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saeran-imagines · 4 years ago

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Ray x Reader - Promise

It wasn't a request or anything, but I wrote some Ray x Reader hurt/comfort for my needy soul~ Based on that one time in the garden where he says all those things about how it'd be okay if you hurt him 😢 But it doesn't fit anywhere specific on the timeline~

“I’m sorry.” Ray’s voice cuts through the silence. This was your second trip out to the garden with him, and the evening had been quiet and peaceful. You’d been sitting together on a bench surrounded by roses turned orange from the setting sun. This might be the longest conversation you’ve had with him. He doesn’t seem to like talking about himself, but he listened intently as you talked about your likes, dislikes and desires. He asked a thousand questions, wanting to know every little detail about you, down to your favorite shape and your mother’s last name. Not that you minded. You satisfied his curiosity, throwing in fun little anecdotes to entertain him along the way. He’s out of questions for the night, though, and the two of you have been watching the sun go down in silence. “I’m really sorry.” The bench creaks beside you, and you turn to see his head scrunched up in his hands.

“Ray, what’s wrong?” The night had been going so well, did you say something upsetting? Did he forget about something he had to do? Your mind races through the events of the last hour trying to figure out where something could have gone wrong.

“I’m not nearly as entertaining as the RFA...” he starts. “You could have been talking with them this whole time, but you went along with me and let me selfishly keep you here all night.” Oh no, that’s what this is about... His insecurities have hardly been a secret since the day you met him, but you’d desperately hoped they wouldn’t show themselves tonight. He deserves to enjoy himself, even if it’s just for a few hours. You reach out for him, but stop when he flinches away.

“I didn’t-” you stutter, worried that saying the wrong thing could make the situation worse. “I came here with you because I like spending time with you, okay? Tonight was wonderful.” He curls up into himself more.

“Oh god, and I’m ruining it right now, aren’t I? It was perfect and I just ruined it.”

“No, it’s oka-”

“I’m such an idiot, you can go ahead and hit me if you want.” He finally lifts his head to look at you, revealing his tear stained face. “You can throw things at me, or kick me, or pull my hair, anything that’ll make it up to you.” His shaking body looks like it’s about to collapse into itself, his fingers digging into his knees. Seeing him in this state is too painful, you have to do something about it. You might not have a magic button to take all his pain away, but god dammit you’ll do anything in your power to make sure you’re not a source of it.

"Ray.” His head snaps up like a trained puppy at the sound of his name being called. Which one of the horrible people in his life taught him that trick? You try your best to kick that thought out of your head, you can’t focus on the past right now. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course I trust you!” he sits up straighter, voice frantic. “Anything you tell me to do, I’ll do it.” You frown. He’s getting the wrong message, but at least you have his attention now.

“Thank you.” You smile at him, hoping it looks more reassuring than pained. “Then, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.” He leans in closer to you, so close that you can feel his warm breath against your face. If this were a better situation, if you were in a safer place right now, you might have leaned in to close the distance. But that’s not what either of you need right now.

“Okay, then I’m going to make a promise to you, and I want you to try your best to believe me.” He leans back a little, his intensity shifting towards confusion.

“A promise?” he asks.

“Yeah, a promise.” You reach towards his hands but you don’t take them, instead offering yours for him to hold if he chooses. He reaches out hesitantly, glancing back up at you to make sure he really has permission before grabbing them. His grip is just a bit too tight for comfort, but that’s the least of your worries right now. “And I don’t make promises very often, so please try to believe that I’ll keep it. Okay?

“...Okay.” His body is still tense with apprehension. When you asked him for a favor he expected to have to do something, to fetch you a meal, or fix a bug on your phone, or leave you alone for the rest of the night. He would have happily ripped his heart out for you to crush under your feet. But a promise… if you were trying to torture him, this is the best way to do it. He does trust you, though, more than anyone else. Maybe… maybe even more than his savior, though he wouldn’t dare say so out loud. So as much as he wants to, he doesn’t flinch or look away as he waits for you to speak. You run your fingers across his knuckles, smiling with more confidence at his earnesty.

“Alright,” you resist the urge to tack a ‘darling’ or a ‘sweetheart’ to the end of that. This is the most attentive he’s ever been towards you, and you don’t want to ruin that by confusing him even more. “I promise... that I’m never ever going to hurt you.” You bring his hands closer to your chest and squeeze them for emphasis. His breath hitches and his eyes widen, now unable to look away from your intense gaze.

You take a deep breath to control your voice. You’re very passionate about this and you want it to show, but the last thing you want is to scare him off by your intensity sending the wrong message. “I’m not ever gonna hit you, or throw things at you, or shout at you...” Tears start to form behind your eyes at the thought of doing something so horrible, but you continue. “There’s nothing you could do that would push me to hurt you.”

You take a chance and lift your hand up to cup his cheek. He gasps but doesn’t flinch, tentatively leaning into the touch instead. If only you could do more... You could wrap your arms around him and hold him against your chest, telling him that everything will be okay while you run your hands through his hair. Or pull his face closer to yours and close the distance, kissing him so deeply and passionately that he doesn’t have the chance to doubt himself. But that would do more harm than good, this isn’t the time to be self indulgent. All you can do is convince yourself that you’ll have all the time in the world for that once you’re free from this hell.

You feel a drop of water on your hand. Did it start to rain? No, he’s crying. Did you do something wrong? Your other hand moves on its own to brush the tear from his other eye before it gets the chance to fall. “Darling?” You mentally curse yourself, the pet name fell from your mouth while you’re caught off guard. His tears turn into sobs and you don’t know what to do.

“I’d rather...” he manages to get a few words out despite his body telling him not to, screaming at him that it’s safer not to speak. “P-Please don’t promise that. I’d rather have- have you hurt me than leave me.” He’s not looking at you anymore. His eyes are focused on the gap of bench between you, not daring to look anywhere else. Fuck it. You do exactly what you told yourself you wouldn’t do and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into your chest and resting your head on his shoulder. Now that he’s pressed up against you the scent of something toxic beneath his layers of cologne becomes clearer. That must be the elixir that’s been keeping him in agony for god knows how long. You hold him tighter, but immediately let up when you notice his breaths are coming out squeaky from the pressure. What irony would that be, if you crushed him to death right after promising you’d never hurt him.

“Hey, that won’t happen either. I’m not gonna leave this place without you by my side.” All self control is lost as you rub circles into his back and play with his hair in a desperate attempt to calm him down. Your mind is racing too hard to find the right words to say, all you can do is pray that your touches hold enough emotion to get through to him. You’re mumbling something into his ear, something about everything being okay, about not leaving him. You hear yourself call him ‘baby’ somewhere in there but you try to move past that thought before you have the time to get mortified over it. Maybe something in your messy attempt at comfort worked, or maybe he’s just all cried out, but his sobs eventually even out into sniffles. Weak and tired from the emotional rollercoaster, he doesn’t think twice before snuggling further into your embrace.

“...Okay,” he whispers. What?

“Okay?”

“I’ll... I’ll try my best to believe you. I can’t understand why you’re being so nice to me, but since you promised I’ll try to believe you.” Right, the promise. You smile into his neck.

“Thank you. I’ll prove to you that I really mean it.”

☁ ☁ ☁

“Ray?” The bench creaks as he jumps slightly, startled from the silence being broken. After you’d wiped each other’s tears away the two of you stayed side by side on the bench, holding hands and watching the sky turn dark. An attempt at cooling down before you go back to your lonely room and he goes back to his sleepless work. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, it’s okay. What is it?” He turns slightly to look at you, but you don’t meet his eyes. The embarrassment of losing your cool earlier is still fresh in your mind.

“I just want you to know that I really meant that promise,” you say. “And don’t think it’s just because I’m nice, because I’m definitely not above smacking people down. But this promise is for you, Ray, I promise not to hurt you. And if I do by some accident, I’ll make it up to you ten times over.” His face flushes and he looks down at his lap.

“But you are nice, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met.” You chuckle.

“Nah, I’m not nice. I’m nice to you, but that’s because you’re... you. There’s a lot of people in this world-” the so-called ‘savior’ comes to mind as you talk, and your voice grows colder. “A lot of people in this world that I’d crush like ants between my fingers if I could.” With narrowed eyes you raise your hand towards the Magenta building, imagining the savior sitting inside. You squish your imaginary enemy with your fingers for emphasis. It gives you a rush of joy in some weird twisted way that you should probably talk to a professional about.

“But... you won’t crush me?” He asks softly, unsure of himself. There’s a glimmer of hope in the question, though, a glimmer that wouldn’t have been there if he’d asked an hour ago. You finally look at him and he meets your eyes..

“No, I won’t crush you.” Genuine smiles have been in short supply for you recently, but this gentle, peaceful moment with the object of your affection coaxes one out of you. ‘I will squish you though,’ is what you wanna say before diving in to pinch his cheeks, but you settle for another squeeze of his hand. You’ll have all the time in the world for that later. Right now you just need to escape.

#saeran choi #saeran x reader #ray x reader #mystic messenger #mysme #ray #drabble

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supercasey · 4 years ago

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TMA Child Avatars AU

Alright, so ever since I listened to the episode about Agnes’s origins, I keep thinking about an AU where a bunch of the other Entities, after realizing that it’s at least possible to create an avatar from birth, perform their own rituals and make a bunch of the future Archives gang. This AU has a lot of potential for angst, but since TMA is sad enough, I’ll probably mostly focus on the world building and fluffy/funny stuff (‘cus god knows I’m a slut for that shit).

To all my followers, I’m sorry I keep making kid AUs; I got told in like 2015 or so that I sucked at writing kids and it’s Never Left My Mind, so now I always wanna make stupid AUs in order to practice writing kids better (I also have an original story I wanna write soon with a ten year old as the main character, so yeah, I need all the practice I can get).

Anyways, here’s all I’ve got on the AU this far (explanation under the cut; a very long post is up ahead):

Character Backstories

Jonathan “Jon” Sims - Apprentice Archivist of the Eye

Jon is a very complicated story, at least from everyone outside of the Eye’s gaze. It was Elias’s idea to create him, and were it not for Gertrude getting lucky, no one but Elias, Peter Lukas, and Simon Fairchild would have ever known that Jon existed until he was ready to become the next archivist. Gertrude found out by pure chance when she accepted a live statement from one very frightened Delores Sims, who told the archivist about how a strange man had been stalking her ever since she found out she was pregnant. Out of completely nowhere, her husband died a month after she conceived, and even though it looked like an accident, Delores swore that she saw an arm surrounded by fog push him down the stairs. Things only grew worse for her over the next few weeks, as in the midst of her grieving her dead husband, Delores began seeing green, glowing irises out of the corners of her eyes, watching her every move as she lived her life, which was followed by the stalker in question appearing constantly in her dreams, always watching her from afar, an unpleasant and frankly unnerving grin on his face the entire time.

Suspicious, and finding the description of the stalker all too familiar by the end of the statement, Gertrude investigated Delores’s claims on her own time, going so far as to break into Elias’s office in order to dig up more information on whatever he was up to. No matter what her theories may have been, none of them were anything like what she found in his letters to his associates. Somehow, Elias had conspired alongside the Lukas and Fairchild families to find their heirs/avatars together, and Elias was the last person to acquire one of his own. Gertrude was unsure of the details at the time (and she still unfortunately is), but from what she could gather, the child growing in Delores Sims’ body was somehow touched by the Eye because of something Elias had done, and they would be born with the perfect framework to have the powers that an archivist learns over several years of training at birth! With no time to lose, Gertrude got back into contact with Delores, and after much discussion between the two women, she convinced Delores to come to her apartment when she eventually went into labor, and to give Gertrude the baby after they were born so that she could keep them safe from Elias.

The birth was meant to be done in secret, but the second the first contraction occurred, there was a knock on Gertrude’s door, Elias waiting for her on the other side with an unhappy grimace on his face. He came armed with a gun, and threatened to murder Gertrude if she didn’t allow him to claim the child as his own. Aware she still had many rituals to stop in the near future, and that none of her assistants were experienced enough to stop them by themselves, Gertrude reluctantly agreed to let him inside, but on one condition; the child had to be shared between them. Elias was abrasive to the idea of course, but he eventually complied with his archivist’s demands, not wanting to replace her so early on in her career. The sight of her stalker coming into the bedroom to watch her give birth unfortunately sent Delores into a panic attack while she was still very much in labor, making the rest of the birth a rather dangerous thing, but the child survived, leaving his mother terrified and shaking. Gertrude had planned on letting her go on her merry way after the baby was born, but Elias wasn’t taking any chances, and he shot her as soon as he deemed it safe to.

Since then, Gertrude and Elias have had dual custody of Jonathan- the name was Gertrude’s idea, on the grounds that it was a nice, proper name for a young man- trading him back and forth every other week. It’s been hard, especially with the adults he calls his parents wanting to kill each other, but Jon’s oblivious to most of the fighting right now, assuming his folks are just going through a messy divorce.

Martin Blackwood-Lukas - Adoptive Son of Peter Lukas

Peter ended up running very behind in the whole child avatar thing (a first for his family, something Simon reminds him of on a daily basis), and he really struggled with creating a baby avatar that would actually be able to “keep up” with the other young messiahs that were coming to be. Eventually he realized that his family’s usual method would take too long, so out of desperation he went to Elias and Simon for help. It was Simon’s idea that worked; he suggested that since the normal methods weren’t working, and kids usually don’t become lonely until they’re older, that Peter should try his own summoning ritual like the Lightless Flame did with Agnes. Peter was hesitant at first, but he gave in quickly, sacrificing a number of lonely souls to his entity in a well-timed manner, until finally, he found a small, swaddled baby in the midst of the fog; a supposed gift from the Lonely for his loyalty.

Peter was delighted by this discovery, and so were his colleagues, the men relieved that their hard work had actually paid off for once. After naming the little boy Martin- it was Elias’s idea, though he didn’t have much of an exact reason for the name, simply claiming that it “suited” the child- and before long, Peter began raising his newfound son much the same as he was; in almost total isolation, save for a variety of rotating nannies and caregivers. Unfortunately for Peter, this went horribly wrong almost as soon as he got started, as by the time that Martin was six months old he had accidentally forced five different nannies into the fog out of fear of them leaving like the ones before them had. With no other options available, and being able to actually leave the fog if Martin threw anymore fits, Peter was forced to raise his son by hand, which again went wrong, but for very different reasons, as to his shock, he became quite attached to his adopted child.

This evolved into Peter having doubt of the Lonely for the first time in his life, but he refused to acknowledge it for as long as he could. But he was finally forced to when, after Martin turned five years old, the rest of the Lukas family insisted on performing a test on the child to see how well Martin could handle the fog without any guidance. He had been inside the fog before of course, with Peter holding his hand or carrying him through the dense chill, but the family wanted to isolate Martin inside for a full month. This secretly scared Peter like nothing else ever had, but out of fear of what his family might think, he didn’t say anything at the time, simply watching from afar as his son was dragged into the fog and left to fend for himself. The ritual went wrong within the first week, Martin having a full-scale breakdown and nearly hyperventilating to death, and yet the family kept him in there for another week before the intervention.

The results of the test of course disappointed the other members of the Lukas family, who suggested that they simply leave Martin to disappear into the fog and look for a new, more sufficient messiah to serve their god. The news hit Peter incredibly hard, and despite his previous inhibitions and fear, he knew he couldn’t let the Lonely consume his one and only son. So, without telling anyone of what he was up to, he ventured into the fog, rescued Martin, and fled to live with his estranged ex-husband the Magnus Institute. Since then he’s been living with Elias at his house and avoiding his family at all costs, all while young Martin has grown up alongside the other entity kids and has struggled to figure out his role in everything, but at least he has his dad on his side through all of this.

Sasha James - Chosen Daughter of the Mother of Puppets

(Note: I headcanon the Mother of Puppets as a giant spider, so that’s how I’m writing her… sorry if this is inaccurate, but I’m only on MAG 152, y’all. Besides, I think this is cool af.)

Sasha was very much planned, even more so than Agnes was so many years beforehand. The Mother of Puppets had her minions gather hundreds upon hundreds of orphaned infants and bring them to her nest. She swaddled each every one in her webbing and kept them like this for several weeks, allowing them time to adjust to the webbing and adapt. Unfortunately, most of these children weren’t cut out for the Web’s influence, and while a few indeed held their adoptive mother’s mark, almost none of them were marked deep enough to become a fully realized avatar. The unsuccessful batches were subsequently sent off to orphanages across the world and replaced with new babies, this process repeating for years and years, until finally, Sasha was born. There was nothing special about her parents, yet she not only bore The Web’s mark, she seemed to have it embedded into her very soul. This, of course, was met with celebration from the Web, and plans were quickly made as to how to raise her moving forward, as no one wanted Sasha to end up like Agnes did.

Annabelle Cane ended up being the one chosen to home Sasha for the first few years of her childhood, and she was dutiful in her new, rather honorable role, as she not only cared for the child well, but she treated Sasha as her own, though she was careful to be seen more as an older sister than a mother to the girl; that role was, of course, reserved for Sasha’s real mother. When Sasha finally turned five, the Mother of Puppets announced further plans for the young avatar, calling on Annabelle to take Sasha to the Magnus Institute and give her to one of their hidden agents there so that she could learn more about how the Web uses it’s influence over other entities. This worried Annabelle, who wanted to keep the child near her and prove that she was the most loyal of the mother’s children, but she would never disobey a direct order from the being that had given her life such meaning. So, rather reluctantly, Annabelle gave Sasha to another member of the Web, watching from the shadows as this unworthy follower took the blessed daughter into the institute for further training.

This went wrong within only a few months. Gertrude ended up finding out who the Web’s spy in the institute was, as she had suspected that another entity was trying to control her from the shadows, and after disposing of the threat and searching their home for anything useful that she could use against the Web, she found Sasha. The archivist was tempted to kill the supernatural child on sight, but while she can murder her assistants and enemies without much remorse, on the grounds that it’s always for the greater good, killing a child is a very different story. So she took Sasha in, raising the Web’s child as her own alongside the Eye’s own prodigy Jon, all while trying to help Sasha control her slowly budding powers. The Mother of Puppets has been trying to get Sasha back ever since, enraged that the child is so close to her yet just out of reach, but with no luck, though there’s no telling how long that will last.

Timothy & Daniel Stoker - Dancer and Future Ringmaster of the Stranger

Both Tim and Danny are chosen ones of the Stranger, created as soon as their god had gained enough spare power to create them. Tim was born first, being the Stranger’s first attempt at birthing an avatar that might be powerful enough to help lead the Unknowing, but Gertrude interrupted midway through the ritual. By some miracle, Tim survived the ordeal, but he was left “incomplete” to some degree, leaving him simply marked and not fully connected to the Stranger. The entity’s followers ended up keeping him around though, both because Nikola Orsinov was too fascinated by the newborn baby to give him up, and because his parents wanted him to survive, but it was agreed that another attempt would be made, this time with more planning involved. Four years later, Danny was born, and with Gertrude too preoccupied to intervene this time around (and because she didn’t realize they’d try again so soon), the ritual went much better and created a far more suitable vessel for the Stranger’s powers.

After that, Tim and Danny’s parents died, fully succumbing to the Stranger’s transformation and leaving them orphaned. Not that their presence was strictly necessary after the kids were born, as Nikola Orsinov was more than happy to take over in most of the child rearing, genuinely growing quite fond of the two boys, particularly Tim, as despite his lack of supernatural abilities, she found him to be rather endearing, which is probably the closest she can get to genuinely caring about someone. Both brothers were raised more or less the same way, save for Danny being showered with more praise and being trained as a future ringmaster while Tim was mostly ignored and trained to be a dancer. Some followers of the Stranger feared that Tim might harbor resentment towards his little brother and try to kill him someday, but to their surprise, Tim only grew more protective of him over the years, swearing to keep Danny safe as he grew up to fulfill his destiny and help their family mold the world in their image.

Eventually though, when Tim was eleven and Danny was seven, Tim realized what was actually happening behind the scenes, and not wanting his brother to risk being sacrificed for the world’s destruction, he told Danny everything, leading to the young messiah to run away with him to London (they were raised primarily in Russia, but moved with the circus a lot, and were in France at the time that they finally ran away). There, Tim found the infamous Gertrude Robinson, who he knew had the power to stop the Unknowing, as she had once saved him from becoming the Stranger’s avatar, and inadvertently led him to having a little brother. Tim and Danny have since moved in with Michael, and they visit the Magnus Institute whenever they get the chance, as both boys have grown to become friends with the other avatar kids. You’d think that the Stranger’s followers would be furious about all of this- don’t worry, many of their acolytes are- but Nikola has laughed it off entirely and keeps insisting that the boys are just having a “sleepover” or are away at “summer camp” (in fucking January, apparently).

Melanie King - Cadet of the Slaughter

Honestly, the Slaughter wasn’t as into the whole “let’s make an avatar from scratch!” thing that the other entities’ followers were doing, but hey, sometimes child avatars just kinda wind up on your doorstep, ya know? Melanie ended up being found at about four years old, sobbing on her hands and knees outside of a burning hospital and calling for her mommy and daddy to come back to her, but no one answered her cries, and she was left to weep for quite some time before someone found her. The hospital, you see, had been overrun by the Corruption and promptly burned to the ground by the Desolation, neither of which bothered to stick around for some worthless child. Melanie’s parents were both inside when the entities clashed, leaving her orphaned and scared, and while Alfred Grifter, who had been on his way to a show with his bandmates at the time that he found her, had intended on just leaving her be, he saw the overwhelming rage and blood-lust in her crying eyes, and realized in that moment that she was touched by the urge to kill, just like he was.

Melanie was promptly taken in by Alfred Grifter and the band, who honestly had no idea what the hell they were doing. On one hand, Alfred knew that keeping a kid around was unbelievably dangerous for all parties involved, but on the other, he really didn’t want to leave Melanie all by herself, for fear of what she might do if left without any guidance from “people” who knew what she was going through, at least to some degree. That isn’t to say Alfred and his bandmates were all that great at raising her- they mostly just brought her to gigs and let her play on her Gameboy backstage while they started massacres- but they did at least try to give her somewhat of a home. It wasn’t until five years into this that some other Slaughter followers found out about Melanie’s existence, to which they told Alfred to give her to them for proper training. Knowing her life would be horrible with them, Alfred gave his ward a backpack full of everything she ever owned, a kid sized guitar, her Gameboy, and sent her on the run.

Melanie was scared out of her mind at first, having grown to see Alfred and his bandmates as her new family; she had already lost her parents, so why did she have to lose the band, too!? But there were no other options, she had to run, so she did just that, attacking any adult who tried to stop her along the way. She didn’t actually know about the Magnus Institute when she made her way to London, and Alfred didn’t tell her to go there or anything, but she ended up being spotted by Adelard Dekker while she was looking for a place to stay in the area. Seeing that Melanie was an avatar of some kind, Adelard managed to convince her that he was safe, and to let him take her to someone that could help her. He brought Melanie straight to Gertrude Robinson, who agreed to house the child since Adelard couldn’t, though she ended up letting one of her unofficial assistants (*cough* Gerry *cough*) take her to live in his flat so she wouldn’t be as easy for Elias to monitor/get ahold of.

Julia Montauk & Alice “Daisy” Tonner - Children of the Hunt

(Watch as I fuck with timelines so badly that the people who keep track of this shit will order a hit on me) The Hunt found both of their avatars in strikingly similar yet different ways; Julia was first, born from the womb of another entity’s follower, but bound for so much more than anything the Dark could give her. Years after her destined birth, Julia’s mother was viciously murdered by the People’s Church when she was just five years old, her father Robert Montauk going down the path of becoming a fully-fledged Hunter, and in the process he unknowingly marked Julia with his newfound entity, which in turn unlocked an unprecedented potential inside of her, not that it was fully realized until another tragedy struck her. This next tragedy, unfortunately, claimed Julia’s father. Mr. Pitch was mistakenly summoned, and in it’s rage, it destroyed Robert while he was in the midst of a sacrifice. The monster would’ve gotten Julia next, had it not been for the intervention of a nearby Hunter.

Trevor Herbert honestly didn’t mean to get involved, but when he witnessed a little girl screaming as she ran out of a house, a giant mass of darkness chasing after her, and no one willing to so much as call the damn cops, he knew he had to rescue the poor kid. In a flash he ran over, picked Julia up, and ran away with her to safety, managing to get her in his car (which he stole, but that’s not important) and drive as far away from her old home as possible. In the aftermath, Trevor had no idea what to do with Julia, since he had never actually wanted any kids of his own, but… well, he ain’t heartless, and that monster was still out there somewhere, just waiting to sink it’s cursed teeth into this young child’s flesh. Trevor ended up keeping her after that, becoming her adoptive father as he traveled with her around the UK, slowly but surely training her to hunt the same monsters that claimed her beloved parents.

You’d think that would be the end of Trevor Herbert adopting little girls marked by the Hunt, but nope, he just can’t catch a fucking break! He found Daisy about a year later, when Julia was eight and becoming more adjusted to her new lifestyle. Again, Trevor wasn’t really planning on going on any hunts at the time that this happened, he was just traveling through the area, but upon finding a bloodied up, terrified little girl being chased by a boy who looked possessed… well, it wasn’t like Julia wasn’t lonely, and again, Trevor isn’t heartless, and he sure as hell can’t let things go. So yeah, he kidnapped another child touched by the Hunt, even though this one actually had a living parent, and once again he took to traveling the UK with his adoptive daughters, secretly reveling in his new role as a father. Daisy, while scared at first, quickly grew fond of her new family, and even fonder of her new nickname after Trevor patched up her wounds, and noticed a flower-shaped scar on her back, prompting him to start affectionately calling her Daisy.

Yep, things were going pretty good for the family of three, but of course, shit eventually caught up with Trevor, not that he thought he could avoid it forever.

The police eventually caught wind of “Trevor the Tramp” traveling with two little girls who looked an awful lot like the missing thirteen and ten year olds Julia Montauk and Alice Tonner, and in his desperation to keep from getting arrested and having his children taken away, Trevor fled to downtown London in order to lie low for awhile and raise his daughters in relative peace, only ever going out for food runs and the occasional hunt. It was through one of these hunts that he ended up meeting Gerard Keay, the two of them chasing after the same book that had been summoning shadow people to wreck havoc on the city, and after a bit of back and forth banter over the campfire that was once a Leitner, Gerry convinced Trevor to move in with him so that the girls and him would be safer and actually have a home. Although he was hesitant to accept an offer he thought was too good to be true (also, he’s not gonna lie, he thought Gerry was a vampire when they met), Trevor agreed and moved into Gerry’s flat with his daughters, and has since helped Gertrude and her assistants with monster hunts.

Oliver Banks & Georgie Barker - Fetchlings of The End

Georgie and Oliver are an odd story, with the latter of the two having gained his powers as a mere toddler, being plagued with horrible, ghastly dreams that would keep him awake through the night, leaving him absolutely haggard by morning. His father tried everything to help Oliver through this torment- counseling, medication, bedtime rituals- but nothing worked, and before long, Oliver’s beloved father was claimed by his nightmares, dying of a heart attack that he couldn’t stop. Alone and misunderstood by everyone who tried to raise him, Oliver ran away countless times, coming across Georgie during his last attempt. He found the little girl to also be on the run for similar reasons, but unlike him, she wasn’t the least bit afraid. She wasn’t exactly happy, but she wasn’t a bawling mess like he was. Together, the two of them struggled to survive, relying on kindhearted drifters for support while they avoided the police until, at long last, something took pity on them, that something being a large, fat tabby cat.

As it were, the tabby cat- dubbed The Admiral by Georgie- wasn’t a normal cat in the slightest, and although it couldn’t speak, it’s intentions were clear; it was there to help these lost, orphaned children. Oliver was skeptical of course, but Georgie wasn’t about to look a gift cat in the mouth, so Oliver reluctantly followed the cat and his little sister to an apartment building, and from there, into an unoccupied flat. Since then, the two children have been living with Admiral in that very same flat, the cat providing them with a fully stocked fridge, warm beds, and running water. It’s still unclear what the Admiral is, but he seems kind enough, and is obviously quite protective of his newfound children, accompanying them on their outings and occasional visits to the institute.

Michael Crew - Prodigy of The Vast

Out of all avatars to be raising children for their entity, Simon Fairchild absolutely has had the most fun with it all, treating it almost like a fun game or pastime. He was the first (save for the Lightless Flame having Agnes, of course) to “create” an avatar child, and from minute one he was overjoyed with the results. A few years after news broke of Agnes’ origins, and the followers of other entities were all arguing over whether or not to follow suit, Simon didn’t bother waiting for anyone’s input or permission, simply throwing himself into the deep end and praying he could make his plan work. Seemingly overnight, Simon somehow acquired a baby later identified as the missing and presumably dead infant Michael Crew, who he referred to as Mike when he finally introduced him to his friends/associates. He still hasn’t told anyone how he even got the kid- not even Peter or Elias know what he did!- but by some means, he illegally adopted Mike and took to raising the kid like a duck takes to water; a bit unsure at first, but growing to love it fast!

When Mike was introduced to the rest of the entity followers community, many were shocked (excuse the pun) to see that the infant had a long, frightening Lichtenberg scar running down his right arm, his back, and his right leg, the scars glowing a bright blue whenever he took to the sky or, as Elias learned the hard way after accidentally annoying Mike by bouncing him on his knee for too long when he was a toddler, used his powers to electrocute people. Even with his child being such an oddity, even among other avatars, Simon took it all in stride, proudly bragging about Mike to anyone who would listen, most of these people being victims of the Vast, who were hardly able to hear Simon’s excited rambling over their own shrieks of terror. He usually also insisted on bringing Mike with him, even when he was a mere infant, though he at least kept the kid in a tight harness on his chest. In all honesty, Simon being such an excited parent was what kick-started a lot of other avatars to start acquiring their own child avatars, as he made it look so easy!

However, things weren’t always perfect, especially on Mike’s end as he grew older. Being the eldest and more or less “firstborn” of this new generation of entity-made avatars put a lot of pressure on him at a very early age, pressure which Simon tried to help him deal with by not acknowledging it, which unfortunately didn’t help in the slightest. Thankfully Mike started to feel less unsure of his place in the world as he reached his teen years, seeing as the younger kids were now getting all the attention and giving him a chance to breathe. Even now that he’s an angsty teenager, Mike loves Simon like a father, referring to him as such without hesitation. This, of course, delights Simon to no end, and makes all his peers low-key high-key jealous of the awesome relationship he has with his son.

Helen Richardson - Droplet of The Spiral

Not much was known about Helen when Michael first found her. After being sent into The Spiral by Gertrude on what he thought to be a suicide mission for the greater good, Michael was half certain he wouldn’t find anything but his end in that place. Instead he found a small, strange toddler where he was meant to find… well, he didn’t actually know what, but certainly not a baby, that’s for sure! With no one watching baby Helen, and therefore making him believe that she had been abandoned by The Spiral’s other creations, Michael had no reservations against scooping her up and taking her back to the physical world with him, where he was met be a very confused Gertrude Robinson. Michael wasn’t exactly keen on killing/abandoning a baby after he got out, so he and Gertrude brought her back to London with them in hopes of finding out more about the odd child. Along the way, it became clear that the baby was gifted with The Spiral’s powers, the giggly toddler continually screwing with reality, though she wasn’t aware she was doing so.

Back home in London, it took another three weeks of research, but Gerry eventually found out more about the child Michael had more or less adopted. Her name was originally Helen Richardson, and her father, a rookie paranormal investigator who had once been marked by The Spiral, was obsessed with the distortion, and was willing to do anything to become more than simply marked by it. He ended up finding a map similar to Gertrude’s, and a few years before she even knew it was possible, the father went into The Spiral and used his own daughter as a vessel for the entity, hoping she would be a good enough sacrifice to earn it’s favor. This of course ended in disaster, with the father “disappearing” while Helen absorbed The Spiral’s power, but seeing as she was so young, it couldn’t manifest properly, even after two and a half years spent trying to “raise her” within the deepest depths of it’s domain.

With research still being done on what to do about the child, and whether or not the team can remove her powers without killing or permanently injuring her in the process, Michael has agreed to take Helen in, secretly delighted to be raising a baby. With the Stoker Brothers already under his roof, Michael has his hands rather full with them and baby Helen, but the boys take her antics in stride, having learned quickly how to deal with the apartment they live in occasionally “growing” some new doors and changing color at random. Luckily for Michael, he has back-up in the forms of Gerry and Gertrude, who occasionally take Helen and the brothers off his hands for him so he can take a break/fix whatever Helen may’ve accidentally broken with her powers.

Character Roles in this AU

(Feel free to add your own OCs/other characters if you wanna do stuff with this AU, I’m just naming characters I know about/remember!)

Avatar Kids: Jonathan “Jon” Sims, Martin Blackwood, Sasha James, Timothy “Tim” Stoker, Daniel “Danny” Stoker, Melanie King, Julia Montauk, Alice “Daisy” Tonner, Oliver Banks, Georgie Barker, Michael “Mike” Crew, and Helen Richardson.

Avatar Kids Semi-Reluctant PTA Group: Elias Bouchard, Gertrude Robinson, Peter Lukas, Gerard “Gerry” Keay, Trevor Herbert, Michael Shelley, and Simon Fairchild.

PTA Allies: Basira Hussain (Daisy’s best friend and the local Normal Child™), Agnes Montague (Everyone’s emergency number for avatar child advice), Alfred Grifter (Just shows up to hang out with Melanie and cause problems on purpose), The Admiral (Guardian to Georgie and Oliver and occasionally the other kids; best babysitter), Adelard Dekker (Comes around the archives sometimes and always brings presents for the kids + assistants), and Rosie (Elias’s assistant and the only sane and sensible adult in this Chili’s tonight).

PTA Enemies: Nikola Orsinov (Tim and Danny’s “Mom” who keeps kidnapping Jon on accident), Annabelle Cane (Hates the institute and wants Sasha back), Jude Perry (Hates the kids but loves Agnes; worst babysitter), and Jared Hopworth (Nightmare flesh man that needs to fuck off; mediocre but funny babysitter).

Character Descriptions

(Feel free to tweak the physical designs if you want; I’m just going off my own headcanons, and seeing as my drawing skills are pretty shit, it’s not like I’m gonna be doing much art for this outside of writing. So yeah, go off with your own headcanons if you want to!)

Full Name: Jonathan “Jon” Sims-Bouchard-Robinson Age: 7 Birthday: October 26th (Scorpio) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Eye, Marked by Literally Fucking Everything Guardian(s): Alexander Sims (Biological Father - Deceased), Delores Sims (Biological Mother - Deceased), Gertrude Robinson (Adoptive Mother - Current), Elias Bouchard (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: African heritage with dark brown skin, worryingly short for his age, dark brown eyes that glow bright green when he’s using his powers, long black hair with a few green and grey hairbands tied in, constantly “borrows” Martin’s sweaters to wear, occasionally wears skirts but most of the time he wears slacks, constantly looks sleep deprived, has a very intense stare, and occasionally he can be seen carrying his stuffed moth around. Personality: You’d think he’d be a quiet kid, considering his entity, but no, he has Questions and he wants them Answered, goddammit! He wasn’t raised around many kids his age, being home-schooled by Elias and Gertrude all his life, so he struggles to connect with the other avatar kids. Is only close to the S1 gang at first, but he gets closer to everyone else over time. Idolizes Gerry and thinks he’s the coolest guy ever. Appears rather cowardly at a glance, but he’s braver than most people give him credit for. Would die for his friends/family.

Full Name: Martin Blackwood-Lukas Age: 8 Birthday: February 29th (Pisces) ((This one’s for you, Dane)) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Lonely, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): William Blackwood (Biological Father - Uninvolved), Edna Blackwood (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Peter Lukas (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Polish heritage and pale as a fucking ghost, average height for his age but growing fast, pretty chubby, covered head to toe in little red freckles, short and curly red hair, bright brown eyes, wears big round glasses, wears sweaters and comfy trousers almost 24/7, carries a backpack full of “emergency tools” wherever he goes, usually has a cup of tea in-hand, and sometimes wears a small sailor hat that Peter gave him. Personality: Incredibly reserved, much like Mike, but he’s been trying to come out of his shell more. He’s “Best Friends Forever” with Jon, and gets along well with Tim and Sasha as well. Fears Melanie and Daisy. He likes hanging out with the other kids, but he often gets talked over, leading him to withdraw for awhile if it’s bad enough. Adores his dad, and is so much braver than anyone knows. Incredibly snarky when he feels like it.

Full Name: Sasha James Age: 10 Birthday: November 18th (Scorpio) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Web, Marked by The Eye, Marked by The Stranger Guardian(s): Francis James (Biological Father - Deceased), Patrick James (Biological Father - Deceased), Annabelle Cane (Adoptive Mother - Uninvolved), Gertrude Robinson (Adoptive Mother - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of African and Caucasian with dark brown skin, slightly taller than average for her age, long dark brown hair, wears big round glasses, sometimes wears a little make-up if she can get away with it, wears a lot of turtleneck sweaters and long skirts, always has at least one cobweb on her, carries around a stuffed spider that she brings with her to the archives every day, and she wears a headband most of the time. Personality: Easily the most level-headed of the kids, as she’s been raised around paranormal stuff the longest and is rarely bothered by the stranger things that happen. She hates Artifact Storage with a passion, but other than that, she loves exploring the institute and occasionally stealing Gertrude’s laptop to mess with it. Very tech savvy, and even more curious! Incredibly smart, to the point that she can even outclass Gertrude and Gerry with her quick-wittiness.

Full Name: Timothy “Tim” Stoker Age: 12 Birthday: August 3rd (Leo) Entity/Mark(s): Marked by The Stranger, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Markus Stoker (Biological Father - Deceased), Olivia Stoker (Biological Mother - Deceased), Nikola Orsinov (Adoptive Mother - Uninvolved), Gerard “Gerry” Keay (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of Latino and Korean with dark tanned skin, slightly on the taller side for his age, messy/spiky black hair that looks impossible to comb, dark brown eyes, is described as a “handsome young man” by strangers, has a very charming smile, wears a lot of Hawaiian shirts and shorts (even during the winter), needs to wear glasses but he refuses to wear them in the archives out of self-consciousness. Personality: Probably one of the brightest personalities of the avatar kids, Tim comes off as very cool and funny, but underneath all of that he’s rather paranoid, afraid that the circus will come and force his baby brother into becoming a monster. Protective of his little bro and the archive kids, but he still teases them to no end. Smarter than he looks, and isn’t afraid to break his cool guy persona to tell someone off.

Full Name: Daniel “Danny” Stoker Age: 8 Birthday: August 1st (Leo) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Stranger, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Markus Stoker (Biological Father - Deceased), Olivia Stoker (Biological Mother - Deceased), Nikola Orsinov (Adoptive Guardian - Uninvolved), Gerard “Gerry” Keay (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of Latino and Korean with dark tanned skin, about a head shorter than Tim, somewhat neat black hair that sticks up in odd places, eyes are impressively dark and glassy looking, slight gap between his front teeth, is described as being a “handsome young man” by strangers, wears a lot of tank tops and shorts as well as the occasional hoodie if it’s cold, and loves running around barefoot. Personality: A lot of people describe Danny as being a “smaller and cuter Tim”, but that’s just not true. Danny is a lot like his older brother in many ways, but he has a much more refined taste for adventure, constantly getting himself into trouble with Jon on the grounds of “exploring” or what have you. He idolizes his big bro to the moon and back, and loves hanging out with him alongside the other kids. More of a follower than a leader, but he doesn’t mind. Secretly fears the day that the circus will come back to make him into their future ringmaster.

Full Name: Melanie King Age: 9 Birthday: June 7th (Gemini) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Slaughter, Marked by The Corruption, Marked by The Desolation, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Boris King (Biological Father - Deceased), Carrie King (Biological Mother - Deceased), Alfred Grifter (Guardian - Uninvolved), Gerard Keay (Guardian - Current) Appearance: Irish heritage but not terribly pale, rather short for her age, incredibly thin from malnutrition, short brown hair with the ends dyed bright blue, bright brown eyes, brings her leather jacket and her guitar with her everywhere she goes, wears a lot of pink/blue skirts and band t-shirts, wears black leather boots, has a lot of bandages on her knees and knuckles, and always has a camera ready to record things. Personality: Melanie is probably the most disconnected of the avatar kids (save for Helen), seeing as she only just recently joined the group, but already she’s beginning to befriend Sasha and Basira. She’s very protective of the other girls, and she keeps challenging the boys to fight her (only Danny ever agrees; he always loses). Secretly idolizes Julia and Daisy, but will never admit it. She sees Gerry as her big bro and Alfred Grifter as her adoptive dad; she misses Alfred more than she let’s on. Would stab as a warning.

Full Name: Julia Montauk Age: 13 Birthday: April 19th (Aries) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Hunt, Marked by The Dark, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Robert Montauk (Biological Father - Deceased), Linette Montauk (Biological Mother - Deceased), Trevor Herbert (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Indigenous heritage with dark tan skin, tall for her age, skinny enough to look malnourished, close-cropped red hair that gets her mistaken for a boy a lot, metal grey eyes, a scar runs diagonally across her right eye, often wears medium length skirts and oversized t-shirts, always wears athletic shoes, has a lot of scrapes and bandages on her knees most of the time, and has abnormally sharp canines. Personality: Before the deaths of both of her parents, Julia was considered rather normal for her age, being interested in horses, dolls, and dress-up games. After her mother died, she became more tomboyish, which only became more extreme after her father’s death. Since being taken in by Trevor, Julia’s been trying to act more like an adult in an attempt to seem less vulnerable, to varying degrees of success. She adores Trevor to the moon and back, and sees Daisy as her little sister. A bit standoffish around other children, but she’s got a good heart.

Full Name: Alice “Daisy” Tonner Age: 10 Birthday: March 15th (Pisces) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Hunter, Marked by The Slaughter, Marked by The Eye Guardian(s): Greyson Tonner (Biological Father - Deceased), Antoinette Tonner (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Trevor Herbert (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Welsh heritage with cream colored skin and a light tan, average height for her age, short and shaggy blond hair, has a number of tiny scars all over her face and hands, has a huge scar on her back that Trevor has told her looks like a daisy, striking green eyes, wears a lot of sleeveless shirts and shorts, refuses to wear dresses or skirts, prefers to be barefoot, and has abnormally sharp canines. Personality: Is already rather hot-headed at her age, especially after her encounter with Calvin while he was being possessed by a spirit of the Slaughter. Even so, she’s protective of her newfound family of Trevor and Julia, and while she misses her mother, she believes it’s best if she stays where she is. She loves playing outside whenever she can, and will spend hours chasing after squirrels and rabbits if left alone for too long. A bit argumentative, but she gets along really well with Julia and Basira.

Full Name: Oliver Banks Age: 10 Birthday: June 14th (Gemini) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The End, Marked by The Hunt Guardian(s): June Banks (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Isaac Banks (Biological Father - Deceased), The Admiral (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: African heritage with dark skin, has an array of pitch black freckles on his face, short and neat black hair that reaches just below his ears, ghastly grey eyes that look almost clear and turn black when he’s using his powers; used to be dark brown, worryingly thin from years of malnutrition, wears a lot of baggy and long-sleeved shirts, wears sweatpants, has boots on everywhere he goes, and he’s almost always shivering. Personality: The more distrustful of the “End Siblings”, the only person Oliver even sort of likes is Jon, and even then he’s still scared of him. Constantly fidgeting and yawning from both his paranoia and fatigue. Is protective of Georgie, but more out of obligation than friendship. Prefers to be alone, and rarely visits the archives. He knows something bad is coming, but he’s too scared to do much about it. In the end, he knows he’ll do the right thing, but for now he’s hiding until the bombs finally fall.

Full Name: Georgie Barker Age: 7 Birthday: December 9th (Sagittarius) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The End, Marked by The Hunt Guardian(s): Georgie Grounding Sr. (Biological Mother - Deceased), Sarah Grounding (Biological Mother - Deceased), Jason Barker (Adoptive Father - Deceased), The Admiral (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: Mixed race heritage of African and Indian with dark brown skin, fairly chubby, has an array of light brown freckles all over her arms, back, and face, has long and curly black hair done up in poofy buns using colorful hair bands, paints her nails all the time with different colors every week, cutest little smile you ever did see, wears a lot of ghost-related clothing (mainly t-shirts and jeans), and she brings her ghost backpack with her everywhere she goes (it has her stuffed leopard inside). Personality: Despite being an avatar of the End, Georgie has a very upbeat personality, having no time for her adoptive brother’s endless worrying and fearfulness. In fact, all her fear has been gone since she was little, so she’s never scared to explore something new and parade into danger! She’s very close friends with Jon (even if he’s distant sometimes) and best friends with Melanie, though she gets along with most everyone else as well. She may be a chipper person, but look out, she’s carrying more baggage than she let’s on. Loves The Admiral more than life.

Full Name: Michael “Mike” Crew Age: 14 Birthday: May 13th (Taurus) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Vast Guardian(s): Ramsey Crew (Biological Father - Uninvolved), Whitney Crew (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Simon Fairchild (Adoptive Father - Current) Appearance: Caucasian and pale as a ghost, shaggy white hair that’s almost always wind-swept, strikingly pale blue eyes, smells of ozone and burnt hair, incredibly short for his age, very bony and thin, tends to wear a lot of oversized hoodies on the grounds that they make flying more fun, clothes are almost always pristine and clean, his back, right arm, and right leg are covered in a Lichtenberg scar that glows bright blue when he’s using his powers, permanent bags under his eyes. Personality: A very, very quiet kid, at least around strangers. He’s much bubblier around Simon, but otherwise he’s viewed as an “old soul” by most adults. He does have a sense of humor though, taking a bit too much pleasure out of sending people soaring into the air against their will, especially if they insulted or annoyed him beforehand. Secretly a bit protective of the other avatar kids, and has been known to take them flying if they promise not to let go of him when they do so. Nice kid, but don’t make fun of his height or he might just electrocute you out of spite.

Full Name: Helen Richardson Age: 3 Birthday: February 23rd (Gemini) Entity/Mark(s): Avatar of The Spiral Guardian(s): Tiara Richardson (Biological Mother - Uninvolved), Dexter Richardson (Biological Father - Deceased), Michael Shelley (Adoptive Guardian - Current) Appearance: African heritage with dark brown skin (has the beginning patches of vitiligo on her face and hands), fairly chubby but Michael swears it’s just baby fat, has bright purple eyes with swirling yellow irises, has short but frizzy black hair that cannot be tamed, is often dressed in very colorful onesies and footie pajamas alongside the rare dress, and occasionally she’ll have a child leash vest on (though it often disappears because of The Spiral). Personality: She honestly doesn’t have much of a personality yet, being a toddler and all, but she’s a very giggly child, and loves nothing more than making Michael “be silly” with the use of her powers. Speaking of which, she has very little control of her abilities, and although she’s too young to understand their impact on the world, she still feels bad when she accidentally goes too far and gets Michael hurt. She adores Michael and Jon, and loves it when Michael brings her to the institute with him. Very playful and mischievous.

And that’s all I’ve got for now! I wanna write some fics for this at some point (particularly I wanna write a fic that has all of the kids’ origin stories in better/more detail), but for now anyone is free to fuck around with this AU, so long as you’re not doing too much shipping between the kids (hints at ships are fine, but they’re still kids, y’all) and ESPECIALLY not any shipping of the kids with the adults/guardians. Feel free to PM me or scream about this AU in the notes/tags; I’d love to hear people’s thoughts!

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floxalopex · 4 years ago

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I don't know if somebody already did this specifically. But yh the heck let's go.

WARNING 1: THIS IS NOT A POST FOR SENSITIVE PEOPLE AND/OR MINORS. (it contains gore and sexual themes and more).

And yes, SALT. Lots of salt.

WARNING 2: this has nothing to do with Christianity specifically. Atheism isn't hate towards your god(s) and/or its believers. Although there are many forms of atheism (some of which are so strong and violent they make me furious) think about mine as a general form of indifference. I hate the Church state, yes, but sorry I have that "at home" so please don't blame me. I don't like Abrahamic religions in general, but I've grown up with one.

I'm thankfully not a cult survivor, but I can understand some things.

WARNING 3: living in a very religious contest I have many beloved friends and relatives (starting with my mother) who believe in their god a lot. So if my words are too disrespectful tell me, I really don't want to hurt anybody.

Okay.

So.

I've seen many similarities between the cult Horde Prime put his clones in and your very average, very white, very western idea of Christianity.

1) Theophagy:

First of all, I really don't know much how this thing is lived in other Christian countries, but in mine they put a lot of emphasis on the Eucharist.

As far as I've seen I think it's pretty obvious how much in ancient cultures there's a very carnal and very grounded idea of the spirit. That can result in believing the soul to be the "psyche", so literally "the breath of life", the coordination of your sinapsis togheter (to me a very poetic definition of how our whole being ourselves is just us being our central nervous system) or it can lead to you eating the ashes of your granpa so you get his good qualities (something some cultures still do today). They said that the head of Orpheus was buried in the island of Lesbo and that's why its land was filled with amazing poets like Sappho. There's this very, sorry, brutal idea of the embodyment of the soul, the talents of a person, that even a piece of corpse is considered a magic thingy.

This is no different in the very old, very ancient, very rural Christian religion (at least in the most common version of it, we have many flavours of one truth apperentely).

When I was in High School we studied a lot Bacchus and the Baccanalia, because there are several commedies about it. My teacher, being very religious, was almost ashamed to admit that a lot of acts of those festivities (let's say that the most normal thing was for women to give their milk to animal cubs) were actually not very dissimilar in their rawness to certain habits of the religion.

So, what about Horde Prime? (me *yh, what about it, stupid ADHD?*). I have seen a post in the past explaining that yes, even though spacebats have the dentition of a frugivore bat and not haematophagus bat, the scene of Prime recharging in his throne with all those disgusting cables filled with green liquid referred as "the life force" of his clones...well, it's surely something.

Looks like a sort of sci-fi vampire thing. Which is very cool and I love this headcanon. So again I kept thinking...what is THAT amniotic fluid? I am a student, so correct me if I say something wrong.

Amniotic fluid is a combination of water 99%, proteins, glucids, fats and some salts (...it's even effective for electric conduction...the heck is that pool).

The most similar body fluid is plasma, so blood less cells. Even the serum, so plasma less proteins, is very similar.

Now, stated that Prime is a manipulative jerk, stated that I don't know much about aliens' physiology, stated that that fluid can come from blood potentially, in Church they say this:

*and Jesus said: "This is my body/blood which I offer in sacrifice for you"*

Apart from it being very creepy, there's this idea in the whole religion-thingy: if you are human you are a selfish monster, so monstrous you made our Lord and Savior die for your sins for how messed up you were.

So basically you don't become a sinner, you are concived as one. Humanity is sin itself, it can never lead to something good.

So are the clones. That's why Prime, in his benevolence, feeds them with himself. To make them pure, to protect them from the outside world. To make them remember who their strenght comes from.

If you don't want to read all of this just go for the Futurama soda episode, it's basically the same thing. Bleah.

2) Corpse feticism and more.

Again, don't know you guys, but here we are filled with mummies. I went in a place in Palermo and ...my gosh why did I do that.

We have everything here, hands, heads, feet, teeth so many of them, dead babies, dead virgins, dead popes, dead elders, all of them for half the prize, but only if you call today.

We are. Filled. With these atrocities. At least we don't touch them anymore.

Sometimes I wonder if, apart from the "hygene", people in Middle Ages used to die at the honorable age of 13 also because they kissed those... thingies there.

So, can we please talk about Horde Prime collection of "previous selves"?

This man has a whole room filled with corpses of himself. In the Vatican you can find corpses of dead popes as well, preserved and even dressed in a very good way. In Italy in general we have these, I remember a whole room in a town near my city filled with skeletons of "saints". Personally I find it very disturbing because you are basically not allowing that body to rest and serve its last biological purpose, especially if you consider that most of these "saints" were mentally impared young kids who were killed brutally and died as "martyrs". In ancient Greece the WORST thing you could do to a corpse was to leave it unburied, without dignity.

It's getting darker now.

I like both headcanons for Prime, that of a spoiled (maybe even sexist) royal of a lost culture who wanted to conquer the universe and that of him being a sort of ancient evil spirit, but I personally like to stick with the latter.

Imagine the old bodies of the clones Prime used for himself. Pushed to their limits. Clones dying young is horrific as well, but like these people were forced to go on. Not to die. Not to age as much as possible. And now that they are dead they can't even rest. They are a show off for anyone to see. Their brains preserved and their literal dead flesh still tormented for reading.

One may ask me, then what about corpses in formalin for medical use? Well, one thing is a donor or a dead fetus or a corpse nobody claims. That's the story of the skeleton in my university, a young male who didn't eat much. A very lonely man. Well at least now he is well loved and appreciated, ah if only he knew that.

The point is, we respect them. We are grateful for the informations they give us. Gosh, I know I'm creepy, but I even cuddled one bone once. We know they probably suffered. Like, search for HeLa cells. That lady has my highest respect.

But Prime? Those are. Vessels. Just that.

Anyways, apart for the "respect the deads thing" I found Hordak's behaviour in that room that of high distress. Like, ehm, any normal person? Search for "Convento Dei Cappuccini", that place I was talking about in Palermo. The fact that I heard kids cry and "MEMENTO MORI" everywhere.

Everyone and everything is afraid of death, I just accepted that fear because it's normal. That doesn't mean I want to be reminded of it every week, especially if I'm a 7 yo kid.

Honorable mentions: that horrible art collection.

3) Double standards

When I went to catechism my teacher used a very feather hand on males and an iron fist on us ladies. We weren't allowed to wear trousers, to play football, to raise our voice. We were forced to be very clean, to sit with our legs as closed as possible. I heard it was worse before, at least we could play volleyball and weren't forced to knit.

We were however "encouraged" to sing and bake stupid cakes for Sundays. Mind you, I'm very feminine, but one thing is liking ribbons one thing is being a slave.

The boys...well, they could literally do anything. They broke things, used petards, beat each other. They were NEVER reproached, the teachers would say "oh, they are just boys". Like once I was so engrossed. I remember I had to sit behind a guy with his butt almost uncovered (because the lower you put the helm of your trousers the cooler you were) while I had to stay still with my head high, chest out, belly in and legs closed for 2h. The problem was: I almost pitied him. I was like "poor thing he doesn't know how to behave properly". That's so crazy, I was piting a free soul while I had my hands handcuffed because I truly believed the bullshit they put into my mind.

Now, imagine how did Horde Prime's clones feel about Catra and Glimmer.

They can dress as they please. Eat non amniotic fluid. Catra can even go wherever she wants.

To me, they didn't feel envious. As they should! That's how far an indoctrination can go.

Take Yudi interaction with Catra, he believes everything he is saying.

But I think deep down he knows, they all know, the truth, juding by his bitter reaction after being possesed. He knows he is the slave here, not the free man. But he wants to believe the other way round.

I think that yes, of course Prime kept Glimmer and Catra (and Hordak) because he needed them to conquer Etheria. But that is also a good way to show to the poor clones of how lost people far away from Prime's light can be. Slaves of their bodly needs and slaves of their individuality.

4) Sexual abuse

Do I need to explain this? Plus all those sick touches Prime gives not only to Hordak, but to Glimmer, Catra and Adora as well?

I don't know much about other countries, again, but here the Church is a real cancer. If a priest gets accoused of raping children he just gets put into another Church far away, and generally he keeps being a pedo even there and the game goes on.

I wouldn't exately say that Prime is a pedophile but clones are pretty innocent and neotenic to me so...idk.

Of course, Prime is his own state and his own rules, so yh. Raping all day. That's why I don't like to ship him with anything rather than a 100 m fall. Not even with his clones, sorry I know its kinky maybe but he is a monster.

Also, the way the clones feel like...honored to be raped. That's so sad. Maybe he convinced them this is the only right way they could experience sex and intimacy. I really don't know.

One thing I'm sure of is that Christian religion likes to often put shame on some "impure" acts. That's the name. The most impure of all is masturbation. If you are a male ...mmm well it's okay dear, it's not your fault you are male and so a sex starved animal. But if you are a girl? Ihhh oh dare you bitch.

Mind you, I fall in the ace spectrum but I did too have puberty and needs, and these thoughts in my head made me only conflicted.

Last thing. More of an asking. And more irriverent, so please stay away if you don't want to read.

So basically I understood I was atheist at 5 yo, just because I read two different versions of the birth of the Universe, one in my science book and one in my Bible (MY Bible, I still have it, was a gift of my aunt) and preferred the science version. I still felt conflicted, like once during a religion lesson at School (well...I don't blame Mussolini much in this case, I mean the Vatican wasn't still recognizing country indipendence and we needed a compromise) the teacher told me to stop drawing dinosaurs with Adam and Eve because they never existed. I mean...yes that's anachronistic but still I felt very sad, dinosaurs were cooler than that story. I remember I even made an experiment "if I say I don't believe in god will I get thunderstruck?". It didn't happen so I was like "oh cool, science wins". But then CATECHISM ecc ecc. The fun fact is that they think atheists are those who don't study religion, while I was the most zelous of the class.

So.

I just wonder...my baby boy Hordak is a man of science, what were his thoughts after his separation from Prime. I mean of course he still believed, but also not as much after some time. Entrapta is a support system for him of course, but he accepts her affection quite easily on canon. Which is amazing, still... maybe he was already doubting his devotion?

#Horde prime #horde clones #spacebats #Hordak #Yudi #atheism

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kaikaikitanmp3 · 3 years ago

Note

Excuse me while I toss a bunch of questions at you. I am all here for the rants.

How would you end BSD?

Would you change the ending of Death Note?

Unpopular opinion about Alois Trancy?

Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

hey bestie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

how dare you apologize for that >:( you know you’re my favourite ranter too!!

How would you end BSD?

lmao no idea. at this point it’s really hard to tell who’s gonna die and who’s not, i think the only person i know for sure will stay alive no matter what is atsushi (wack). i’d like to see fyozai ending each other though, it would be one of the most epic things ever, idk, i would not be at peace if one of them stays alive while the other has to perish. i also don’t quite see them both well and alive at the end of the whole thing. i’d like to see fukuchi destroyed, i want to see fedya laughing at his face and telling him he’s been used like any other person, it would satisfying yea. you know, it’s really hard to try and think “in-canon”, because my thoughts are clearly kind of different from asagiri’s, but yeah. imagine fyozai world domination though:):))):)))))):):)) jk jk (no)

idk i think we’ve talked about fyodor maybe not quite becoming a good man (god forbid) but perhaps landing a helping hand and getting to assist the ada buuut… i can’t say i imagine anyone or anything worse than him haha so idk what they would all fight against, unless it’s like…the apocalypse or something, with mighty gods and apostles involved, but i don’t think it would be quite in genre anyway. so yes, him and dazai destroying each other so the ada, the pm and the rest stay safe and stuff. being a martyr and being suicidal is the same thing, from one point of view, in the end. oh idk why but i really would like to see sigma finding his own purpose in life, i feel so bad for him. actually, no, i want everyone to be happy and safe and in therapy, but no, that would be quite an abominable decision. all that for a happy ending?? no, thank you. i would like to experience a lot of deaths and sacrifices. i think Q will die btw. i’m gonna cry like a baby, but that kid…and i mean it sincerely, but that kid gives off the strongest suicidal vibe, seriously. love them always forever.

oh well, what a mess of an answer. anyway, i don’t think i can answer that properly, i’m very biased bc i’ve read a shit ton of fanfics that were masterpieces, but i think youll understand me anyways. and how would you?? thoughts?? opinions??? please?????

Would you change the ending of Death Note?

no, never. i mean i hate light and i’m glad he’s dead, why would i. L’s death?? heartbreaking, but…no, let’s be real, it was good. it was excellent. it left light lost, confused and lonely, so fuck that little bitch and fuck his god complex.

i feel very sorry for misa, i don’t know if i would change the way she had to end, but that makes a lot of sense, too. no rem, no light, nothing but her shinigami eyes and most horrible memories. maybe it was for the best too, i wouldn’t want her to suffer any more than she already did.

god i WANT to say i’d change mello’s death, but it was top tier writing, too. a stupid death for a stupidly gorgeous boy, and in the end, it all went just like L had wanted: on their own, neither near nor mello couldve defeated light, but together…they could. and they did. mello knew exactly what was doing and what he signed up for, he knew he’d have to go after leaving takada like that, let’s not forget that he was one of the smartest people ever, just like L and near, and knowing this all…brings me peace, yea.

i have a lot of feelings towards ryuk too, i mean, if you look at that, he’s always been an outcast in the world of shinigamis, and the way he sat the after light’s death……he looked quite sad haha. now i’m not saying that he was attached to light, i don’t think light would be capable of awaking anything like that in someone like ryuk, he was not that kind of a person, not like misa; but i’d like to maybe see ryuk finding someone else to watch and to be amused by, he was quite lovable as a character. and to be compleeetely honest with you, i’ve alwYs been wondering about the whole shinigami situation in general, i mean yeah, they’re gods of death, but they looked quite pathetic in their realm. i wouldn’t be opposed to seeing how their story would progress, i remember thinking about it after my first death note rewatch… idk

would you??

Unpopular opinion about Alois Trancy?

alois📣did📣nothing📣wrong

my little meow meow🥺🥺

idk maybe he wasn’t one of the best written characters in the show, but he sure was one of the most interesting ones. you know how fascinated i am by him, you do. he didn’t deserve all that, fuck claude and his fake ass, hope he, uh…burns in hell?? for eternity?? idk i just hope he suffers a lot wherever he is

Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

no, never. it would be a nice experience, but so far it’s been the other way around, there were so many ships i didn’t mind or kind of enjoyed before they got spoiled for me by, ah…unpleasant ppl

although… a few times i found myself starting to like a ship i used to be indifferent/didn’t know about after learning that ppl i didn’t like hated it. the enemy of my enemy, as they say..

#bug love of mine

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peonybane · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond the Veil: Part 1

Pairing: Choi Youngjae (GOT7) x Psychopomp!Reader

Word Count: 8.3 k

Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Angst, Psychopomp AU, Doctor AU

Warnings: Mentions and depictions of death (I don’t know how to word this as… this is a story about a Grim Reaper), Pining (so much pining)

Summary: Life is a gift. Every Spirit of Death knew this. They weren’t allowed to touch Life — weren’t allowed to experience it. Every once in a while they can, the unspoken rule being that Death can only fall in love once with Life. And never again.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for your patience with me on this. Especially since this was suppose to be a one-shot and I’ve learn my lesson that it is not. Thank you to the platonic love of my life, @ropeseok for putting up with me through this whole process.

If you’d like to notified/tagged when PART 2 comes out, please reblog this part!

White. Sterile. The overwhelming use of anti-septic burned your nose slightly. A hospital. Here you were again. You practically lived here. Though, you supposed there was worse places you could end up as a Spirit of Death. You could’ve ended up like some of your brethren, always seeming to be summoned to battlefields. Or worse….

You shook the thought from your head. No, things could be far worse. Besides, Death was inevitable. No one could run from it. No one could fight it… not really. It was just a matter of how each soul would meet their escort.

You wandered the halls, the humans not noticing you at all. Looking down, you watched as the threads of your dress — thin, wispy grey tendrils, really — swayed and snaked around you, eventually fading away into nothing as they connected to the souls that you’d eventually escort, all varying shades of grey. One of the threads pulsed and darkened — this was the reason why you were here today — you were here to escort a soul.

Wandering around the hospital, you kept an eye on the thread — you had some time before you had to collect the soul. No need to rush being a voyeur to pain and grief.

Instead, you wandered over to the ward that was your secret pleasure: the maternity ward.

Babies were… fascinating to you. After all, most of those you interacted with were the aged and sick. You dealt with the inevitable. But birth… birth was practically magic to you. Despite the tales told by humans, your kind was not omnipotent — you just knew a few more certainties than humans did. But birth… was the greatest mystery of all….

It was the greatest forbidden fruit.

But more than just the babies, you came to this ward for a particular reason: Dr. Choi.

You nearly missed him — his back facing towards you, the white lab coat obstructing his figure before he turned at the last moment. He was excusing himself from a patient’s room, just down the hall from you. You probably would have missed him entirely if it wasn’t for his laugh. The place where you should’ve had a heart gave a small pitter patter when you saw him. He was… so full of life. The dedication he had for his patients. His zest for life. His laugh. He fascinated you in ways you never knew was possible.

He still made you feel the way you had the first time you saw him.

You got lost, actually, ending up in the wrong operating room. As an OB/GYN surgeon, he was skilled as he performed a c-section. What fascinated you was that as he was performing the operation, he kept speaking to the mother, reassuring her of how well she was doing. Even cracking a joke or two when he realized she was starting to freak out.

You were so distracted in that moment, you almost missed getting the soul you needed to retrieve, lest their soul wander free and reek havoc, haunting the world as they looked for their bodies or searched for the Forest.

Dr. Choi (you’d yet to hear his first name, you didn’t want to, you didn’t want to get too attached) adjusted his sterile blue scrubs before he made his way towards his office. You were tempted to follow him, just to watch him from afar… just like you always had.

��If you stare at him any harder, you’re going to set him on fire.”

You jumped at the sound of Jaebeom’s voice. “Dammit, Jaebeom! Don’t do that.”

You turned around, staring up into the dark eyes of Jaebeom, a named Spirit of Death — your brother in some sense. His shaggy, long black hair was pulled away from his face, showing off his piecing dark eyes. He smirked down at you, his stance utterly relaxed under his own Death Shroud, a duster jacket. On his shoulders, his Bombay feline familiar, Haneul, laid across his broad shoulders, her sleek, black fur almost disappearing under the blanket of Jaebeom’s own hair, her bright yellow eyes staring at you sleepily.

“Long time no see, little Morana.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You hated it when he called you that. Though to be fair… you didn’t have a name. None of the Spirits of Death did; instead — they’d take on a title of sorts, using names the humans made up if need be. The only way to have a Name, one that no one could take or abuse, was to live a Life.

A Life which Jaebeom lived to the fullest.

“It’s good to see you, Jaebeom.” You looked around. “Where’s the kittens?”

Jaebeom laughed. He reached into the deep pockets of his jacket and with withdrew his two other familiars, Yugyeom and Kunpimook. The older of the two, Kunpimook was lovingly called BamBam for all the trouble he caused as a lanky, white haired, green-eyed Oriental Shorthair. Yugyeom was a giant, blue eyed, fluffy, grey Maine Coon. Both of them looked at you, almost angrily, having their naps disturbed.

You smiled as Jaebeom passed off Yugyeom to you, the big boy immediately purring into your arms. Jaebeom smiled as he cuddled BamBam in his own arms. “He missed you.”

You smiled a little. You couldn’t hear Jaebeom’s familiars. Only he could. His mind was connected to theirs, their bond cemented when the foursome was human.

“I can tell.”

Everything was silent for a moment. Even the sound of nurses wandering around the ward seemed to have quieted down for a moment. You hadn’t seen Jaebeom for a while. Not since he came back from living amongst humans. You, Jaebeom, and Haneul were inseparable for the first few years after Haneul died, helping Jaebeom return to his previous duties as a Spirit of Death.

“What are you doing here, Jaebeom?”

Jaebeom practically bristled. Well, Haneul did anyways. “It’s your 1,500th year, right?”

You sighed. Of course. That was why he was here.

Yugyeom nuzzled further into your touch, smushing his face into the crook of your arm. Jaebeom continued. “I just... I heard that you were thinking about not accepting Hermes’ gift for once. You’ve always accept his gift before. Do — Do you want to talk about it?”

Sighing, you looked away from Jaebeom, no longer able to meet his gaze. He leaned down to be eye level with you. Haneul pushed off his broad shoulder a little to head butt you to get your attention. “Do you want to talk about him?”

You scoffed. “I’m not in love.”

“Could have fooled me. Besides, I never mentioned anything about love.”

Biting your lower lip, you asked, “Am I actually in love with him? Or do I just want what you have and see him as a means to an end? Either way — I shouldn’t tempt Fate.”

He was silent as he thought about it. “Only you can answer that. But I would give him a chance, either way. I wasn’t sure if I was truly in love with Haneul. But I trusted my instincts. How could I not take a chance when I couldn’t take my eyes off her? How could I not want her with me forever from the moment her gaze fell upon me? Not through me.”

His voice grew softer as he continued. “Our existence is a lonely one. Do you know why Hermes lets us live as humans for just one day every 500 years? Or why we’re allowed to live amongst them for a single lifetime?”

Swallowing, you shook your head. In comparisons to Jaebeom, you were practically a baby. Hermes was distant. He didn’t interact with his… children too much anymore.

Jaebeom stroked your hair, his gaze growing soft and tender. “Because he wants his children to have what he never could: to experience Life. To find companionship. There are nearly a million of us. But each of us is alone; our existence just an inevitable truth. A kindness. A tragic truth. We are alone, even when we’re together. But a lifetime with humans — the memories are fulfilling. We can fall in love —“

Haneul nuzzled Jaebeom, purring. In Life, they were married. For a moment, you wondered if their souls (or at least whatever your kind had) were entwined from the beginning of time. “— We can have a family.”

His gaze fell to the cats happily snoozing in both of your arms. In Life, they were Jaebeom and Haneul’s adopted sons, Jaebeom never being able to father any.

“Please… talk to me. Out of all our nameless brothers and sisters, I worry about you the most.”

Sniffling, you wiped the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, nearly dropping Yugyeom in the process. “I — I don’t want to condemn him. Like you said, our existence is a lonely one. And — And he’s just so full of Life. How could I surround him by death? Human always see us as a horribly dark thing.”

Jaebeom kissed your forehead. “Don’t make that decision for him. Let him choose.”

You opened your mouth to reply, to argue, then you felt the pull.

It was time.

It was time to collect the soul.

As if sensing it, Jaebeom took Yugyeom from your arms again, cradling the two overgrown kittens like babies. Your dress slowly started to change. From the simple dress, your Death Shroud changed into that of a military uniform, the grey threads unweaved themselves then reweaved, forming the new garment as it paled, turning white. Like it always did when it was time to guide a soul.

You no longer felt your body change — you had long since lost interest in the change. Your form changed to whatever the soul needed from you to find comfort. Sometimes it was just your face. Other times you might physically regress back to the form of a child, making the tragic loss a little less painful. At times, you might have ‘aged,’ providing comfort in being a quiet companion in their final stroll. And on rare occasions, your sex would change — a moment of familiarity or perhaps even safety, a small reassurance that everything would be ok — that you were nothing like the monsters they were finally escaping.

Glancing up, or rather, to, Jaebeom, your gaze no longer turned upward to meet his piercing eyes. Ah, probably meant you either resembled someone much taller than you’d normally stand, or your apparent sex had changed.

Looking you over, Jaebeom gave you a solemn nod. “Whatever you choose, little one….”

“I know,” sounding the same to your own ears, but probably vastly different to Jaebeom’s as his eyes widened slightly.

You gave him a casual salute before walking off in the direction of the soul you needed to collect. Glancing around, you tried to catch another glimpse of Dr. Choi. But he was nowhere to be seen. You let out a small sigh, disappointed before you headed towards the intensive care ward.

You phased through various walls until you found yourself in the right place. You could practically smell his soul becoming weaker and weaker. Your gaze following the thread that led from your Shroud, the thread this time at your left wrist, to his right hand, having wrapped around it along his life line.

There, in a hospital bed, laid an old man on a ventilator, his wife sitting next to him, her hand clutching his. His heartbeat grew slower, his eyes glassy. Slowly, you joined the two of them as you stood to the opposite side of the bed of his wife. He let out an exhale as his eyes focused in on you, finally seeing you.

It was time.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his forehead. He took his last breath, his eyes falling closed. The heart rate monitor flat lined; his wife began to sob.

As you pulled away, you grasped his now lifeless hands, gently coaxing his soul from his body. Standing before you was not the withered, old man that laid in the bed. No, instead, it was a man in his prime, adorned in a perfectly maintained uniform and various medals on his chest.

You smiled at him. “On your feet, Captain. It’s time for your next mission.”

He looked around, dazed. He seemed solid enough. At least until he reached out to touch his wife, his hand going right through her. Staring at his hand, he asking you, shakily, “Am I dead?”

Gently, you replied, “Yes,” taking his hands in yours.

His eyes grew large. You squeezed his hands, trying to help him keep calm. “What… What about my wife?”

You glanced over to the woman, still weeping for the loss of her husband as a nurse entered the room. You were not her guide. You didn’t know when exactly when she’d die. But you could tell… she had a few years left in her.

“Do you have children? Grandchildren?”

He nodded. “Three daughters. Four grandbabies with two more on the way.”

You smiled at him. “She’ll be ok. As long as she has them, the rest of her life will be good. Even as she misses you. But you’ll be together soon. You just have to wait for her on the other side.”

He nodded again, slowly. He let go of your hands, turning back towards his wife. He leaned over and did the best he could, kissing her forehead. He whispered, “I love you, yeobo. I’ll wait for you.”

Turning back towards you, stood at attention, saluting you. In turn, you returned the gesture. “Shall we go, Captain?”

“Yes.”

You nodded. At your hip, you reached for your Sickle. Instead of the small, practical instrument that usually hung at your hip, it too had transformed to accompany your Shroud. At your hip was a ceremonial saber. How appropriate, you couldn’t help but think.

Unsheathing it, you admired its elegance. A small part of you wished your Sickle could have been a sword or a saber. Perhaps then humans wouldn’t fear a monstrosity of a sickle, fearful of it taking their souls by force. Taking a deep breath (despite not really needing one) you swung it in front of you, it’s blade cutting through space and time, opening a hole to the Forest.

The portal expanded, the edges shimmering as you sheathed the saber once more. You held your hand out again for him. “Come.”

As he took your hand, almost hesitantly, you led him through.

The Forest. Or, at least, that’s what you called it. Like everything else, it was nameless. But it had to be called something. Some called it Eden. Shangri-La. Arcadia. Xanadu. Yomi. Purgatory.

So many different names… and yet none of them quite correct. Perhaps the closest was Axis Mundi— where Life and the Afterlife met.

Your charge looked around the Forest in wonder as you closed the portal. You were surrounded by giant trees — trees that were sturdy even before Hermes began his sacred duty. In their bark was inscribed with uncountable names, each one belonging to a single soul that’s passed over. Their large leaves overhead provided ample shade, creating the illusion that there was a blue sky and shining sun above you. But there was nothing. It was just an endless void up there.

But that didn’t matter.

Not with the thousands of flowers blooming at your feet and the countless tendrils of ivy and moss dancing across the multitude of trees. Between the trees, you’d sometimes catch glimpses of other psychpomps out of the corner of your eye, finding themselves in comfortable silence with their familiars — whether as beasts or as humans. Wind rustled the leaves above, creating a sweet, comforting melody as it engulfed you in the familiar, loving smell of the flowers that were in eternal bloom. But there was no chattering of squirrels or the jubilant song of a bird, just the sound of leaves rustling and the bubbling of the creek up ahead.

No.

This was no place for them. This was no place for the living — no matter their form.

Your charge turned back to you. “Is — Is this Heaven?”

Smiling, you shook your head. So, he was the hopeful type. “No. This is only the threshold between your Life and what comes after this. Come.”

He followed behind you as you led the way down a very well worn path, the grass and flowers long gone. Even the top soil had been eroded away, leaving an almost polished alabaster stone path exposed. You led him down the path towards a creek, a bridge, born from the over grown roots of many trees, running over it.

“What… What is this?”

“Like this Forest and me, it has no name. But, I suppose humans would think of it as something like the River Styx. It’s a threshold into the Afterlife.”

His voice was strained as he looked between you and the bridge. “What — What comes next?”

You sighed, gazing at him in sympathy. You hated this question. “I don’t know.”

His anger fueled gazed turned its wrath upon you as he cried, “What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I’m a Spirit of Death. I am bound forever to this plane, this side of the threshold between Life and what comes next. I cannot ever know what is beyond this point. But, I can tell you that you will not cease to exist. There is something after this. I just don’t know what it is.”

He seemed to have calmed down a bit. “Can I wait for my wife?”

You shook your head. “If you wait here, your soul will become restless. You’ll forget who you are. You’ll wreak havoc not only here, but also in the human world. You’ll be condemned to wander for eternity until one of my kind must Reap your soul.”

He glanced at the saber at your hip, understanding your meaning. “And your wife will not have you with her.”

He swallowed, absorbing what you’re saying. “So… do I just crossover? And that’s it?”

You smiled at him, nodding. “Yes. I’ve heard that supposedly, someone will be on the other side of the creek to greet you.”

He saluted you, one final time before he headed for the bridge. You stood there, watching him as he found his footing on the bridge. Your Shroud and Sickle slowly returned to their natural form, your body shifting as well back to its natural state.

As he walked further and further away, he began to glow, his luminosity increasing, a light that almost rivaled the sun until… he disappeared. The thread of your Shroud connecting you to him snapped, the sound as sudden and as loud as thunder. It took you awhile, but you at least no longer jumped at the sound.

Walking forward, you reached your hand out towards the bridge. You stopped just short of it, your hand shaking as you slowly tried to cross over that threshold, muscle memory reminding you that this wasn’t a good idea. And just as it had the few dozen thousand times before, the barrier zapped you, forcing you to retract your hand. You hissed, holding onto your slightly burnt fingertip as you glared at the barrier that now shimmered and rippled.

“I see you still haven’t learnt your lesson.”

You jumped, turning to face Hermes. He stood before you, intimidating and beautiful as always, this form suiting him well… even if the sight of him set you on edge.

Ebony skin glowed, a stark contrast to his billowy white cloak. His hood framed his lovely face as he looked down at you, almost making him appear angelic. And in a way, he was. At least in the sense that humans would think of him. It instead set you on edge when he changed his form to be… more ‘approachable.’ Like everything else here, he had no name — instead choosing to take on various mythical mantles: Hermes, Azrael, the Grim, Charon, Anubis, and so many others. You knew him as Hermes.

From his back emerged a pair of large, iridescent, black wings, the feathers fluttering with the wind. You couldn’t help but notice how a couple of the feathers were barely hanging on, signally that once they’d fall from his wings, new Spirits of Death would rise from them.

Bowing your head, you said, “No, Lord Hermes. But I want to answer their question. Almost all of them ask me the same thing over and over again.”

His deep voice rumbled, “And I wish I could give you that answer. But I cannot. I do not know what lies beyond the Veil. And we will never know.”

You nodded in understanding. The same answer… as always. He continued, “I heard that you do not want to accept my gift. Why is that?”

You cringed. You completely forgot about that. Silent, you hesitated to answer.

He sighed. “What are you afraid of? Is it answering the question of what comes next? Are you afraid of rejection? Are you afraid to Live?”

You shot him a glare. You hated this. Hated that he knew. Hated the fact that Hermes was connected to all of you, knowing your deepest, darkest secrets. All because he shed you as a Feather.

He smirked at you, crossing his arms across his chest. “Ah… I see. You’re afraid to Live.”

You hissed back, “I can’t live! I was never alive to begin with.”

“You are very much alive, my child. You just have to go and discover it.” He waved his hand, a gust of wind spiraled around you. Instinct took over, raising your arms to shield your face from the cyclone of wind and leaves. But still, you glared daggers at Hermes as he took away your choice once more.

Irony dripped from his lips as he muttered, “Happy Birthday.”

—~—~—~—

The sky was still dark in Seoul. The sun hasn’t risen yet. But you could see the sky taking on intense shades of blue and grey — the world quiet and still outside of the temple you found yourself in.

With a groan, you stood up from the cold wooden floor, goosebumps rising on your skin uncontrollably. You shivered. At least when you weren’t masquerading as human temperature never bothered you.

“Ahh. I thought her vision didn’t sound quite right. I’ll go get you a different set of clothes.”

Turning around, you came face to face with the caretaker of the temple, a young priest. Slightly bowed, his obsidian black hair barely hid the darting of his eyes, looking everywhere but you. He was dressed in a simple, traditional hanbok as he stood there, a pile of red clothes in his arms.

Ahh…. A seer must have mistaken you for some other kind of spirit. Some sort of Pyro or Asmod if the colors and style were anything to go by.

The priest continued to look everywhere but you. You tilted your head in curiosity before you remembered — oh, humans and their modesty. Glancing down at yourself, you noted breasts and the small patch of hair upon your mons pubis. Oh, good. At least this time you’re in your preferred form it seems.

Clearing your throat, you said, “Thank you, Priest — ?”

“Jinyoung. Park Jinyoung.”

You smiled at him, covering up yourself as much as possible, for his sake. You didn’t particularly care. “Thank you, Jinyoung-ie. And yes,” You glanced at the clothes he held tightly in his hands. “I would like a different set of clothes.”

He gave you a curt nod before scurrying off to get you something more appropriate.

You sighed.

24 hours. 24 hours of being human. The last time you were human… you were in Venice. Boy was that an interesting time with the Renaissance and all. Had… had it really been that long?

There was a knock on the door. This time it was a girl’s voice. “Grim? I’ve brought you your clothes. I’d also like to apologize for the mistake in my vision.”

Grim. Out of all the things humans called your kind… it wasn’t the kindest… nor the most horrendous.

“Come in.”

The door opened and a girl entered, her gaze was to the ground as she held a bundle of light grey clothing. She looked young, perhaps no older than 20. Certainly not of the age to know exactly what she was seeing in her visions. She had no control of what she’d see. She would probably just be finishing learning how to identify various demons and spirits from her visions if you had to take a guess.

She knelt before you, laying the clothes on the ground before bowing. “My name is Chaewon. I��d like to apologize, Grim. It was my mistake that my brother brought you the wrong type of clothes.”

You picked up the bundle of clothing, starting to dress yourself. “There’s no need to apologize. You’re the youngest seer I’ve seen in a very long time. I’m curious though, what did you see?”

Chaewon looked down, her face flushed and she turned red all the way to her ears. Oh?

Her voice shook. “I... I saw a man. He was naked. His face covered in shadows. And he made,” she paused, turning even redder before she continued, “a noise. A very… happy noise.”

“Oh.”

You felt your own face heat.

You may have lived for well over a millennia, but you still had some sense of shame. Or at least hers made you hyperaware of your own. As you finished dressing, you replied, “In that case, I don’t blame you for thinking I was an Asmod. A vision like that… I don’t know if I would have chosen any differently.”

“But I should’ve —“

“How old are you?”

You knelt down in front of her, your simple cotton dress pooling slightly around you as you knelt to get down on Chaewon’s level. She finally looked you in the eye. A small thrill went through you — the Living never looked you in the eye.

“Seventeen.”

Just as you thought. “You’re young. Younger than I would have expected. Despite your age, you interpreted what you saw well. If you saw sex, anyone would assume that it were an Asmod or some other daemon.”

She did not look reassured. You continued. “Do you what my kind typical do on our one day amongst the Living?”

She quickly shook her head. You smirked a little.

“We wander. The one day we’re allowed to interact with the Living, we tend to do what we did before: observe. Perhaps, we’d join in on festivities. Perhaps, we spend the day at a park, watching children play. Perhaps, we play with them. But sex? Sex is not something we are particularly interested in. You interpreted correctly.”

She didn’t say anything, but you knew she understood — that she didn’t make a real mistake. She interpreted what she saw correctly. But what she saw… concerned you. Why? Why you would you have… sex? It was such a… human activity. Your kind, especially those who had yet to live a Lifetime, didn’t understand it. It wasn’t like you could reproduce, so it never really made sense to you.

Your quiet moment was broken by Jinyoung clearing his throat. You looked up at him, he had changed into ordinary clothes. “Grim? Please let me know where’d you like me to take you. I’ll take you anywhere in the city.”

Standing up, you nodded. “Thank you, Priest. Lead the way.”

You made your way past Chaewon, following the young priest down the hall. He brought you to an entryway, several cubicles lined up with shoes. He indicated for you to take a pair. As you sat down to slip on a pair of black, flat ankle boots, he rejoined you. When did he disappear?

In his hand, he held a bag. “These are for you, Grim. Inside you’ll find money and other amenities you’ll need.”

You took the bag from him, looking at the contents. “I’m surprised you’re able to give me this much. Especially since I’ll only be here a day.”

He shook his head. “The Guardian Spirit of this temple makes sure that when you return to the Veil, the things we gave you find their way back here in due time. There is no need to worry.”

Smiling, you nodded. You stood up, ready to follow him. Nodding, he lead you out to a car. It wasn’t the fanciest car in the world, certainly not one of those sports cars you never bothered learning about. But it looked well taken care of.

Jinyoung opened the passenger side door for you. You nodded to him in thanks as you slipped inside. After shutting your door, he quickly made his way to the driver’s side.

After a brief explanation on how and why you should be wearing a seatbelt (How were you suppose to know that, at the very least, you could get him in trouble if you didn’t wear one?), he drove you out of the temple.

“Where would you like me to take you?”

Biting your lip, you hesitated to answer. Did you want to see him? Or did you want to avoid him completely. Before you could completely think it through, you found yourself replying, “Jung-gu. Near the hospital.”

He made a small noise of confirmation, taking you towards the district.

—~—~—~—

The drive was longer than you had expected. Who knew Seoul traffic was so congested?

Glancing out the window, you caught a glimpse of yourself for the first time, nearly jumping out of your skin. Normally, you had no reflection. The rare times you’d ever see your own reflection would be if you caught a glimpse of it mirroring you in the creek back in the Forest. Staring at yourself in the passenger side mirror, you couldn’t help but touch your face, brow knit together in concentration.

“So it’s true then.”

The sound of Jinyoung’s voice made you jump. Phoenix farts, why were you so jumpy lately? Turning to him, you noted the smirk on his lips and figured that behind those sunglasses his eyes were full of mirth.

“Is what true?”

“That you don’t see your reflections.”

You swallowed. “Rarely. Very rarely. Even when we do… they’re not quite as… solid as they when we’re occasionally human.”

He made a small noise of understanding, turning his full attention back on the road. Outside of the car, for a brief moment, between the shadows of buildings, you caught a glimpse of the hospital. It was an unusual feeling, but your heart thundered in your chest. You couldn’t tell if you were excited or scared. A part of you wanted to beg Jinyoung to take you somewhere else in the city. Anywhere. But another part of you, the stronger part, wanted to be there, to be near him.

All too soon, Jinyoung pulled into a parking space. You struggled for a moment, thinking that just tugging on the seatbelt would set you free before putting two and two together that there was a button. Heat flared up in your cheeks out of embarrassment — such an unusual feeling, not one that you’re sure you’ll ever get used to, you don’t think. Stepping out of the car, you politely bowed, ready to walk away from Jinyoung.

It’s a shame really… even as a human you would have been able to see the thread wrapped around his hand, following the pattern of his life line if he was a soul you were to collect. You would have liked to speak to him once again.

“Saja-nim!”

You paused. There was one you hadn’t heard in a while. A rather polite one at that. “Yes, Priest?”

His gaze was almost painful as he looked you in the eye. It was unnerving really — having someone looking directly at you like this. With utter certainty, as if he just knew, he cryptically said, “I look forward to speaking with you again.”

Before you could inquire further as to exactly what he meant, he reached across the passenger and pulled the car door shut and practically shot out of the parking space like a bat out of hell. What a weird priest.

Stepping away from the street, you took in your surroundings. The sun was out, filtering through the buildings of Seoul, this part of the city still relatively quiet though, still just early enough for most people to have not quite left home for work. It was peaceful. It was Life. And you could close your eyes, take a deep breath, and take it all in — truly take it in.

A piercing cry of “COCO-YAH!!!” broke your peace and quiet.

Turning towards the voice, you lost your footing as small white ball of fuzz on four legs bolted towards you, or rather, attempting to bolt past you. Attempting was the operative word. As you teetered backwards, sort of regaining your footing, the almost panicked ringing of a bicycle bell was the only warning you got before making eye contact with a startled bicyclist.

If you weren’t fighting instinct, perhaps you would have moved. But time and time against, you never had to worry about moving — danger would just move right through you.

But not now.

No, your brain had shut down in shock. Of course you would get hurt the one day you were human.

Before the cyclist could collide with you, you were harshly pulled out of his way. Instead of someone colliding into you… you were the one doing the colliding.

Foot catching on uneven cobblestone, your center of mass shifted, your body landing against a very warm, soft, yet very solid body, nearly taking him to the ground.

A sweet voice, one that sent shivers down you spine — one that you almost dreadfully recognized — asked, “Are you ok?”

Hesitantly, you looked up, holding your breath, trying to imprint this memory of his warm hold on you forever into your skin. When yours eyes met… you finally understood what Jaebeom was talking about.

You were absolutely and utterly fucked.

It was the moon-like face you’d seen from a distance more times than you could count. Except unlike the moon, he was close enough to worship with your lips if you tried. From afar you had always thought he was handsome, but up close, he was deadly — the combination of soft and sharp features were too tempting and dangerous.

Your eyes flicked for a moment to his lips, his breath faltering for a moment across your face before you dared to finally look him in the eye.

Definitely fucked. Hopeless fucked, really.

His eyes were gentle, in spite of their sharp, intense shape. So curious. So full of concern. And there was something else. You had seen it before, though you couldn’t place it where. All you knew was that you could get lost in those eyes… and happily so.

The spell was broken as his large wire-framed round glasses slowly slipped down the bridge of his nose. You pulled away from his hold, regaining your footing as you cleared your throat, hoping to buy another moment to clear your mind. Get a hold of yourself, you said you wouldn’t get involved with him. But, oh, the thought was so very tempting.

Your voice cracked. “Ye — Yes. Thank you for catching me.”

He nodded, wiping his hands on his pants, almost unsure of himself. At your feet, a couple of small barks got your attention. The little white dog from earlier was at your feet, barking, her little tail wagging as she gazed up at Dr. Choi.

Dr. Choi exclaimed, “COCO-YAH!!!!!” as he picked up the little, almost contrary, cotton ball.

Lifting her up to eye level, he asked, “Yah! What was that for? I lose my grip on your leash for a moment to grab the mail and you just bolt? No! Don’t you try that sweet act on me, you spoilt, little princess.”

He sighed in defeat as she wagged her tail, tongue flicking out to lick his nose, his face scrunching up cutely in response. You couldn’t help but laugh as he brought her in close, coddling her even as he continued to look exasperatedly annoyed.

He turned his gaze back on you, his eyes soft as he took a moment to wet his lips. He held his hand out to you. “I’m Choi Youngjae. And this little, fluffy, white hell spawn is Coco.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

This was the last thing you needed. You swallowed, a poor attempt at controlling your breathing. You placed your hand in his.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

There was a pause for a moment before Youngjae — no — Dr. Choi (he had to stay as Dr. Choi), smiled gently at you. Bending at the hips, he lowered himself just enough so he could tilt his gaze up to look up at you, a small smile on his lips as he cutely asked, “And what is your name?”

The usual spike of anxiety that would come with this question never came. Instead, automatically, almost as if you had answer this questions hundreds of time like a human, you gave him a name.

Not Morana. Nor Saja. But an actual name. It was… your name.

He repeated it quietly to himself. It struck you like lightning. This must be the feeling Jaebeom told you about so many times but never understood.

For a moment it was silent between the two of you. You wanted this feeling to last, whatever it was. You had never known such an inner warmth. What you wouldn’t give to have him whisper your name once more.

Of course, Coco had to ruin the moment, having had enough. She started wriggling around in his hold, desperately wanting to be free to reek havoc like she had before. Dr. Choi sighed, bending down further to place her back on the ground. A firm hold on the leash this time.

As he straightened up, he looked at you shyly from behind his glasses. “So, umm, where are you from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before?”

You swallowed. Never in a million years would you have thought you’d have to answer such a simple question.

You blurted out, “Visting! Umm, just for the day.”

“Well, umm, I guess I should let you get back to it then. I’m sure you must have plans.”

He went to turn, his shoulders slumping. “No!”

Dr. Choi turned back to you, eyes wide and eyebrow raised at your outburst. More calming you repeated, “No. Umm, actually, I don’t have plans. Despite wanting to come here for a while now….” You laughed out your response, “I have no idea what I’m going to do now that I’m here.”

A moment of clarity graced his features before the brightest smile you had ever seen revealed itself.

“In that case, how would you like a local to show you around?”

A smile found its way onto your lips. “I’d like that very much.”

He offered you his hand. You hesitated, glancing between the soft and dexterous hand and his hopeful face. “I know a great dog friendly cafe near by if you’d like to join me.”

You found yourself squeaking out a reply, barely above a whisper, “I’d love to.”

You placed your hand in his and for a moment, you swore sparks flew. His palm was warm, a stark contrast to your own chilly one. Dr. Choi gave a small laugh. You glanced up to him, brows knit. He licked his lips almost nervously before he shyly replied, “It’s just something my mother used to tell me: the kindest, most caring people are so worried about everyone else that they don’t even notice when their hands are cold.”

For some reason… him just saying that… it created a pressure in your chest, an almost overwhelming feeling, as if you were a pitcher ready to overflow with emotion. It was… it was gentlest thing anyone had ever said to you.

You felt the tears threatening to overflow, but you kept them hidden. After all, why would anyone cry at that?

All you could do was purse your lips as you look down at the ground, half-heartedly nodding your head, hoping that it was enough to hide the emotion threaten to escape. If Dr. Choi noticed, he didn’t say anything. He simply made a hum of acknowledgement, squeezing your hand before gently tugging you to an unspecified direction.

Little Coco couldn’t seem to make up her mind on whether or not she wanted to be carried or to lead the charge. Either way, Youngj — Dr. Choi — seemed to give in to her each time, never letting go of your hand no matter what. Coco was in his arms when she realized where we were and she started swimming frantically in the air, barking excitedly.

You couldn’t help but giggle as Dr. Choi sighed in defeat, setting the little hellion on the ground as she tried to mush her way through the people trying to go about their lives as she focused in on one target: MeongMeong Cafe.

The little cafe was on the ground floor, almost tucked away between the buildings, the light pastels and sepia tones a strong contrast to the grey buildings around it. The sun rise hadn’t quite yet turned this part of the city golden, the tones still a cool blue, just waiting to be woken by the spell of the sun. But that little cafe, with its little picket fence surrounding a small area of grass and it’s sepia shingles waiting for the sun to bring them to life, was already bustling to life inside. The cafe owner you presumed, was running about inside, setting up tables for the day and placing bread in the display cases.

As you approached the cafe, through the window, you saw the cafe owner look up, a look of surprise graced his features before a gummy smile took over as he opened the front door to the three of you. “Youngjae-yah!! Coco-ssi!! Welcome back!”

Dr. Choi returned the warm greeting, letting go of hand for a moment to wave at him, leaving your hand almost unbearably cold. “Hello, Mark-hyung! How’s it’s going?”

Coco’s barks suddenly came more rapidly as she pulled Dr. Choi after her even harder as a small (but most definitely larger than Coco), white poodle looked around the corner of the door. The shop owner, Mark, muttered something as he looked down at the dog at his feet, prompting the dog to sit down at him feet, its little paws tapping in excitement as it sat there.

Mark shook his head with an exasperated sigh, smiling slightly as Coco continued to lead the charge towards the cafe. “You know how it is, Youngjae-yah. But that’s besides the point.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Who is this lovely lady?”

Your face flushed with heat and you couldn’t help but look down at your shoes. Youngjae — no, Dr. Choi — gently entangled his fingers within your own, giving your hand a very gentle squeeze in assurance. He introduced you to Mark. “She’s from out of town and I’m giving her the local’s tour of the city.”

Mark’s eyes crinkled in the corner as he shot you a smile. “Then welcome to MeongMeong Cafe.”

You muttered your thanks as Dr. Choi led you inside to a table in the corner.

Sitting down, you noted that the cafe was the same on the inside as it was on the outside with pastel and sepia colors furniture all over the place. Nothing was a matching set it seemed, almost like repurposed yard sale items, but all dog friendly. In the corner of the shop was a blackboard, the menu items scrawled across it in different colors with their prices trailing after it.

Mark wiped his hands on his apron before pulling out a notepad from his apron pocket, the poodle (while Dr. Choi affectionately greeted as ‘Mimi’) following him, seemingly waiting for a command. He shot Dr. Choi an almost pointed look. “The usual for you and the cottonball, I take it?”

Dr. Choi glanced sheepishly at you before turning his gaze back to Mark. “Yeah.”

Mark hummed his understanding and jotted it down then turned to you. “And for the lovely lady?”

Your insides clenched in anxiety? What did you want? You looked past the two of them at the chalkboard covered in what felt like hundreds of choices. Did you want something sweet? Savory? Salty? Sour? Did you like bitter? 500 years was a long time between meals.

Dr. Choi placed his hand over yours, grabbing your attention. “If you’re up for it, I suggest the mocha latte and the croissant of the day.”

Mark piped in, “Which is Eggs Benedict, by the way.”

You swallowed looking between the two of them. “Um, then I will go with that then.”

“Alright then. Come on, Milo.”

Mark smiled as he jotted down your orders on his little notepad before making his way back towards what you supposed was the kitchen, Milo hot on his heels. You turned your attention back to Dr. Choi and you found yourself shrinking in on yourself, blushing under the intensity of his gaze.

Is this what it was like to be human? Is this what Jaebeom felt like? To feel constantly overwhelmed?

“Since you mentioned that this was the first time in Seoul for you, where do you live?”

For a moment your reply caught in your throat. Nowhere, just a forest between life and death.

“Busan! Yes, it took quite a while to get here.”

Dr. Choi smiled. “Ahhh. An overnight train ride then. I love Busan: the architecture, the food!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. He leaned back in his chair as he hummed. “And the people, so it seems.”

You knew that wasn’t true, but nonetheless, heat rose to your cheeks like an inferno. Youngjae — no, stop it — Dr. Choi asked, “Tell me about what you do for a living?”

Yeah… ‘living.’ Laughable.

Chewing on your bottom lip for a moment, you thought on how to answer it. “I’m in the family business.”

Dr. Choi sat forward, interest piqued as Mark returned with two coffees on adorable little plates, decorated with watercolor paw prints. “What does your family do?”

Before you could think better on it, you spat out, “Funerary services: cremations, burials, wakes, and the likes.”

Mark… poor Mark paused, his expression unreadable before he quietly excused himself. Dr. Choi on the other hand surprised you; he laughed. You stared at him, jaw slack and brow knit.

“I’m sorry…. I shouldn’t have laughed. I found it ironic. You give souls their final farewells while I welcome them into the world.”

Again, your heart gave a stuttering tap as a tsunami of emotion washed over you. How could he know the words you needed to hear? Or at least the ones that made you feel real at the very least. You took a sip of your coffee to try to distract yourself from the squall of emotion in your chest, only to hiss as you burn your tongue.

Dr. Choi is immediately at your side. “You ok?”

You touched the back of your hand to your mouth, looking away. “Yes, I was just being stupid.”

He laughed again and you couldn’t help but shoot him a pointed look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Just that, some times watching you do things is like watching a child discovering something new for the first time.” He smiled down at you sweetly. “I think it’s endearingly adorable.”

Your throat felt try and your face hot and your chest felt heavy. Adorable? You? You looked away from him, trying to appear as if his words didn’t do anything to you. As if your attention was taken up by something else on the far side of the shop.

But out of the corner of your eye, as he raised his own cup of coffee to his lips, there was a twinkle of mischief and mirth in his eye. Taking a chance, you lifted your own cup to your lips, blowing on it before taking a tentative sip. Immediately you hummed in appreciation. It was delicious.

Mark came back over with another set of adorable plates, one was your croissant (looking absolutely delicious covered in Hollandaise sauce) and Dr. Choi’s waffle. From the pocket of his apron he produced some sort of gourmet dog chew setting it down on the ground for Coco to try to conquer. You thanked Mark, who gave you a gracious but overly exaggerated bow before he excused himself.

You turned back to Dr. Choi as you mentally went over a game plan on how to tackle your delicious looking (and smelling) food. “You said you welcome souls into the world. What do you mean by that?”

You knew what he did. Did it count as stalking if you’re not alive and they’re just a form of entertainment between reapings? But you had the forethought to be mindful of that. You didn’t want this illusion to burst by muttering something suspicious.

He hid a small laugh as he took a bite of his waffle. “You promise not to laugh?”

You mimicked the way he cut into his waffle, the same way with your croissant, albeit it didn’t go as smoothly as his. “Promise.”

He took a moment to chew, almost thoughtfully before he said, “I’m, uh, well… I’m an OB/GYN. I deliver babies.”

You smiled at him as he tried to hide his blush behind shoveling food into his mouth. Barely above a whisper, you replied, “I think it suits you perfectly.”

He shot you a brilliant smile, looking away from you as his cheeks began to glow a nice shade of pink. As you sat there in the golden hours of the morning, you admired his features, realization dawned on you.

You were hopelessly in love with Youngjae.

Want more like this? Check out the following:

STAR-CROSSED, a science fiction series with Jackson Wang of GOT7

As always, reviews, comments, asks, and tags are always loved! ~Peony

Also, please note that I do NOT do tagging lists. Please see my FAQ for why.

GOT7 Masterlist

Masterlist

#got7 #got7 youngjae #youngjae #choi youngjae #youngjae got7 #got7 fluff #got7 angst #Beyond the Veil #BtV #peonybane #got7 jinyoung #got7 jaebeom #got7 bambam #got7 yugyeom #got7 mark

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memoirsofabasicbitch · 4 years ago

Text

The thing is, I’m not entirely sure I remember how to dream. How to write. How to imagine anything independently of a world created by someone else, in their mind.

I’ve grown so used to hanging my dreams on what other people have created for me that I don’t know if that person is still in there.

That weird little girl, who peeled acorns for squirrels, and walked in circles over and over and over again on the roots of the big oak tree. She had a big imagination. She told herself all sorts of stories.

Was it just because I couldn’t play the other games? Too slow - reflexes and running. Too weak - climbing, throwing, running, playing.

(Or was it because I wasn’t allowed to — couldn’t — play those games? I have a few dim memories of trying to play and being sent away. They’re dim though. I stopped asking.)

Or was it simply that I was filling time? Waiting until I could go back into a world I could navigate a little better than the playground?

Sometimes, though, I was waiting. Hoping, really.

More than a few times.

A lot.

I hoped, I thought, maybe - maybe if I walk in the right way, I’ll hear the trees laughing, like Anne told Diana about. Maybe they’ll talk to me. Maybe a faerie will come creeping out from a little crevice and wave, winking. Maybe a squirrel will come crawling down the wrinkled bark while I watch, and take the little heap of acorn meat I’d left for him. Maybe there’s a tiny scrap of magic somewhere in the world that I just haven’t found yet.

I haven’t had dreams for a long time. That’s what happens when your dreams have expiration dates. I’ve already missed most of mine.

Never really even came close.

I had a “schedule” that makes me want to cry to think of it. Meet someone in college or shortly after. Get married by 25, so we would have a few years together after college. Have our first child by 27, because mom always said I should start having babies by 30 if I really wanted to have more than one and space them out.

I’m 28. I’ve never had a real relationship with anyone, romantic or platonic. I’ve never had a best friend who would place me on the same importance as I would them.

I have borderline personality disorder. I have adhd. I am on the autism spectrum. I have depression and anxiety so severe they cripple me. More than one of these things may be false. The symptoms are nearly indistinguishable once you have more than 2. No one will give me a straight answer, and no two doctors can agree.

Added onto years of emotional and mental abuse - which is what it was, wasn’t it. Maybe because I’m autistic, maybe it really was that bad. Neglect, sure. Public humiliation, that happened too, I’m pretty sure. Being told flat out that I was stupid and fat and ugly and I was lucky to have any friends at all so maybe I should just shut up and sit down before I ended up with none.

I’m pretty sure that happened. I don’t really remember it though. I don’t really have any memories at all.

Supposedly that’s something that happens with “complex post traumatic stress disorder,” which generally crops up when a person is systematically ground down for a long time until there is nothing left but the stories they told themselves when they tried to explain to the fake audience in their head who they were. How they got that way.

I don’t know who I was, who I could have been if I hadn’t had the life I did. Maybe my memories are skewed.

My therapist didn’t seem to think so, but she also sometimes seemed to think I was full of shit. That’s probably me reading too much into things again. That’s what I do.

Was it really that bad? I remember a lot of screaming, and crying, and hiding, and wishing I was dead or that someone would just hit me already so I would have something to say, to tell people other than “they yell at me and make me cry and sometimes they grab my arms and shake me and sometimes they tell me they’ll throw me out onto the street to fend for myself and sometimes they tell me they love me so much they’re so sorry and then sometimes they cry”.

But how much of that was me? How much was that my perception of things? Am I really that crazy, or have I really been gaslit that much? Is it gaslighting if they didn’t even realize how much pain they caused you, which is why they say “it wasn’t that bad stop exaggerating”?

Did I imagine all of it?

If I did, if I didn’t, what was real? What had the weight I felt it carry? What should have been a minor blip in my life but instead metastasized into a catastrophe?

I don’t know. Maybe I never knew. Reality hasn’t ever been my friend.

Fantasy is so much better.

It’s painful now, though. To read some of these stories, these books I used to adore.

Stories about Mature Adult Women of 25! Whole! Years! Going on adventures and meeting their soulmates and having wonderful happy lives.

I’m spiraling. It’s late. I’m tired and a little high, wishing I was higher and maybe I wouldn’t be so bored.

Bilbo was middle aged, wasn’t he? When he went on his adventure? He had an adventure, and then he came home and had a long, rich, happy, lonely, bitter life. Hmm. Perhaps the one ring is not the best foundation for a guiding principle.

I went to law school because I’d come to the end of every plan I actually had. (You don’t really plan for a future when you’ve been suicidal since before puberty.) I figured I’d get to read and write at least reasonably interesting things, make good money, maybe even make a difference.

I’ve been a paralegal for the same law firm I worked for right out of college for two years now and I have never felt more like a shambling corpse.

When I graduated from college, I couldn’t get a job. Could I have tried harder? Sure. Is executive dysfunction a bitch? You bet.

So I worked for a family friend’s law firm. Personal injury and medical malpractice. She’s the mother of my older sister’s oldest best friend and has employed all of my mother’s three daughters.

She’s also a heinous bitch and a terrible boss. Her employees have a shelf life of about 2 years. I’ve hit my expiration date. Once you’ve audibly cried during a phone conference, you’re really near the bottom. Once she decides you suck at your job, there’s no coming back. Either you quit or you get fired. She prefers when people quit so she can blame them and not feel guilty. So she just increasingly treats people worse and worse until they quit in self defense.

I worked for her for a year. It was awful. I became an alcoholic and gained 25+ lbs.

I decided to go to law school.

I moved to New Orleans.

I made friends. I had an apartment all to myself. I had a life I actually enjoyed.

Then I graduated.

And I couldn’t get a job again.

(Of course, all of this is underpinned with my cyclical periods of intense illness, often accompanied by being hospitalized and missing long periods of school. In college and in law school, actually.)

(All the cocaine and drinking didn’t help either.)

(Ah, New Orleans. How I miss thee.)

So I ended up at the same firm again. Living with my parents. Again.

Then I passed the bar.

Now I’m doing the same work as my younger sister, for the same amount of money. (When she graduated from her masters program and was unemployed for 6 months, I convinced my boss to hire my younger sister again, and my sister to work for my boss again after a semi-disastrous summer job.)

(To be fair, while I’m technically a licensed attorney, she has a masters in education, so it’s not like there’s a massive education disparity here.)

(It doesn’t help that I’m barred in a different jurisdiction than the one my firm typically works in, so there aren’t any cases I can really work on as an attorney, and then on top of that my bosses don’t want to pay for malpractice insurance for me so I’m not allowed to practice as an attorney or put that I’m an attorney or call myself an attorney or even put in my letterhead that I’m licensed in the District of Columbia.)

Then there was a pandemic, and I decided I probably shouldn’t try to make a huge life change during a pandemic.

The pandemic is still fucking here. Nearly. Two. Years. Later.

So I guess I have to make a new plan.

Can I be a lawyer? I guess we’ll see.

I don’t really want to, though. I’m burned out and I wasn’t even practicing.

I want to move to a beach and write a novel and actually have a life I enjoy.

The problems with this plan are numerous. Not only is inertia an incredibly powerful enemy of mine, but I’ve lost all imagination.

I cannot imagine a future in which I am happy. Will I kill myself? Probably not, at least not for a long while. I’ve thought too long and hard about the long-lasting, far-reaching repercussions it would have. (Say what I will about my family, at least it’s always been clear that my death is NOT an acceptable outcome.)

I want to find my imagination again. I want to be able to imagine not only a future in which I am happy, but other futures, other worlds. I want to be able to dream, not only for me, not only for reality, but for unreality. I want to create worlds in my mind again, and allow them to take whatever shapes they wish.

I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if all those horrible teachers, all those “peer editors” in fucking elementary school were right, and my story ideas are hackneyed and overwrought.

Wouldn’t it be nice, though, if they were wrong. Wouldn’t it be nice, to start writing, and to find that my imagination didn’t go so very far.

It’s been hiding in the intertwined branches of a birch grove, slim and tall and ringing with laughter. In the space between stars. Down the path shaded with wisteria and jasmine and honeysuckle, where the scent and the heat and the humidity are so thick you can feel the heavy perfume coating your lungs. Tucked away, safe, waiting to peek out. Waiting to creep down the wrinkled bark of a huge old oak and wink at the little girl playing among its roots.

I hope it is there. I hope I can find it.

I’ll keep you posted.

This is my own personal void to yell into, after all.

#on writing #my life #a memoir lol

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diddlesanddoodles · 5 years ago

Text

Dumpling ch 30

ALL THE EXPOSITION, FOLKS!

Alternative title for this chapter “In which the bastard gets a name and Keral yells at a hobo lady.”

“The first time I ever met Thadeus was during a dedication ceremony in Silvaara. Some new conservatory or other, I don’t remember. He was there to represent Vhasshal on behalf of his father, the King. My official presentation to the court had been just the week prior so I was nervous as this would be my first official function under my full title. My dress was so tight and starched I could barely move without fear of tipping over. Which I did; I fell into a creek when I went to have a moment to myself away from all the madness of the festivities. Thadeus must’ve heard me go in, because he fished me out of the water before that damnable dress could drown me. We ended up talking for almost an hour and the guards had to come search for us when they realized we were missing.

“And then it came to pass that every time there was a reason for Vhasshal to come to Silvaara or Silvaara to go to Vhasshal, either he or I would go as part of the dignitary company. Just to speak to each other. He would give me little tricks and methods on how to stand the structured rigors of court and to not bow under the pressures our positions required of us, though mine wasn’t so great or heavy as to having one day rule an entire Kingdom. I was just a lonely girl and he was endlessly kind to me, far more than he should have been willing to bestow. One of the few people who did not see me a pawn to be played or won or lost.

“The day he learned that Rosanna of Ibronia was promised to him as his betrothed, I...found out that I had been promised to the eldest son of the Silvaaran royal adviser, a boy named Aidus. He was a cruel creature; selfish and too full of pride. I had always detested him, but he had always sought me out at court. When I was told I was to marry him...I did not receive the news well. His family was powerful and well connected. Anything he ever wanted he would get presented to him on a silver platter. Including me it seemed. But the one thing he nor his family had was a line to the throne. And though everyone kept telling me how smart a match we would be...

“...I did not want him.

“My heart belonged to another man; the Thorn Guard Captain’s son, Hayron. He had been one of the guards to come find me when Thadeus fetched me from the creek and he had often been apart of the guard entourage that escorted courtiers throughout the capitol. The three of us became friends after a time and I remember feeling like nothing that life could throw at me would be so insurmountable as long as he and Thadeus were beside me. I might even be able face my betrothal with dignity and grace as it was expected of me. But then I made a mistake. I...I fell pregnant.”

Oira laughed, a hallow false founding laugh without any humor. “I was so scared that I told Thadeus before I told Hayron. The Crown Prince of Vhasshal knew of my child before her father! Heh...he congratulated me, but he was still scared for my sake and that of my baby. He said that no matter what happened, he would make sure we would be taken care of and I absolutely believed him.

“I had just began to show when my father learned of my shame. I never found out who it was that told him or perhaps he just knew. In any case, I was dragged in front of the whole court and forced to confess everything. My father disowned me then and there and told me to leave. To leave Silvaara. That he would not allow...not allow a bastard to be born under his sigil. He had Master Barnabas erase my name from everything. The histories, our family tome...

“Hayron and I left and lived in the countryside for a time. I wrote to Thadeus and told him what had happened and he instructed us to remain there and that he would come and take us all back to Vhasshal. The night he came to get us...Aidus came as well. He told me that if I got rid the baby, he would overlook my unfaithful indiscretions and still marry me. I would not have my title, but I would share his and still be permitted to live in the place of my birth. I refused him. I told him he was not a man, but a selfish boy who thought he could buy and manipulate his way to power and to a royal title and a path to the throne. He...tried to cut Nenani from my belly. Thaddeus stepped in and...then there were guards everywhere, but they were...wrong. Their eyes were white as milk. Aidus had enchanted them, slipped some sort of potion into their food or drink so they obeyed every one of his words. It was a forbidden magic and I did not know how to snap them from their daze. Aidus had intended for them to kill Hayron, but he had not anticipated Thaedus being there.”

She paused, sucking in a fast breath as tears fell fast down her face. “They killed him. The Prince. He desperately tried to save us; Hayron and my baby and I. He told us to run and to not look back, but...I saw Aidus do it. The killing blow. A single stab through the heart. My dearest friend was dead and all I could do was run away as he bled to death in a foreign country and...I’ve been running ever since...”

Hands pressed to his lips, Keral’s green eyes seemed to stare out into nothing. His whole being was wound tight and looked almost feral with rage. Bitterly angry and sad. He took a deep breath that shuddered as it drew across his lips. “Thadeus was a fuckin’ idiot.”

Oira bristled, shaken from her tears and she snarled. “He was not! He was incredibly kind and selfless...”

“Incredibly stupid and inconsiderate!” Keral reiterated, staring daggers into the small woman. “He didn’t say a damn thing to us. Just up and left one night and got himself killed! All he had to fuckin’ do was tell us and we would’ve been there with ‘im. He was the fuckin’ Crown Prince fer fuck sake!”

Oira paused, her expression softened. “You...were friends with Thadeus?”

“Yes, I was!” Keral shouted, angrier than Nenani had ever seen him. Or Farris. He stood up and walked back and forth in a nervous line, running his hands through his hair and huffing through his nose looking for all the world like a man desperate to hit something. “Since I was a lad. He was my best mate fer years. Met ‘im after I became a squire.”

“...I’m sorry.”

“A’course that would be why he died. Puttin’ his neck out where it had no fuckin’ business and fer what? A damn woman who couldn’t keep her fuckin’ legs closed?”

“YOU GO TOO FAR, SIR!” Oira was on her feet as well now. “HE WAS MY FRIEND TOO!”

“AND YE GOT ‘IM KILLED!” Keral shouted back, the sheer volume echoed hauntingly through the forest. “AND A WHOLE LOT MORE PEOPLE TOO!”

Oira flinched as though his words were a physical blow and she shrank back. “Don’t you dare put that on me...”

“Go on then. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me that the war would never have happened if you hadn’t begged him to come rescue ya from yer own fuck up. TELL ME!”

“I CAN’T!”

Keral starred at her with bristling hate. “He’s dead because of you.”

“I know he is,” Oira said, her head bowed and shaking. “I know...that I committed a horrible sin...”

“Ha. Don’t think so highly of yerself, woman,” Keral snorted distastefully. “What I want to know, is why didn’t ye come forward and tell us the truth? Why are ye out here skulking about the dark like some fuckin’ goblin?”

“By the time I would have been able to, the war had already started,” Oira said. “And...and you, Vhasshal that is...had started...started to...eat humans. Thadeus had died for my child. For me. For Hayron. I couldn’t throw it all away by risking it. And just as you showed me here, that was what I had expected from his father and so much worse. Tell me Keral, and tell me what you’re heart knows is the truth: would the Blood King have spared me or my infant child if I had told him the truth of his eldest son’s death? Or would he have killed and probably eaten us both and continued on with the war?” Keral didn’t say anything and Oira nodded. “So you understand me then a little at least...”

“Go on then,” he growled. “Tell us the rest of it. I know there’s more.”

“We hid in the woods with others for a long time, trying to wait out the war. Then one day you and your blue coats came and drove us all out to the Southlands. We made a life there somehow. We raised our daughter. And then I fell ill, but it wasn’t a sickness. The night I found out that I was with child again...Aidus found us for the second time. But he was not how I remembered him. He was twisted and so much crueler than before. He had fought in the war, but had started to learn some deviant magic and it had warped his mind and turned him into this...this monster of a man.” She paused and took a fortifying breath that wavered. “...he killed Hayron in front of me. With his own sword. My...my entire world bled out in front of me and I couldn’t do anything. Just like Thadeus. All over again. I don’t remember anything of the next few months, but he had taken me away and...forced me to be what he always wanted me to be; His wife. Even though I could give him no way to the throne and there was no longer a throne to even be had.

“And for those years that was what I did. Languished in the crumbing halls of his keep and bide my time. I gave birth to my son and was able to convince him that Haiyer was of his blood, so he wouldn’t kill the only part of Hayron I still had. I called him by a different name around him, but in secret I would always call him Haiyer. But...almost a year ago now, he said that he was disappointed that Haiyer had not bloomed or showed any sign of being touched by magic. He said that if he did not show promise by summer...that he would kill my son and we would have to “try again”. I could not let that mad man take my son from me like he took everything else. So I ran away. I had tried so many times before, but this time I managed to get away and stay hidden. A cloaking spell I’d found in one of his books.” She ran her hand across her scalp and the shortened tendrils of hair. “Normally such a spell requires a great amount of energy and calls for the blood of a freshly slain sparrow, but some of my own blood and hair did well enough as a substitution to last a few days. If I allowed the cloak to fall for too long, his many eyes would find me.

“I wanted to go back to the Southlands. To get my daughter and Halden, Haryon’s brother. But when I finally made it back, I couldn’t find them anywhere. Someone told me that there had been a fire and that Halden had died, but...no one knew where Nenani had gone. I feared that Aidus had come and taken her. To manipulate me into returning to him. So I’ve been searching for her ever since, hoping somehow he had not found her.”

Keral nodded. “Aye, she was with us by then. But this Aidus fellow. Is he this Smoke Mage I’ve been chasin’ all ‘round creation?”

“Smoke Mage?” Oira made a face. “Smoke Mages are a fairy tales to scare children. Aidus is something much worse; A monster. He’s barely a person anymore. He has scores of Wyverns he’s enchanted or made deals with to do his bidding and the spells he uses...eat at him. Pieces of him flow into the beasts. It was why escaping him is so hard when he has hundreds of eyes. And his precious Dragon of course, but...that beast is gone now. Which will make hiding from him much easier. He put so much of himself into that creature to have it bend to his will. He’ll be weak for some time yet as he tries to pull himself back together.”

“Ye asked me to take yer lil’ uns with me. What about you?”

“It’s me he wants. If he has me he couldn’t care less about the children.”

Keral sighed angrily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods piss on it, no wonder ye and Thadeus got along so well. Yer both fuckin’ idiots.”

“I don’t know what else to do! I have nothing left. Only them. I don’t care if I die, but they,” she said, pointing to Nenani and Haiyer, her voice frantic. “They have to live. For the memory of Silvaara, they have to live!”

Keral bent down suddenly and grabbed the woman up. She shrieked in fright as Keral brought her close to his face and her fire was doused by pure shock. She trembled and uselessly pushed against his hands. “What are you doing? Put me down!”

Nenani got to her feet, truly afraid now. She had listened to them yell and scream at each other for what seemed like forever, but despite the cruel things Keral had said, she did not think he would harm her mother. But he looked so angry, she was beginning to fear that he very well might. “Keral! Please!”

“I’m pretty damn good at smellin’ lies, girl,” he said to Oira, ignoring Nenani all together, and his voice was low with warning. “And I think yer tellin’ the truth. Or yer version of it anyway. But there’s one glarin’ omission in yer story.” Oira’s face was flushed and she was breathing hard. She was terrified. His eyes narrowed at her. “Just who the fuck are you, girl?”

She moved her mouth, but no sound came out. Keral snarled. “Try again, lass. I’m waitin’...”

“...my….my name is Oira Daelg. Wife to Hayron Daelg and mother to Nenani and Haiyer,” she said, voice shaking but firm in her convictions. As she spoke her next words however, her voice grew small and pained. Tears welled in her eyes. “But...but I was born Aine Elaine Oira of Silvaara. Youngest daughter of King Haeral XVI.”

Keral’s narrowed eyes softened and he sighed heavily, all the ire and hate draining away like droplets of water. “Of course ye are,” he said and crouched back down and eased her back onto her feet. He stared at her for a moment. “Yer that little lass that would tag along with Thadeus whenever the Silvaaran diplomats visited.” He paused in contemplation, digging back through his own memories to pluck out a name he hadn’t spoken in over a decade. “...Annie.”

“...yes,” she said quietly. “That’s what he called me. Annie.”

Keral shook his head, laughing without humor and looking around in disbelief. “Of course ye are...”

“I’m sorry,” said the woman with clear emotion. “I’m so sorry for what Aidus did to Thadeus. And my part in it.”

“Strange I didn’t realize who ye were when me and the boys caught ye,” he pondered aloud. “Probably too pissed that ye left yer lil’ girl all on ‘er own to recognize ye in the dark like that.” Keral sat back down in the dirt with a heavy thud, leaning back against the tree and looking up. The stars were out and the only light was the bright moon above them. He was quiet for a long time. “He would have hated himself if he didn’t go to ya. Even if ya never sought his help. He’d have blamed himself for whatever happened to ya and yer babe. Fer the rest of his life. That’s how he was.”

Oira stared at Keral askance and said quietly, “But there wouldn’t have been a war.”

“Probably not,” Keral agreed tiredly. He tilted his head to regard her with shining green eyes. “But does it really matter anymore?”

Oira considered his words and then shook her head. “...I don’t know.”

Keral nodded and looked over to where Nenani was sitting with Haiyer in her lap. The little boy was asleep, but Nenani was awake and watching. Listening with anxious attention between the two of them. They were so different from one another, her mother and Keral. But a thin thread connected them and it seemed like they both were aware of it at all once; How small the world could be that the death of one person could have such an enormous toll on two people so different from each other. Keral was watching Nenani carefully, considering something. He sighed and said, “So them two lil’ uns there...”

Oria was staring at Keral as he watched her children. “They are the last of my father’s bloodline.”

“And you…?” Keral asked, eyeing her from the side with one gleaming eye. Oira frowned and shook her head.

“I was disowned by my father,” she said firmly, sensing where his thoughts had wandered. “I have no claim to the throne.”

Keral just shrugged off her denial. “Kinda hard to be Queen of a country that doesn’t exist anymore. But still. It’s not a small thing, lass. Warren will be wantin’ to speak with ya.”

“I’ve told you everything, Keral,” she said stiffly. “Please. Just make sure they’re taken care of.”

“That Aidus bastard’s attacked Vhasshal; five times now. Hurt my brother. Killed my King’s ward. We can’t just let that go. I won’t let that go. I loved that boy like he was my own flesh and blood and I want that damn Mage’s head fer it.” Keral reached out and tapped his finger against Oira’s head and she batted at him. “You and the lil’uns are all comin’ to Vhasshal with me and yer gonna tell the King all you’ve just told me. And then we’re gonna end this fuckin’ madness once and fer all.”

“I can’t go to Vhasshal,” Oira said, her face contorting in pain. “I can’t.”

Keral snorted distastefully. “Ye said ye were sorry fer what that bastard did to Thadeus. Then prove it. Hoist yer skirts up and face the consequences of what ye did. Warren deserves to know why his brother is dead. Ye ain’t the only one whose entire family was wiped out by the war. Far from it.”

“I...” She covered her face with her hands.

“If ye say you can’t one more time, I’m tossing ya in my pack and lockin’ ye in,” he growled. “There ain’t a scenario where this doesn’t end with all a’ us goin’. You’ll have about a day to figure out yer choice a’ words.”

Nenani carefully eased Haiyer off her lap and stood. She went to her mother’s side and reached out to put her hand into the crook of her arm. Oira flinched, looking at her daughter.

“It’s alright, Mama,” she told her trying to give her an encouraging smile. “There are a lot of really nice people there. They took care of me. Please, don’t be afraid.”

Keral spared Nenani a tired smile. “Well, it’s decided then. I need to go grab my pack from where I left it. Just sit here till I get back.” He paused, looking at the ground in consideration and then bent down to carefully scooped little Haiyer up and slipped him into the large breast pocket of his coat.

Oira bristled and made as though to charge at the ranger. “What are you doing?”

“Yer pup’s gonna be my insurance,” Keral replied with a smug grin. He gently patted the small lump that was the sleeping boy. “To make sure ya stay put till I get back.”

Her mother watched Keral disappear though the trees with her youngest child and Nenani could see that she was frightened and anxious.

“Keral won’t hurt him,” she told her mother. “He really is nice. I promise. Even though he’s been really mad, he really is a nice person.”

“Nenani,” Oira said quietly and taking her hands and looking into her daughter’s face. Here eyes were seeking, pleading. “Tell me truthfully. Have they...have they been good to you?”

Nenani nodded. “Yeah. I like living there. Farris is kind of grumpy and yells a lot, but he takes care of me. He’s even teaching me how to make tonics!”

Oira smiled at her daughter indulgently, but it was clearly forced and she kept glancing towards where Keral had left through the trees. “How to make tonics? Is he a healer or…?”

“Oh, no,” Nenani laughed. “He’s the kitchen master.”

The smile was gone from Oira’s face and she stared at her daughter in horror. “The...the kitchen master? The...they gave you to the cook?”

Nenani nodded, not considering the source of her mother’s misgivings. “He wasn’t gonna keep me at first. He said that he just wanted to scare me off of stealing and then send me to live with the Hill Tribes. But I got sick with the red reap.”

Oira’s breathe hitched. “No. You...you got the reap? How...”

“I remember the pain mostly,” Nenani said. “Everything hurt and I couldn’t breathe. But Farris gave me medicine and stayed with me all night. When I got better he decided to keep me.”

“But still...they gave you to the cook!”

“He doesn’t really cook anything himself. The others do that. He manages the spices and runs the kitchen. Yale’s his assistant and he’s been teaching me about plants and herbs. And then there’s Saen. He’s really funny and sneaks me treats when no one is looking. And Quinn and Kol bake the bread; its really good. And then Bart is the butcher and Avery is kind of his assistant. Bart looks scary and mean, but he’s a lot like Farris and is actually really nice. And then Herit and Gjerk are the youngest. They call them tenderfoots because they’re still learning. Gjerk helped me when the wyvern attacked and I almost got smashed by a table.

“And then there’s Lolly. She’s the matron and she made me these clothes and was really nice to me when I first came and yelled at Farris for scaring me and making me think they were gonna eat me. And then there’s Maevis. He’s a magician and makes really yummy tea. He watches over Barnaby same way Farris watches over me and...”

“Wait! Wait. Did you say Barnaby?” her mother asked, face as pale as milk.

“Yeah, he’s an archivist,” Nenani paused. “Did you know him from before…?”

“Yes,” Oira replied sadly. “I did know him. He...he erased my name from the archives when I was disowned.”

Nenani did not say anything and truthfully she did not know what she could say. She didn’t want to think about all that her mother and Keral had discussed. The way they yelled at one another and threw around their pain like weapons as though hurting the other would lessen the weight of their own burdens. All Nenan cared about was that her mother was finally there. She was alive and now she even had a brother. Above all, she wanted them to be safe. Her thoughts returned to Vhasshal and the assured destruction and pain they would be returning to. Her stomach roiled at the memory of Jae falling into nothing. It hurt so much to think about...

“Nenani,” Oira said gently, taking her face into her hands. “My sweet, you’re crying...”

“The smoke mage...” she said with a whimper. “He...he killed my friend.”

“The one the blue coat spoke of? The King’s ward?”

“Jae was human, but the King called him his son,” Nenani said, shivering. “The King...and Keral. They found him when he was little and he was all alone so the King kept him and raised him in the castle. He was my friend...”

“Warren...took a human boy as his ward?” Oira asked, a strange sort of longing pulling at her features. “That sounds like something Thadeus would have done.”

“Jae tried to protect me from him. Aidus. When he came. He...he had Papa’s sword. But he...threw him off the roof.”

“Oh, my baby,” her mother said and held her. Nenani sank into her mother’s arms and let herself go numb. She was so tired now and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was so tired of crying...

“Oi, Princess,” Keral’s voice broke through the thickening sorrow of Nenani’s mind and she raised her head as the ranger returned from beyond the trees. She could see the thick leather straps of his pack strapped to his back and in his hand he held Haiyer, now awake and red faced with distress. The little boy reached out his hands towards Oira and was calling for her. Keral shook his head in clear exasperation. “Yer pup’s makin’ a right racket.”

“Mama!”

“Is that all you’re able to do? Scare children?” she asked the giant ranger.

“What can I say?” Keral said as he let the little boy slide down from his palm and frantically run to his mother. “It’s a talent.”

Keral put his pack down onto the ground and began rummaging through it. He pulled a flask out and put it in his pocket and several other items as well. Once he seemed satisfied, he looked over to the three humans and gestured them over. “Come on then, let’s get goin’.”

“Now?” Oira asked reluctantly. “Shouldn’t we wait till morning light?”

“Too easy fer folks to spot me in the day,” Keral replied. “Harder to spot in the dark. That’s why our coat’s are blue, blends better in the dark. And the sooner all of ye are in Vhasshal, the better. We don’t know when yer Smoke Mage’ll show up again and I’d rather have a few hundred feet of stone walls and a couple hundred more men to work with than just some trees and a few squirrels.”

Keral looked to Oira and nodded to his open pack. “In with ya, Princess.”

“Please don’t call me that. Oira is my name. No titles,” she said, eyeing the open pack with suspicion and reluctance. “And must we…?”

“It’ll be the most comfortable way fer us all to just have ya stashed in here.” When she made no indication of complying, Keral sighed in frustration and reached out and grabbed her around the middle. Haiyer cried out as his mother left his side, little hands trying to catch her skirt.

“For the love of –! Don’t just grab me!” Oira snapped indignantly. “That’s rude!”

“Don’t have the time to be humorin’ yer misgiving’s, Princess –er, sorry. Oira,” Keral said to her as he slipped her into the pack. There was a wad of cloth down at the bottom cushioning her from the other items further down and making for a softer place to sit. Once he had their mother tucked away, Keral eyed the two children. “Okay, sweetling. Yer turn.” Nenani let him scoop her up without a fuss and set her next to her mother and then he turned his green eyes to the smaller and arguably weepier of the group. Haiyer was grabbing at his tunic nervously and glaring up at the ranger.

“Give her back!” he demanded with a frown; his little chin sticking out in a pout.

“Oh, aye? Ye givin’ me orders there lil’ princeling?” Keral asked in amusement. “And just what ye gonna be doin’ if I say no?”

“Leave him alone, he’s just a baby!” Oira told him, but in response, Keral flipped the pack’s lid closed and sat his hand on top.

“Quiet woman and let me have my fun,” he said and turned his attention back to Haiyer who had procured a rock and had it pulled back in his hand, ready to throw it. Keral laughed. “Oh, ye gonna hit me with a rock?”

“Give Mama back! And sister!”

“Hm. No, I think I’m gonna keep ‘em,” Keral replied with a grin, patting the top of the pack with his hand.

“NO!” Haiyer yelled and threw the rock. It landed harmlessly about a foot away from Keral’s boot and the ranger looked at for a moment before flicking his gaze back to the boy who visibly flinched. The thin blanket of courage fell from the little boy’s shoulders and he began to shake and cry. “Please….please give them back.”

“Ye think I’m gonna hurt yer mum and sister do ye, son?”

“You’re a giant...giants eat people...” said the little boy with an oddly serious expression, but the way his bottom lip trembled gave him away.

“This one don’t,” Keral said simply, shaking his head. “Never have, never will. Besides. Ye lil’ fella’s all taste like dirt.”

Haiyer blinked, looking confused and then turned his eyes down to the ground and the dirt there and then back up at Keral; tilting his head. “...dirt?”

“Oh, aye. Just like mud,” he said, making a face of disgust. “Not very yummy. So I won’t be eatin’ ya or yer mum an’ sister.”

“...no?” the little boy said with a hopeful lilt.

“Nope.”

“...oh,” Haiyer said, blinking as he digested this revelation, his fear seemingly forgotten. He looked at the rock and the back up at Keral and seemed almost ashamed. “...I’m sorry I threw a rock at you. I thought you wanted to eat us.”

“No harm, lad,” he said with a grin. “Ye did good comin’ to yer family’s rescue like that. Very brave of ya.”

“...I was really scared.” he admitted.

“And how about now?”

“...still scared.”

“Well, don’t be worryin’ about that none, my lil’ lad,” Keral said and laying his hand down in front of the boy. “I’m takin’ all of ye somewhere ye gonna be safe.”

“...safe? From Addis?” Haiyer asked, a little more hope brightening his face and looking at Keral’s open palm warily.

“Addis?” Keral asked, confused. “Aidus, ye mean?”

“Yeah. The bad man,” the boy said. “He hurts me sometimes. And Mama. Makes her cry a lot.”

The amusement in Keral’s eyes softened and took a moment to properly look the little boy over. He could see marking on his bare legs and scratches on his arms and face. What would normally have been mistaken for the scrapes and scratched of a rambunctious child when pulled together with everything else painted a much bleaker picture and he found himself very angry.

“I’m not gonna let ‘im hurt yer mum, lad,” he said gently. “Or yer sister. Or you.”

Haiyer fidgeted, digging his toes into the dirt and thinking very hard. When he finally spoke, it was a small and anticipative question. “...you promise?”

“Promise,” Keral answered, making an X over his heart. “Cross m’heart an’ everythin’.”

“...Okay.” Haiyer replied with the smallest of smiles. Keral remained very still as the boy cautiously approached him, eyeing his open hand. Slowly and still shaking, Haiyer climbed into the ranger’s palm and sat down in the hallow of the gloved hand. Lifting the boy very carefully, Keral brought him over to his pack and opened it. A very nervous looking Oira was glaring up at him and the tips of her fingers were glowing.

Keral rolled his eyes at her.

“Settle down, lass. Yer pup’s fine,” Keral said as he lowered Haiyer inside and let him slip off from his hand and into his mother’s arms.

“Mama! Guess what?” Haiyer asked, suddenly very animated and excited. “He said we taste bad so he isn’t gonna eat us.”

“Well,” Oira grinned, suppressing a laugh and pressing her forehead to his. “That is good news.”

#DUMPLING #G/t story #g/t writing #Giant/tiny #Fantasy Story #g/t fantasy story #Nenani #Keral #Oira #Haiyer #Hayron #Thadeus #Aidus #Smoke Mage

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years ago

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.14

Hunk drove a very hyper Pidge home. Letting her mix flavours had been a bad idea, Pidge talking the whole drive home so fast that Lance was surprised she was managing to drink her slushies in between her words. Promising his best buddy he’d fill him in the following morning, Lance felt a little awkward as he let him and Keith into his empty house. His beloved bronco wasn’t back yet, Shiro extremely lucky Lance didn’t have his phone number to hound him about taking care of his baby girl. Hovering at the base of the stairs, both men stood their awkwardly. Lance feeling weird as he knew he needed to say something, but wasn’t sure what that something was. Playing it safe, he opted for an apology. Keith’s life had been thrown in turmoil, just like Lance’s, and the man clearly missed his brother, something Lance couldn’t make better for him. Maybe if they’d met when in college, he and Keith could have been friends. Keith’s anger clearly stemmed from trauma, his repeated fixation on thinking he’d been turned very clearly said that. Lance had the feeling is had something to do with whatever happened to Shiro’s partner, but he wasn’t in the position to pry.

“Hey. I’m sorry we dragged you out. I know I was kind of a pushy, and you can probably put that down to my people pleasing personality, but I hope some part of tonight was enjoyable. It’s no easy, or fun, being on the outside, but Hunk and Pidge are good people. I’m not just using them to blend in, it was never like that. They’re both special to me. I know we’re like strangers and it’s awkward as hell living together, but I think after tonight I like you a little more than I did. I don’t think you’re a fundamentally bad person, and I’m not going to push you to talk to me. I guess what I want to say is, that I swear on Blue I’m not in the habit of hurting people. That doesn’t mean much coming from a vampire, because honestly, most of us are huuuuuuge douche canoes. But as long as you’re under my roof, I’m going to treat you like an actual human being, and not as “Keith the hunter”. I don’t know how many times I can apologise for being what I am, but I’m too much of a coward to off myself. I thinking part of my emotional growth was stunted from being turned... and, well, yeah. I’ll let you head to bed or whatever. If you can’t sleep, help yourself to whatever. I would prefer you stay out of my office for the sake of my clients, but I know you can get in there anyway... yeah... anyway, I’m headed up to bed... I’ll see you in the morning”

Lance’s undead heart leapt when Keith opened his mouth, only to fall when Keith closed his mouth and looked away. He’d probably said too much again. He was trying so damn hard, and he wasn’t exactly sure why it even mattered. Until Shiro came back, both he and Keith were left in limbo... Lance still kind of hoped that Shiro leaving Keith with him meant the older hunter wasn’t about to come for his head in the middle of the night, and that some time apart would make it easy for Shiro to see his brother was very much the human idiot he’d always been.

“How old are you?”

Lance nearly dropped the remnants of his slushy in surprise. Strawberry hadn’t been the smartest choice. Pidge had teased him about looking like a vampire for having red around his lips, and all over his teeth. Honesty was best when dealing with people in trauma

“I’m 44. In human years”

“Okay”

That was it. The limit of Keith’s vocabulary for the night. The hunter trudging towards his room, leaving Lance to walk up the stairs to his own. Stripping down and changing for bed, Blue let out a rumbled purr as she came running into his room and leapt up onto his bed to wait for him. He really must look like the lamest vampire Keith had ever met. Just a lonely vampire and his cat, living in the middle of nowhere. It was a good thing Lance didn’t mind being lame.

Lance’s dreams were horrible. He’d woken half a dozen times unable to escape the feelings flowing through his body. His teeth hurt, cutting into his lip as he huddled against his bedhead. He felt flushed with fever, arm aching as if he’d broken it. The skin had healed over the wound, but it itched so badly Lance wanted to scratch until it bled. Shivering and sick, he’d fallen back to sleep around dawn, waking with a throat feeling as though clogged with his death soil. Blue hadn’t left him, though that might not have been her choice given the door to his bedroom was closed, instead of slightly open so Blue could come and go as she pleased.

Showering only made Lance feel worse, he couldn’t get the temperature to cooperate and nearly tore the tap handle off it’s fitting trying. He ended up feeling like soggy cardboard, all wet and useless, as he towelled off and peered in the least cracked slither of mirror left. Today was definitely a day for make up. No amount of blood was going to bring back colour into his dulled skin. Being the youngest, he’d spent many a time as his older sister Rachel’s model. Mami had beaten her arse red on more than one occasion when Rachel had tried using nail polish as eyeshadow... his sister not the most skilled person to be giving anyone a make over, but his other sister Veronica had grown out of all of that kind of thing by the time Rachel had gotten old enough to be right into all frilly girly things, leaving Lance to be her victim repeatedly. After he’d turned, all of that had stopped. Initially his Papi would gently send everyone away from him, until his Mami took him by the ear and reminded him that though different, Lance was still their baby boy. When he’d been older his Papi apologised, but he never knew how good a vampire‘s memory was, that those days still stayed with Lance no matter how many years had passed. Today was not the day to be looking like a movie extra in a budget film, his whole face felt choked as he smeared his foundation on, before giving his lips a quick coat of waterproof lipstick, though humans had never really got the recipe for that right. Continuing his morning routine, he dressed as nicely as he could shirt wise, then opted for sweats on the bottom. It wasn’t like his conference call was going to be worried about his lack of proper attire when his shirt looked professional enough.

Coming downstairs, Lance darted through to his office, teeth aching all over again as he opened a bag of blood, messily drinking down the contents like he hadn’t been fed for days. Coran had said to expect a low, but this was nearing ridiculous. He wasn’t in any fit condition to entertain Keith with half hearted fighting, let alone provide legal representation to the clients trusting him in. Spilling blood across his laptop came as the final straw, Lance sinking to the floor where he balled himself under his desk, to scared to call Coran, and too scared to sit up and human. Instead he remained hidden there until his laptop started to ring, letting him know he’d spent a good three hours wallowing rather pathetically.

Before the family court, the matter took all of 15 minutes. Lance speaking smoothly, as he bounced his left leg, hands digging into his sweats hard enough that his nails had ripped through. Things would have been different if he’d known he could jump in his car and straight up to Platt, instead of this horrible feeling like he was a prisoner in his own home. The little voice in his head mocked him for not being able to pick up his phone and call Coran, paranoid over how Keith would act if Coran came running because he couldn’t keep his shit together. He didn’t want to die. Not while his Mami still lived. He didn’t want to break her heart, or prove the rest of his siblings right. He didn’t want Coran to be hurt, not that he thought Keith had the power to take Coran down... it was just... sometimes words left a wound that even the deepest blade was left dull in comparison. Keith was lashing out, hitting that target without aiming, like being caught in a spray of bullets. Coran didn’t deserve that with all the good for Lance and those like him. For Keith’s sake, Lance needed to keep all this shit secret. The hunter had signed up for his head, not his sob story.

Leaving the office, Lance headed into the kitchen. Keith at the kitchen bench trying to figure out the coffee machine. Dropping the pod in his hands, the hunter picked it back up without saying anything, but he didn’t need to. Lance knew how weak and pathetic he was, he could see it reflected in Keith’s brilliant eyes. Wordlessly he went to the cupboard, pulling out a can of wet food for Blue, Keith taking half a step away from him as he did. It stung. The not so covert action rubbed him the wrong way, not that he’d say so out loud. Pulling the ring tab back, Lance stubbed his toe on the counter as he reached for Blue’s dish. The act bringing tears to his eyes as he finally broke. Sinking down to the floor, he was showing Keith the most shameful side of him that he humanly could.

“Do you take sugar in your coffee?”

The question hung in the air, Lance’s face hidden behind his hands as he wept.

“Lance, do you take sugar in your coffee?”

Keith had said his name. Without any malice or prompting... he didn’t understand why

“I take three usually”

Why was Keith talking to him?

“Shiro says it too many, but I like three. You seem more like a one person”

“A one person”. Keith, who didn’t even think of him as human, was there in his kitchen calling him a person

“Am I really so useless that you’re wasting time on me?”

Lance regretted the harsh tone in his words. Wiping at his teary eyes, he looked up at the hunter to find him looking down on him

“Well you’re practically an animal, but... I think maybe I don’t hate you as much as I should”

Laughter bubbled up, Lance not blaming Keith for stepping back as his tears turned to laughter

“You can go fuck yourself if you’re going to be like that”

Lance’s laughter sobered, the vampire sniffling loudly. Okay. Keith was acting “Keithy” again, he could understand that

“One. Two if Pidge and Hunk are here”

Keith took a moment before a silent “oh” of realisation formed on his lips, turning back to the coffee machine as he tried to fit the pod in properly

“I... I have nightmares too”

Lance cringed. Asleep he hadn’t been able to consciously hold back. Keith had probably heard him screaming the house down, now taking pity on his undead arse

“I heard you calling for someone... friends or something. You we’re really fucking loud”

“I’m sorry”

“Who were they?”

“People who don’t matter”

They didn’t matter but that didn’t mean they weren’t always on his mind

“Nyma and Rolo?”

Lance shuddered at their names. They’d parted so long ago that it didn’t feel fair he should be forced to remember them

“People you don’t want to meet”

“I gathered from your screams. Are they the ones who turned you? Or were they friends?”

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“You say vampires never forget, does that mean you remember what happened with them?”

Lance shook his head quickly

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“So they sired you?”

Lance put his hands over his ears

“Shut up”

“If they did...”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”

Screaming in anger, Lance hated Keith in that moment for pushing. Nyma and Rolo had been his friends. The keyword being “had”. He was allowed to have things he didn’t want to talk about. Those two were in his past, not is future. Letting his head dropped back, it smacked against the cupboard without enough force to be satisfying. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to break something. He wanted to tear himself out of his own skin. Nudged with Keith’s foot, he shot a look of rage up at Keith, the hunter holding out a cup of coffee

“Drink this. Shiro said he won’t be back for a while, but he was sending someone out to watch over you until he could be”

“I don’t need watching over”

Taking the coffee cup, the handle snapped before Keith had let go completely. Pulling the mug back, the hunter cut his hand on the protruding porcelain at the bottom. Hit by the smell of Keith’s blood, Lance felt all his senses come alive with the need to feed. Both their eyes widened as they met, both in fear over the situation. Keith feared Lance was about to maul him, as Lance feared how good Keith’s blood smelt.

Lance did the only thing he could do. He ran. Keith left staring as he bolted from the kitchen, his hand snapping through the bottom of the staircase railing as the grabbed it to use his momentum to get up his stairs just that little bit faster, tripping in his rush, but pushing himself on faster in the same heartbeat. Reaching his room, he slammed the door behind him, dragging his dresser over to barricade himself in. He hadn’t needed his phone in the office, so left it up on its charge station. Snatching up the device, he copped a glance of his reflection, disgusted at the sight of himself. His hands shook as he unlocked the device, calling the only number he could, Coran. With first ring, he found he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t run to Coran for help. He couldn’t tell him there was something still wrong with him. His phone thrown in disgust where the force shattered the device on impact, and dented the floorboard it’d hit. He didn’t know what to do, but he did know he was a mistake.

#once bitten twice stupid #ashratherose

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chickensarentcheap · 5 years ago

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 51

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @thunderintheshadows, @valkyrie-of-the-light

“I do not need a goddamn wheelchair.” Esme grumbles, five hours later, as Kyle pushes her out of the front entrance of their local hospital. “I can walk on my own.”

“Well considering you fainted once at mom's, and twice while you were here, I think it's safe to say you shouldn't be walking anywhere on your own right now.”

“People faint,” she shrugs.

“Pregnant women shouldn't faint. And they especially shouldn't faint three times. You heard what the doctor said. You're severely dehydrated, your blood pressure is sky high, and when you fainted, you managed to hit your head, give yourself a concussion, and receive seven stitches for your trouble.”

She frowns at the last part; gingerly touching the bandage that covers the injury in question that runs down some of her forehead and into her right eyebrow.

“So now you have a prescription he wants you to get, and you've got this handy dandy portable IV...” he nods down at the small back like device resting in her lap, the needle of the IV having been inserted into the top of her left hand and secured with clear tape. “A nurse will come every day to check on it. To change the bag and see if the line is still good. Just be thankful that you get to go home. If I had my way, I would have had you admitted for a couple of days at least.”

“Well good thing firefighters have no pull when it comes to those things. Because I do not need to be in the hospital. All I need, is to be as far away from mom as possible. Can you believe the things she said? Who says shit like that? Who wishes death on their own son in law? Or basically suggests her married daughter gets an abortion because mommy dearest doesn't like said son in law?”

“Look, what mom said was completely out of line and I think she's a huge bitch for saying any of it. But stop thinking about it. Because what she said and how you reacted is how you ended up here in the first place. So let's not talk about mom at all, okay? I'll take you home and keep an eye on you. You'll be more comfortable there than at my place. In your own bed, surrounded by all your stuff.”

Nik had assured them that it would be perfectly safe to return to the house; she and the security team would be there around the clock, and they were more than capable of both spotting and diffusing threats.

“Not everything,” she sighs. “My kids aren't there. My husband isn't there.”

“Well, he will be, Because he's on his way back.”

“Wait...wait...” she clamps her hands down on the wheels of the chair, preventing them from turning. “...what do you mean he's on his way back? You called him? You actually called him? Why the hell would you do that?”

“I didn't call him. Nik did.”

“Why? She didn't need to do that. Why the hell...?”

“Oh I don't know why she would do that, Esme. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're his wife and you're pregnant with his baby and you nearly just got admitted to the damn hospital!”

“I just fainted. When did it become such a serious issue for someone to faint? It's not life or death.”

“Okay, first of all, it's never normal for someone to just faint unless there's an underlying issue. Second, you're having a baby. So there isn't just a concern with your health, but with the baby's health too. You're not the type that gets sick easily and you don't normally have health problems. But, you have to admit, with the twins and Declan, there were problems. A lot of problems. Especially with the twins. So don't you think it's better to get you looked at and see if there's something else going on? With either of you?”

“It's just stress. The doctor asked if I've been under a lot of stress and I have. Huge stress. And then mom started with her shit and...”

“Listen, it's just better if things are taken seriously. They did some tests and some blood work and if anything is wrong, they'll let you know. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

She nods.

“If nothing is wrong, then great. If something is wrong, then at least they found it and at least they can do something about it. Why do you have to be like this? So damn stubborn? Of all the things you had to inherit from dad, it had to be one of the worst possible things.”

“Well you inherited his looks so the joke's on you,” she teases.

“Are you trying to say I'm ugly?” he grins.

“I'm trying to say when you were born, mom said 'what a treasure' and dad said 'yeah, let's bury it'.”

Kyle chuckles. “I should dump you out of this wheelchair for saying that.”

“You'd never. You love me too much. Since we were kids and you used to beat up the bullies that used to teased me because I liked to climb trees and play with Transformers and GI Joe's instead of dolls.”

“I tell you, you could throw a left hook better than any of the guys I knew. They were just jealous. Because you were cooler than they were and I liked to hang out with you more than them. I'll stay with you okay? Keep an eye on you. Make sure you're eating and drinking and taking it easy. I already called my boss and he said to take a couple days and call him if I need more time. I'll hang around until Tyler gets here.”

“I still can't believe Nik called him,” Esme huffs. “This is the last thing he needs on his plate. He's already got enough stress with having to go New Zealand and find those kids. He doesn't need to be worrying about me too. You should have just left it alone and not told him.”

“Kid, he's your husband. There was never an option of not telling him. I think he cares more about you and this baby than he does about some fucking job. I get its kids that are involved. I get how bad that sucks and how horrible it is. I really do. But someone else can finish the job. He's not the only mercenary out there.”

“He feels he needs to finish it. That he started it and it's up to him to get them.”

“Well he's obviously changed his mind because he's on his way home.”

“For good?”

“I don't know. I didn't talk to him. Like I said, Nik called him. And apparently he flipped his shit and told her to get him on the first flight home and that's what she did. So despite what mom thinks about him, he obviously cares more about you and the baby than he does about the job. If he didn't, he wouldn't have insisted that he was coming home even after Nik assured him that things weren't that serious.”

“And you call me stubborn? Tyler is way worse than I am.”

“He's not stubborn. He loves you. There's never been a doubt of that, that's for sure. I mean, if he can put up with your shit for this long, he must love you.”

“Or he's just a glutton for punishment.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he pushes the wheelchair as close as he can to the front passenger side door of his truck, and then sits the brakes and squeezes between his vehicle and the one parked beside to open the door. “Hey!” he scolds, when she attempts to stand. “I don't think so, kid. Sit your ass down. You don't do anything unless I tell you to, understand?”

“As much as I'm sure Nik will find your assertiveness insanely hot, you're my brother and you don't get to boss me around.”

“The hell I don't. Sit.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and plops back down. “You know, you are more like dad than I realized. He was bossy too,”

“Are you like this at home?” Kyle inquires, as he pops open the door and then helps her out of the chair, hands under her arms for support. “Do you get like this when Tyler tries to help? You get all obstinate and bitchy with him too?”

“Yep. And then he gets mad and we fight and then we have angry sex and things go back to normal.”

“You know what, some things I do not need to know. And that's one of them. Can you get up in there or do you need me to put you over my shoulder and drop you in to your seat?”

“I'm not an invalid, thank you very much. I only fainted.”

“Three times. And stop lying to yourself that there's just that wrong, okay? There's something going on with either you or the baby and it needs to get sorted out. Just let people take care of you, okay? You've spent five and half years either taking care of Tyler or taking care of kids. It's your turn now.”

“Oh just what I want. Sitting on my ass while someone caters to every whim and need...wait a second...” she frowns and cocks her head to the side. “...that actually sounds kind of nice.”

“You deserve someone to wait on you hand and foot, kid. Like the princess you are.”

“Princess? I'm the motherfucking queen, K.”

He just shakes his head and shuts her door.

****

While it's good to be home, it feels strange at the same time. It's empty. Lonely. Way too quiet. Nothing more than furniture and other belongings in empty rooms. No kids running around; no shrieking, no squealing, no giggling, no near constant demands for snacks and juice. No dog barking or following her from room to room, desperate for the attention he isn't receiving (yet definitely is) from the others. No husband out working in the back yard or the garage. While all of their things are there...in the exact places they'd been left...the house and its surroundings seem foreign. As if it belongs to someone else.

“Nik said the guys checked the place,” Kyle says, as he steps out onto the back deck, carrying a bottle of beer for himself, a steaming mug of tea -decaf, as the ER doctor had suggested-, where she sits in one of the oversized Adriondack chairs, a flannel blanket pulled up to her chin, legs stretched out and feet on the wooden railing in front of her. “No sign of any trouble. Maybe those Irish guys already came to town and scared the bad guys away.”

“Or at least chased them somewhere else,” she says, and gives her brother an appreciative smile as he places her drink in the chair's cup holder.

“It's getting pretty late. You should be getting some rest.”

“It's nine thirty.”

“At night.”

“It's nine thirty,” she stresses. “I haven't gone to bed this early since before I had Millie. Before I got too huge and too uncomfortable and I couldn't sleep properly anyway. You're getting a little too naggy.”

“I'm not naggy,” he argues, as he takes a seat in the chair beside her. “I'm worried about my kid sister. And my niece or nephew. Maybe both. Maybe there's two in there again.”

“Oh God, bite your tongue. Do not wish that on me for a second time. I love my boys to the end of the earth and beyond, that was the most brutal seven and a half months of my entire life. I do not want to go through that again. I'd rather have another nine plus pounder than two at the same time. Besides...” she reaches under her blanket and pulls out the ultrasound photo she's been keeping safe in her possession. “...looks like there's one baby Rake.”

Kyle takes the picture from her, squinting his eyes in an attempt to make out any distinguishing features. “What the hell am I looking at?”

She leans sideways in her seat and begins pointing out various things that the tech had circled. Heart, spine, kidneys, both eyes, nose, and mouth. The radiologist on call had said that everything looked 'perfectly fine' and 'extremely healthy'. All parts existent and working properly, from what he could tell. “I'm a lot further than I thought,” she says to her brother. “I thought maybe two months. Three at the most.”

“And?” he asks.

“Three months, three weeks and two days.”

“Do you know the exact hours and minutes too?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don't know that's the exact time. That's what the tech said based on all the measurements and everything. That's almost four months, K. I don't understand how it can be that far ahead. Nearly four months and I never showed any signs whatsoever? I mean, I missed a period and a half of one but that's nothing. Things have always been screwed up in that respect. That's never been normal.”

“Okay, you're my sister and I do not need to know certain things. Your...cycle...or whatever...is not something I need to know. So it's a bad thing you're this far ahead, or...?”

“It's not that it's bad. It's just weird. Look, when you get married and your wife starts having babies, she will know everything that goes on in her body. And I mean everything. I thought I did know everything that my body is telling me. I mean, I've only been through this three other times, right? Oh no. This time is totally different. I thought I was just run down and stressed and worried and all that crap that comes with Tyler doing what he does. And you know what? He was the one the one who thought I was pregnant. Way before I did. You know what that means?”

Kyle frowns. “What?”

“It means he was right. And when I tell him just how far along I am and that he was right, he will hold that over my head for years. Decades. Because that's what Tyler does. Because Tyler isn't used to being right and when I have to admit he is, he makes my life hell. Well maybe not hell. But he makes it very annoying. And I am not in the mood for that kind of shit. I'm cranky and I'm hormonal and it pains me inside to know I have to admit he was right.”

Her brother laughs. “You two are perfect for each other, I swear. He practically says the same stuff about you.”

“Excuse me? He does what? Have you been talking about me?” she gives an excited gasp and sits up, then asks “ Do you have a bromance going on?”

“We talk,” Kyle admits.

“When?”

“When you don't realize it's happening. What? You need to know everything?”

“I think it's a big deal when my husband...the black sheep of this family, through no doing of his own...is having a bromance with my favourite brother. It makes my heart happy. What's wrong with that? And what do you guys talk about?”

He shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“What? Guy stuff. You know, going to the gym, cars, trucks, work shit, girl shit.”

“Girl shit? He's talking about girls with my brother?”

“He doesn't talk about girls. I talk about girls. He talks about you.”

“Oh really...” her eyes narrow. “...and what does he say? Don't hold back. You can tell me. Don't protect him.”

“Nothing bad, I swear. He has never once said anything bad about you. The total opposite, actually. Trust me when I say that after five and a half years, that guy is still wildly and crazily in love with you.”

She smiles and sips her tea. “He's lucky.”

“It's just random guy shit we talk about. I mean, every so often we'll talk about how big of a bitch mom is and how ridiculous the shit she says is. Sometimes we talk about sports. He really hates hockey by the way but I won't hold that against him. And every so often he'll talk about shit that's bothering him.”

“Really?” she's genuinely surprised. “He talks to you about that stuff?”

Kyle nods and sips his beer.

“What has he told you?”

“Esme, it's kind of personal, don't you think? If he's telling me and not you...”

“I'm not asking to be nosy and I don't expect you to betray his confidence. I'm asking because I'm worried about him. He's been having some really hard times, K. Mentally. And not just the depression and the anxiety. But with the PTSD and the brain fog and the memory issues. Have you noticed any of those things?”

“I've noticed a couple things, I guess. Nothing major. I just figured that whatever he'd been through had done a real number on him, you know? I mean, now that I know exactly what he went through, it's no wonder the guy has issues. That would fuck anyone up.”

“Has he told you about any issues? Anything specific?”

“Esme....”

“He's my husband. Kyle. And I'm worried about him. I don't know what to do for him. I don't know if he needs more therapy or if he needs different medication or if he needs both. I just want to help him.”

“I know. But right now, you're the one that needs help. I know you're used to being the mother hen and the one that babies everyone, but you've got your own shit going on, kid. You do not need to be stressing out over this. If you want me to, I can talk to him. See if he'll tell me anything else other than what he already has. But you can't be worried about this. Especially now. Not with your own stuff going on.”

“I fainted, K. That's it. I fainted.”

“There's way more than that going on and you know it. You need to take it easy and let people take care of you for a change. Stop trying to solve everyone's problems and just worry about yourself. That's why you're having issues in the first place. Because you stress yourself trying to fix everybody. Just...stop...” he reaches out and gently squeezes the back of her neck. “...stop trying to save everyone.”

“That is not what I'm trying to do. I'm worried about him, Kyle. Legitimately worried. He isn't himself and he...”

“You just said he was stressed and had a lot on his plate.”

“It goes way beyond that.”

“Is he drinking again? Back on the Oxy?”

“He was drinking but he says he's sober and staying sober. And no. He's not on Oxy again. He doesn't even like taking Tylenol. Which is a problem all in itself because he's in all this pain and he doesn't want to take anything for it.”

“And I said I would talk to him and see if he'll tell me anything else. Look, he's not coming home so you can take care of him. He's coming home to take care of you. Would you let him do that? You always have this need to take care of him, maybe he feels like he needs to do the same thing for you. So give him that, okay?”

“You promise you'll talk to him?”

“If you're that worried about him...”

“I am. And this isn't my usual worrying about stupid shit. This is serious. There is something going on up in his brain and I don't know how to help him. And I know he hates telling me things because he hates me worrying. So maybe he'll tell you instead.”

“I will talk to him,” Kyle promises her. “You've had a long day. Lots of time on a plane, the excitement at mom's, all the poking and prodding at the hospital. You need sleep. That baby's counting on you, kid. You're the only one that can keep him or her safe and sound in there. So go. Go inside and lie down and sleep. I'll be on the couch if you need me.” okay?”

“Where's Nik going to be?” she teases, as she pushes the blanket off of her and stands up, immediately feeling light headed and having to place a hand on her brother's shoulder to steady herself.

“I knew you should have been admitted,” he huffs.

“I'm fine. I just got up too quickly. Relax, dad. Jesus.”

“Don't get lippy with me. Because I will fireman carry you upstairs.”

“Is that how you're going to get Nik into bed? Seduce her with your fireman abilities?” she tousles his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek.

“How do you know she's not going to seduce me?” he counters.

“If you're going to have sex, I just ask that it's not in any of my children's beds. And stay out of Ovi's apartment. Go and do it somewhere else if you have to. I don't want to be hearing the two of you bumping uglies, okay?”

“It's only fair. I've had to hear you and Tyler before.”

“That's because Tyler was trying to teach you how to do things properly,” she teases.

“You're a smart ass, you know that.”

“I do,” she says, and then disappears into the house.

***

The traffic is terrible; hampered by a steady rain and strong winds. And he sits in the passenger seat as Yaz drives, elbow on the door, hand rubbing his chin and mouth repeatedly, both legs shaking nervously. The call from home has him on edge; brain running through all worst possible case scenarios, nerves completely shot, desperately yearning for something to take the edge of. To at least calm him enough to stop fearing the worst. The assurances from Nik that there wasn't something seriously wrong hadn't worked; she'd insisted that he didn't need to return home and that things were 'under control' and he needed to just stay where he was and concentrate on the job at hand. He'd snapped on her. Telling her to shove the job up her ass and get him a way home. Sooner. Not later. That she'd set this bullshit in motion the moment she decided that ratting him out was a good idea. Had she not done that, Esme would still be in Ireland. Not half way around the goddamn world, dealing with issues with the baby all by herself.

“You need to calm down,” Yaz says.

“You need to fuck off,” Tyler retorts.

Yaz sighs. “You won't miss the flight. The guy's waiting for you. So...”

“I fucking hate traffic.”

“Okay, I get that. But like I said, they're waiting for you...”

“I don't give a shit. I need to get home. But instead I'm stuck in this fucking bullshit,” he angrily gestures out the windshield.

“”You heard what Nik said. Everything is fine. They didn't even admit her. If there was something wrong, she would have been admitted. “

Tyler sighs, and closes his eyes; trying his best to block out his friend's voice. The last thing he fucking needs is someone trying to tell him just where his concerns should lie and where his priorities should be. There'd been no hesitation when Nik had called; he'd already been throwing clothes and other personal belongings into one of the suitcases before she even got to the part where things 'weren't that bad'. It didn't matter how goddamn bad things were; he was going home and no one was going to stop him.

“It isn't that bad,” Yaz says. “Can you stop shaking like that? It's annoying me.”

“Just fucking drive,” he responds, and shakes his legs even harder, just to be spiteful.

“Would you just calm down? What are you so freaked out about?”

“If you tell me to calm down one more time...”

“Being this worked up isn't solving anything. I'm getting you to the airport, they're not going to take off without you, Nik said that things are that bad and....”

“I don't give a fuck what Nik said. I need to get home. To my wife. I don't care if things are 'that bad' or not. She shouldn't be going through this alone.”

“Isn't her brother with her?”

“What the hell does that matter? I should be with her. And I would be if I never took this goddamn job. If that fucking asshole never showed up in Colorado.”

“Well technically, he's been after you since Guatemala, so...”

“Yaz, we don't need to get fucking technical. If we really want to get into it, none of this would be happening if your sister didnt' fuck up and hire Jason Andrews' brother. Which is who hired McMann to take me out. And if I really want to be a petty asshole, I'd say we also wouldn't be in this situation if your sister hadn't have ratted me out to my wife in the first place.”

“I get you're pissed about that, but...”

“I am more than pissed. I am so far past pissed. She should have just kept her fucking mouth shut. There was no reason she had to go to Esme. What good did it do?”

“Other than get you to knock your shit off and start getting your head on straight? She did the right thing, and if you'd calm down long enough, you'd realize that.”

“Stop fucking telling me to calm down!” he snaps. “I will knock you the fuck out, Yaz, I don't care if you're driving. I am on my last shred of sanity and my last nerve is hanging on by a thread. This all could have been avoided if your sister kept her mouth shut. If she'd minded her own business, Esme would still be here. With me. And that way if things went wrong with the baby, I'd be with her. Not thousands of miles away.”

“If you hadn't have decided to take matters into your own hands and drug and kidnap someone, it wouldn't be happening either.”

“Do I need to fucking remind you that you were on my side? That you agreed McMann deserved to suffer? That you agreed to help me? And then as soon as your sister showed up, you fucking bailed on me and threw me under the bus. That was a bitch move, Yaz. You fucking coward.”

“It was getting out of control. You were getting out of control. We've been friends a long time, Tyler. Even longer than you and Nik. I'm the one that got you into the job in the first place. And believe me, every day I want to kick myself in the ass for that. Because if I'd never done that, this wouldn't all be happening. And Dhaka never would have happened.”

“A lot of good things came out of Dhaka,” Tyler says, and can't even believe the words came out of his own mouth.

For years he's been dwelling on all of the bad things that happened in Bangladesh; Mahajan Senior screwing them over, G being killed, Gaspar betraying him, everything that took place on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, the fact that Esme had to see and hear the things she did. Even those long months in the hospital and the lingering, life altering after effects. Maybe it's the meds in his system; allowing him to think clearly and rationally instead of turning him into a zombie.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“My wife, for one. My kids. My chance at a normal life. Which I keep fucking up in the most epic ways possible.”

“It's hard. You've been doing the job for a long time. It's hard to just let it go,” Yaz reasons. “Even though you've got half a dozen reasons to walk away, you just can't. Somewhere along the long, the job stopped being something you do and you became the job.”

Tyler snorts. “Ain't that some shit.”

“You never meant for it to happen. It's not like you intentionally became that way. And it's not like you wanted to put it before your wife and your kids. You didn't even realize it was happening. It just did. No one is going to fault you for that, Tyler.”

“They don't need to. I already hate myself enough for it.”

“Esme doesn't. She's still around.”

“Until she's not one day. And I don't want that happening. I can't let that happen. You ask why I'm going home when things aren't that bad? Because that's where I fucking belong. It's where I've always belonged and I never let it happen. Home was never enough until I realized how close I was to losing it. So maybe you're not a coward, Yaz. But I am. I was a coward when I left when Austin was dying and I've been a coward for the last five and a half years.”

His head hurts. Even worse than his knee and his shoulder, for once. And he reaches into one of the pockets of his flack jacket and pulls out a bottle of prescription meds; twisting off the cap and dumping three small pills into his palm.

“Thought you took your meds today,” Yaz comments.

“You keeping tabs on me now?”

“Thought you were only supposed to take one Valium a day? What the fuck...?”

“It's ativan, dumb ass. For anxiety. I'm a little fucking anxious right now.”

“A little?”

“Don't make me hurt you, Yaz.”

He places the pills under his tongue, waiting for them to fully dissolve before reaching for a bottle of water sitting in one of the cup holders.

“Are you coming back?” Yaz asks.

“I don't know.”

“When will you know?”

“When I get home and see how bad things are. Can I get home first? Can I get to see my wife and talk to her before you start asking me these things? Fuck the job. She has to come first.”

“I get that. I do. But we're supposed to leave for New Zealand in two days.”

“So leave for New Zealand in two days. Mark and his boys will be with you. What? You need me there to hold your hand? You need me to spoon feed you and wipe your ass after you take a shit?”

Yaz smirks. “You can be a real dick.”

“If...and that's a big if right now...I come back, I'll meet up with you guys there. You don't need me there to gather up intel and find where the kids are. You just need me to get them out.”

“Exactly. We need you. You. Not some random fucking Marine that's never done shit like this before. And definitely not Mark. If anyone would fuck things right up, it's that guy. You're the one with the experience. We need you.”

“Nik can find someone else.”

“There is no one else. And you've been on this since day one. You know the history. I don't want some newbie just walking in and screwing things up. You're the only one that can do this. Properly. Don't fucking bail on me, Tyler.”

“It's what I do, Yaz. I bail on people. You don't realize that by now?”

“You didn't bail on Ovi,” he points out. “Even when you were told to.”

Tyler sighs.

“So? Are you?” Yaz presses. “Coming back?”

“I don't know,” he admits. “I honestly don't know.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character

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heartlesslywhumping · 5 years ago

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hi i love your prompts!! my friend is writing a story and wants to have some whump in it, so i thought i’d ask you if you had any prompts for it! it takes place 100 years after nuclear war broke out, and 12 young adults were forced into cryofreeze 50 years ago to see if they could live above ground. and while a lot of radiation cleared out, there’s still areas that are dangerously radiated. to make things worse, they all had their memories wiped and there are basically mutants above ground. ty!!

Oh daaaaaaaaang I love that idea! It reminds me of the 100 series, both the book series and TV show

(I refer to the young adults as a team here for ease of writing) ((also, there’s nothing bad under the cut, this is just a really long post and I’m breaking it up a bit))

One member gets a debilitating disease from the radiation, something similar to cancer. The rest of the team has to watch as the member suffers and slowly deteriorates, all while the member brushes it off and tries to hide how they’re suffering. Whether or not the member recovers is up to the writer.

The vegetation has mutated leading to the team preparing something wrong or eating the wrong thing. This leads to allergic reactions, poisoning, comas, seizures, vomiting, hallucinations, all the fun stuff.

There’s something bad in the water to include rain, mist, snow, etc. Does it cause them to hallucinate or does it cause physical harm? How does the team react to having no water?

One member touches or eats something that messes with their brain and leads them to attacking the team. The team has to physically restrain and contain the affected member. Now the team has two members out of commision, one injured and one potentially insane. The team has to listen to the affected member raving, screaming, thrashing, and pounding against their restraints. The team doesn’t know what happened, if it’s curable, or what they do next. The elephant in the room is the fact that they may have to kill the affected member. Meanwhile, the member acts like a rabid animal, snarling, clawing, screaming incoherently, sobbing, thrashing, throwing things, tearing at everything and everyone.

Consider what the member was/is. Weakest or strongest? Social butterfly or lone wolf? Leader or rebel? All of this will affect the team emotionally and physically. The way a trained warrior fights versus the way a healer would is vastly different. The most experienced or the least experienced would react and hit differently than the other option

If the member recovers: They now have to live with what they did for the rest of their lives. Do they look at the injured member and are stuck with horror and guilt? How does their dynamic with the team tear at what they did? What are the lasting emotional and physical repercussions? Is the injured member unconscious? Is it debatable if the injured member will live? What if the affected member potentially killed their friend? Were they aware of what they were doing but unable to stop? Were they fully gone? Do they still hear the screams and pleads to stop? The horrible things they said? Do they still feel what they did to the injured member? Can they still smell and taste the blood and dirt? Is there still blood under their fingernails? Will they ever trust themselves again? Will anyone else?

If they don’t: Who decides to kill the member or make the executive decision to leave the member behind? Does the member fight back or lie still when they’re about to be killed? Do they have moments of clarity and beg for either death or life? Are they shot, stabbed, poisoned etc? If they’re left behind, are they left food and water just in case? If they still manage to recover, does the decision to leave the member behind come back to bite the team in the butt? Or does the recovered member come back and save the team? The team now has to deal with leaving the member behind. Walking away to the screaming and thrashing.

If the writer is writing from multiple POVs, play with writing in one you wouldn’t expect here. Try writing from inside the affected member’s mind. Are they aware of what they’re doing but they’re a puppet in their own body? Are they completely insane? What does that look like? Do they think the team intends to harm them or do they think the team are intruders? What do they think or feel as they die? As they’re left behind to die slowly? POVs can really add to some unique whump

There are mutants?

Is the team revered or looked down on because they are not mutated? (Or are they?)

Revered:

Treated like gods, which seems nice at first until the people start demanding miracles

If they team can’t provide those miracles, it’s likely that they will be killed and/or tortured

The team frantically tries to escape while providing those miracles

Consider El Dorado (the animated movie) if it wasn’t a children’s comedy and things went significantly worse

Looked down:

Are they experimented on?

“Welcomed” by a group only to find out later that they’re meant for a sacrifice or meal

Enslaved

Hunted for sport

Creatures have mutated. Give them elongated necks, extra heads, insane amount of eyes, rows of teeth, reloadable stingers, giant insects, heightened vision and hearing, what have you. Let your horror mind go crazy (we all have a horror mind). The more grotesque and crazy your mutated creatures get, the more havoc they can wreak. Remember that this is a dystopian! In the Hunger Games there were birds that could mimic voices/screams, and wasps whose stings could cause hallucinations and/or death. Go crazy! Have your creatures melded with technology? Or gotten technological features all on their own? Do they have specific radiation related abilities? Play with this and then set the worst of it all upon your OCs *evil laughter*

Some ideas to play with just from our own world that creatures (animals, insects, aquatic beings) can do

Bites

Stings

Poison/venom

Swarms

Suffocation

Overwhelming a prey

Camouflage

Lures (think of angler fish or cookie cutter sharks that light up in the darkness to attract prey. Or venus flytraps)

Crocodiles and their death rolls

Forcing a prey to drown

Some octopi can whip their prey with venomous tentacles

Animals and bugs can spit

Choking

Marble cone snails literally deploy a venom filled harpoon

Suckers or various ways of sticking to prey

Constantly following until the prey is exhausted

There is a breed of wild, big cat (like a leopard) that mimics the cry of baby monkeys

Crushing

Paralyzation

Echolocation

Just read what tentacled sea snakes do!

“They can basically read minds. Maybe they can’t control other objects, nor can they tell exactly it is what they’re thinking, but based on their evolutionary method, they know where their prey is going to swim, and wait there with their jaws wide open. How does it manage this, you ask? Well, because of a fish’s innate reaction to perceived danger. It’s call C-start. When a fish sense sound waves in the water, their body automatically jolts and they go swimming speedily away from potential predators. The tentacled sea snake, however, moves its mid-section in order to purposefully trigger this response, then, when the fish tries to flee, it ends up right in the snake’s waiting mouth.”

And all of this is just from our own world. Also….just look at Australia.

Some more quick ones are to remove resources. Remove food, water, shelter, anything. Make the world itself a terrifying place. Mess with the elements of nature, mess with creatures, mess with people (do the mutants have powers? Even simple things like better strength or endurance? Better senses that can smell, hear, see, taste danger? Natural resistant to things that hurt the team? It doesn’t have to be X-men style powers unless you want it to), mess with e v e r y t h i n g.

Also, how have the mutants survived so long? What do they have that the team doesn’t and how can that hurt the team?

To heighten something, add a layer of time sensitivity or danger. Is something coming for them? Do they know?

And of course, there are lots more for mind wiping. This is just getting into a pretty long post and I’ve already re-written this several times (stupid tumblr kept crashing and my webpage kept reloading and deleting everything I’d already written) so I’m going to cut it off here with those quick ways to add whump as well.

If you’d like a follow up with mind wiping stuff, just message me! I’ll try to respond quicker this time 😅

Thanks for the ask! I’d love to know how this story goes! If it’s ever publicly shared somewhere (printed in a book, turned into a comic, posted on wattpad) message me again! I’d love to read it! (And if it’s never shared, I totally get that. Writers are weird and stories get away from us.) All the best of luck to your friend!!!!

Some gruesome things that animals do below this line

_____________________________________________________

Cannibalism

Eating prey alive

There is a breed of ant that makes a vertical, sticky platform filled with holes. Once a bug sticks to it, the ants pop out and pull it in various directions while stinging it to death. Some bugs can be stuck there for hours, being torn into manageable chunks

Spiders and their webbing up prey for later. Some do it while their prey is alive

#whump prompts #anonymous #heartless answers #insects #gore #my prompts

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 5 years ago

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Jonesy/ Beav pleaseeeee & you already know what song I want 👀

Thank you!!! AND here it is!: ‘Last Worthless Evening’ by Don Henley!!

(Send me a 🎧 with a number from 1-100 and i’ll write you a ficlet using my corresponding spotify wrapped song as a prompt. You can send any of my listed ships!!)

Time slowed at Jonsey’s place. It always felt as if he was slowly submerging himself in a hot bath whenever he spent time there and he’d never been good at relaxing. He much preferred the louder company of his good ol’ suburban neighborhood when he was right on the front-lines; movie-like comfy home and all. It was there that it never felt like he was the center of attention or like he didn’t fit in.

And out in the yard, green grass grew which would soon become his responsibility to trim. He could enjoy friendly greetings and interactions that allowed him to enjoy a limited small community while not overdoing it or being in total isolation, as this lonesome place felt. Derry was best experienced on a flourishing summer block filled with familial neighbors..it was a view that Jonesy’s sleepy and boring building could only dream about. Because Derry seemed much more horrifyingly lonely in that damn building...

Jonsey had spent many moments of his time there missing the company of someone who loved him. And then spent the following moments hating himself for creating a situation in which he had to experience losing that. He spent far too long thinking he could continue on with a situation that would only serve to slowly kill the both of them just for the sake of ‘playing house’.

But the idea of losing Carla scared him to death. So he’d attempted to live the lie to keep her. Which only made it so much worse.

The relationship hadn’t always been totally miserable but Jonsey credited that to the fact that it was just great to have a good friend living with you. Only, viewing your wife as just a good buddy and not someone you’re in love with...well, that was not a good sign. So ‘No, it hadn’t always been miserable. Yes, we did look happy, didn’t we?’ were things Jonsey had to speak to the likes of his old neighbors. It wasn’t miserable but it had been doomed from the start.

It didn’t really tear him apart to have lost Carla, a little over a year now. It had torn him up to realize he could never be satisfied with her.

The bar was smoky and full of people that Jonesy thought looked pretty chummy with each other. Derry didn’t have much in the case of fine dining or drinking but the familiar faces of your best friends older brother or the town dentist chugging mugs of good beer...that warmed your stomach.

Beaver sank his teeth into the wood of his toothpick and enjoyed the comedy stylings of George Pelsen who was truly a dive-bar champ. The greasy deck of cards the bunch of them used to decide who’d be paying for their draft Millers were dumped on the table and sprinkled with peanut shells.

Kent and Sean were particularly enthralled with whatever bull-shit George was feeding them but Beaver was not too fond on that puff and blow. No, he was sorta searching for a different kind of blow tonight...

Only, as his eyes scanned the place, he found a familiar face which cascaded the most genuine sense of happiness and nerve-wrecking joy.

From behind the crunch of another peanut, Kent chuckled in that odd horse-laughter he had. Which didn’t bother Beav in the slightest, in fact it was one of the reasons he hung out with the dude. He enjoyed shit and laughed it out. “You got an eye for the red-head, Beaver?-”

“Lucky you’s. There’s actually some chicks in here who look up to no-good so you don’t have to make it to some dude.” Sean smiled and tapped a stack of cards against the edge of their table.

The Beav rolled his lips and let himself smile, pulling out a fresh toothpick. “Oh yeah, huh?” He truly didn’t mind the dim-wits inability to comprehend that his bisexuality was not born out of convenience. Having to ‘make-it’ with guys only when good lookin’ girls weren’t near. No, his bisexuality was born with him...fresh from his mother and all covered in red goo.

It just so happened that he realized what he identified with a little later. Laurie Sue had claimed to be a tad bit intimidated by what she called ‘Beav’s large playing-field’. Laurie had been a great gal but marriage didn’t work for either of them.

How lucky, right? Baby-Green (Was that really a color, he wondered? There was a baby-blue & baby-pink?) invitations which read of a wedding for ‘Beaver & Laurie Sue’...didn’t scream everlasting love.

Pelsen and Sean craned their necks and got a couple of chucks in there too.

“It’s not like that right now, anyway. I just think I know that guy.” Beaver almost chuckled himself at the word ‘think’ because he definitely could call Jonsey from a mile away. He pitched a spare peanut into Kent’s mouth and shuffled out of his seat.

Since the man got hooked up on his relationship with his wife, Jonsey pulled from their friendship. Not so much with Henry and Pete, who the guy still remained in constant contact with. Just Beaver. It was not something Beaver caused trouble about though it did sting a little because if there was a reason for it, he had no clue. Pete and Henry did their absolute best to make-up for the odd dynamic change.

Beaver shoved the next tooth-pick between his teeth and pushed his chair in with his hip. “Don’t go crazy savin’ my seat. Might not be back for a while.” He wiggled his brows but the gang didn’t quite get it.

“Jesus-Christ-bananas.”

Jonsey turned around on the spinny bar-stool that he liked so much and faced one of the best damn friends he’d ever had.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Beaver tugged up a seat and sat upon it like a cowboy on a horse, legs spread and wiggling with excitement for the ride. It killed Jonsey when he realized that yes, in fact, it had been a while. Basically since things got kinda rocky with Carla...

“How have you been, man? Seriously? I can’t get much from the other idiots-” The Beav laughed. “And I mean...not that this ain’t good company-” He glanced around the dive and sighed.

Jonsey coughed and swallowed some more of his drink. “I’m ok, Beav.” He nodded and wondered how the hell he wasn’t supposed to just fall-apart in the Beav’s company? The man just radiated an energy so welcoming and warm that just came naturally to him. The Beav always felt like coming home...the opposite of Jonsey’s shitty apartment.

“I don’t buy shit for a nickel, Jonsey.” Beaver’s voice turned soft and genuine, which was rare. “Breaking off...-you know, a relationship like that? It doesn’t heal easily. Laurie Sue and I were like three years ago but it...-I know it can be difficult.”

Jonsey frowned. ‘Shit for a nickel’ he liked that one, was it new? Did it grow over their absence of company?

“It doesn’t much look like you wanna be here. Trust me, I know that feeling. I walked around that block. Still walkin’ it.-” He gestured behind him at the table he’d risen from. “And it’s not quite the riot it would be if it was a Derry block. Nah, that shit is...lonesome town or something like that...you get the point.” Beaver giggled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He just looked soft.

Jonsey chocked up a little and tried to conceal it. “I’m sorry, Beav. About us. I haven’t reached out to you in a long time. I feel like such an asshole-”

Beaver gave him the dopiest grin, like it truly was a wonder that Jonsey could ever think he was mad at him. It gave him a rush of that whimsy feeling. The kind especially reserved for The Beav. Maybe that had been part of the reason Jonsey had isolated him.

“Shut-up, man-” ‘He hadn’t said a word’ “It was a shitty thing to do, admit it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on the reason.” Beaver rolled his toothpick to the other side of his mouth and it was then that a horribly amazing thought occurred to Jonsey.

“I couldn’t ever love Carla. No matter how hard I tried.” He took another drink. “But..I think we were driving up to-yeah, yeah-” he nodded to himself, his memories suddenly coming out of a long since buried closet . He pushed his drink away and cleared his throat.

“-To Roberta’s to see or buddy, Duddits. And it was one of those days where the sky was that shade of blue that you adore. And you kept commenting on it, pointing and smiling like it was so important to you. Saying it was a sign that we’d have a great day and you were just so damn excited to see Duddits and Roberta. And I was laughing because it seemed kinda funny to me.” He squinted as the scene painfully played back in her head.

“But I realized just then that I wanted to be there to see every moment you were that happy. And I hoped more than anything in the world that I made you that happy...I just figured it was a self-conscious friendship thing.” Jonsey laughed.

Beaver swallowed.

“I broke it off with Carla because I’m gay, Beaver.” He nodded and felt some relief fall from his shoulders. “And maybe I pushed you away when things with Carla got serious because....” He waved his hand about and vaguely in Beaver’s direction.

Beaver’s eyes widened. “Jesus-Christ-bananas. Derry has never needed anything more than a good chuck of genuine romance, Jonsey-” He slapped his hand to his chest. After a moment of exaggeration, Beaver looked down with some nerves of his own. “Would you like to talk through some shit this evening with someone who really fucking loves you?”

Jonsey laughed, head going back. “Yeah. I’d love to.”

#ahhhhhh #is this bad?#idk #gary jones #beaver clarendon #dreamcatcher #my fanfiction #drabble #asks #dreamcatcher (2003)

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oldanddangerousbb · 6 years ago

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War and Peace Pt. 1

Father! Tony Stark x Daughter! Reader

When Tony finds out he is a father he is ecstatic until his selfish wishes get in the way. TW: angst, death of a family member, falling A/N: Hi y’all this is my first writing in a while so please give me feedback! This begins at the very beginning before the first movie even really starts so be ready for some angst. Buckle up this will be a long one. WC: 1544

Tony Stark was not an unkind man. No, he was a man who many looked up to; a man many envied. He donated to charity when tax season came around. He gave a Christmas bonus to his personal driver, Happy every January after his assistant, the lovely Ms. Potts, reminded him.

Tony Stark is a man full of vice and, yes, he is selfish, but Tony Stark does consider himself a good father.

He had never wanted to be a father but after a night of fun, a night that had become so normal to him he had never even thought to learn anything more about the woman he shared his bed with than her name: Viola Y/L/N, and he only knew that because she had left her card on the entry way table when she left with a sultry “Call me” murmured over her shoulder.

So when instead Tony Stark got a call from Malibu Medical Emergency Room three years later, he wracked his mind to find something that might indicate why this woman he slept with one time might have got it in her head that it was his kid. Hell if she slept with him she had probably slept with half of Malibu. And Tony Stark said that exact thing to the doctor, Ms. Potts and anyone else within hearing distance of the only slight drunk billionaire. Yet when the paternity test came back, the slightly miffed doctor simply clapped Tony Stark on the back (harder than was necessary) and snapped a simple “Congrats dad, its a girl.”

Tony Stark is a forgetful man, but he will never forget the first time he saw his daughter. The stark whiteness of the room in which she was led out of created a halo effect that Renaissance painters would have killed to imitate. And that’s what she was to him then. An angel. An angel who was sobbing hysterically and looking awfully confused. An angel who wouldn’t meet his gaze, an angel that when she did finally look up at her father all she whispered to him was “Where’s my mommy? I want my mommy. Please give her back.”

At that moment he promised himself he would protect this little girl (he had done the math, she was only three years old) till his dying breath.

Tony Stark was a man who had lost his way somewhere. Men who think they have nothing to lose, they are the one’s who fall the hardest when knocked down, and Tony Stark with nothing to lose.

Life had settled in the Stark family mansion, it had settled like the first snow fall of the winter. All was quiet and the things that had once breathed gasped their last breath and froze. It was a cold place to grow up, and as the memories of her loving mother faded Y/N stopped remembering summer. She forgot what it was like to have a parent around, someone to kiss her when she fell, someone to tuck her in at night. But she did have one solace in this great big lonely fortress.

And even he couldn’t comfort her. JARVIS filled in the cracks of her absent father and her forgotten mother. He told her bedtime stories, he assured her that her father still loved, that her father checked on her every night he was home, but most importantly he was always with her.

In the early days of fatherhood, in that beautiful honeymoon period where every cry was his joy, Tony Stark crafted his daughter a necklace of silver that contained a micro chip containing JARVIS. JARVIS could record your heartbeat, give you gentle reminders but most importantly, he could speak to you, he could watch out for you. Tony crafted a matching band that he wore around his wrist that allowed him to feel his baby girls heartbeat, that would vibrate when JARVIS was worried about her surroundings.

Even when that honeymoon soured, when the cries became incessant and unstoppable rather than small miracle, when Tony Stark embraced his vices and turned his back to you; you still had JARVIS.

And so when it was time for Tony to leave once again for a business trip you barely even looked up from your multiplication tables. You nodded once and asked softly, “How long dad?”

“I don’t know, but likely not more than a week. I love you.” And with that he was gone, already out the door before the first tear fell from your face.

“Should I tell him to come back?” JARVIS’s voice came softly from the speakers.

“No, thank you.” You muttered back, trying not to cry too hard in front of JARVIS because you knew how he worried about you.

“You seem highly upset little one. And it is 78% likely that if Mr. Stark were to return you would be at least a little happier.”

“No dadd- JARVIS, I have no want to see Tony right now. I don’t even know if I ever want to see him again!”

You were already up and away from the table before JARVIS could warn you about the slight spill Tony had created when he had sloshed in drunkly the night before. When JARVIS tried calling Mr. Stark, between frantic calls of your name, the phone had been switched off, and the bracelet hadn’t been updated in years and would not answer his call to action.

When Pepper Potts had finally answered her phone, sighing exasperatedly into it, asking Tony what on earth he could have forgotten at home, she was startled when she heard the computers frantic tone. She could barely understand the words coming out of its mouth (?) that his daughter had fallen, that Y/N had fallen, that she had been distressed and slipped in a puddle Stark had created when he drunkly dropped the bottle of booze he had been sipping on in his haste to undress the woman in front of him.

The ambulance arrived before Pepper, and Tony was still none the wiser as his phone was still off and he was at least 10,000 feet in the air by now. When Pepper rushed into the home, the sight of you had her nearly gagging. Your face was swollen, legs and arms badly bruised, but the worst of it was the howling. You howled for them to not touch you, you begged the men to take their hands off you, you screamed for JARVIS to stop them, you screamed for your father.

“Y/N! Honey its me. It’s Pepper. They don’t want to hurt yo-” Pepper had just barely grabbed your shoulder when you turned on her as well still screaming and crying.

“Leave me alone! Leave me alone and let me go! I don’t need any of you!” Your howl was soul crushing to Pepper because this just wasn’t right. You were a six year old girl obviously scared and most likely in shock from the pain and instead of accepting the comfort you screamed for them to leave you.

“Y/N we are here to-” she tried again.

“NO! Daddy make them leave. Make them leave me alone.” You screamed, jerking from her and falling off the couch you had been perched on, most likely only damaging yourself more.

Pepper could have caught you, yet she had nearly choked on tears when she realized you hadn’t been screaming for Tony, your father; no you were screaming for JARVIS.

“Oh, Y/N.” Pepper whispered. She turned her back to you and dismissed the paramedics. At first they refused to go but they had gotten another call and your wounds were not life threatening, but they made note to send child protective services down to the Stark mansion, as they knew of no Stark child and none the less six year olds were prohibited by law to be left by themselves.

Pepper tried once again to approach you, and as you had finally settled after the two paramedics left she made it to you without your horrible wailing.

JARVIS finally spoke at this time “Ms. Potts is only here to help little one. Please let her. I hate seeing you hurt.” It was only once these words were spoken did you roll to your back to let her see what was wrong.

Pepper looked you over, most of the scratches were topical and would heal quickly but it wasn’t those wounds she worried about. It was the ones you carried in your head, in your heart.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We are going to be okay.” Pepper grips you in a hug and you shudder, every nerve in your body coming to life. Pepper recoiled worried that she had hurt you.

You gripped her harder and whispered in a strained voice: “Please, please, please don’t let go.”

And she promised you that she wouldn’t.

A/N Pt. 2 So in the next part we shall see Tony’s point of view and figure out where this business trip took him and how get some back story as to how we got here. Buckle up folks I am not exactly sure where this will go but the Fates tell me its got to get worse before it can get better.

#tony stark #marvel imagine #marvel #tony stark x reader #pepper potts #iron man #imagine #marvel imagines #avengers

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entireoranges-creativity · 6 years ago

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Carriers Of Light

Title: Carriers Of Light Fandom: Game Of Thrones Ship: Braime Note: Jaime never left the North; or if he did he returned (really it's not important lol) Disclaimer: I don't own, don't sue

“What about you?” Queen Sansa asks with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Pardon me your Grace?” Brienne has a suspicion of what was being brought into question; this topic had occurred several times the last few months; though never directly from Sansa.

“A child. When will you and Ser Jaime be bringing a new life into our world?” The fact she was able to say Jaime without biting back a snarl or anything far worse impressed Brienne.

“Oh I’m not sure...” In truth Brienne was.

“Despite my personal misgivings about him and yes I realize some are undeserved and perhaps with time I shall learn to forgive him fully; but regardless of all that I can tell you care about him deeply. He to you as well.”

“Thank you.” She looks down embarrassed filling her skin redding her cheeks.

“After all those lost on all sides it’s a beautiful thing all these babies and pregnancies.’ Sansa pauses and rubs her swelling belly. ‘You should really consider it.”

“Yes. Perhaps.”

That evening Brienne sat across from Jaime in their shared quarters. He reading and lost within the words. Without meaning to she sighs. He snaps up eyebrows raised.

“Everything ok?”

“It’s fine. Sorry to disturb you.”

“You do realize your a horrible liar my love. Now speak.”

“I think it is time we dissolve this relationship.”

“What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?!” Brienne is battling tears as Jaime stares at her his face emoting both anger and confusion.

“You deserve better.”

“I deserve better?!’ He repeats snapping the words. Brienne nods not trusting herself to say more. ‘Woman I don’t deserve better because I already have the best woman in all the kingdoms and beyond. And it’s not about what I deserve or don’t deserve because we both know I’m truly not worthy of the love you give me; yet you do and I’m humbled every moment. If anything it you who does not deserve my love.” Jaime leans forward taking a strong hold of her hand squeezing.

“I can’t give you what you want.” Her words are soft, barely audible.

“I want you. And I have you.”

“Jaime you should have children, heirs and carriers of your name. You should be able to love and nurture a child in ways I know the Gods intended for you.’ Brienne stops talking to surrender to the tears and sobs racking her, Jaime’s hand never moving. ‘And I, I, I won’t give that do you.”

“Brienne please calm down. I hate to see you like this.”

“I wish I could be the one to give you a hundred children.”

“I certainly do not wish for a hundred children!” He attempts to laugh hoping for her to follow suit; her cries only became deeper.

“You deserve....a strong, courageous, and...a beautiful child.” Jaime removes his hand and leans back to his chair in the proper position and stares at her.

“Is that what this foolishness is about?”

“Foolishness? What is foolishness is me not realizing this sooner!” Jaime’s befuddlement raises as her crying stops and is replaced with rage.

“Oh Sevens help me.” He mumbles.

“I mean it’s pretty obvious you do not desire to have children with me. And I’m not a fool! You believe any child we sire will be a hideous monster and sully your legacy!” She leaps to her feet towering over him. Jaime knows perfectly well the him of the past, the him before she entered his heart and soul would have agreed and made a knife like wound with an insult of her appearance. Him now? Would not ever consider that. It wounded him to think she believed he was still capable of such thoughts.

“Our children will be strong and courageous. But also beautiful and that beauty will come from you!” He is on his feet too, he goes for her hips, she jerks away.

“You don’t need to be condescending!”

“I’m not!”

“Why does this even matter?” He immediately regrets his words.

“You have no idea. No idea! What it feels like! You and are fucking perfect hair, stunning eyes, chiseled chin...people just look at you and they threw stuff at you! Me? Well long as I can remember I have been teased verbally and physically for my appearance. I act as if it never bothered me but Hells Jaime it did and it does. I don’t think I can reasonably subject a child to that. Even with your looks mixed in. It won’t be enough to undo this ugliness.” She begins to cry again, Jaime this time successfully is able to make contact and pulls her into him.

“I wish I knew what to say. Besides I’m sorry for being apart of those jabs. But you are stronger then this. I know that you know that Brienne.” She shrugs.

“It’s not just my appearance.’ She takes a breath before pulling back from his embrace. ‘You don’t have to lie or keep stringing me along. We should dissolve this.” That damn word again!

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have children with you because I’ll lose my fucking mind with the stubbornness they’ll surely gain from you! For the final time what are you talking about?! When have I ever given any indication I was unhappy with you? With us?!”

“You think I’m stupid. Don’t say a word! You think I don’t overhear conversations and talk. This place isn’t as large as you tend to believe it is nor are you as soft spoken as I’m imagine you think you are. I have heard you speaking about the mere idea of having children a few days back. With Stefan I do believe it was? When asked by him if you were having any I saw you make a face and shrugged. And then when he made a quip of yeah looking at your woman I don’t blame you. What did you do? You laughed.” Jaime clenches his eyes tight, pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a few calming breaths.

“You didn’t hear all the conversation.”

“I heard and saw enough Jaime.”

“So you saw me slap him and swore to him if he ever even thought anything like that again let alone said it I would skewer him upon my sword?”

“No.” Comes softly.

“Exactly. And I wasn’t making a face because I did not want children; I was making one because I’m tired of discussing the matter with strangers! Ever since the decree was lifted and this allowance of all children I have been questioned relentlessly over it! I should have been discussing it with you it would appear.”

"Fine. Tell me now, how do you feel about it?"

"I do want children. I'd be lying if I didn't relieve to you I'm scared though."

"The same as my fears?"

"What? Gods no! Brienne you need to let that go!' She mutters, he know it's best not to call her out over it. 'I have experienced the pain of losing children, all three of mine. And though I was not their father in the traditional sense I did love them. The death of a child no matter the circumstance is the worse anguish you could ever imagine. My name or things done in my name has made many enemies for generations long. I'm scared I won't be able to protect any child we have from a father or mother seeking revenge for those sins. My heart is almost scarred from that pain; but you my dear? I could not bear to see you endure anything like it." Before he knows it Brienne has her arms draped around his neck, kisses his forehead.

"Please forgive me, I never considered that. And it's honorable you wish to protect me. But what you speak of is out of our control. Of course we all take all precautions to keep them safe, at the end of the day we just need faith in the Seven.' Jaime wiggles from her hold, places his lone hand on his hip. Smirking. 'What?"

"I thought you didn't want children with me. I thought you wanted to end our relationship to allow me from the freedom to fuck some North whore..."

"Jaime!"

"Of course you worded it far nicer. The sentiment was still there though. And now you're willing and ready?" Brienne exhales deeply.

"I'm scared too Jaime. Of those fears I mentioned; you really can not stand there and say or think I'm overreacting when you did not yourself experience the taunts. And yes I agree this world even with the peace this year is a tentative and dangerous place. There is still beauty and light. I want to help create more light." It is now Brienne surprised by Jaime kissing her hard, desperate, but as always gently.

"So I can't hook up with a Nor..."

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Sorry my love. But I no longer wish to date you." Brienne jerks back, eyes wide.

"But I thoug...' She seizes talking and breathing all together as Jaime lowers himself to one knee and stares up at her; with a look that melts her every time.

"I don't have a ring on me, I promise one day soon I'll get you all the jewels and gold I can lay my hands on..."

"I don't care about that."

"I know. Now shush I'm trying to propose here!"

"Of course, go right ahead,"

'Well you sort of ruined the moment!' He stands back up laughing softly, she echos it back.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Gods yes Jaime! Yes, I will marry you."

"Oh! Really?!' Her laugh now he is sure all the Kingdoms could hear. 'I mean don't get me wrong but you were the one started this conversation by telling me you wanted to break up. You can understand my confusion."

"Your lucky I love you."

"And why is that?"

"Because if I didn't you'd surely be dead right now."

"Oh I'm positive you would have killed me a thousand times before now. And this why I know our child or children will be the fiercest creatures ever. If they are even a fraction like either of us that's a force no one will dare tussle with!"

"I can only hope. Um do you think we should...um?" Brienne finds herself growing embarrassed.

"Do I think we should try to make a baby? Hells yeah!'

"It may not happen right away. Or at all."

"It will. Because the Gods will know that we are worthy to be the carriers of more light." Brienne's lips fall onto his one more and gently guides her to their bed.

+++The End+++

#tv show: game of thrones #character: sansa stark #ship: braime

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imagine-loki · 6 years ago

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Lilacs on a windowsill -Trigger Warning death

TITLE: Lilacs on a windowsill CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One-shot AUTHOR: written-loki-imagines ORIGINAL IMAGINE:Imagine you being an Asgardian healer chosen to see to the younger princes wife throughout her pregnancy. After a mishap in the birthing of the first royal grandchildren you’re very quick to blame yourself of the losses of that day. Loki, the mourning prince takes the time to speak to you after you stumble into an area you don’t belong in. RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS:Trigger warning - infant death/death in childbirth

Loki stared at the same lilac curtains wistfully stuck in the recesses of his own mind. He had sat in that same rocking chair in the same lonely corner for months unfeeling since his dearly loved wife and infant died. That’s how you always saw him or thought of him.

It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault yet you still felt like you indirectly caused it. You were a healer that was chosen to tend to the young mother through out her pregnancy. She chose you out of all the older more experienced choices just because she was kind and aiding in the birthing the first royal grandchild was quite the accomplishment for you. The two princes were away on a trip when she went into labor leaving her scared and alone without her husband.

She expressed that she didn’t want to go through the birth of her first child without him being there and you promised she would be fine. She wanted to hold your hand but it just wasn’t possible since you were her healer and primary physician.

Everything happened so quickly you didn’t have time to react before there was a new crisis. The baby was a stillbirth and she kept losing blood after it was delivered.

There was nothing you could do.

In twenty four hours she lost her battle and traveled on to Valhalla to celebrate her life that was the tale you told yourself to remain hopeful and not in pieces.

You knew her personally in a way, she gave you kind glances in the halls and polite waves. Walks in the garden together was a Saturday tradition. She was nobility from another realm and being here was out of her element but she came to you with questions about traditions since she thought of you as sort of friend.Throughout her pregnancy she asked you a number of questions expressing her worry and asking you to reassure her with your knowledge

Everything was supposed to be okay.

Not even her husband the prince could console her nerves like you could whether late at night or early in the morning.

You told her it would be okay and everyone gets jitters especially since it was her first child. Like you knew or had felt what she was going through. It just felt like the correct thing to say.

You didn’t mean to lie to her.

All of Asgard mourned the loss of the beloved princess in their own way. The warriors put up their weapons to commemorate her losing her battle. The people released small boats and lanterns just as they did when the queen mother died. Even the guards stood weaponless at their posts for a day of peace and purity.

And you?

You cried. Alone in the safety of your servant quarters away from public eyes.

You were the last person who should shed a tear for her but it was your fault and you were ashamed. You weren’t experienced enough or quick enough to see what was happening. You didn’t try hard enough or disapprove of her choosing you to take care of her. The guilt was crippling and you didn’t know how to grieve a person you felt like you killed. You had hoped when the princes came back Loki would be furious at you or blame you as much as you blamed yourself but when his brother broke the news to him he simply hardened.

He hadn’t spoken since the day he arrived to the news four months ago nor has he eaten or drank anything either. The Gods of the Aesir didn’t need food or drink to stay alive but it was by now integrated into your society and concerning of him to quit doing. Castle gossip says he’s also refused to eat any golden apples that are used by the Gods for longevity.

Nonetheless everyday he comes to the room she was in when… everyday he comes to one of the treatment rooms and sits. Always by the corner near the window and always bringing fresh flowers no matter if the ones from the previous day were still fresh.

He would leave the discarded flowers on the windowsill and pour the old water out before replenishing it. No one went into the room while the prince was inside of it and no one but you entered when he left.

You kept it clean and the linens fresh you also took the discarded flowers and pressed them into the pages of one of your notebooks to keep and document. Everyday you did this then sat and read quietly to yourself from a spot on the floor. You were going to study until you knew everything there was to know about the topics so that no one would ever die by your hands again.

Today was like any other, you waited until the prince would surely have left to hustle inside the room old textbooks in hand and your notebook made for pressing flowers as well.

Only this time you were startled by his still well known presence inside of the room. He was standing facing the window looking out of it calmly. Upon seeing him you fumbled and let the items in your arms slip and clatter on the ground making a horrendous sound.

“I’m so sorry your highness I didn’t know you were still here.” You said quickly scrambling to pick up the books as quickly as possible.

He turned slowly to look down at you and his stern features made you shiver as did his rigid stance. “What is your name little one?” He said hardly blinking or offering any assistance.

You thought he was going to report you to your supervisor for being an idiot so without a second thought you started to beg him not to.

“I’m so sorry i didn’t mean to your highness please don’t-

"Name, what is your name,” He repeated watching you stand up and juggle the heavy books.

“(Name), ” you whispered watching him walk towards you with his arms folded behind his back.

“You were the healer of my wife correct?”

“Yes, your highness,” you flinched at every step he took fully expecting him to yell at you for ruining his life.

“Was it a girl or a boy?”

“Excuse me?”

“They never told me the gender of her child.” He said in a cold voice, his use of the word her child instead of our child made you wonder what exactly he meant by it.

“It was a girl sir.”

His thin lips pulled into a bone chilling bitter smile,“hm… tragic.” It had to be the most horrible thing to say you had ever heard. You were taken aback and didn’t know want to say at first but then anger and sadness surged through your blood.

“How can you say that? Your wife is dead, your only daughter is dead. You truly are the monster people say you are."You had officially forgotten your place and screamed at the prince. He looked confused and froze for a moment or two so there he stood looking at you blankly with moss colored eyes.

"You don’t know do you?”

“Know what?” you hissed back wanting to throw a book at him.

“My wife wasn’t my own, her heart belonged to another as did her first born. It was a forced marriage, she was going to leave Asgard to go off with her lover and live as a family with the true husband of her heart. That was not I.” His callous words stung as if you were the one it hurt.

You didn’t know how to explain it but you felt worse somehow. As if her trip to Vallhalla might not have been because of her own life choices. Still you felt guilt and misery for her and you had been feeling this for so long. This dreaded hurt that you had been running from somehow finally caught up to you.

Tears were assaulting your eyes but you tried your hardest to not let them fall. Your vision blurred and you and the numerous books you carried collapsed to the ground in a heap.

You shook your head and tried to make sense of what he was telling you about that kind woman you had known.

“Then why did you leave flowers and stop eating? Why were you so silent… why?”

“She was my good friend and I mourned her respectfully, I must say I never neglected my diet to a risky attempt. No one spoke to me, they all expected me to wallow in sadness but our relationship never ran deep enough for me to live in misery. I never realized this news would hurt you so. I knew you had spoken to her but i never realized you were both this close.”

You weren’t.

It was a strictly professional relationship and yet you still mistreated yourself after her death.

You sat there crying at his feet silently until he bent down to place a hand on your forehead. A strange feeling fell over you but once he retracted his hand his voice was softer and much more caring, “ Oh darling, have you been carrying around all that guilt for this long?” His hand moved to cup your cheek and his thumb wiped away some tears. You nodded and sniffled like a child in his hand until he wrapped his long arms around you as to comfort you.

“I assure you it wasn’t your fault. That was left up to the fates please don’t think any less of yourself as a healer or a person. Don’t cry.”

His warmth spread very you and it was almost as your brain answered letting your tears dry and your breath come back to you.

“Your highness, you are needed in the great hall.” A servant called from behind you causing your head to snap up to look at Loki’s face. It was stern again but when he waved her away and looked back down at you his gentleness returned.

“Such caring creatures feel the worst pain.” His words were simple but nothing else needed to be said as he stood back up to take his leave.

“Keep studying (Name), and just to ease your mind she hated flowers, they were for you to preserve.”

And with that he left, leaving you with lilacs on the windowsill and a heap of books scattered around the cold tile floor.

As all things do maybe it was time your guilt subsided.

Maybe it was the time to be happy again.

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Submitted one shot #submission #lilacs on a windowsill #trigger warning #infant death #death in childbirth #Written-Loki-Imagines

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