“Alright, people, last call. You ain’t gotta go home, but you can’t stay here.” Reggie stopped sweeping for a moment, waving his hand to get everyone’s attention.

“Already? I’m not even close to ready for tomorrow to start.” Ethan watched from his stool as Jordynne wrapped her arms around her torso — suddenly looking nervous.

“Like Reggie said, last call doesn’t have to mean ‘go home’. We can stay out and explore.” Bryce grabbed onto her elbow easily, flashing her his signature smile.

Ethan did his best to keep his face neutral.

“Screw that, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.”

“You guys are nuts. I’m twenty minutes away from falling asleep on my wheels!”

“Good thing we can get you home in fifteen then.” Sienna smiled down at Elijah as she grabbed onto the handles of his chair. “You coming, Jordynne?”

Jordynne’s eyes darted over the other patrons leaving the bar, before looking back to Ethan on his usual stool on the corner of the bar.

“What? Last call doesn’t apply to you?” She raised a dark brow at him.

“Reggie and I have an arrangement.” He held onto his glass a bit tighter.

“An arrangement? Is that what you call friendship?” A smile almost spread across her pink lips.

“I guess you forgot. I don’t have friends. But… I wouldn’t mind you joining me if you were so inclined.” He offered, doing his best to sound casual.

This could be a good way to start their professional relationship. Her fellowship would be starting tomorrow since it marked his return to work. They needed to start things right. Like they should have all those months ago.

“You coming Jordy?” Bryce asked again. Ethan could swear he saw his smile flickering a bit. The usually confident surgeon looked unsure.

“Umm…,” She hesitated for a moment, tucking a lock of her golden blonde hair behind her ear, “You guys go on ahead. I just want to quickly check in about tomorrow with Dr. Ramsey.”

“Okay. Just don’t stay out too late… Aurora’s dropping off the rest of her stuff before work tomorrow, remember?” Sienna jerked her head towards a slightly frowning Bryce. It definitely sounded like a warning.

She blinked at her friend for a moment, before nodding, “I know. It's just about the fellowship.”

Ethan turned back around in his stool as she said goodbye to her friends.

He was suddenly reminded of the night after her first day as an intern as he heard the scrape of the stool next to him. She had sidled up to him so easily then, but today she seemed more hesitant.

He looked over his shoulder at her, keeping his face composed. “Rook— er, Jordynne. Sorry,” He grimaced slightly, “Force of habit.”

She shrugged before she settled into the spot next to him. Usually, he was acutely aware of how little space she left between them when she was nearby. Now he was aware of how much more space she left. He watched her swallow before nodding at his leather jacket, “We’ve got ourselves a brand new Ethan Ramsey.”

He tugged at the hem of it self-consciously, “This jacket’s been through a lot with me.” After wearing it almost every day the last month of his trip it had started to mold to him.

“It suits you,” A half-smirk spread across her pink lips.

“Duly noted.” He put his tumbler glass down carefully, before scratching at his red-brown facial hair, “And the beard?”

Her green eyes flickered down to his new beard. He swore she lingered on his lips for a moment, but she looked back up with pursed lips, “It looks good on you.”

Ethan had to force his lips from upturning, instead, he continued to rub his jawline. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

Looking around his shoulders, he noted that the other patrons had left. It was only him, her and Reggie now — who was giving Ethan a pointed look. “Why don’t we move outside? It’ll be winter before we know it. Might as well enjoy the weather while we can. You want something to drink?”

She nodded in agreement, pushing herself up out of her stool, “Whatever you’re having.”

Reaching across the bar, Ethan snagged one of the bottles of good scotch still sitting in the bar well. “Hey, Reggie, we’re borrowing this.” The bartender handed him two clean glasses, before waving them off.

The pair headed back out to the beer garden — that was much more peaceful now that the crowd of people had left. He headed to the center fire pit, falling into the padded outdoor couch next to it. Jordynne slotted in beside him.

They sat in silence for a moment, looking up at the glowing lights strung up above them. The sun was just starting to set — turning the sky and pinky-orange.

“I can see why you like it here,” She finally spoke up. She sounded a little breathless.

“Because nobody’s annoying me?” He leaned back in his seat with a smirk.

“More or less. It’s peaceful.” She stared into the flames of the small fire pit, going quiet again.

Ethan wasn’t sure how to fill the quiet. It wasn’t a comfortable silence. He felt awkward — he didn’t really know how to do this anymore with her. Did he?

“So,” She broke the silence for him, “This Dr. Thorne guy. Should I be worried about him?” Her eyes moved from the fire to her drink.

“He has some influence.” He admitted, “Just stay out of his way for a couple weeks, and he’ll entirely forget who you are.”

“But not who you are. Should you be worried?” Her eyebrows were knitted together, concern on her face.

That was so Jordynne. Of course, she was worried about him, not herself.

“I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am to give a damn what someone like him thinks.” He shook his head, letting out a huff, “Don’t think twice about that asshole. What you did back there, helping that girl? You did the right thing. That’s all that matters.”

She shook her head back at him, but her eyes remained low, “We both know that’s not always true.”

“Hmm,” He felt heart pang, his stomach filling with guilt, “Well it should be. You’re too young to be a cynic like me.”

“I’m not being cynical. I just learned my lesson. You saw what happened last year. I almost lost my license for breaking the rules to help Mrs. Martinez. And I would do it again. Just like I would step in to help someone being harassed again. But people got hurt because of me — Mrs. Martinez’s family suffered. That’s not right.” She was chewing her lip as she spoke, visibly bothered.

“The lesson there is that if you put your patients first, you will always be vindicated in the end. That’s the lesson.” His blue eyes studied her, his thick brows meeting in the middle. “What you did just now was brave. You’ve always been brave in the face of disaster and death, of course... But it’s different to do it to a superior. To stand up to them for what’s right.”

A small smile spread across her face. It looked half-hearted, but it was still a smile. “It’s not as brave as venturing into the depths of the Amazon to fight an epidemic, that’s for sure.”

His heart fell. He stared into his drink for a moment before speaking, “That wasn’t bravery.”

His mouth went dry as he thought of what to say. He could hear the music from inside the bar trailing outside softly. Country music — he frowned.

Jordynne broke the silence before he could. “Ethan, why did you leave?”

He had avoided the question when she had asked before — when she had looked up at him with those big Bambi eyes in the parkade as he went to leave. Pleading with for a bit of honesty.

“I —,” His voice broke slightly, “I needed space.” He finally admitted, “I needed to reset before...”

“Before we worked together again?” She finished his sentence for him.

He nodded, “Exactly. So consider us reset. I won’t cross boundaries with you again. Your professional development is too important.”

He had said it once again. And he would stick to it. He had to.

“I see.” Her face suddenly became impossible to read. They had had this conversation so many times before — it was so well-rehearsed in his head by now. His heart still broke with guilt and grief remembering the looks she had given every time he told her this. But this time it was different.

Before he could even react, Jordynne had pushed her lips onto his. Ethan immediately tensed, his shoulders coming up to his ears. It took all of him to not give in. To not deepen it, to wrap his arms around her and pull her into him. Her lips were softer then he remembered.

He was cruel and didn’t pull away. His own selfishness winning out over logic. Just this one last time. To savor it. To remember what she tasted like.

When she pulled away, he watched as pain and wanting and confusion and hurt washed over her. Her green eyes staring deeply into his own blue ones, studying them.

“Dammit, Jordynne...”, Ethan finally breathed out, furrowing his eyebrows and scrunching up his forehead.

Her voice was barely a whisper. Her face still close enough to him that he could feel her breath, “If you don’t want to kiss me again, then just tell me...” He could smell the scotch on her breath, her perfume swirling around her.

But he interrupted her, “It has nothing to do with ‘want’. I can’t. And if I give a damn about you, I won’t.” He shook his head, biting down on the inside of his cheek hard for a moment. He took a hard swallow, “How am I supposed to push you to be everything you can be if I...”

He couldn’t finish that sentence.

“If you what?”

Ethan bit down on his lip this time, hard. Forcing himself to keep his emotions at bay. Forcing down that lump that was crawling up his throat. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Finally, he managed to — before downing his tumbler of scotch in one giant gulp.

“Okay.” Her voice was so quiet. He had never heard her so quiet, so defeated. “I get it.” She got up off of her seat, awkwardly wrapping her arms around her torso.

She stood in front of him, avoiding his stare again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dr. Ramsey.” She barely got the words out before marching back towards the bar.

He tightened his jaw as he watched her go. Pushing down every thought and wish and hope. That he should go after her. He could drive her home. That maybe she’d come back.

But that couldn’t be.

Fantasy is what people want. But reality is what they need.

This was Ethan Ramsey’s new reality.

“Good night, Dr. Holland.” He croaked out as she slipped inside and away from him.

______________________________________________________________________

Jordynne’s feet were killing her. She had marched out of that bar so fast, her feet slapping the ground as she raced away — hiding her red face from people passing by.

She took the steps down to the subway two at a time — so desperate to just be home under her covers already. She would have started running if she hadn’t have dressed up for the evening.

Finding a quiet corner of the subway, she slumped down into a seat and buried her face into her hands.

She had thought...

Well — she wasn’t sure what she thought would happen. Was she really surprised Ethan rejected her? How many times had they had that conversation before?

She guessed she thought that if she gave it one last chance she would finally have her answer.

And now she did.

She felt tears well up in her eyes — threatening to rush over onto her cheeks. But she squeezed her eyes shut so hard it hurt.

Jordynne was not going to let herself cry over this. Over him.

She wanted an answer and she got it.

She was better than crying on the subway. Better than pining over someone she would clearly never have. She was an intelligent woman. She was the junior fellow of the Diagnostics team. Of his diagnostics team.

So she would ignore it. They both will. They’ll pretend whatever it is between them doesn’t exist. That will just be her new reality.

Jordynne’s thoughts were interrupted as a shadow passed over her — a figure grabbing onto the railing above her and looking down. She craned her neck to catch a glimpse at the person.

Lahela.

He always had a way of showing up at just the right time. His long hair was hanging over his face as he looked down at her.

“Bryce, what are you doing? I thought you went out to explore.” She asked, confusion sweeping across her face.

“Ah,” He shrugged a little with a half-smile, “I walked along the river for a bit but figured I should be at least a little well-rested before becoming an all-mighty resident.”

She let out a soft chuckle, “Who knew this could make you have an even bigger ego?”

He joined her laughing — the sound melting the icy cold that had started to creep up in her moments before. She moved to the side as he sat down next to her in the red plastic seats of the subway.

He leaned back into the chair, looking as casual as one could on public transportation, “How was Ramsey? Everything all set for tomorrow?”

“Yup,” Her mouth got dry at his mention, “Fellowship officially starts tomorrow.”

“Did he...?” But his voice trailed off — he sounded uncertain.

She raised an eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue— unable to guess what it was he was wondering.

“Did he — did you talk about you two?” His brown puppy dog eyes were crinkled with worry.

Jordynne let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head, “There is no us two.”

“I’m not — I’m not asking this because of you and me. About our deal.” He met her eyes, looking at her intently, “I’m asking — because you’re my friend. And I care about you.”

“I know.” She nodded, believing him. “He is the head of the diagnostics team. And I am the junior fellow.” Another heavy breath escaped her, “And that’s where it will end.”

“Jordy...” His voice was soft and sad as he watched her, but she didn’t give him anything more to go on. He chewed his lip for a moment before speaking again, “So what happens now?”

“I think...,” Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought of what she wanted. Of what to do next. “I think I just want to be a doctor. Just put my head down and do what I came here to do.”

Bryce gave her a smile, nodding in agreement. “Just change one thing about that plan.”

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“You’re not just a doctor. You’re a damn good doctor. And no history with your boss, or devilishly distracting surgeon,” He flashed her a wink, “Will get in the way of that, ok?”

“Thanks, Bryce.” The vote of confidence boosted her mood a bit.

“You just do you, Jordy. Everything else will fall into place,” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his warm side. She stiffened for a moment — worried about the gesture. But he didn’t move any closer, and his face didn’t move to meet hers closely. She settled into him a little bit, thankful to have a friend with her.

And the pair continued to sit like that as the subway brought them home.

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 4 years ago

Text

I Just Realized Gaster’s Family Name Might Be Wingdings Instead of Gaster

it just hit me while I was drawing,

that Gaster’s family name, the one that most fans

would have both him and his sons or brothers (depend how you see Gaster) be called Gaster at the end of their names,

might not really be the real last/family name of them.

but now I have the headcanon theory,

that not only is Gaster, isn’t his family name.

you know how in some places, the family name comes first

before the given name to the son/daughter/child...?

if this theory is true,

that means that Papyrus and Sans,

they are Wingdings Sans and Wingdings Papyrus.

well I do see the brother version of Gaster,

being separate from the father version,

and the two versions just being father and son,

and the brother Gaster, “Gaster Jr.”

being the elder brother of Sans and Papyrus.

I kind of want to call the brother version "Agrest"

which is like a Anagram of Gaster.

so Wingdings Gaster Sr. goes by “Gaster”

while Wingdings Gaster Jr. goes by “Agrest”

Gaster being the father of the three skelebros,

while the brother version of Gaster, who is called “Agrest” by one fan so far,

will be the son of the Dadster and also the elder brother of the other two.

I’m not sure how many other fans would agree to “Gaster Jr./The Gaster-Brother” version, going by the fan name Agrest.

it is pronounced just like Adrian’s Family Name,

from Miraculous Ladybug & Chat Noir.

it is just spelled without the extra ‘e’ in it.

we all get different fan theories, and not all of them have to be a correct.

maybe I will talk about this theory more at another time.

I also wanted to try to get around to throwing some of that salt on my pendulum tonight, but I think I will wait until tomorrow to do so.

also I think I want to draw a second Tuckrif ship drawing,

maybe either tomorrow or whenever I’m able to get around to it.

also if there are others who uses a pendulum,

and are still a bit new to it and haven’t done it very long.

make sure not to believe the replies it gives you all the time,

even if you can believe some of it, there are chances it will be hacked by negative energy, and it will end up either pranking you or just full out lying to you just to be mean instead of playful.

well that is how I view it.

I will sign back on in a few hours, or in other words, tomorrow.

but not right away, I mean it might not be a few hours when I sign back in.

I just want to go back to relaxing and try to go back to watching a movie.

I also want to say, that I might of been unsuccessful in trying to find a place that is better than Youtube, where no one will get hurt by the negative side of who ever is running Youtube.

even if Youtube is still good, and it still has it’s good side.

there is still some problems with it, that I hope someday will be fixed.

this video --> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTGufMkHfZI

it’s important to keep children safe,

but do NOT blame the content, blame the parents.

before you check out the link, I want to say that know from experience.

like seeing a movie I was not old enough to see,

wasn’t even a teenager yet at all or some other family movies,

that had hinted “snu-snu.”

there should be a child lock app that keeps little kids from seeing content they are not suppose to.

another problem about the blaming the content,

is that when you let your baby who started talking,

and you let them watch a show or movie, with a bad word in it,

and they will repeat it, which is just what I did when I was a baby.

Vimeo and PeerTube, I’m not sure if those two will be the best alternative.

Vimeo seems still a little good, but it doesn’t seem what I’m truly looking for.

I could still check it out once in a while I guess.

at least show creators who trust Youtube,

do put info at the start of the video, that it isn’t for kids.

when Youtubers do make it clear that their channel isn’t for Kids,

then he parents should make sure that you try to keep a eye on your kids.

you can’t just blame on the mature content that isn’t for them in the first place.

I can admit that my Mom made some mistakes,

like letting me be in a room where a show or movie was on,

and I was just a baby, maybe around a toddler at the time,

and I repeated the “B” word.

not knowing any better.

if we want to keep everyone safe, there needs to be improvement on Youtube,

where they don’t hurt anyone or let false reports happen,

where a video that has been up way longer, ends up being taken done because of what some other Youtuber reported.

until Youtube can try to do better and improve itself,

and stop hurting so many Youtubers,

there needs to be a true Alternative place to go to other than Youtube,

that you can post amv, original show work, music videos,

but only YOUR original work, unless you get REAL permission to sub or dub a Game Music Video or Animated Music Video,

or get real permission to dub or sub the pilot of Viviziepop’s original

work, like Hazbin Hotel, as well as their pilot and episodes of Helluva Boss.

or if you take Hazbin Hotel Pilot, and breaking into parts,

one person from Youtube has done this, and I know trying to get through to them is not possible, I haven’t talked to them.

but from what I can see, they and those that follow them, wont listen to reason or understand the feelings of others.

there is called fair use, like when you use some art or clips

to make a music video, but you need to make sure to give credit to the original owners, and also make sure if you write in the description,

that anything related to the original owner, is visible

and not make it not visible at all, and you can only see it

when you press the “show more button”

too many Youtubers get hurt, and it’s not fair.

even if there is still some good on Youtube,

it is still slightly corrupted, and it needs to be healed.

plus you will have to worry about other people

stealing Comic Dubs, that belong to the original people who dub it,

who most, had got permission from the original artist.

but with how some comics are, it isn’t possible to get the permission,

the best you can do is try to put the info at the start of the video,

and make sure there is no misunderstandings.

I still like Youtube, but I just don’t like how it ends up hurting others.

and I don’t like that it took me until now,

to know the problem isn��t the content, but the parents.

mine being one of them, but I don’t think my mom would of let me watch the really REALLY mature stuff when I was little.

but the point is, I was still exposed to it, even if it was just a mild stuff.

I can watch some mature stuff now.

but I now have the knowledge to know that the parents are to blame,

they don’t keep a better watch of their kids,

and even if they do let their kids watch stuff or play video games,

that AREN’T FOR THEM IN THE FIRST PLACE.

the parents will just turn it around and place the blame on the content

instead of themselves.

if I could make a Royal Decree, it would be that all parents,

should get a child lock on their child’s computer,

make sure there is a password place,

that hides really mature content, even working on Youtube so any Mature stuff on there, can not be seen.

I have little trust in Youtube, because of the stuff that has been happening on it.

it makes me worried about some of the channels I had been watching so far.

like besides Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss.

I worry about any fan animation that can either do with Undertale,

or Invader Zim.

and I think there are others that I might not be able to name.

but the point is, that if Youtube and whoever is running it,

wants to try not to break anymore hearts.

then there needs to be a app that is a child lock

that the browser will be linked to, and will have a password,

where it will make it impossible for little kids to watch mature stuff by accident.

and if you need to write the password on paper,

because not being able to remember all passwords, cause I know that feeling.

then make sure to keep the child lock password in a very secret place,

maybe where your child can’t find it.

that way they wont be able to use it.

if I ever become a parent someday, I’m gonna make sure to NEVER make the same mistake my Mom or those who were watching me did.

or the mistakes that some parents make now.

placing the full blame on the content, instead of themselves.

I’m going to try to keep hoping, that Youtube will improve.

and it will stop hurting other Youtubers.

I think after I watch the Hotel Transylvania 3 Movie I’m watching,

I will go watch Camp Camp over on Rooster Teeth Site.

anyway, I hope to talk more about the whole “Wingdings” is Gaster’s family name, at another time.

I still hope to draw Tuckrif (Red Vs Blue: Tucker x Grif)

when I can.

and I hope some of you can respect my feelings about what is going on,

and how the ones who should take responsibility

is the parents, who need to try to find a way to make that child lock,

that can keep a child safe, if they have their own computer or if they don’t,

get your child their own computer and then place the child lock in it,

and make sure it has a password that only you know or have wrote down and keep in a very secret place that they have no idea about.

if we want to improve the internet safety, then that is one of the first steps.

so no one will get emotionally hurt because parents don’t realize,

that we saw that content because of you, and you should of tried to keep us from it until we were the proper age.

my mom being one of them, I still love my mom,

but even I know now that her letting me see stuff I was not ready for.

was still irresponsible, and all parents should acknowledge this.

I even had to stop my little cousin from trying to play my Deadpool Game once,

lucky they didn’t get very far, but still...no one even bothered to stop them or make sure they didn’t try to play it.

I even had to start to hide some of my mature games and even movies when they came over.

anyway if you haven’t already, please check out the link.

and maybe someday the type of child lock I mentioned,

will be made someday, and maybe someone will make a petition for such a lock,

that way no more people get hurt, and parents will take more responsibility.

and maybe even listen more to their son or daughter.

and whatever the gender neutral form for son/daughter is

(I will need to look it up), when they try to tell them something is wrong,

and they know something isn’t right.

or if your child doesn’t want to get on the bus because the school and their teacher’s had traumatize them and that is why they are shaking from being upset.

anyway like I said, please check out the link to that youtube video that talks about the serious stuff going on.

maybe by next year, youtube will become better and have the child lock on and keep those who are under age of 15, off of the mature stuff.

I can only hope so...I mean I want to hope that Season 15 of Red Vs Blue DVD gets on Amazon.

and SVTFOE and Wander Over Yonder get full DVDS

and stop being just “Prime Only”

and whoever made the complete series of the original Powerpuff Girls,

impossible to get right away, unless you save like a LOT of money.

well I’m gonna hope they lower the price someday.

not everyone can get the really high price that is past 100 and more,

I’m gonna just go and try to go back to watching that movie,

and hope things get better.

this was only suppose to be about the whole Wingdings is Gaster’s Family Name Theory, but then I remembered about wanting to show that link again.

see ya later and stay safe everyone, and try not to make the same mistake as your parents if you were exposed too early to mature content, and the parents place the full blame on the content instead of themselves.

but if you are one of the ones who were lucky not to end up that way,

I hope you can still be able to understand and be supportive about the real problem, which isn’t the content, but the parents who need to improve themselves and maybe be told by other parents who never made the same mistake as them, that the content isn’t the problem.

#wingdings gaster #wingdings is gaster's family name theory #wingdings sans #wingdings papyrus #the wingdings family theory

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mxredred · 4 years ago

Text

Why I Can't Call Persona 3 My Favourite Game - A Case Study About Atlus And LGBTQ+

TW: transphobia, homophobia

Okay so here's the gist: you might know the game Persona 5, I have praised it a lot in the past to my friends. I think it's a good game. I also think the the games that come before it in the Persona series, Persona 4 and Persona 3 are great games, I even used to call Persona 3 my favourite game of all time, but I can't do that in good conscience anymore. The company that makes all these games, Atlus, has a long history of homophobia and transphobia.

Let's start with their most famous game in the west, Persona 5. Apart from the only canon gay characters being very problematic, both in the original game and in the remake, we have the problem of the dating routes. As JelloApocalipse puts it in his amazing video about Persona 5: "Can I date... A boy? No! That's weird! Feel free to date this alcoholic adult though!" Not to mention you can date your surrogate little sister as well, but God forbid we let a silent protagonist that Im supposed to project to date a boy!

Now let's go back to the previous game, Persona 4, which is the game with the most LGBTQ+ representation Atlus made, with arguably two LGBTQ+ characters in the main cast. Now before we get into them, you should know that the main theme of Persona 4 is accepting yourself, and that it's most praised part is its character development and characters in general.

The first character I'm going to talk about is Kanji. Kanji is very obviously gay. We explore his hidden desires in the game and I can basically summeries them as being MEN. Kanji is supposed to be this tough, manly man with a more feminine soft spot inside, but he's ashamed of that feminine side of him, and also of being gay. The thing is, in this game about accepting yourself, Kanji NEVER actually accepts being gay. It's the butt of numerous jokes, but not once, even in the culmination of his character development, does he really accept being gay. This one can be argued to not actually be homophobic, but I find it quite problematic that this game about self acceptence doesn't seriously touch in being gay.

The next character is MUCH more controversial: Naoto. Naoto is a female(?) character. When s/he is first introduced, the main cast think that s/he's a guy, because s/he wears masculine clothing and doesn't have a noticeable chest. Later in the story, we get to explore Naoto's mind, and we find out that s/he's in fact... Female! Now you can watch the full scene of Naoto's awakening on YouTube, but I can see two ways of interpretating it, neither of them looking very good for Atlus: The first being that Naoto wanted to transition just to escape being a women, and the second being that Naoto's wish to be a man is childish. The first option is a famous TERF narrative: trans men are just women that wanted to escape womenhood. The second is also bad because it shows us that being trans is childish. As someone that recently came out as gay and started to explore their gender identity around the time I first played Persona 4, both Naoto and Kanji really rubbed me the wrong way.

And finally, we Catherine and Catherine: Full Body. Now I never played these two games, and I've first heard of them while researching on this topic, but it's so problematic I couldn't not include it.

In Catherine, we have an actual, canon trans character! Hurray, right? Nope. Just like Kanji, she's the butt of many jokes, and the fact that she's trans never seems to be taken seriously. Not only that, but she's deadnamed not only in the game's manual, but also in its credits.

When the remake of Catherine, Catherine: Full Body, was announced, fans begged Atlus to fix the original's transphobia. But Atlus did them one better, by making it worse! Now, you can date a trans women, and in the trailer announcing this, the main character can be seen looking at her chroch in horror. In the trailers, she's portrayed as what's called a "trap" in anime terms: a man pretender to be a women to trick men. Now if I understood correctly, these clips were actually taken out of context, and her true identity is way out there, but whether it was for publicity or something else, they intentionally made it look like this character was a "trap" in the trailers.

Now, you might be asking yourself if you happened to read this entire essay: why have I made this? What's the end goal? Well, I said in the beginning that I used to call Persona 3 my favourite game of all time. After playing Persona 4 and further researching about Atlus's past, I just can't bring myself to say that anymore. Now does that mean that I think that you're a homophobe or a transphobe for liking Atlus's games? Of course not! I still play those games, and I still think they're really good. However, I think that their past and present with LGBTQ+ representation should be wildly known, especially because so many new fans are coming in from Persona 5. I think people need to know know that Atlus has some really harmful games under their belt, but people can do whatever they want with that information.

I intentionally tried to keep this more factual and less opinionated for this exact reason. People need to know about this, but they decide what to do with this information.

#persona 4 #persona 5 #atlus #transphobes #homophobia #catherine full body #SMT #persona

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crimsonbluemoon · 5 years ago

Note

60 for Minicat, please, the fucking phrasing of that prompt killed me on the spot

Starting off strong by going over my word limit!! >.> Fuck. Hope y’all enjoy

Pairing: MinicatNumber: 60Prompt: “I’m so madly and deeply in love with you, please meet me so we can discuss this.”

Tyler knew he was never going to win any boyfriend awards. When it came to romance, Luke and Brian had the prizes practically cemented on their foreheads. It was a bit over the top how often the group would be hanging out, and one of them would whip out a present or chocolate to give Ryan and Brock respectively. Their lack of self-awareness had no boundaries. Delirious tried to keep up, in his own goofy declarations of affection for Evan, but half the time they ended up with him on fire or in the hospital (one time both, and wasn’t that a fun fourth of July?). But Evan seemed to love his attempts more than his actual results, which somehow tossed even that idiot ahead of Tyler in the department of love.

Mini, to his credit, had never complained. He did chase after Tyler for six years without any real hint of reciprocation when they were teens, after all (Craig claimed the signs were always there, but Tyler thought he was just an idiot). Even the first year of their relationship had been tough, as Tyler hadn’t fully accepted their shift from friends to boyfriends easily. Craig was patient when he could be, which was probably the only reason they were still together four years later. Being twenty four helped him accept Mini’s physical affections and stupid nicknames, but his struggle to show his own love for his boyfriend was still the same. Craig never mentioned it, and Tyler would let hell freeze over before he brought it up, but he wasn’t blind enough to miss the bittersweet spark that caught Mini’s eye whenever one of their friends was showered with love in front of them.

Tyler knew he had to do something about it.

“Chill out, dude.” Tyler growled at Brian’s words, throwing the stress ball against the wall.

“Can’t.” His voice was clipped, back tight and muscles tensed for a battle he couldn’t fight.

“Jesus, you’re worse than Del.” Luke waited until the ball rolled to his feet to kick it back toward Tyler, relaxed like he owned Brian’s apartment. “If you did exactly what we told you to, then it’s gonna be fine. Mini gets back from work at what time?”

“5:30pm,” Tyler answered. His eyes glanced to the clock, seeing that the time he’d announced passed twenty minutes ago.

“And you had the flowers and… giraffe delivered at 5:45pm, right?” Brian asked, showing his lack of understanding over the choice of stuffed animal in his hesitant tone.

“Yes, which was five fucking minutes ago.”

“You signed your note, right? So he doesn’t think it’s just some creepy stalker.” Luke’s lack of trust in his romantic abilities should have made him mad, but he wouldn’t have been able to do any of the planning for the current ‘operation’ if not for the two assholes staring at him with arched eyebrows.

“Yes I signed the fucking note! Put my heart and soul and all that other stupid fuffly shit in it just like you said. Gonna get an award from hallmark for ‘cheesiest note ever’.” Tyler didn’t tell them how many hours he spent writing and re-writing the three page long letter he’d tied around the giraffe’s neck before driving it to the delivery service. He hadn’t known how to start it, which memories to bring up or parts of their relationship he needed to highlight. How could he take a love a decade in the making and toss it onto a few pages of paper? He’d looked through photos and videos taken throughout the years, mostly by Craig himself, to guide him through the written confession of love. It was a road map of their journey, the good and the bad, because every crack in the road had only made them love each other a littler more than most. Tyler refused to tell them that the letter didn’t need a signature, because it was his literal heart inked into words for Mini to see.

He also refused to tell them about the ring taped to the bottom of the last page, and the four worded question he ended the letter with.

“Then he’s going to love it. Just give him a second to process whatever you wrote before you assume he’s buying a ticket to Antarctica or something.” Tyler was ready to lob the ball at Brian’s head after the remark, but his phone’s loud ringtone stole the fire out of his veins. For a moment, he stared at the device, unsure if he’d be able to handle a rejection. What if Craig had wanted a bigger proposal? What if this felt…unromantic for him? It wasn’t in person and it probably felt distant, and Tyler was seriously re-thinking the entire thing. This was stupid, cheap, not sweet at all-

But then his mind reminded him of who was on the other line, the one person who’d never abandoned him, and he sucked in a breath before accepting the call.

“What?” He grumbled out, hating how Luke and Brian leaned in closer to try and listen to the call.

“Did you mean it?” The tone that Craig used was so honest, so open, that Tyler didn’t even need a second to realize the pure elation that lingered in the tears on the other side of the phone. “God, nevermind, I don’t want to ask that. I know you’re overthinking it right now and you’ll try to take it back.”

“I wasn’t,” he argued, despite thinking exactly that two minutes before.

“You were probably like ‘oh this is dumb, fuck feelings, I shouldn’t have asked with the cutest stuffed giraffe and Mini’s favorite flowers that only I’d know’ blah blah blah-”

“I don’t even sound like that!”

“You get that stuffy nose thing whenever you get emotionally constipated.”

“Better than your snoring.”

“Says the guy who can’t remember to flush the toilet at night.”

“Fuck you, I swear to God-”

“Yes.” The steadfast answer stole Tyler’s breath, Mini pressing forward after a sob of joy. “I’m saying yes, you romantic goofball, of course I’ll marry you.”

“Fuck.” But even as he said it, his voice proved how relieved he was, his stomach flipping with unspoken excitement. It took everything in his body not to grin, his muscles vibrating.

“Everything was perfect, and the note, it was-wow. I’m so madly and deeply in love with you. Please meet me so we can discuss this. And by this, I mean our wedding because I’m going to fuck you and then marry the fuck out of you.” Mini’s breathless declaration made Tyler’s ears turn pink on his side of the phone, refusing to look up at Brian’s grin or Luke’s snicker.

“S-shut up, I’m coming home.” He hung up before he could hear Craig’s answer, glaring at his two friends watching him.

“When’s the wedding, Romeo?” Luke asked, grin too wide for Tyler to stomach. So he avoided it, pushing up onto his feet and moving across the room.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome!” Brian called out after Tyler, who’d stormed out of the apartment in a flustered rush. Even through the slammed door, he could hear Luke’s wolf whistle, followed by two bursts of laughter that made him curse asking them for help. He hated them, hated the embarrassment and the favors he knew he’d owe them and the itch under his skin over feelings-

But he loved Mini, and that made it all worth it in the end.

#personfullofplotholes #Minicat #Mini Ladd #I Am Wildcat #Fire and Ice boys #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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onisiondrama · 4 years ago

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(Note: I’m not repeating stories he’s told before and just putting them in parenthesis. I have a lot more videos to go until I’m caught up so that would save me a lot of time. If he gives details I never heard from him before, I will type those.)

“Should I Get A Divorce?” Speaks, Oct 6, 2020

- This video is weird. He’s trying to make himself seem smart and insightful about marriage because his marriage is “successful”, while most people complain about their marriage. - There’s one part where he says people don’t understand you don’t have to be lied to or cheated on in a relationship. Which is pretty ironic coming from him. He shows a clip of an upset wife asking her husband what he’s doing with a woman in a bedroom. The husband and the woman are getting dressed. The husband keeps asking “Who?” “What?”, pretending the woman isn’t there. Later he shows more of the clip where the wife is still questing him. He keeps pretending he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She looks in the bedroom again and the woman is gone. The wife looks confused. Love that gaslighting. Just like when Jamsey boi cheats. “I didn’t cheat. It was the other person who cheated on you, my spouse” “You said I can’t have oral or vaginal sex with your friend. You didn’t say anything about anal.” - In another part he says there are people who constantly complain about their s/o and they hide away in a man cave.. he says this while in his garage man cave. 😑 Which we know he spends most of his time in. Like, way longer than normal working hours. - He says he used to look angry in his old Speaks videos because of his marriage at the time. That’s total crap. He only shows clips from videos where he used his old militant persona for videos like his anti-meat videos. He made plenty of mushy Speaks videos talking about how happy he was with Skye back then too. 🙄 - I think he made this video during his short guru / advise phase.

“gotta say goodbye for a little bit” Speaks, October 8, 2020

- Tells his viewers they can listen to this video without watching it if they like to listen to people talk, like Kai used to do. [This is definitely meant to be another guru / advise type video. I can tell by his tone.] - Says he’s married to Kai for almost 8 years. (How Kai found James story) Says he married a fan and had children with them. He says they now have an awesome dynamic, but he knocks on wood because people who are together 18 years still get divorces. Says you never know, things can suddenly fall apart. - Says it’s cool because at the time he didn’t listen to social standards. Kai was 17 at the time, but lied about his age. Most people would have said don’t go for the relationship because Kai lied and the age gap, even though it was legal. He listened to the law and his heart and now he’s in the happiest marriage of his life. - “F society.” If he listened to society, he wouldn’t know where he’d be or what relationship he’d be in. Says you have to follow the legal system or your life is ruined. - Says he was an air force cop at one point because he believed in justice. He doesn’t think he wanted to shoot people, but he excelled in the cop program. He says he met Magic Johnson in the cafeteria at Lackland Air Force Base. He barely knew who Magic Johnson was, but he thought it was cool a famous basketball player was there. James asked him if he could take a picture and he said yes. He says he took a picture of him like a reporter and not a selfie. He still regrets that. - Says he wants to talk about the future of this channel. Some people appreciate he’s been uploading every day, but he wants to focus on sites that aren’t shadow banning people or algorithmically demoting people. He feels like Youtube is king in letting negative opinions prevail, even if it’s invalid. If the engagement shows people are mad at you, Youtube used to go the harsh truth route. He says that was nice. He says he once made a fake meltdown video in response to a video Leafy made about him. He says it’s fun for him to make fake meltdowns. - He says he and Kai took a quiz today and found out Kai’s IQ is 136 and his is 129, so Kai is smarter than him. - After the meltdown videos, Youtube algorithm didn’t favor him as much. He says maybe it was because he said they were fake. - He says he has been thinking about websites and how they treat users. Says Twitter is one the best because they don’t care about what your opinion is. They just care about their rules. Says if people don’t like you on other sites, they will shadow-ban you and you’re done for. He says his reaction video to Leafy’s video got 1/6th the views Leafy did, so there was a bleed over of traffic. Now when someone says something negative about you, YouTube will only promote videos that agree with that narrative. Says if you only want to hear negative stuff about Joe Biden, you’ll only see negative stuff. He says it’s financially productive, but it’s not ethically productive.

[I just want to pause here and vent a second. Yes, James fell out of the YouTube algorithm, but he’s had plenty of chances to sweep back into it. Like when he was getting tons of views on those fake meltdown videos in January. The reason those viewers didn’t stay is because there is nothing good for them to watch. His Speaks videos are boring, long, rambling messes. He repeats himself, contradicts himself, talks about the same topics over and over. These videos are mind-numbingly boring. His comedy videos are extremely outdated. The characters, topics, and humor he uses are not going to get him anywhere anymore. Like is the Death Note fandom really that strong in 2020? That anime came out 14 years ago for Christ sake. His music is not particularly good or interesting. On top of all this, his reputation is complete garbage.

People just don’t want to watch Onision. If the algorithm tried promoting his Speaks videos, I guarantee most people are actively choosing not to click on his videos. The non-subscribers that do click probably regret it. He’s made ZERO effort into making interesting or engaging content. He’s ONLY been making Speaks content that either fuels his ego or defends himself using the same old arguments he’s used 100+ times before. He’s got to be in some kind of deep denial if he thinks his Youtube views are down because of the algorithm.

There used to be a saying that whenever Onision’s fans grow out of him, there will always be a crop of young teens that start watching him. That’s not happening anymore. It’s not cool for the alt / loner kids to watch edgy Youtube videos anymore.]

- Says people only want to hear things they agree with, people want to take what he says out of context, blah, blah. I’m only 1/4th of the way through this damn video. - He asks why he’s busting his butt when there’s no chance for him to prevail on Youtube or anywhere. He says he’s on TikTok, OnlyFans, Twitch. [This video was from before his partnership was taken away on Twitch.] He says those are slightly less problematic because they are driven by human beings and not drama. - He says when you see him posting less to Youtube in the future, you’ll understand why. He says he wants to wait you guys out, 2 years, 20 years. (He tried to call out Shane story.) He says he had to wait a year or two until people admitted he was right about Shane. He says he has conflicting feeling about Shane because they had a personal friendship. Says Shane told him they were friends. - He says you guys seem to drive your narrative and agendas by emotion rather than science and facts. He can’t reason with them unless he picked a greater evil and wages war on that. You would have to join forces with him because the enemy of my enemy is my friend. He says he wouldn’t do that because he’s not interested in being a professional wrestler and making fake drama. - In time you will feel passionately about other things. You don’t actually care about anyone involved because none of you are consuming yourself with anything that is not pop culture. You’re only interested in things other people are pretending to care about. None of you would care if someone found three bodies in a basement. If they were not celebrities you wouldn’t care. You only want justice for things that will get you attention. - If someone builds their whole platform about anti-person they might get bored and become anti-you. That’s why you don’t want to be friends with dramatic people. - He says he was dramatic about things, but that’s because he did care about those things. He wasn’t talking about 3 bodies in the basement either. - Says a long time ago when a celebrity died, he pointed out 30 people were murdered and washed ashore in another country. No one was talking about it because they probably didn’t hear about it. Nobody actually cares about human lives. If you did, every second that a human dies you’d be tweeting about it. - (Sarah blackmail story.) He says in a number of words Sarah said she wouldn’t ruin his life if she slept with him, then went back on it. [Wow. He really morphed his original story. It used to be: One time she jokingly said she could ruin our lives. Later we wanted her to sign an NDA and she said only if she gets something out of it, meaning sex. James said it was “good vibes” that day and he perceived that as her being kinky. She also said it was just a joke in the “proof” clip he always uses. They signed the NDA, then James pressured / tricked Kai into having sex with himself and Sarah. Then Sarah later came back and he decided they should have anal while Kai was out of town because Kai didn’t say no genital to butt. He only said no genital to genital and no genital to mouth before he left.] He says he decided to no longer sleep with Sarah because it was toxic and he decided he would rather be ruined than be with Sarah. [I have a theory he stopped sleeping with Sarah because he was afraid of Kai finding out. If he was truly afraid of Sarah ruining his life, why did he make those videos about weed smokers and BPD that would piss her off? She didn’t speak about their relationship publicly until he started bashing her through those videos.] Says Sarah went ahead and ruined his life and you fell for it. - He keeps mentioning Joe Rogan. - He says others have said he built an empire, uploaded thousands of videos. He gave so much of his life entertaining people and making them laugh. It was so important to him. He changed a lot of lives for the better. Says if you look on Twitter before the drama, you’ll see a lot of people thanking him. Says he was a positive influence to millions of people. That’s a fact. It all came crumbling down because people lied. They’re all criminals he kicked out of his life. He tries to play hero and he was only right with Kai. Kai wasn’t playing victim, he was on his way to college to be a surgeon. Once he was in the process of having kids, he lost the taste to be in a surgery room. Instead he got a bachelor’s in psychology. Kai’s diagnosis of James is aspects of narcissism, but says he doesn’t meet the qualifications to be a full blown narcissist. - He is investing a lot of time in people who don’t listen and don’t appreciate his content. Social media is a drug that tries to take up as much of your time as possible to make advertisers money. He doesn't create content that lies to you or brainwashing you into thinking your opinion is valid. He doesn’t pander to you to make money. Says when he says he’s one of the most honest people on Youtube, the bar is low. OnisionSpeaks is snake poison because snakes don’t survive on this channel. They aren’t going to have a voice that isn’t questioned. Most snakes on Youtube don’t even know how to activate charities on their channels. - Says he had a conversation with Kai about someone who said they vote for the economy over people. Humans are divided between helping their neighbor and helping themselves. - Says he was never taken to court because he never did anything. He’s still posting to places that he thinks is beneficial to himself and his family. Why would he stop because people have a bad idea of him? You shouldn’t alter your life just because people have an opinion of you. If you quit it makes you look guilty. If you quit you’re either guilty or incapable of dealing with it. He says he’s used to dealing with abuse since he began social media. - He wants to create content and help people and make them laugh. He wants to be socially capable and experienced. His ambitions are aligned with what he’s doing. - He says he can’t forgive his father if what people say about him is true. Everyone else he can forgive. If you are at odds with him, he doesn’t have any hate for you. He understands people can hear the wrong narrative and make mistakes. Says we are both imperfect people and have gone through different things. Says if we went through the same experiences, we’d think the same. Says we aren’t so different. - Says he’s going away and he hopes you watch all his videos so you’ll know a little bit about who he is instead of listening to what Youtube manipulates you into watching. Says his advise is to quit social media. He wouldn’t quit because he’s passionate about it.

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winterune · 5 years ago

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Was supposed to post this on Mamo’s birthday, but ended up saving it on draft, and now 5 months have passed... ^^;; Well anyway, here’s my Top 5 Favorite Mamoru Miyano Roles.

#1: Rintarou Okabe - Steins;Gate

LOLOLOL ok, Okabe’s a dork, and I love him. Mamo as Okabe was one of the most memorable roles I ever had the chance to see, especially his persona, Hououin Kyouma. Okabe in that first few episodes before the story finally kicks in was so embarrassing that when me and my brother started watching this, we wondered if we should just drop it. So glad we didn’t, though, haha. This boy is perfect in his imperfect way. His character is so well-written. Steins;Gate was so well-written. I love him!

#2: Masaomi Kida - Durarara!!

Durarara was just packed with all sorts of cool characters. I don’t think I have one character I really dislike. Kida is one of the earlier Mamo roles I encountered and it was very memorable. I don’t think I ever see any anime with a story like Durarara. A vastly diverse cast of characters with a seemingly unconnected plot points that at one point converge beautifully and left me feeling awed. Ah~ so this is what they were trying to tell. Also, you can’t get enough of all the easter eggs in these anime’s. Sad that the three-part second season wasn’t as awesome as the first season. I wish they’d animate more of Baccano, though (as I heard there are still material to be animated yet), and also Narita Ryogo’s other works.

#3: Ignis Scientia - Final Fantasy XV

I’m still salty over XV. I was so hyped but the end product didn’t live up to my expectations. The gameplay was fun, but...it still had so many potential. Mind you, i have not played any of the dlcs, but even if i did, i don’t think it could really erase my saltiness that easy. Sometimes, I still wish there are more of the Versus XIII elements that made the end cut, because from the rumors I’d heard, Versus’s premise sounded much more solid than what we get. But, I know this particular title has gone through quite a development hell during its time, so I’ll stop there. Anyway, among the XV cast, Ignis is my best boy. Maybe I’m biased because Mamo voices him, but really, Ignis is the best character in the game! Not only is he cool, but he cooks (lol yeah I guess I’m mentioning that) and he’s a somewhat strategist?, Noctis’s adviser, and I don’t know why but I just believe that he’s the one person that will always stand by Noct. His cool-headedness always helps Noct whenever Noct can’t think straight. Also, there’s that line from the Episode Ignis trailer, where in the Japanese dub he says: saisho kara kimeteita. Nani ga orouto, Noct wa saigo made mamorinaku, which roughly translates as I’ve decided from the very beginning. Whatever happens, I will protect Noct until the end (or something along that line, forgive me if it’s not entirely correct. i’m still learning the language hehe) right before he wears the Ring of Lucii. And hearing Mamo say that still gives me goosebumps. He is very devoted! I love him!

#4: Osamu Dazai - Bungou Stray Dogs

I still have mixed feelings toward BSD, but I still find myself watching every season it releases haha. I was interested in Dazai (because of Mamo), then found myself disappointed. Then fell in love with him in the Dark Era arc or whatitsname (Dazai’s past arc), and fell out love again once we’re back to our daily BSD life. But, he’s still a cool character...sometimes, and Mamo as Dazai is both cool and fun.

#5: Ryuji Sakamoto - Persona 5

Yeaahhh! Ryuji!!! He’s cute and fun and I love him and he’s the best friend Ren needs! There’s nothing more to say than that :D

Now, for some honorable mentions

HM1: Riku - Kingdom Hearts

Yeah! Riku, my boy! How can I not make this list without mentioning him? Though I have never played KH in Japanese, but from the clips I have seen, I just have to say that Mamo as Riku is AWESOME! His voice sounds sooo cool!!! #eargasm I didn’t like him at first, but he’s that type of character that slowly grows on me. He’s not like your shounen-hero-stereotype Sora. He was taken by darkness, and he used his own power to overcome it. It was a long journey, but he’s learned to keep the darkness at bay, to find the confidence in himself that he’d be okay. The darkness is still there, but he’s embraced it. He’s a cool character!

HM2: Koutarou Tatsumi - Zombieland Saga

God! This anime is stupid. And Tatsumi is stupid. He’s even more embarrassing than Kyouma xD But Mamo is awesome and tbh, Tatsumi kind of reminds me of Mamo himself lmao

HM3: Tamaki Suou - Ouran Koukou Host Club

This pure and precious boy xD Tbh I haven’t finished Ouran (OK, I’ll be watching Ouran after this lmao, and read the manga after that xD) but Tamaki was so memorable. He’s an ikemen. You’d think with how he exudes all that princely aura and how the girls are just fawning over him, he’s not the type to be embarrassed and blush that easily. But he is! Just like Mikorin HAHAHA. He can be stupid sometimes and he doesn’t catch on quickly to most signs. He’s so pure and precious and endearing! (But i kind of shipped Haruhi with Hikaru in the anime haha).

HM4: Shuu Tsukiyama - Tokyo Ghoul

Yeah...mentioning him because Mamo was awesome as Tsukiyama. Another one of that gaudy voices you know and love (but feel embarrassed at the same time and can’t take him seriously no matter what).

HM5: Taichi Mashima - Chihayafuru

Another one of my best boys. He’s just the type of guy and character I love! Earnest and kind in his own way and he’d do anything for the girl he loves. Mamo’s voice was so soft voicing him. I really want them to end up together and I think (based on the two anime seasons) that Taichi suits Chihaya better than Arata. Gaaah this love triangle is killing me!

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 5 years ago

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Re-sublimity: A Critical Role Fanfic

I swear, I was just planning on writing a few small fics for @shadowgast-week. I swear. And then, this happened and I basically shoved all of the prompts into one gigantic fic, which will have to have a second chapter...at least. I do this to myself. So essentially...this is a Jupiter Ascending inspired fic.

...enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview:

>Journey Log #105

>Entered Intergalactic Standard Time 23:04

>Order: Read Transcript

Dear Traveler,

You should have seen me today! We dealt with what Fjord calls a “clusterfuck” with no problem! It was space pirates, you know, like Avantika except these ones weren’t cultists to a Deep Space Snake thingy. Yasha said we should call them bandits, but I remember you telling me that all crime in space is actually piracy because space counts as international waters. So I’m going to call them space pirates, okay! I was able to channel your energy through my STAFF, and do some serious damage. Caduceus is getting pretty good with his STAFF, you know, he was still using an actual wood staff to channel the Wildmom’s energy when we first met him. The techno-staffs are so much easier to use, and I’m excited about showing him how to update his later just like you showed me.

But the funny thing about these space pirates were that they were kobolds! Caleb said that kobolds originate from a planet called Darastrixhurthi, which was really hard for him to pronounce. I took a guess at how to spell it here, hopefully I did it right. He had never heard of them piloting a spacecraft before, but their ships were these super duper rinky dink ships that Fjord said they most likely stole from the nearby planet and fixed up to be barely space-worthy. I’m sure you’ve seen kobolds before, but they were so cute, even though they were stupid and still tried to shoot us down after we gave them food. Anyways, Nott’s getting really good with her vibro-crossbow, and Beau’s lightning punches really saved the day. And you should have seen Yasha, she just about cleaved a ship in two with her vibro-sword! But I promise, I made sure to give them food and tuck in a statue of you as we scared them off. I’m trying to give something just as you always teach me.

It was too bad about Frumpkin getting punted, but Caleb said he could fix him up again once we get to the nearest planet. Everyone said that because we saw the kobolds and passed by Darastrixhurthi, we’ll be reaching the Xhorhas System within two days, so long as we don’t have any more run-ins with trouble. I really hope we don’t because this has been the longest we’ve journeyed without stopping and I’m getting reaaaaaal bored. It’s so much easier when we have a hyperdrive that actually works to, you know, space travel! But I don’t really want to explode or anything. I’ll find something to do for the two days, besides rewatching my holo-dramas. Maybe I’ll have Caduceus teach me how to use the wand that I picked up on that planet with the fish-people.

As always, I hope I can see you sometime soon when you aren’t too busy. Please look out for Mama, and my friends, and me.

Bye!!!

[Record, included below is an image of kobolds wearing funny hats and flying on ships shaped like dicks]

>Postscript 1, Added by Captain Fjord: Jester, I'm begging you, please stop putting dick drawings in the official journey log. We have to turn these in at port sometimes.

>Postscript 2, Added by First Mate Beauregard: Oh come on, Captain. These are so fucking dry, I’m sure people would find it entertaining.

>Postscript 3, Added by Nott the Brave: I personally think that kobold on the far right needs a bigger hat.

>Postscript 4, Added by Jester Lavorre: >:D

>Postscript 5, Added by Navigator Caleb Widogast: It’s 24:00

>Postscript 6, Added by Nott the Brace: ...your people did this to my people.

>Postscript 7, Added by Caduceus Clay: Imjuhbdwpqidnamap

>Postscript 8, Added by Yasha Nydoorin: I don’t think Caduceus meant to enter that.

>Postscript 9, Added by Captain Fjord: No, he told me he meant to ask Jester to please call the Wildmother by her name if she can...you know the Wildmother. Alright everyone, go to sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

The solar system of Xhorhas was the place where the Kryn Dynasty had been born, a rising power that’s influence was only dampered by the ever expanding reach of the Dwendalian Empire. When the starship SS Balleater docked on the planet of Asarius, two things were made extremely clear. First, based on the look that the officers gave their ship, they were a bit worse for wear. Second, they took bureaucracy to a whole other level here. They had been waiting in a long twisting line at the Customs office for exactly two hours and twenty seven minutes, in darkened rooms only slightly illuminated by low green lights. It had frayed on all of their nerves, to be honest. The Mighty Nein had never done well with long waits, and tended to get into trouble when they weren’t doing something of pressing importance at every moment. The past twenty days of deep space travel without a functioning hyperdrive had made that extremely clear. To make matters worse, Caleb was sore over the loss of Frumpkin, who had been kicked to shit by one of the kobolds who had managed to board the ship. Familiars, or animal companion droids, could be hard to maintain but he would be able to repair him, as long as he could acquire the necessary parts.

Caleb was relieved when their crew reached the front of the line, and came face to face with an overworked and obviously underpaid Kryn officer who looked at them all like she was awaiting her last breath. She was drow, an alien species that was related to the elves that had colonized so many planets during the first space expansion. However, unlike the other species of elves, they were originally an earth-dwelling species. Their coloration was dark and their sensitivity to light kept everything dim in the official buildings like the one they were currently in.

“Welcome to the planet of Assarius, is this your first time entering the Xhorhas system?” the officer asked, her voice dull and bored.

“Yeah, it is,” Beauregard said, not sounding impressed by this officer’s obvious existential crisis.

“Very well, then you will have to undergo the registration process. I will need to prick your finger and gather a blood sample, and ask you a few questions so we can complete the registration questionnaire. Denial of this means you will not have access to the Xhorhas System and we will have to ask you to leave immediately.”

“So...we all have to register our DNA to get anything here?” Beauregard demanded of the Kryn officer behind the glass, who looked like she wanted nothing more than to slide the glass closed on Beauregard’s face. “Isn’t that...like...extortion or something?”

“Clearly you are not from around here,” the Kryn officer said pointing to the sign above the desk...written unhelpfully in the language of their culture. None of them spoke it, and with a quick type into his wristband STAFF he was about to cast Comprehend Languages for a translation when she seemed exasperated by their quietness and did the translating for them. “What you need is a Kryn certified Identification and Navigation Aid, or INAV, which you utilize to transfer credits and license your spacecraft. You only receive an INAV once you have registered with our offices, and to be registered you have your DNA filed with us. Not only is this process used to prove the legitimacy of our monarchs and members of our dens, but also, yes, to prove you are who you say you are when you are paying for goods and services. Unless you want to give blood every time you go to buy food, you get an INAV.”

“How do we know you aren’t using our DNA for shady shit,” Nott asked suspiciously.

“Lady, I just work here,” the Kryn official snapped, motioning to the ever expanding line of annoyed and tired travelers behind them. “Either let me do my damn job here or leave the solar system.”

“Let’s not make her life more difficult than need be,” Fjord said as he held out his hand. She put a device like a heart-rate monitor on his finger and Fjord flinched as it made a small “psst” sound. She clicked the device back into the desk, and typed something into her computer. “My name is Fjord.”

“Last name?”

“Tough,” Nott supplied, and Fjord gave her a long look.

“Tusktooth!” Jester chirped.

“Just Fjord,” Fjord clarified.

“Planet of origin?”

“Nicodranas.”

“Business here in the Kryn Dynasty?”

“Ship repairs, and mercenary work.”

“Take two steps to the left and maintain a neutral expression.”

Fjord did as she said, and a picture was taken. The woman tapped her screen, and a confirmation ding was made. Out popped a drive that was about the size of Caleb’s index finger. She demonstrated how it extended and a tiny holographic image of Fjord’s face and his basic information as well as the genetic marker appeared. It was then handed off.

“Alright, next,” the officer said, voice somehow more clipped than it had been moments before. They went down the line, Caleb taking up the rear as they did. He wasn’t excited for this at all...after all the last thing he needed was more traces of him where the Empire could find him. But sometimes you had to take a risk, after all, it would be far more suspicious to tap out of the process here surrounded by Kryn officers.

Caleb held out his hand and felt the pinch of a needle before it was retracted.

“Name?”

“Caleb Widogast.”

“Planet of origin?”

“Outer territory Rex-33, Settlement BLU-MENTHAL.”

“Business here in the Kryn Dynasty?”

“Mercenary work and droid repair,” he said, showing her the currently out of commission Frumpkin who was in his side-satchel.

“Take two steps to the left and maintain a neutral expression.”

Caleb did so, and heard the sound of the picture being snapped. However after she tapped something into her screen there was a different noise. An obvious alert noise that had him immediately tense up. The officer stared at her screen for a moment, then back at Caleb and then back at her screen...clearly doing a double take. Before anyone could move, she waved at a senior officer behind her. He was a tall bugbear, and made a strangely funny picture as he leaned over the small drow. He frowned.

“I’m sorry, sir. Can you check this? I must have entered something in wrong,” the officer said, her voice confused...but not angry or suspicious as she pointed to something on the screen. The senior officer looked at what she was pointing at and then popped out the INAV and extended it, inspecting the genetic code. He double checked it with the screen, seemed content with whatever he saw, and he exited out from the glass door separating the officers and the lines.

“No, that’s correct. Nothing wrong with the intake,” the senior officer said before addressing Caleb and inspecting him closely. “Sir, have you ever registered DNA with our system before?”

“No, I’ve never been to this system before.”

“And how old are you?”

“I’m 33 according to the Intergalactic Universal Standard Calendar,” Caleb said, frowning.

“Human, right?”

“I would be.”

“Yeah, Minryna, that sample was catalogued approximately 850 years ago. There’s no way it’s been accidentally re-entered. It’s legit,” another senior officer called back to the one inspecting Caleb. Other clerks had stopped what they were doing and had gathered around the screen, and Caleb felt the pinprick of a thousand eyes behind him and a rising tide of whispers.

“Well, Luxon bless me,” whistled the officer before looking at Caleb. “I guess it’s someone’s lucky day isn’t it?”

“Lucky day?” Beauregard asked incredulously.

“Forgive me for the long wait. Congratulations on your Recurrence,” the officer said holding out his hand. Caleb, numbly, took it and let it be shook before the officer opened the INAV and signed the bottom with his finger. It glowed a silver color, as opposed to the blue of the others.

“Recurrence?” Caleb asked, feeling more and more confused by the moment.

“Follow me,” the officer said, and the whispers behind him grew louder. Officers moved out to seperate them from the obviously curious crowd.

“My friends…”

“Of course you may bring them as well. We’ll make sure your ship is taken care of post haste, we’ll probably need to take off from here within an hour..”

“Wait where the hell are we going?” Beau demanded as they all walked.

“Why are you saying congratulations?” Nott asked as they all entered an elevator, and the officer punched the 110th floor. It was traveling up at a dizzying speed, totally glass so you could see the work on each platform as they rose.

“Genetics carry a sacred connotation in our society,” the officer explained. “I’m sure you have heard of our practice of consecution...of the soul being reborn through the power of the Luxon Beacon. However every person is unique. In the vastness of space and time it is of course possible for a genetic code to be reproduced exactly. We consider that to be a true rebirth, a Recurrence.”

“So...my genetic code has occurred once before?” Caleb asked. This was far less incriminating then he had feared, but also that idea was terrifying on so many levels. He could barely handle himself...the idea that there had been another one of him running around at one point was dizzying and horrible. Who knows what he had gotten up to, knowing him.

“Yes,” the officer said simply.

“And Caleb was someone really cool before?” Jester asked, sounding excited. “I read a holonovel sort of like this once! Of course the discovery was wayyy sexier but-!”

“I don’t think this is very sexy,” Yasha said softly.

“It is neat,” Caduceus said, sounding extremely impressed.

“So where are we going right now?” Fjord asked, trying to get them all back on track.

“I am taking you to the upper deck, where they handle Genetic Inquiries. We just get an alert that a Recurrence has occurred and the year of the genetic sample taken of the previous life...in theory that is. We certainly haven’t had any recorded cases of Recurrence within my lifetime. Anyways, they will be able to assist with other questions, including and not limited to who your previous incarnation was, and matters of any titles they may have left you in their will."

“Wills? Like money?” Nott asked, her interest thoroughly peaked.

“It’s common to leave parts of your will for a future recurrence, especially amongst the nobility.”

“This is all strangely morbid,” Caleb said, unable to help the way his mouth quirked.

“That’s very thoughtful,” Caduceus said with a nod. “We should all be considering our futures and how we would like our affairs put into order.”

“Of course you are into that,” Fjord said with an incredulous shake of his head, though the look he shared with Caduceus was fond. Caduceus was from a race of aliens who worshiped a nature deity and were essentially stewards of the dead. His interest didn't surprise Caleb in the least.

They were brought to an empty looking office...well, in comparison to the line they had just been in it was downright barren. A single goblinoid looked at them from behind a desk that was laden with stacks of tablets and papers. Behind her was a seemingly endless sea of files.

"This is the one?" she asked, looking at Caleb and his flashing silver INAV. She held out her hand and he handed it to her. She opened it, inspected the contents and the signature and then signed it herself before turning to her computer. "Very well, let me just type in this and...here we go. C-12B-Jg73_E05_8."

She suddenly pushed with her legs and went skating down the hall with her chair. It was attached to the ground glided along easily and then with a tap of a button she was sent up to a second level. The goblinoid tapped in some code, opened a file, retrieved a holodisk, and then with a lever pull she was returned. She plugged the external drive of the holodisk into the computer checking it and reading it quickly. She then reached to plug the holodesk into the INAV. She pointed at a long document that Caleb skimmed before going to the bottom and signing with his finger.

"Very well, congratulations, my Lord," the goblinoid said. "This highlighted section is the section of the will devoted to you."

Caleb felt the others crowd him as the goblinoid spoke on the com in Undercommon. It didn't truly surprise him to see this script written in Proto-Zemnian. That means the person had been alive Pre-Calamity or at least 800 years ago. It made sense considering talk of 850 years ago. And of course if he did share DNA with someone, it also was somewhat comforting to know it was with another Zemnian. He recognized some of the script, but utilized his techno-magic to translate typing into his STAFF and approving the magical sequence.

"What does it say?" Jester asked excitedly.

"He isn't gonna tell us," Beau bemoaned, now officially caught up in the excitement.

Caleb ignored them and read it out loud.

"And to my future recurrence, if one should ever appear and claim my title, I leave two things. First, my journal of spellcraft. If you are anything like me I am sure you will find it interesting. Second, I leave my second home on the planet of Rosohna to you if it is still standing. Both can be collected from the arbiter of my will...my…" Caleb nearly choked over the next words. "My beloved. If he still lives."

"Oh, he lives alright," the goblinoid said as grim looking guards appeared from the side door. "Best of luck with meeting you husband again!"

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

>Personal Log Entry #365242

>Entered Intergalactic Standard Time 01:11

>Order: Record.

Current success on project RESONANT ECHO has continued, using my STAFF I am capable of pulling a version of myself from a discarded timeline for limited amounts of time. This has been not only thrilling, but also frustrating. They are still limited in what they can accomplish. I may have to go back to traditional spellwork and iron out the details there before attempting again with a STAFF. Sometimes raw mana cannot substitute for good old fashioned components.

On a more personal note, I have decided to bench my idea of pulling a Resonant Echo of another willing creature for now. Firstly, I have no willing creatures to test this idea on. My solitary nature has thwarted me again, unfortunately. And secondly...I am not sure I could bear the idea of success. I do not care much for the moral quandaries of such matters, and that isn’t what stops me. I only worry that it might put me on a path that is ill-advised for my mental health. The only thing more important than progress is being able to enjoy the fruits of my hard work. I am still my own greatest resource at the end of the day.

>Postscript: Add obsidian to shopping list, to be delivered to my personal address. Order for the delivery service to leave the package with TOWER.

>Completed transcription, would you like to save, override, or delete this file?

>Order: Save.

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

Essek Theylss was in the most boring meeting of his whole life. Economics had never been his interest, though of course he understood them. He had been given a thorough education at his Den's hand, and being a long-lived species meant you had time to become knowledgeable in anything you desired. But, as always, he wished to be doing his own research as opposed to attending meetings.

Just as he was making this wish, the meeting was interrupted by Taskhand Adeen.

"My Queen, forgive me for my interruption," the Taskhand said, as always his face was an impossible to crack study of ice. "But an urgent matter has just occurred, I was just informed of it by the guards.

"Then speak," the Bright Queen ordered, now sitting at attention.

"My Queen, it is news of the most importance. Shadowhand," he said suddenly, and Essek was thrown off guard because-him? What had been discovered? What one of his moving parts, his schemes, what-"there has been a Recurrence. Congratulations, your husband returns."

"What?" Essek asked as he stood and floated, the words hitting his skin and freezing over like icy rain. His brain, oddly, felt slow on the uptake. It was a thoroughly disorientating and dizzying experience. The words churning in a strange fog and then a rising panic. "I'm sorry, could you...could you repeat that?"

"There has been a Recurrence of your husband, Shadowhand. He returns now, brought from Asarius. We have genetic confirmation from the Solar System database-"

Essek knew his levitation dropped because suddenly there was a burst of pain in his knees. It was strange...suddenly he had no strength in his limbs...and his sight was swimming. Recurrence? His husband? No, it couldn't be true. His husband was gone, gone forever. Whoever this was...it wasn't him. It couldn't be him...he was just a stranger wearing his husband's face. Another ghost to torture him, to leave him behind-!

"Essek," a gentle, concerned voice said. "By the Luxon give the boy some room!"

"Deep breaths," came another voice, echoing in his skull and rattling in his brainstem. "Deep breaths, Essek. In and out."

"Do we need a medbot? Merciful Light! What were you thinking, just springing that on him in public!" The Bright Queen...he knew it was the Bright Queen who chastised Adeen. He was following instructions, breathing in and out, and it was becoming easier to discern who was around him. The lights ceased their strobing, his heart receded from his throat and made it easier to swallow. The one keeping him from melting into the ground was Quana, the Dusk Captain and wife of the Bright Queen. The one coaching him through the essential process of breathing was the Skysybil. He was in the Bright Queen’s throne room. He wasn’t dying. He was having a panic attack.

"Forgive me for my unsightly display," Essek said breathlessly, trying and failing at pulling himself together, welding the shards of his icy-exterior back where they belonged. This show of weakness...how could he have let himself succumb to that in public regardless of what was happening? There was always time later.

"This is of course emotional for you," Quana said, with a gentle pat on his shoulder. "Your husband returns. Of course the feeling is overwhelming."

"It is a joyous thing, a holy occurrence," the Bright Queen said, crossing the room and looking as radiant as a newly born star. "It is no weakness to be overwhelmed by the Divine. The Luxon has seen it fit to return your husband, and to give us all a sign of His favor. You must go and prepare for him, just as we must begin preparations to welcome him."

The Luxon! As if the Luxon had anything to do with this! It isn't him, Essek wanted to scream. It isn't him! He's gone from my side forever. This stranger...it won't be him. This isn't divine...it's a cruel trick of fate and genetics. It isn't him, it isn't him.

"Prepare, yes, I...I must prepare," Essek said before nearly fleeing the chamber before anyone could stop him. He must have teleported back, though all he felt was a blur of noise and light and suddenly he was there. Everything felt so strange. Nothing was right anymore. His usual sanctuary had been breached by the abnormal, and all he wanted was to make it stop.

The hum of his levitation seemed to be the only noise that echoed from the halls of his home as he arrived. He sent the droids that acted as servants away, and slammed the door to the study close and locked it with a wave. For a moment he paused before continuing on in spite of his racing heart. The ocean between him and the desk seemed immense as he crossed it. Opening the locked compartment he removed his husband's will from inside gingerly.

It has been at least a hundred years since he had looked at it. It was written on parchment...because of course it was, his husband had always been old-fashioned...even back then. He had kept it in a temperature and moisture controlled capsule to prevent decay ever since it had been written. He had memorized every line a long time ago, he was sure, and yet now looking at the last section he paused. The spell book and the summer home and that was it. On paper it was nothing. Hardly a blip on the radar of the vast wealth that Essek commanded at his fingertips. But he would have to give it up...more remnants of his husband that he clung to would disappear from his grasp forever.

It wasn't fair, Essek thought, breathless with grief as he pulled his husband's spellbook from the same controlled compartment. He held back his tears stubbornly. Essek was unwilling to stain the cover of the well-loved book as he cradled it to his chest. Inside was his husband’s soul, the work that Essek had founded his magic on. This interloper would take from Essek what little he had left that he held sacred.

"Sir, your heart rate is elevated as is the saturation of stress hormones in your blood," TOWER, the AI that ran the home systems reported. The screen of his INAV lighting up the alert for Essek to see. "Are you in need of assistance?"

"TOWER, what is the rate of Recurrence in the general population?" Essek asked, refusing to answer that question. There was no good answer, after all. Why waste his time?

"The rate of Recurrence in the general population is one in ten trillion."

"One in ten trillion…" Essek murmured, truly grappling with that statistic for the first time in his life. He had heard that number before of course. Back when he was in school, in his courses meant to educate and indoctrinate him into the faith of the Luxon. But now it seemed so vast, so unlikely. Bards sang songs about this, subscribed entertainment was based on this. And yet somehow it was really happening to him. "And do these Recurrences...when they happen, is it reported that the person is...similar, to their previous incarnation?"

"Physically identical, however the rate of Recurrence is so low there has not been the opportunity for true scientific studies on the phenomenon, sir. Only anecdotal accounts."

"Give a general summary of the anecdotal accounts, TOWER,” Essek said with little patience.

"It is theorized that though the core of a person may be written in genetics, environmental factors such as planet born, levels of sustenance during formative years, chemical and radiation exposure, family structure, socio-economic standing, and other psychological factors and epigenetics will have an effect on the individual. As such, the Recurrence may not be the exact same individual as the previous incarnation."

"Good," Essek said as he finally drew in a breath. "Good...then this will just be an unpleasant meeting. But who knows? He may not be interested in the book and I'll be able to keep it."

"Are you unhappy, sir? By my database's reading this is supposed to be a happy event."

"Of course I am unhappy!" Essek snapped at the AI. "Some...some ghost wearing his face is coming here. A ghost who by sheer dumb luck is given a title to land and my husband's spellbook...and...well...my hand in marriage."

"Would you consider it better or worse if he was the same as your husband, sir?"

"Oh by the Nine Hells if I know!" Essek groaned. But he was lying to himself. Of course it would be worse if he was the same. If he was the same...if this ghost truly was his husband...Essek would fall apart at the seams. After all, there wasn't a worse fate than being happy, for all happiness turned to ash and ruin. He had a husband for only ninety years. In the lifespan of his people that was hardly a season, nothing worth fretting over. And yet, he was still so cold at night without him...he still woke some nights, expecting his husband to be beside him.

Essek wouldn't go through it again. Not again, not ever. He wouldn’t allow it.

"Contact the Theylss arbiter and have them prepare documentation for an annulment," Essek ordered TOWER as he stood. He looked towards the wide windows, the violet-blue interstellar clouds that shimmered with the radiance of distant stars. His garden called to him, his sanctuary pulled him to it like the indelible force of gravity. He was one with it...drifting quietly as always. "I would like this to be over and done with quickly."

Essek was about to say something else when the sound of a call going through interrupted him. He knew who it was without even looking, which is why he didn’t bother to say hello as the voice came through.

"Essek," his Denmother said, her voice cold and commanding as her image appeared on the screen. "Congratulations. We have much to speak about."

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

“What do you think your husband is like?” Jester asked curiously, bouncing in her seat in the flight deck.

They were currently being escorted to Rosohna by the Echo-Knights, who’s speedy Moorbounder ships kept in tight formation around them. They had had their ship’s general needs repaired in record time, their ship restocked with supplies, and had been told that when they reached Rosohna their ship’s hyperdrive would also be taken care of free of charge. They had actually been offered a completely brand new ship that was so beautiful it had almost made Fjord cry. They had refused it, because as Beauregard pointed out if something was fucked with on their own ship, they would be able to tell easily. For now, considering the results of Nott and Caduceus’ quick investigation, it seemed like everything was fine and in working order. All of this somehow and for a reason that Caleb was still grappling with was due to the fact that Caleb was apparently married.

“He’s not my husband,” Caleb murmured, arguing for the sake of arguing the point, though his protests sounded weak to his own ears the more he read about Recurrence and the significance it held to Xhorhassian society.

“According to the laws of this Solar System, yeah, he is,” Beauregard said as she slid the holodisk at him and rotated the image so Caleb could read it. “Right there. Xhorhas General Law, Part 2, Title 3, Chapter 507, Section 258 on the validity of marriage. The clerk shall require written notice of intention of marriage, on forms furnished by the state registrar of vital records and statistics, containing such information as is required by law and also a statement of absence of any legal impediment to the marriage, to be given before such Xhorhassian accredited clerk under oath by both of the parties to the intended marriage. After a marriage is solemnized by an approved Dynasty religion or other official method, the marriage is considered binding until a time when an annulment is performed, see sections 280-320 for specifics. And then I looked down and here, in Section 283 it says, if one party to the marriage dies, the marriage vow is considered null and void and the living party shall receive the benefits given within the will, can apply for a remarriage, and shall be able to file for government aid if needed. However, if a Recurrence is found of the deceased the previous marriage shall be automatically renewed in the system and upheld until the time that both parties file for an annulment.”

“Congratulations?” Fjord offered weakly.

“Caleb isn’t married!” Nott half screamed.

“It sounds like Caleb is married,” Yasha noted.

“We don’t even know if this guy deserves Caleb!” Nott argued, nearly frothing at the mouth.

“We are technically married until we file a divorce then,” Caleb clarified, feeling like his stomach was twisting in his belly. He wished desperately he had Frumpkin to hold, but the guards of Assarius hadn’t been able to supply the specialty parts he had needed. He had been told that they would be provided easily by his “husband’s” family.

His mind came back to the concept at hand. Marriage. Caleb wasn’t against the idea of marriage as a social construct. He had once even dreamed of marrying. He had wanted to marry the girl he loved more than anything else in this universe. He had planned to marry her, and die beside her in the name of his King and Empire in the great battles against the evil that threatened the security of that Empire. Of course, things didn’t turn out the way one planned… and apparently he had been married all along.

“You are going to divorce him?” Jester asked, sounding heartbroken and drawing Caleb from his strange thoughts. “But what if he’s wonderful? What if you love him?”

“I can’t love someone I’ve never met before,” Caleb said, apologetically.

“In a past life you did though,” Jester said, her pout deadly in its force. “That’s what Recurrence basically is, right? Being reborn.”

“We would refer to it as reincarnation,” Caduceus added as he appeared with a teapot. He poured a cup for Caleb and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. Caleb accepted it, if only to have something to do with his hands.

“It is a genetic anomaly,” Caleb argued, motioning at the page he was reading. “I understand that genetics and rebirth are an important aspect of the Dynasty’s religion but it’s just that. It’s just a religious belief. I don’t know this person that shared my DNA, but you wouldn’t assume that if I married someone that person would also be married to my identical twin, right?”

“You have a twin?” Jester asked, her tail swishing excitedly.

“I don’t have a twin,” Caleb sighed.

“Twins don’t count as a Recurrence,” Beau mentioned. “Chapter 436, Section 23.”

“I don’t...it was just an example. Besides, I’m sure it’s...I’m sure that person’s husband wouldn’t want to be married to me. I am not the person they loved.”

“It must be painful for them,” Yasha said softly, eyes drawn dark with grief. “But I’m sure they might be grateful too. There isn’t much…”

Yasha trailed off, but Caleb didn’t need to hear the rest. After all, Caleb was also well versed in the language of grief. Yasha was right, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for the chance to at least glimpse at the faces of the people he had loved the most again.

"Den Theylss though, I've heard they are a huge deal in these parts," Fjord said quietly, tapping the steering thoughtfully. "They are one of the three most powerful families in the Kryn Dynasty, second only to the Bright Queen's den. When I was running the merchant routes back in the day, the merchant ships that came out here always said that the three dens own thirds of the Dynasty."

"Maybe you ought to stay married to this dude," Beauregard said seriously. "He's rich. Their family did just totally mostly fix our ship in a day."

"I want to be kind to him," Caleb said, and left it at that.

They arrived shortly after. Rosohna was a distant planet, it’s orbit kept it approximately seven years out of the light of the sun and gave it one year with seasons. In space, it showed like a glittering jewel. It was the founding planet of the Kryn Dynasty, where the Bright Queen raised her people from the shadows underground and led them to the space age. As they entered the hemisphere Caleb immediately noticed the brightness of the city that built itself silver into the dark exterior as they landed on the loading dock.

“Alright folks, gear up, let’s rock and roll,” Fjord said standing up.

“Aye, aye Captain Tusktooth!” the rest of the crew shouted back, before grabbing the necessities and disembarking off the Balleater.

They were met immediately by a group of Drow, one of the natural inhabitants of Rosohna. There were all dressed in robes, shaded darkly but with touches of glitter and shimmer, enough to catch the low light. That separated them from the woman who walked before the rest of the group. She was dressed the most exquisitely, in a dress made like it was gathered from violet clouds that moved and shimmered with an almost iridescent quality. Her silver hair was pulled back high on her head, and her ears were decorated with what had to be thousands of credits worth of jewels.

“You stand before Deirta Theylss, Umavi of Den Theylss,” one of the group said. Fjord immediately bowed, and everyone else followed suit. When Caleb rose from his bow, he saw Deirta’s eyes raking over his face intensely. She was an attractive woman, older in the almost imperceptible way elves aged, but cold and austere. Something about her gaze set him on edge immediately.

“How fascinating,” she said, reaching out to take Caleb’s chin. She turned him this way and that, and Caleb resisted every instinct in his body that screamed at him to shy away from this woman. He didn’t like looking people in the eye normally. This forced contact made his skin crawl. “It is truly, utterly breathtaking...how much like him you look. An absolutely perfect match if my memory serves. There is no doubt, we have been blessed by a true Recurrence. The Luxon truly shines it’s Light upon us and our den on this day.”

She released him and folded her hands in her sleeves. Caleb could feel the rest of the Mighty Nein draw close to him, a semi-circle of protection that grounded him the present and kept him from scratching the skin off his arms.

“It has been...a lot for a day and a half,” Caleb admitted, swallowing nervously. He understood the wariness of the others now. There were eyes on them everywhere, almost all of the movement in the hanger had ceased.

“I am just happy to welcome my son in law home,” Deirta said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “There is much we must discuss, of course. But the first order of business is the Reintroduction, the second is the will.”

“Reintroduction?” Jester asked.

“Between him and Essek, my son,” Deirta said. Essek. No one had yet said his name to Caleb. Essek Theylss was his husband by law in the Kryn Dynasty, a man that Caleb had never met before. He had the insane urge to speak it out loud, to run the name over his lips, as if that might spark something in him other than crippling anxiety. “This will be followed by the meeting with the Bright Queen tomorrow.”

“The Bright Queen?” Nott and Jester and Fjord and Beau all demanded at once, one with suspicion, one with excitement, and the other two with abject disbelief.

“You all clearly do not appreciate the cultural significance of Recurrence,” Deirta said lightly as they all walked to the transport ship. They were seated in a flying craft, with a large see-through lid that was sent up through a channel and then ported them out to the city itself. For a moment Caleb was too dazzled by the silver city itself, and almost didn’t hear Deirta’s command. “Smile for the cameras.”

“Cameras?” Caleb asked before nearly yanking his own head back at the sight of the huge holo-screens lining the streets that lit up with their image. There was the sound of cheering audible from even up there. Jester waved manically, as well as Cad and Yasha...a bit more shyly.

“You, child, are a phenomenon that occurs 1 out of 10 trillion,” Deirta said cooly, though she smiled sweetly for the camera that tracked her wave and the movement of the craft. “And even less likely to be discovered. You demonstrate the most sacred law of our deity, the chance for true rebirth. In such times as these, you are proof of the divine nature of our lives. And as if that were not enough, you are husband to a Theylss. Not just any Theylss either, son of the Umavi, Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, and considered to be one of the great beauties of our people. Any one of them would kill to be in your position."

“You’re wrong,” Caleb argued as they passed the holo-screens and continued on, towards a castle of silvered metal towering from the ground. “I’m just...I’m just Caleb.”

A murderer, a fugitive, a crazed lunatic, a self-made orphan, perhaps. But proof of the divine? Only if the divine was looking for a cosmic joke.

“Perhaps before today,” Deirta said as she looked towards the castle. “Not anymore."

Soon enough they were out of the city proper and into the Firmaments District, as the captain of the ship informed them. The Bright Queen’s Cathedral was a massive castle-ship, currently docked in place and surrounded by the high pearly white walls that separated her and her court from the people of Rosohna. In the district behind were the houses of the other most prominent dens, laid out amongst the maze-like streets like small treasure chests.

“Your friends shall stay with me in my household as honored guests,” Deirta Theylss ordered as they moved down to street level and moved through the city streets. She turned her seat to face them. “We shall go to your home to meet with your husband.”

“No! Caleb doesn’t go alone!” Nott argued fiercely, planting herself firmly in front of Deirta as if she were three feet taller. “Either I go with Caleb, or he doesn’t go anywhere.”

"The same goes for me," Beauregard said, crossing her arms in front of her chest, flexing the muscles there. She made a much more terrifying picture as Yasha sidled up beside her and echoed the same motion. Jester joined with Nott.

"The Might Nein stays together," Fjord said, placing a hand on Caleb's shoulder, as did Caduceus.

"Very well, I'm sure Essek will make the appropriate arrangements," Deirta said before turning to the officer who was piloting the transport craft. "Fine, go to Essek's residence."

"Yes, my lady. Sit down, we'll arrive within a few moments,” the pilot of the transport ship said before closing the hatch and separating Deirta in the Captain's quarters from the Mighty Nein.

"I don't think I like her," Jester hissed as she plopped down in her seat again and crossed her arms over her chest. "Your mother-in-law is mean."

"She doesn’t have to be kind, she is an Umavi," Beau grumbled. "That’s like super nobility, but besides that she's a politician first, did you see the way she set us up?"

Besides just the political boost, there was a more obvious reason now that he thought about it. Of course she wanted his face plastered on every holo-screen in the Dynasty. Now everyone would know his face, Caleb realized. She was far more shrewd then Caleb had given her credit for. If he tried to do something stupid, like escape without a functional hyperdrive in his ship, everyone on this side of the universe would know who he was. Tightening the noose, Caleb thought, his breathing suddenly funny in his throat.

"This is all very complicated now," Caduceus said worriedly before stopping. "Are you alright, Caleb?"

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Caleb admitted, gripping his hands hard to keep them from shaking.

"Oh no, Caleb," Jester said, immediately taking residence at his side.

“It’ll be alright,” Nott worried his shirt quietly before gathering his hands in hers. “It’ll be alright. I promise. We’ll find a way to get out of this, I promise.”

“Thank you, my little friend,” Caleb said weakly, letting Nott press a kiss to his forehead.

“Let’s be prepared, who knows what could happen,” Fjord said, looking seriously out at the street.

They arrived at a residence that was really three towers connected by walkways on the ground and above. The towers themselves had a uniquely antique feel in the city so smooth and chrome, built to resemble stone. However in the flickering low lights they revealed a glittering effect. On the top of the tower spun some sort of mechanism that shifted like gears and seemed to be measuring something. Caleb’s curiosity was thoroughly peaked, though, he wasn’t sure that this was the appropriate time to sate his curiosity.

A servant-droid greeted them at the door to the front tower, bowing before Lady Theylss. She didn’t give the droid a single glance.

"Where is my son?" Deirta asked shortly, brushing out her skirts though there were no folds or wrinkles to be seen.

"In the gardens, my Lady," the droid stated.

"Of course," she sighed tiredly. “Lead us there.”

They walked through the tower to the walkway between the towers. There was a garden, filled with Glowing Nightblooms, a flower that when blooming cast soft blues and violets and whites into darkness. He had read about them before. They were a staple in the cheap credit a dozen novels he brought from outposts or second hand merchants, but seeing them in person was another. The path led them past crystal statues of geometric shapes that made light fracture into rainbows and painted the air vibrantly. The garden circled a pond, a dark tranquil pool that was so still that it was almost a perfect mirror with the star-filled sky. A single small shrine stood in the middle of it. And there in the center a person standing before the shrine...almost appearing like a ghost as silver incense smoke curled in the air.

"My son, come and greet your husband," Deirta said. The figure turned from the shrine, he crossed the lake. Caleb had been to the edge of the galaxy itself, and yet he didn’t think he had ever seen a more handsome man before. He was composed of sharp edges and elegant lines, his skin a smooth and peerless dark plum, and his hair perfectly tamed and coiffed. There were no ripples as he moved-no-skimmed across the water’s edge as weightless as fog. He arrived on the stone path, and immediately knelt, expensive dark robes shifting as he did.

"Welcome home, my beloved," Essek said, bowing deeply enough to press his forehead to his fingers. Geometrical earrings caught the light, as did an impressive, elaborate mantle that was settled upon his neck."I have been awaiting your arrival.”

“Please, lift your head,” Caleb half-begged, feeling flushed and oddly ashamed. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this act of devotion from this complete stranger.

“I hope you have found everything suitable," Essek said as he continued to bow, pointedly ignoring his request. Caleb could almost sense Deirta gloating from where she stood a few feet behind him.

"Your home is...it's beautiful," Caleb said, not sure if the words even came out past his panicked choking.

"It is your home as it is mine, I am happy it pleases you," Essek said as he stood effortlessly, robes swaying as he did so. The silver of his eyes illuminated his face, flecked with pale blue and violet in the shifting light of the pond and flowers. His expression was hard to read, though his mouth curled up in a soft almost-smile. "I am Essek Theylss, son of Deirta Theylss, Shadowhand of the Bright Queen."

"Caleb. Caleb Widogast," Caleb said softly.

"Caleb," Essek said, something flickering upon the surface and dissipating just as quickly. "And your guests?"

"My friends. The Mighty Nein."

"TOWER," Essek called, and a screen lit up along the wall. "Make sure the service droids prepare rooms for my husband's friends."

"Your will shall be done, sir," the AI stated.

"In your room you shall find both the spellbook and the deed to the home as stated in the will," Essek said, tone businesslike...formal. Caleb wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Perhaps crying? Screaming? Anger or sadness or grief? And yet Caleb saw none of that as he looked at this stranger. There was only politeness...a cool sort of acceptance. "Both already confirmed by the arbiter and myself. Are you capable of translation or will you need assistance?"

"Ja, I can," Caleb said lifting his wrist to show his staff. Essek reached out his hand and offered it expectantly...and Caleb did the only thing he could think of and laid his wrist in Essek’s grasp. His touch was cold and fingers soft, and just that was enough to raise goosebumps along his skin.

“I have never seen this model of a STAFF,” Essek said, inspecting the device, interest sparking in his gaze. It was the first truly genuine thing he had seen from this man who was meant to be his husband, and it soothed something in his heart. Caleb caught a glint of a STAFF upon Essek’s own wrist as well.

“I...ah...I built it myself,” Caleb admitted. “I could not afford one with the specs I desired, so one has to do what they must.”

"Then we have that in common, I also built my own staff. You are a techno-mage, I see," Essek said, sounding unsurprised. "Wizard speciality I assume?"

"I...yes, how did you…?"

"He was the same," Essek said quietly, releasing Caleb’s wrist. Essek didn’t need to say who “he” was, they both knew. Caleb drew it back, and resisted the urge to stroke the place where Essek had touched. His skin still tingled from the touch. “Is there anything else you all required?”

“Ah...my familiar,” Caleb said, opening his satchel to show the limp body of the companion-droid. “I would like to fix him, do you know where I can get the materials?”

“As you may have noticed, I employ droids heavily. I have droid-repairing materials here, TOWER shall acquire for you whatever you need,” Essek promised. He paused before looking to Deirta. "I am sure you have more you wish to discuss with me, Umavi."

"Yes," she said, without a scrape of anything resembling maternal love or affection. Instead there was only business.

"Very well, we will speak in my office. I shall take my leave now," Essek said, turning to address them all. "If there is anything you require, you may call for the home AI, TOWER."

And with that, he drifted past them with the Umavi, leaving them all alone. Caleb felt that he could finally breathe as soon as he was gone.

“Wow...this is just like that scene in Tusk Love,” Jester said, steepling her fingers and looking starstruck.

“What part of Tusk Love?” Nott asked curiously.

“The scene where Genieveve meets her fiance, you know, the one her dad wants her to marry instead of Oskar?” Jester asked. “And the fiance totally tries to seduce her over dinner by giving her that beautiful red dress and the necklace made of lumincrystal?”

“Oh! I love that part, especially when the fiance put his hand-” Nott started.

“I don’t think this is like that,” Fjord said, interrupting warily.

“If anything I don’t think it was horny enough,” Beau complained. “Like...did this guy even like his husband? He sure as fuck didn’t act like it. Like, if I spent two weeks away from the person I loved the most I would be shoving them into the nearest supply closet with me. Imagine hundreds and hundreds of years!”

“Would you?” Fjord asked incredulously, and Beau elbowed him hard.

“We all deal with loss in our own ways,” Caduceus said as he looked on at the shrine still settled in the pond like a cloud in the sky. “But he loved his husband...that’s for sure.”

“What makes you say that?” Caleb asked, swallowing in an attempt to wet his tongue.

“Such a fine grave could only be upkept with devotion,” Caduceus said, motioning to the small shrine. And as Caleb watched the single curl of white smoke still rising from the incense, carved words upon marble meticulously polished he realized that Caduceus was right. This wasn’t a shrine...it was a grave. “It’s beautiful.”

Caleb looked away, unable to quell the ache in his chest.

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

He spent a good portion of the evening tinkering and repairing Frumpkin with the materials provided. He was unable to explain his relief when the usual start-up menu appeared in their shared link. The feline-droid meowed happily at being reawoken, and spent a long time cuddling up with Caleb and performing his usual therapeutic routines, before settling to be charged. After that he worked on reading over the spellbook that had been given to him, marveling at the notes (trying not to think about the handwriting that was his own from the way he crossed his z’s to the dashes he used for his i’s). The Mighty Nein ate dinner together, with Essek noticeably absent from the halls and rooms. They were given a spread of traditional Xhorhassian cuisine prepared by the servant droids, and Caleb came to the realization that there was not a single living servant in the home. They were all given their own rooms, and set to retire in them. It was decided to play nice...to make the show of gratitude. If there was one constant in almost every culture across the universe, it was to know better than to trample on hospitality given.

“What do you want to do?” Nott asked him nervously before they separated for bed.

“I don’t know…” Caleb admitted, scrubbing at his face with his hands as he watched Frumpkin charge. “I get the feeling they aren’t going to let me leave so easily.”

“They said the hyperdrive would be fixed in seven days. That’s the soonest we’ll be able to escape,” Nott said softly, close enough that any bugs that may have planted in the room wouldn’t have caught it. “Think about it, but don’t worry, you're stuck with me regardless of what you want to do, alright?”

“Alright,” Caleb said, catching Nott’s eyes and smiling. And he tried to sleep...he did. But his mind was racing, and finally he could do nothing but leave the room. He figured a quick walk around would settle him, and did his best to memorize the corridors and stairs and rooms he could enter. All information at this point was power, things he could use to get the upper hand in a game that he felt completely outclassed by.

Eventually though...he found himself back in the cloisters...the high arches and beautifully carved pathway to the garden. And he wasn’t alone, as he soon discovered. Essek stood solitary, next to a pillar looking out onto the pond and the grave. The flowers themselves were pale as a moon, glowing with a soft ethereal iridescence that almost seemed to float up to the clouds of violet and amber dust.

Caleb drew in a breath, and Essek stiffened. A slender dark hand curled against the pillar, but he didn’t move.

"I'm sorry," came the voice from the figure. The accent was smooth, voice soft and thoughtful. He did not turn, and somehow just that felt more genuine then any words they had exchanged thus far. He sounded exhausted, and so very apologetic...as trapped and frustrated as Caleb did. "I'm sure this all must be very difficult...I know this has been the strangest two days of my life."

"Ja, I would say so," Caleb said, and watched as the figure cringed. Oh...his voice. It must be the same or at least similar to...to his real husband. "I am the one who should be apologizing...I'm sure this has been harder for you in more ways than I could ever comprehend."

“If you are as alike as I fear, I would say that isn’t true,” Essek said, the tired tones of his voice biting into Caleb’s skin. “My husband was always an intelligent man...and always managed to surprise me with his inopportune insights. If you are like him...then there is little hope that you wouldn’t understand me...and I’m afraid that’s far more terrifying than the alternative.”

“All I can do is apologize it seems,” Caleb murmured. “Apologize and hope that you accept that as my truth.”

For a long moment Essek didn’t respond, and he wondered if this was Essek’s way of asking him to leave. Caleb was about to...to say something when Essek shifted instead.

"My husband…" Essek started, faltered and then straightened his shoulders, still refusing to look his way. "I can’t explain it, no matter how much I desire to. His love sustained me through so much. He was one of the first humans to voyage to the stars and come to this distant shore. He was brilliant and kind and so much better than me in almost every way. I love him...even so many years after his death...he has been the only one I have ever loved."

"I do not...I wouldn't ever presume…" Caleb started...but faltered. What could he say to make this better? There were no words he could summon in this language or his mother tongue to even scratch the surface of this situation. Instead his voice petered out, running out of gas.

“There will be many things asked of you soon,” Essek said, retracting his hand from the pillar and slipping it into his sleeve. “I am just sorry I will not be able to spare you from it...from all of it.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned around, and Caleb’s breath left his lungs. He was as beautiful as the heavens unfurling in the hours of twilight, a single solitary figure against the quiet light. Instead of drawing near, he seemed to recede further into the shadow cast by the pillars. His expression was empty...there was nothing there, simply a reflection.

“I have been informed there will be no annulment,” he said cooly, as if he were talking about the weather. “We shall have a Vow Exchange and Marriage Ceremony in seven rotation’s time.”

“They would have us married?” Caleb asked in shock.

“Remarried technically, as by law you are my husband.”

“Do they have no concerns for your feelings?” Caleb asked, suddenly infuriated for Essek’s sake.

“I have none to be concerned about...not anymore,” Essek said softly as he drifted forward. He didn’t walk, that was certain. Instead he moved as if buoyed in his own gravitational field. “I am a loyal subject to my Queen first, a child of my mother’s den second, a citizen of the Dynasty third, and a person last. I have a duty I must fulfill...and by marrying you, I shall be furthering the aims of my government through the greatest single act of propaganda we have seen since our Queen’s famous speech at the Breach. Though I have nothing to do with that, after all, I have been told that I am living the romance of the millenium. I should be very grateful.”

“Seven rotations?” Caleb echoed. A week, a single week. That was how long it would take for the hyperdrive to be fixed. The same day...of course it had to be the day that he was sure the entire solar system of Xhorhas would be watching him. Nothing could ever be easy...he didn’t deserve that much.

“If you are planning on escaping...well...I wish you the best of luck,” Essek said with a wry smile, a glint of fang twisting up Caleb’s heart. “I doubt you will get far. My mother has told me that this shall be the single most lavish affair our people have seen since the last marriage between the Bright Queen and the Dusk Captain, and no expense will be spared for things like security.”

“It isn’t right,” Caleb argued, blood pulsing hot and rapid in his veins. The injustice of it wrenched at his insides. “It isn’t fair, that they should treat you like some...some tool! I-”

Suddenly, Essek crashed right into Caleb’s chest. Hands balled into Caleb’s shirt with bruising force, and he stood there dumbly as Essek pressed his face more firmly to his shoulder and shuddered as if he carried the weight of the whole planet upon his shoulders.

“It’s not fair,” Essek gasped, voice fracturing into a million pieces. Bitter and desperate and hopeless and overwhelming. “Why does it have to be this way? You even feel like him...smell like him! Please...please stop being kind to me. Push me away...run from me, hurt me. Stop sounding like him! Stop...stop talking like him. I beg of you...I beg of you. If you stay...I won’t be able to let you go again. I’ll do anything I can to stop you. I’ll be cruel, and vicious, and I’ll hurt everyone and anything that gets in my way. That’s the way I am. I am the most selfish creature that ever crawled upon the surface of any planet. So please...abandon me.”

“You are a victim too,” Caleb said, instinctively wrapping his arms around Essek’s waist. He felt so slender in his arms...so delicate, like he was a shard of the universe...like he would disappear if he held him too long. And despite everything...it felt so right. It was just an illusion, brought on by the stress. He had never held Essek before...but he could almost imagine it with how wonderful it was. “Will you forgive me...for trying to find a way to save us both?”

“Never,” Essek said, looking up at him. His eyes were silver like the moon-dust freckles that shimmered upon his skin, glittering with tears. “I’ll never forgive you. Just gazing upon you gives me a glimpse of that which I most desire, and even if you are just a shade if you stay I will pursue you. Don’t you understand? I am your greatest enemy. So you must go...you must escape without ever looking back at me.”

“Won’t they hurt you? How could I just leave you?” Caleb demanded. “You are innocent. I won’t damn an innocent again for my sins...never.”

“Innocent? Ha! Abandon that pride of yours, Light damn it! Why don't you understand? The only thing I can do is protect you from me!"

"I won't. If I leave you here...like this, what will happen to you?"

"Nothing I don't deserve after everything I've wrought," he said bitterly, pulling away and leaving his arms so empty and bereft of purpose. "Caleb...I have done everything to deserve this fate, I see that now. This is my punishment, but it is not yours. Escape, Caleb. Escape the Kryn Dynasty. Escape my fate. Escape me. That alone...it will be enough for me for the rest of eternity."

Essek disappeared into the shadows, leaving Caleb behind.

#critical role fanfic #shadowgast week #shadowgast #essek theylss #caleb widogast #sci-fi AU

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