#my thoughts have been all jumbled up lately hope this makes sense

[chair002]

My favorite moment so far in S6 has been the spacewaffles conversation after Mapicc & Jepexx kill them. What makes it really special for me is the way Planet is so adamant about turning down any negativity whatsoever from Bacon. Bacon keeps saying how they just let them win and they're now on low hearts and everything is fucked and Planet just goes "Nope! Errr Error!!" and tells him they'll make it despite everything. Made me think back to how Zam & Bacon reacted to Planet's suicide back in S5. 'Cause initially Zam was kinda chill about it, his reaction was literally just "damn well that just happened" but then Bacon rolled up like PLANETLORD IS DEAD! FOREVER! and that reaction made Zam panic as well. Meanwhile here instead of giving in to Bacon's as always extremely pessimistic view of the situation or ignoring it Planet just shuts it down immediately and even makes sure Bacon looks him in the eyes while he's doing it. And after watching his pov of the Planet Revival stream, it's a similar situation for him, i think it's interesting Bacon's lowest points are often when Planet dies and cannot log back on, i guess because then there's no one to snap him out of it. this is not something exclusively Planet does (Kaboodle tries to cheer Bacon up after he dies during her and Red's duel, to no avail) but Planet is just such a close, naturally positive presence in Bacon's life, and so his absence is felt the strongest. Even if most things Planet says seem naive or sometimes just simply untrue.

Like, when they went to retrieve the hearts Kaboodle stole from Planet that one time, Bacon keeps insisting they're gonna get killed, meanwhile Planet innocently goes "noo why would anyone do that? dont worry," and obviously Bacon's the rational one here, because theyre naked at spawn and there was a huge commotion there earlier - but nothing ends up happening. they don't get killed. and so even if sometimes Planet is actively choosing to be gullible and naive about people being kind and everything being fine, he's not always wrong. it's very deliberate. He's not stupid, he knows violence first-hand, from both ends of it, but that doesn't break his generally good nature. and i think that's the counterweight Bacon's negative outlook needs

[abnormal-vacuum]

A closer look at Simon "Ghost" Riley's interpersonal guilt

1 + chapter 2

ghost/soap 1,338 words - ao3 tags: nothing bad. shitty dialog? idk johnny is actually in this chapter :)

It's one of those nights. The ones filled with Simon staring up at the ceiling, praying for sleep. Tossing, turning, making his bed, counting sheep. At this point It's about… 3:45am, and he’s tried everything. Clearly it's shaping up to become one of those times in which sleep escapes. Before he might have gone and done some pushups, or even had a wank. But he quickly realized that he disliked climbing into his sheets after getting sweaty, and the barrack showers aren’t the most inviting place to be in the wee hours of the morning. At least that's what he tells himself. In reality he just doesn’t want to find the Scot rinsing off, all alone in the dark. He’s not sure he'd be able to control himself in that situation. This night is uniquely worse than usual. Instead of being kept awake by memories of being buried, burned and bitten all he can think about is Soap. Johnny. His sergeant. His warm smile and shitty jokes. That stupid bastard. 

Simon sighs, sitting up in bed. He’s fed up with lying around, eyes burning a hole in the ceiling.

So, instead of continuing to stew in his thoughts, he peels his covers off and begins to take a walk around the base. It’s not like this is odd, he’s done it before. He wears his slippers and quietly pads through the halls until his feet feel like lead and he's barely able to keep his eyelids propped open. Then he drags himself back to his quarters and sleeps for the remaining two hours until 5am. 

Tonight he’s walked his way through nearly every hall. He’s counted up to 300 and back down again. He kind of feels like his brain is melting. All of his thoughts are jumbled together and his ever present alertness was discarded back at floor 2. That is until he finds himself standing in the doorway of the rec room, staring down at the very bastard that caused this sleepless night. MacTavish. Simon straightens himself up, his shoulders squaring. He hopes Johnny doesn't notice. Soap is bent over the pool table, cue situated for the perfect shot. Then, as if sensing the Brits' presence, he looks up in surprise. They stand, frozen in time for a few moments before Johnny cracks a slightly awkward smile. His eyebags look extra pronounced beneath the poor, singular overhead light. 

“Garrick’s been getting a little too good. Had to get in some practice to make sure I stayed on top.” He chuckles. It sounds forced. When Simon doesn't acknowledge his joke he sighs, head falling a little. His mohawk is ungelled, ruffled. Ghost wonders how many people have seen him like this, in his too big t-shirt and navy sweats. 

“Can’t sleep.”

Ghost is quiet for a few moments before responding, his voice a little hoarse.

 “Me neither.”

There's another long moment of silence, then soap gestures to the pool table.

“Wannae play?”

Surprisingly, Ghost isn't good at pool. You’d think a sniper would be proficient at things like that, but he's not. He most likely just hasn't had enough practice, although he doesn't really care to try. 

“Sure.”

Soap wins in seven turns, eleven less than it typically takes to beat Gaz. 

“Are those baffies?”

“What?”

Soap nods down to Simon’s feet. 

Ghost can’t help but snort, “My slippers, you mean?” 

Johnny scoffs. His gaze drags from Simon’s slippers up to the top of his head. Something about his gaze makes him uncomfortable. He suddenly wishes he was wearing a mask, and can feel his cheeks burning. Simon, at the ripe age of 30, is blushing. He should just end himself now, he thinks. 

“Never thought I’d catch The Ghost wearing’ just his jammies. I oughta take a picture, nobody’ll believe me otherwise.”

This is one of the rare occasions that Ghost doesn’t have a quip to return. He feels… weird. No one has ever caught him during one of his late night roundabouts. He honestly never considered it an option, so he hasn’t prepared a viable excuse for why he's sluggishly wandering the halls. He wonders why Johnny can't sleep. Nightmares, maybe. Perhaps anxiety. Simon thinks about this for a beat too long and Soap, probably uncomfortable with the silence, goes to hang up his pool cue. It knocks against the wall and he cringes, apologizing.

“Sorry--”

“Why can't you sleep?” Simon suddenly interjects, his mind too focused on the topic to stop himself from blurting it out. It takes the Scot a few seconds to reply.

“Oh, you know…”

“I don’t know, actually.”

Soap frowns, as if surprised at the pushback. He leans on the wall, his gaze going back to Ghost’s feet. 

“Just thinking.”

He takes a breath.

“How was school for you, when you were a lad?” 

Simon's eyebrows furrow. What an odd question.

“It was… fine. Didn’t get the best grades, but… didn’t matter much in the long run.” If he was being completely honest, he would admit to not remembering much of school. But he's not honest, so he doesn’t. Besides, that's not something the Sergeant needs to know.

“I was never good at school. Couldn’t focus on what the teacher was saying, had too much energy. I was never dumb, but it felt like all the adults thought I was.”  

“...Yeah?” Seems like Johnny needs to get this off his chest. Maybe he's been thinking about this for a while. 

“That’s probably why I joined so young. The army, I mean. Wanted to prove I could do something right for a change.” 

Simon is quiet for a second, waiting to see if Johnny will continue. The Scot chews on his lip a little, looking off to the side. But he doesn’t speak.

“Why’d they think that?”

“What, that I was dumb?” He’s back to looking at Ghost, although not towards his eyes. Just below them, at his nose. 

Simon nods.

“I didn’t pay much attention. Always forgot to turn my work in on time, too. The only thing I was really good at was chemistry, and even then I only liked it because I could light shit on fire.”

Simon doesn't remember ever learning chemistry. The next few hours go on like this. By the end of it they’ve each settled onto one of the several ratty chairs in the rec room, Soaps legs stretched out far enough that his foot bumps up against Simon's ankle every once in a while. Maybe Ghost shifts closer, maybe he doesn’t. Hard to say—he’s not the type of man to indulge. The sergeant looks close to nodding off. Ghost watches him for several moments before he sighs, standing up and patting him firmly on the shoulder. 

“Off to bed with you.”

Soap seems to startle at this. He stands.

“Wait--”

Ghost stops, but doesn’t turn.

“Next time you can’t sleep…”, Johnny trails off, considering his next words carefully, 

“My rooms open.”

There's a pause, then he adds on, tone quieter.

“Chances are I'll be awake too.” 

Ghost stands in place for a moment, considering his offer, then manages to shuffle his way back up to his quarters shortly after, mulling the night over in his head. He’s sure Johnny gave the invitation in case he ever wanted to talk, but it's hard to stop his mind from wandering to slightly less savory places. He climbs into bed, tucking himself in tightly. He wriggles around beneath the covers, restless. He goes from lying on his back to his left side, then to his right. Then back to his left. He wonders what position Johnny sleeps in. Back, side. Stomach. Finally, slightly exasperated, he grabs the extra blanket at the end of his bed and bunches it up to hug it in his arms. He lies like this for a few minutes before sitting up and twisting it to sort of resemble an arm. He then wraps that around himself, frowning at how pathetic this action is. 

He falls asleep a few minutes later.

[sweetjulieapples]

Dear Commander - Chapter 23: From Ferelden, With Love

Cullen x Trevelyan

AO3 MASTERLIST

The Inquisitor and Cullen are on opposite sides of Ferelden but still on each other's minds.

Full chapter below:

Sera stopped me at first. I was making my way to the old tavern where I had a bedroll ready. In hindsight, I should have ran. Maybe then I could string together some semblance of a cohesive thought.

Maybe if we had just stood still, things would be different. But she followed me as I walked down the steps and in her jumble of curses and pessimism, she made some sense. I listened, that’s what the Inquisitor should do, right? She's scared like the rest of us. She just expresses it in a much more colourful way.

Then I heard his voice. Firm and authoritative. It was far too late in the darkness of the courtyard but he was working by candlelight. I sometimes worry that he pushes himself too far.

I tried to avoid him, to resist the temptation to approach, but Sera would not stop talking. Over and over. She must have found a dozen or so creative ways to say the name Corypheus without actually saying it. I shouldn't blame her, this is my mess and mine alone.

Then he looked up and it was too late to turn back. Sera left and I was standing there alone with no excuse. He appeared startled for a moment, then he looked away, throwing himself back into whatever it was that seemed a far greater priority than a decent night’s sleep. I was already there, his scouts looking at me as though I deserved his attention, looking back to him for some response. I didn’t know what to say, I just stood there like an idiot and then he just started telling me things. He didn’t say ‘hello’ or anything; instead, he rattled off all the things that he’s done and all the ways he’s keeping Skyhold secure. It felt so strange, almost dehumanizing. As though I am no more than an authoritative figure that expects military summaries in place of normal conversation. I froze, I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I laughed, because if I’m laughing, then nobody can be laughing at me. But I should never have poked fun at him for taking his role so seriously. It was shamefully unbecoming of me but I didn’t know what else to do. He clearly hadn’t been taking breaks or time for himself, but I said it anyway—the silly question: ‘Do you ever sleep?’ Of course he sleeps, at some point…at least I hope.

I hope he knows that I was joking and that I actually do believe he sleeps, because he didn’t say anything about it. He just turned back to what he was doing and attempted to justify his caution, saying that he couldn’t let anything happen. He was taking it so seriously that, for a moment, I could have sworn I saw him begin to shake. He was leaning all his weight into that little makeshift desk, it was starting to worry me. He turned to face me and he gave me the most piercing look that left me breathless. “We will not run from here, Inquisitor.” - is what he said and he meant every word.

Then it dawned on me that perhaps this is how he rests. He said it with so much pride. He doesn’t seem the type to sit by and let things happen. Maybe he’s more at ease planning and taking control than he could ever be if he were tucked up in bed.

I love really admire that about him. He's honorable and hard-working. The fact that he’s handsome is a nice bonus. Ugh, it hurts to even admit that. And that's the problem.

I find myself thinking of him all the time, far more than I did before. I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind. Even now as I sit here writing this, I wonder if he’s on his way back to Skyhold. I don’t doubt that I’ll receive word soon. For once, a mission report that I’d take joy in reading.

Oh, but my mind keeps wandering back to that night in the courtyard. I tried to keep my wits about me, to maintain composure and act in an appropriate manner. When he looks at me like that and speaks in that softer voice, my brain just stops. I tried to tell him that I appreciate all his hard work, offer my gratitude for rescuing me in the avalanche, and, more importantly, that I’m glad he survived—but I couldn’t find the words. I stumbled over my thoughts, cowering mid-sentence into some meaningless, vague statement that implied he was no more important to me than a random villager.

He looked away and whatever progress I thought we were making vanished just like that. It was so incredibly awkward that I just wanted to run away. I might have rolled my eyes at some point, I don’t even know. Then he stopped me. He touched me, grabbed my arm to stop me from walking away and promised that he wouldn’t allow the events at Haven to happen again.

“You have my word.”

He promised and it felt like that promise was just for me. The way he spoke, the intensity in his eyes - all for me.

Not because I’m The Inquisitor or The Herald of Andraste, but because I am me.

What if I’m wrong? If I let myself believe this…

“Inquisitor!”

The officer’s voice startled Juliette, making her flinch and drop her quill. Her heart raced as she took a deep breath, pressing her hand over her chest to calm her nerves. She had become a little too lost in thought, for a moment forgetting the attention that her duty demanded.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” she called, slamming the journal shut, the ink likely smearing before it had a chance to dry. She tucked it securely into her bedroll, her hands trembling slightly as she wondered how likely it would be that someone could happen upon it.

With one last glance at the journal, she stepped outside of her tent, greeted by the persistent drizzle of rain and the unmistakable stench of the bog that clung to the air. A crack of thunder rumbled above, as if to remind her that nothing—least of all her secrets—were safe here.

She scrunched her face in a dramatic manner just in case anyone had missed how much she hated this place. The dampness clung to her skin, the ever-present gloom made the world feel suffocating, even during the day. How anyone could call this home was beyond her understanding. The few days spent in the Fallow Mire were already far too many.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of a group approaching their camp -several scouts in Inquisition armor, one in particular that she had been eager to speak with.

“Harding!” Juliette called enthusiastically, weaving her way past the smoldering campfire. A few of the officers shot her curious glances as they rested, weary from the trip.

“Inquisitor,” Harding replied with a slight nod as Juliette approached. The rain pelted against her face, soaking her hair and cloak, but she barely flinched, her focus entirely on the Inquisitor. The other scouts moved ahead, sensing the need for privacy.

“What is it?” Juliette asked in a gasp, catching her breath from her sudden dash across the camp. “Did you find them?”

Harding’s expression darkened. “Not yet, Inquisitor. But we did find one who had escaped.” She passed Juliette a note with a regretful look. “Aubrey. He was a good man.” “Was?” Juliette asked, her voice wavering in sorrow as she pulled the note underneath her scarf to protect it. She motioned towards the tents with a tilt of her head, eager to get out of the rain.

As they reached the annex, where a loosely propped canvas offered little more than minimal shelter, Juliette unfurled the thin sheet of paper. She skimmed it swiftly, her attention flickering between the text and Harding’s words.

“We found his body in a cave. He likely passed away from his injuries.”

“Maker rest his soul,” Juliette replied, bowing her head in respect. “I’ll see that Aubrey is honored for his bravery.”

Harding gave a short nod. “He tried to warn you not to come here, but his letter never made it out of The Mire.”

Juliette glanced up from the letter, brow furrowed in confusion. “The Avvar want to challenge me to win favour with their gods…” Her voice trailed off, rising at the end as if she were still trying to make sense of it. “Because I’m the Herald of Andraste. That’s it? They think this will somehow disprove Andraste’s existence and... what?” She pressed her palm to her forehead, shaking her head. “This makes no sense.”

“Personally, I think their leader’s just a boastful little prick that wants to brag he killed you,” Harding said bluntly. ”Well,” Juliette said with a mirthless chuckle. “That’s fame for you.”

“They’re holed up in a castle called Hargrave Keep—what’s left of it, anyway. We’ll lead the way once you’re ready to depart.”

“Thank you, Harding,” Juliette said, casting a quick glance over her shoulder. “We need to move soon, once we’ve resupplied.”

“Getting to the troops won’t be easy. You’ll have to fight your way through undead,” Harding said, gesturing towards the murky water. Juliette shuddered at the thought. “Wait—you're not squeamish about undead, are you?” Harding teased.

“No, no, not at all,” Juliette replied, her voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Right at the top of my list of favourite monsters.”

“You’ll want to stay out of the water, then,” Harding said.

“If you can even call it water,” Juliette replied, wrinkling her nose. “It’s quite the smell.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Harding chuckled.

“I’ll make sure to let Josephine know that you need a raise once we’re back at Skyhold.”

“I might just hold you to that” Harding smiled. “Maker willing, The Inquisition’s people are still alive.”

“I am not letting the Avvar butcher our people,” Juliette said with determination.

“I appreciate it,” Harding smiled, nodding respectfully as she began to walk away.

Juliette hesitated, wrestling with the decision to bring up the operation at Denerim Palace. Her fingers tightened around the fabric of her scarf as she stepped back into the rain.

“Harding, wait!” she called, quickly closing the distance with a few quick steps.

Harding turned, watching curiously. “Yes?”

Juliette smiled awkwardly, tugging her scarf tighter over her head to shield herself from the rain. “You wouldn’t happen to know how far it is from Skyhold to Denerim, would you?”

“That depends,” Harding said, her voice wavering slightly, as though she could sense there was more to the question. “Are you talking distance measured or days traveled?”

“Days traveled. For a small army,” Juliette replied, tilting her head slightly, her thoughts already drifting elsewhere.

Harding considered this, squinting as though she could already see the journey laid out before them. “Maybe two weeks, horseback,” she shrugged. “It would depend on injuries, how many times they’d stop for supplies, that sort of thing.”

“Two weeks,” Juliette whispered to herself, nodding as she stared into the distance. He departed four days before me, seven for the mountain trail, another three for Redcliffe…

“Uh…is everything all right, Inquisitor?” Harding asked cautiously.

Juliette blinked and forced a smile. “Oh, yes,” she said, straightening her posture. “I just… like to keep track of where our people are, and what they’re… doing. It doesn’t matter.” Juliette began to quickly walk away, her head lowered and eyes focused on her feet. “We should hurry along,” Juliette added, her voice slightly more urgent now. “We have a big day ahead of ourselves.”

“Yes, Inquisitor,” Harding replied, though her gaze lingered on Juliette for a moment, still puzzled.

The next day they made steady progress as the Inquisition scouts moved farther ahead through the marshy bog of the Fallow Mire. Nearing Hargrave Keep, The Inquisitor and her party took a moment to rest after defeating a horde of undead. The scouts, seizing the moment of rest, moved ahead to assess the path before them.

The distant rumble of thunder filled the air and sparse rain drops made heavy splashing noises as they fell in the nearby lake. There was an eerie sense of calm while they waited for the scouts , until Cole decided to speak.

“Juliette?” His voice held a certain innocence, as if her title didn’t matter at all.

"Inquisitor," Cassandra snapped, her tone sharp enough to make him flinch.

"No, it’s fine," Juliette said, stepping closer to him. Her voice softened. "He can call me Juliette. I rather like it—it makes me feel like a person again."

Cassandra folded her arms tightly, her eyes narrowing as she watched Cole, as if measuring every word he spoke. Cole blinked up at Juliette, rising from his crouch. His oversized hat wobbled as he moved.

“But you are a person,” he said, sounding baffled.

Juliette sighed, her boot kicking at the dirt beneath her. "Sometimes... it doesn’t feel that way." She met his eyes with a forced smile. "Did you have a question, Cole?”

"Why do you hide your words underneath your pillow?"

“Oh!” Dorian gasped dramatically, his eyes lighting up as he swiftly crossed the space to Juliette. “Did I hear that correctly? Our lovely lady Inquisitor has a secret journal?” He grinned widely, clearly enjoying the moment as he waited for her reaction. Juliette sighed, shaking her head as she lowered it, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Dorian leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at her expression, his teasing grin only widening. “I packed so lightly for this trip, you know. I was hoping we’d stumble across something interesting for me to read.”

Juliette glared up at him, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t suppose there’s much point in hiding it now that Cole has announced it to the entire party,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples in frustration.

“But why, Juliette?” Cole asked, his voice genuinely curious. “You understand the meaning of the words, but you don’t know what they mean.”

She dropped her head into her hands, groaning. “Please don’t say anything else that will embarrass me, Cole.”

With a tilt of his head he replied, “But how will I know that it embarrasses you if I don’t say it?”

“He’s got you there,” Dorian chimed in, highly amused by the situation.

Juliette scoffed, walking briskly towards the water’s edge. “I’ll burn the book as soon as we return to camp,” she muttered, half to herself.

“Pages burn, yet words remain,” Cole spoke solemnly, his gaze lingering on her.

Juliette crossed her arms and shot Dorian one last, pointed glare. “Let’s just move on, shall we?”

Cassandra stood opposite Cole, her distrusting stare intense. “If you are to fight alongside us, Cole, I expect you to follow orders. The Inquisitor believes you wish to help…”

Juliette wandered ahead, hugging herself tightly as the rain began to fall a little heavier. She looked up at the sky, black clouds stirring above as though they were there to taunt her too. She rolled her eyes when she heard footsteps approaching.

“Dear diary,” Dorian said in a mocking tone. “Too many Templars. Too little time.”

Juliette sighed. “Maker give me strength.”

Inquisitor, Our forces were able to prov  

Cullen’s quill slipped, smudging ink across the carefully written words. With a heavy sigh, he crumpled the parchment and tossed it aside, starting over.

Inquisitor, Our

Again, the ink smeared beneath his trembling hand. He clenched his jaw and exhaled through his teeth, snatching another piece of fresh vellum.

This can’t keep happening. I’m wasting resources, he thought, frustration tightening his chest. His gaze lingered on his fingers, as though he could somehow will them to cooperate.

He paused, staring at the blank page, his hand shaking as it hovered over the ink. With a sharp exhale, Cullen removed his gloves, hoping that could give him a better grip and steady his erratic movements. One hand carefully spread the vellum over the crate that he used as a makeshift desk, while the other gripped the quill tightly. Holding his breath, he lowered the quill to the page.

Inquisitor, Our forces were able to provide assistance to Queen Anora

The first stroke was unsteady, the ink bleeding into the vellum before he could finish the letter. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, but each new letter came out shaky and crooked. His grip on the quill tightened, knuckles turning white, but the tremors only worsened.

Every movement was deliberate, yet his hand refused to obey. The letters began to lose their form, sliding and shifting into scribbles. His handwriting, normally precise and carefully penned, now appeared a jagged mess, almost as disorderly as his thoughts.

Frustration consumed him as he shoved the quill aside with a growl. He snatched the ink pot and hurled it at a pile of crates, splattering ink into the air, the faint scent of the dye lingering. He stood for a moment, chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath.

Nearby soldiers, alerted by the noise, glanced over in surprise. Cullen clenched his fists, turning away and forcing his shoulders back, trying his best to appear composed despite the fury raging inside him.

He hated this.

If I cannot complete a task as simple as writing a letter, how am I to command an army? What use am I like this?

Each breath came ragged, and he felt as though his head were spinning. The withdrawals hadn’t been this bad in months. He walked over to a barrel and slowly splashed cool water against his face, the shock of the cold momentarily pulling him from the fog in his mind.

He leaned against the barrel, tightly closing his eyes. It’s been days. How much longer until it passes? He took a slow, deep breath. I vowed to be better than this. To give more. His hands still trembled, and there wasn’t a muscle in his body free from aching. The Inquisition, the soldiers… Juliette — I can’t let them down.

He stood there for a while, gathering what little strength he had left. The soldiers would be waiting, the new recruits among them. He couldn’t afford to let them see him like this.

With a long, steadying breath, he rolled his shoulders, wiped his face dry with the back of his hand, and turned towards the camp. Each step felt heavy, but he pushed forward, determined not to break.

The sun was bright. It’s always too bright. Cullen squinted, shielding his eyes with a hand as he walked to the edge of the perimeter where messengers were stationed.

“Any word from the Fallow Mire?” Cullen asked as he approached.

“Still nothing, Ser,” the messenger replied, a formality to his voice.

“When you do hear something, anything at all, I'd like to be notified immediately,” Cullen instructed.

“Yes, Commander,” the messenger nodded. “Would you like us to send a message to The Inquisitor?”

"No," Cullen said sharply, turning to walk away. "I’m sure they’re just busy." He forced the words out through clenched teeth, the sunlight magnifying his headache, while his mind raced anew.

They should have been there by now. Each day without an update brought on more worry, more stress. With the constant travel, the steady influx of new recruits, and the lingering grip of withdrawal, Cullen barely had room to breathe, let alone manage the mounting stress of The Inquisitor’s whereabouts.

He gritted his teeth, his ink stained fingers twitching as the possibilities swirled in his mind, each scenario worse than the last. He couldn’t grasp one before another took its place—what if she was in danger? What if they had failed? If only he could write to her—just one letter, one reply to ease his mind.

Cullen turned back to the messenger, drawing in a sharp breath before speaking. “Perhaps write to the scouts. Harding should be able to inform us of their progress. She may know if the soldiers have been located…and if the Inquisitor has safely arrived.”

“Right away, Commander,” the messenger nodded with a fist raised to his chest. He scurried away, leaving Cullen alone with his thoughts—but only for a moment.

“Commander!” an officer called out, approaching at a brisk pace, a serious expression on his face. Cullen exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his patience before turning to face the officer.

“The bandits have been cleared, Commander. Giving ‘em swords... wasn’t such a bad call after all.”

Cullen raised an eyebrow. “The Sutherland lad that turned up at Skyhold?”

“That’s the one. Drove the bandits off, our patrols are clear,” the officer said proudly.

“He may have potential yet,” Cullen replied, folding his arms. His gaze drifted over the barren plains surrounding their camp, the dry earth stretching endlessly beneath the pale sky.

The officer stood at attention, waiting, but a silence fell between them as Cullen stared ahead in contemplation. The officer relaxed slightly, his gaze following Cullen’s before he spoke again. “Hard to believe this was all green once,” he muttered, sadness in his voice.

Cullen looked across, his arms still folded tightly. There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “You’re from Lothering?”

The officer’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, he seemed lost in the past. “Until the Blight,” he said quietly. “My family and I were lucky to make it out.” He pointed towards the west, his hand lingering on the air. “The village is out that way. Or what’s left of it, anyway.”

“I suppose Honnleath is much the same,” Cullen said quietly.

The officer nodded slowly, his gaze now distant. “Just a name on a map these days.” He sighed heavily. “I best keep moving. More recruits will arrive soon.”

“Well, with luck they'll know which end to grip a sword by,” Cullen muttered sarcastically. The officer chuckled, walking back into the camp.

Once more alone with his thoughts, Cullen looked over at the dry, empty fields that were once thriving farmlands. He often found himself wondering just how damaged his childhood home had become. Did it still stand, left abandoned all these years? He couldn’t help but think of his family. Memories of warm August afternoons by the lake. He could almost hear his siblings laughter as they tried to throw each other in the water. What he’d give to go back to those days. Simpler, happier times. It had been seventeen years since he left to join the Templar order. Most of his life spent away from home. It felt like another lifetime ago. Cullen looked down at his sword, the Inquisition emblem glistening on the hilt. His siblings had likely heard of Haven, everyone in Denerim seemed to know after all. No doubt he’d return to Skyhold with an angry letter from his sister waiting. He didn’t feel ready to face his past, nor consider a future beyond this. He drew in a long, deep breath, the cool air filling his lungs. His hand rested against the pommel of the sword and the tremors eased. A habit he’d grown into over time, a strange sense of comfort. He had a duty now, and no matter the cost, he would not falter.

Juliette slowly pulled herself to her feet. The ringing in her ears was almost suffocating, a harsh, high-pitched sound that blurred her thoughts. Her vision swirled, three green glowing palms waved before her face, splattered in blood. Her blood, she realized, her stomach twisting. She coughed, the wind knocked from her chest, and forced herself to stay upright. Cassandra’s battle raged nearby, her sword flashing as she clashed with three Avvar warriors. The sound of steel meeting steel was accompanied by Cassandra’s grunts, each strike an explosion of power, but it was the crackling buzz of electricity nearby that seized Juliette’s attention.

Dorian stood just out of her reach, his hands crackling with magic. The Avvar warrior nearest to him was writhing on the ground, his body spasming from the brutal electrical shocks coursing through him. His sadistic laughter rang out, a sickening chill. Hand of Korth, he called himself, taking pleasure in his own suffering, each crackling surge of magic seeming to delight him. It was as though each strike against him was a moment of defiance against Andraste. Juliette shuddered at the thought. He could stay there, writhing in agony, a little longer.

Juliette raised her hands to the sky, the staff in her grip flaring with searing flames. With a wave, she conjured a barrier of fire that encircled the battlefield, flames crackling and swirling in a wall of blazing heat. Cassandra retreated, her enemies igniting in the inferno. Their screams echoed in the air, but Juliette's focus quickly shifted.

Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze fell on Cole, motionless on the ground, his daggers still tightly clutched in his hands.

“Hold on, Cole!” she yelled, racing towards him. As she kneeled before his limp body, a wave of confusion washed over Juliette. Does he heal? Will a potion... Her heart raced, her thoughts clouded with panic. “Cole!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “I don’t know how to heal you!”

With trembling hands, she pulled a vial of healing potion from her belt, her fingers fumbling as she tore the cork from the bottle. She held it under his nose, her breath frantic. Can he drink?

“Cassandra!” Dorian yelled, just seconds before the deafening crash of the overhang collapsing echoed through the air. Juliette scrambled to her feet, the healing vial slipping from her fingers and shattering against the ground. She froze, her eyes wide in horror as she watched Dorian rush to clear the rubble from where Cassandra lay trapped beneath. Did…did my fire do that?

Juliette struggled for breath, screaming out “Is she all ri—”

“Finish him!” Dorian shouted, fierce urgency in his voice with a glare over his shoulder. Juliette’s eyes darted to the Avvar, that so-called Hand of Korth crawling towards her with a twisted grin. She grabbed her staff, her breath quick and ragged. Too close, too close for fire. What do I do?

She stepped backwards, desperate to create some distance, to find enough space for her fire to rage without consuming her as well. Before she could react, he grabbed her ankle, yanking her to the ground. Her staff clattered against the stone as it fell beside her. A frightened squeal escaped her as the Avvar dragged her across the rough stone, his cruel laughter echoing in her ears as he muttered, “Weak. Weak is Andratse’s Herald.” Juliette snatched for her staff, her fingertips barely gripping it as she fumbled it into place. She raised it, hoping to smash it against his face, but his reflexes were too fast. In an instant, he grabbed the staff and bent the iron in half, a terrifying display of strength.

He laughed, shaking his head. Before Juliette could defend herself, his hands were wrapped around her neck, squeezing and choking while she clawed at his fingers, feeling herself slip away.

Suddenly, his grip loosened. A vacant expression crossed his face, followed by a slicing sound as he collapsed forward, falling beside her. Juliette sat there, eyes wide in shock, her breath shallow. Her fingers trembled as they instinctively moved to her neck, feeling the bruises forming beneath her skin. Cole stood before her, expressionless, blood-soaked daggers gripped tightly in his hands.

The walk back to camp was tense, the silence broken only by the steady rainfall, occasional thunder, and the distant groans of the undead. The Mire had mostly been cleared of danger by now, thanks to the closure of rifts and a reduced Avvar presence.

"Cassandra’s angry," Dorian observed loudly.

"I’m not angry—" she tried to object, but Dorian cut her off.

"Juliette’s angry." There was a pause, and the Inquisitor didn’t say a word.

"Tell me, Cole. What’s on your mind?" Dorian asked, his voice carrying a teasing lilt that went unnoticed by Cole.

"Relieved. Safe now. The Herald came for us, I knew she would!" Cole responded, his voice full of praise, mirroring the gratitude of the rescued soldiers.

"Yes, yes, she always takes all the credit," Dorian muttered sarcastically.

Juliette groaned, her boots thudding against the muddy ground as she stomped ahead, finally reaching the camp.

The Inquisition’s presence had nearly doubled in size during their absence. More soldiers, scouts, and officers swarmed the campsite, some planning, others preparing, and a few resting.

“What’s going on?” Juliette asked, her expression unusually stern as she moved into the center of the camp.

“Inquisitor!” an officer greeted her, bowing slightly. “Reinforcements were sent from Skyhold, your worship.”

“Why?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion. “There’s no need. We’re clearing out of here.”

“Commander Cullen sent us,” he explained cautiously, sensing her irritation.

“Well, it’s a little too late for that,” she snapped, throwing her ruined staff to the ground with a sharp clang and placing her hand on her hips. Her frustration flared as she let out a heavy sigh, her gaze shifting back to the officer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I’m just—” She faltered for a moment, stress getting the better of her. “Apologies, but you need to leave.”

Her eyes scanned the camp, and with a raised voice, she added, “You all need to leave. We’ve found the soldiers. Let’s just get out of this horrid bog of a—” She scoffed, shaking her head in frustration. Without another word, she beelined for her tent, the urgency of her steps mirroring her desire to escape the watchful eyes of the Inquisition. Dorian strolled into the camp, one arm supporting Cassandra as she limped beside him. Juliette glanced over her shoulder. That must be driving her crazy. Maker, she must hate me right now.

“This arrived for you, Inquisitor!” The requisition officer stepped in front of Juliette, holding a burlap-wrapped package.

“What is that?” Juliette asked, her expression softening slightly as she looked at the package with a flicker of curiosity.

“The soldiers brought this down from the Commander,” she explained. Juliette hesitated for a moment before extending her hand, taking the package with a quiet sigh, unsure of what to expect. Her breath caught for a split second, a fleeting warmth in her chest. She quickly masked the reaction, hiding the heat creeping along her cheeks, forcing her face to remain neutral. That was until she heard Dorians voice, in which she hung her head with a defeated sigh.

“A gift?” Dorian asked dramatically, stepping closer to Juliette. “From Commander Cullen?” he whispered, but his voice was far too loud, carrying more than Juliette would have liked.

Juliette clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around the package. “Thank you,” she said curtly to the officer, her voice strained as she dismissed her with a stiff nod.

“Whatever could it be?” Dorian wondered aloud, his tone far too gleeful for Juliette’s liking. She ignored him, ripping open the package with growing impatience.

“Flowers?” Dorian suggested with a dramatic tilt of his head.

“Flowers?” Juliette echoed, her nose scrunching at the absurdity of it.

“Jewelry? …Ah, a book.” He paused, looking at the item in her hands with a theatrical sigh. “How predictably dull.”

“Would you stop?” Juliette snapped. “You’ve been particularly irritating today.”

“Oh, I’ve hit a nerve,” Dorian teased, his hands raised defensively. “Don’t drop a building on me!” Juliette scowled, brushing past him with a sharp movement, her steps quick as she neared her tent. “You could at least tell me what the book is?”

“You wanted something to read?” she snapped, spinning back to face him. “Take it!” She threw the book at him and stormed off.

Dorian caught the book easily, an amused grin spreading across his face. “Tale of The Champion?” he read aloud. “I don’t think I’ll bother… Oh, a note.”

“What?” Cassandra shrieked from across the camp. With a limp she hobbled over quickly, anger flaring in her eyes. Juliette stepped forward and snatched the note that fell from the book from Dorian’s hands. She glanced down at the paper, skimming the words as Cassandra’s voice grew louder with fury.

“That bastard! I knew it!”

“What?” Juliette said, confused. “What did Cullen —”

“Not Cullen, Varric!” Cassandra snarled, her grip tightening on the book as she ripped it from Dorian’s hands, her gaze fiery.

Juliette looked back down at the note.

Inquisitor, Varric is up to something and if Leliana’s suspicions are correct, you should know what you’re in for. While I can’t say that the story is true in it’s entirety, the events mentioned are accurate where it matters. Ignore any mention of me, he was exaggerating I’ve marked the sections that are relevant. If Hawke is indeed making his way to Skyhold, then this may give you some insight, if not a fair warning. Cullen

Juliette looked up, meeting Dorian’s watchful gaze and Cassandra’s piercing stare. "Well," Juliette said, her voice uncertain, unsure of what else to say.

Cullen sat by the fire at the camp on the outskirts of Redcliffe. The soft crackle of the fire was a welcoming sound among the loud bustle of the camp. He held Juliette’s letter, his hands far steadier today.

Cullen, There’s nothing like some light reading amid the ambience of torrential rain, suffocating darkness and the persistent groaning of undead. I beg you, never send me here again. Not that the mission was a complete waste of time, however. I’m happy to report that we have managed to free our soldiers. All but one are accounted for and are in good health, a little shaken, but I consider it a victory. Interestingly, not all the Avvar were hostile - just the few dozen that wanted me dead. The challenger has been dealt with. There is no reason for The Inquisition to return here. Please don’t send any more of us here. With love, from the most miserable bog of Southern Ferelden, Inquisitor Trevelyan p.s Your attitude sounded foul, but Varric’s description of your hair was glorious.

Cullen let out an exasperated sigh. “I should have just tore out the pages,” he mumbled to himself. His eyes wandered back over her handwriting. With love. She’s being dramatically sarcastic. A small smirk tugged at his lips. I tried to warn her not to go there, he thought, his fingers tracing the edges of the letter. He could almost hear her voice, that mix of dry humor and underlying defiance. I’m certain she’ll have plenty to say once we’re both back at Skyhold.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Strike a Deal

cw: manipulation, implied torture, violence, heavily implied noncon, adult language

Wildefire Masterlist (note: this drabble is non-canon as of right now)

•°•°•

After all she'd done to avoid Corp, entering one of their shiniest buildings just felt wrong to Sarah. If she wasn't here to 'work out an agreement’—which she hoped was CEO-speak for ‘we surrender’—she'd sooner brick the windows than set one foot on the polished linoleum.

Annie Rivera, head of Good Knight, was waiting when she arrived on the hundredth floor.

“Spyglass.” She offered a smile warm enough to blow a grandma out of the water, and Sarah had to remind herself that however friendly she seemed, Annie committed all the same atrocities as Uriah. Maybe more. She'd certainly heard this lady was ambitious, and that was CEO-speak for ‘out for blood.’

“I wasn't sure you'd come.”

It had taken a lot of discussion with the others and a lot more internal debating before she'd even considered it. She'd sat on the invitation for days before agreeing to meet. Lately, every little decision set her nerves in a jumble, anxiety firing on full blast, insisting she'd certainly make the wrong choice. Her brain had been working against her for weeks, ever since Lex—

She had to keep from physically recoiling at the thought of him. She was sure he was still alive, everyone was, but no matter how hard they searched, they couldn't find a trace.

Her fault. 

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” she said.

“We've heard so much about you. Really making ripples out there, huh?” Annie strolled across the room, taking her place behind a huge wooden desk, and gestured to the leather seat across from her. Begrudgingly, Sarah took it.

“You care about people like you. You want to make things better. I think that's admirable.”

Sarah crossed her arms. “Sure. But I have a feeling you didn't call me here to join the cause.”

Annie gave a sympathetic smile, leaning forward on the desk. “Unfortunately, you are correct. I'm all for empowering the Empowered, of course, but you must understand the… safety issues such a movement poses.”

“So cut the niceties and tell me why I'm here.” She'd already known Annie wouldn't help them, but if she was pretending to be empathetic, that was a good sign, right? It meant she wanted Sarah's cooperation with something. 

“Ah. I've called you here to offer you a contract with Good Knight.”

Sarah frowned. “You gotta be shitting me.”

The easy, friendly smile didn't stray from Annie's face. “Not at all. I want you and your compatriots working for me. You'll be granted full protection and full immunity, and every one of you will have privileged positions within the company.”

“Really?” Sarah leaned forward. “And what's the catch?”

“There is no catch,” Annie said. “Of course, if you're Corp assets, continuing your investigation and public campaign would be a conflict of interest, but that's just common sense, isn't it?”

That was about what Sarah’d expected, and it made her feel strangely giddy. Maybe they couldn't stand against Corp directly, but whatever they'd been doing, it was working. Corp was scared enough to try and bribe them into silence. Even if it wasn't the surrender pipe dream she'd come in with, this new knowledge was enough to make the visit worth it.

She returned Annie's smile. “Well, thanks for having me. I had a great time. And I hope I never see you again.” She pushed away from the desk and stood. If there were any traps or underhand moves planned, now was certainly the time they'd be sprung, but she'd be ready. She turned up her hearing, listening for footsteps or motion in the walls. All she heard was the buzz of the lights and a slight rustling behind her.

“Maybe you'd like to hear the rest of my offer before you go.”

Sarah turned around, half expecting the woman to have a gun on her, but she hadn't heard anything. It had just been something light, like a sheet of cardstock or a…

A photograph. Annie had laid a photograph on the desk. It was dark, with a single figure in its center, staring at the camera with hollow eyes.

Lex.

Her stomach dropped, and she stumbled forwards, catching herself on the desk, gripping its edge for support. He was alive, Lex was alive, but the joy she felt was undercut by how awful he looked.

Lex’s cybernetics were gone. His head has been shaved, and she could see dozens of injuries scattered across his bare torso. He looked drained; like whoever’d had him for these last weeks had siphoned away all his energy, all his… him. He'd lost so much weight she couldn't say if they'd fed him at all, and his complexion was ashen and lifeless.

But the worst part was his eyes. That empty, defeated look. The wildflower purple seemed to have been drained away with the rest of him, faded to a dull bruised color.

“I found him deep in the bowels of the Tower. Nasty place.”

The Tower. He'd already been through so much bullshit there and Corp had just thrown him back inside.

“I could show you worse if you're still not convinced,” Annie said, pulling another photo from a desk drawer.

“Don't—” Sarah started as she laid it down, but this one wasn't nearly as brutal. It was Lex, curled up on a bed in a sterile-looking cell. There was a blanket draped over him. He looked almost peaceful.

“What is..?”

“I fished him out of hell for you,” Annie said. “Whether his treatment gets better or worse from here is up to you.”

Sarah fell back into the chair, trying to get her thoughts to fall in line and shut up so she could act rationally. It was impossible. They wouldn't stop screaming his name.

“How…” She clasped her hands in her lap. “How do I know you actually have him? That… that this isn't some trick?”

“Thought you might say that.” Annie withdrew a tablet, hitting a button before sliding it over. As soon as Sarah's eyes landed on the screen, she froze, her hand flying to her mouth. It was… it was Lex. Lex with the shit beat out of him, held up only by a hand on his head, angling a bruised and swollen face towards the camera. His breathing was shallow and uneven, his eyes unfocused. The timestamp in the corner was for October 5th. Two days ago.

She'd sat on the invitation for days. If she hadn't been indecisive, if she'd acted sooner…

Onscreen, the guy holding Lex  gave him a shake.

“Hey. Camera's rolling. Talk to her.”

He blinked. “Sa…Spyglass.”

Ice seemed to encase her lungs.

“Don't listen to them. D-don’t do what they want.” He took a shaky breath, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I… keep fighting. You have to keep fighting. I…” He blinked furiously, sending a tear rolling down his bruised cheek. “I love you.”

“Okay, that's enough.”

Whoever was holding him shoved him away roughly, and Sarah's stomach twisted as he hit the ground. The camera followed him down, kept rolling as the other man stomped after him, cut to black just as he pulled back his foot for a kick.

“Fuck you,” she whispered as Annie pulled the tablet back across the table.

“Have I convinced you yet?” the other woman asked in a casual tone, not even meeting Sarah's eyes as she fiddled with the tablet.

“Fuck you!”

“You didn't answer my question.”

Sarah clenched her fists, pushing her knuckles into her thighs with enough force it would probably leave a bruise.

I love you.

Lex… She couldn't walk away from him, not now. She never should've left him. She should've told Akeela to run and stayed with him to fight, maybe then…

Maybe then you'd both be in there. Listening to each other scream.

“Let him go.”

“That's not the deal.”

Her nails dug into her palms. “And how do I know you're being honest? How do I know you haven't already killed him?”

Annie cracked a smile at that. “Guess you don't, do you? But do you really want to make that wager?”

“You said you fished him out of hell.”

“Never said I put him anywhere better.”

She pushed the tablet forwards once more. On the frozen screen, Lex was bent over the same sterile bed from the photograph, a person hunched over him, a few others flanking them. At first, it looked like he was just being pinned down. For a frisking or… or something. But then Annie hit play, and the figure above him began to move. 

It took all of a second for Sarah to snatch the tablet and hurl it at the wall. It bounced off, looking relatively unharmed as it hit the ground.

“That was uncalled for.”

“I'll kill you.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “And what happens to poor Alexei if I'm not around to order them to stop?”

“Stop?” Her lungs were tight.

“That last one…” She extended a neatly trimmed fingernail towards the tablet. “It's a live feed.”

Fuck. Sarah was on her feet, made it halfway to the tablet before stopping cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing.

“If I agree to your terms… you'll call them off?”

“Immediately.”

“And if I don't?”

Annie shrugged. “Guess they'll stop when the body goes cold.”

Sarah's head dropped. All the triumph and excitement she'd felt just moments ago was gone. They could never win, could they? Corp kept finding a way, kept proving there was no low they wouldn't stoop to in order to keep the status quo.

“I accept. Now stop them. Please.”

Annie casually reached for the phone on her desk, punched in a number. “That's enough on Cinder. We've reached an understanding.”

Sarah scrambled for the tablet, falling to her knees and flipping it face-up, needing to be sure. Thankfully, the others in the cell were backing away, leaving Lex in place, motionless.

“Let me see him,” she murmured. Even just for a moment. He had to know he wasn't alone. She'd get him out, she had to.

“That wasn't part of the deal,” Annie said coolly. “But once you get the rest of your rogues in here, I'll consider it.”

Akeela and Hugo and Rosie… she'd promised she'd keep them safe, and she'd practically delivered them into the clutches of another Corporate power. But what choice did she have when Annie had Lex by the throat?

“You made the right decision,Spyglass.” Annie was beside her. Slender fingers gripped the edge of the tablet, pulling it out of Sarah’s grasp. Lex hadn’t moved; the image of him slumped over the bed—exhausted, hurt, alone—was burned into the back of her eyelids, lingering long after Annie turned off the device. It couldn't be the last image she had of him. She'd do anything to keep this from being the last time she'd see him.

“We'll take good care of you.”

•°•°•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor

@distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow

, @honeycollectswhump ,

[persphonesorchid]

Mark Of The Arcane || Chapter Three ||

↣ Summary; Centuries before, in the times of the ancient Kings, a prophecy was heard. When the three kingdoms of Valerem fall to ruins, their saviour would come in blinding starlight. Who is this saviour, you may ask? None other than Min Yoongi, who was too busy being late to work to realize he definitely wasn’t on earth anymore.

↣ Part: Chapter Three; Habituation

↣Word count: 2.5k

↣Warnings: Yoongi's going through the motions, other than that, we're all good :)

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Chapter Archive | Masterlist

Notes: Welcome to chapter three! Thank you for being patient! I hope you enjoy! A little information on Yoongi's arcane and of course, dude's trying to wrap his head around it all, but it'll get better for him soon! Don't forget to share your thoughts, i'd love to know what you think!

“Hold on...” Yoongi puts a hand up, trying his best to ignore the ache in his side, the very real ache that feels like its sinking into his bones. He’s still trying to process everything, still trying to figure out if he’s losing his mind or not, and now this? You and Hoseok are barely paying him mind, talking in hushed tones again like he’s not sitting right there. So, Yoongi takes a moment to breathe, trying to calm down before he really starts crying.

Hoseok sighs and Yoongi tries to focus, you whisper something to him, sparing Yoongi one last glance before you’re through the door. Hoseok turns back to face him, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes on his lips and it only makes Yoongi nervous.

“Alright...I'm going to explain what’s happening.”  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “That Arcane mark you carry, is the mark of the Light Bearer. It’s only been seen once, and with it comes a prophecy. Firstly, you should know that wherever you were before isn’t where you were born...” Hoseok pauses, considering something with a thoughtful look, “There’s only a few mentions of this in writing, about other worlds existing alongside our own. I’m assuming the world where you had been before doesn’t have the same properties as this one, meaning it’s without magic.”

Yoongi has a passing thought then, that he’s a fish in a tiny pool of water. Not nearly enough to filter through and he struggles to breathe, and gasps like there’s not enough air. His chest feels tight, caging his lungs behind the solid walls of his flesh and bones; unable to expand.

One side of his mind is trying to separate what makes sense of the jumbled words that left Hoseok’s mouth, and the other is trying to separate him from all of it. It was a regular Tuesday for him, he got up late as he would usually, got yelled at, met a strange woman on the street and helped her across. He’s not certain what happens after death, but this must be his personal hell. Where everything is confusing and wired the wrong way, only he would torture himself so.

Some of what Hoseok said made a little sense – if he wants to believe any of it – he was raised in an orphanage, and like some of the kids cursed with unfortune, he was simply left on their doorstep. He doesn’t resent his parents, or, whoever decided it, circumstances are not always in favour...

“I...” Yoongi opens his mouth and closes it soon after, distress drawing his brows together. He doesn’t know where to start addressing any of that, and simply stares at Hoseok for a while. The sting at his side has lessened to a dull throbbing ache, easier to ignore now and Yoongi takes a breath.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Hoseok says softly, calmly, and its enough to reel Yoongi in just a little. “But we’ll try to make this as easy as possible for you.”

“Will I be able to go back?” Yoongi twists the fabric of the soft sheets between his fingers.

Hoseok shifts on the chair he sits in, mouth forming a little triangle as he looks away, staring off into nothing for a moment. “I’m not sure. Whatever magic that was used to send you here is ancient. It’ll be difficult to find anyone who knows how to do the reversal.”

Yoongi deflates, the little hope he had in asking the question simply fizzles out. So, he’s stuck here for the time being. He wonders if anyone back home is worried about him – not that he has friends to be worried about his absence. He wonders if the old man thinks that he just straight up abandoned his job, or what would Mrs Li think when he isn’t there to keep her company on her afternoon walks.

Yoongi can only nod, gaze shifting to stare out the window. Hoseok had secured the curtains so that they hang at the sides of the window, and a cool breeze flows softly through it. The air lacks the scent of a city, no engine exhaust or the smells of too many different foods mixing together. It’s fresh and clean and Yoongi’s at least grateful for that.

“You should rest some more.” Hoseok says, bracing his palms against his knees before he pushes himself to stand. “It will take your body a while to get used to the new environment.”

When Yoongi wakes, it’s to a soft knocking on the door. He blinks blearily at it, brows furrowed. The light that filters through the window is now a soft orange, and Yoongi realises he’s slept through the day. He feels much better than he did earlier, though, sleepy still.

The knock sounds again and after a moment the door pushes open. It’s you again, and Yoongi stares at you from his spot. You’ve changed out of the clothes you were wearing earlier and you’re wearing something that looks like silk. The sleeves are long and flowing way past your hands and shimmers lightly with your movements, there’s a thin silver chain around your waist that clinks deftly against the navy-blue fabric of the dress. You aren’t wearing shoes, he notes, as you turn slightly to close the door behind you.

“Hello.” You greet, and Yoongi watch as you sort of glide your way over to his bedside. Your steps are graceful enough that he barely notices them, and he blinks at you, not too certain how he should address you or speak.

“Hello....” Yoongi mutters, turning his head to look across at the large floor to ceiling mirror that faces the bed he’s in. He looks like shit, if he’s being honest. He’s paler than he is usually, stress and fatigue had drawn circles under his eyes. You sit down on the chair Hoseok left, a gentle smile on your lips 

He looks back at you and you’re smiling, though, it doesn’t bring him much comfort. You extend your hand to him, and in your hand is a book. It’s dark and small, with a sigil on the cover in white ink that looks strangely like the mark on his side.

“What’s this?” He asks, and after a moment, glances at you, “Your...Majesty...”

“Oh, Y/n is fine.” You say and then motion to the book, “This book is the first record of your arcane.”

Yoongi opens the book, it’s written more like a journal, dates at the top of the pages, words that doesn’t make sense to him right now neatly penned in dark ink.

“The prophecy was given by the first seer a long time ago. There are a few snippets of it in there, we don’t know where the actual record is.” You say, “’When the three kingdoms of Valerem fall to ruin, our saviour would come in blinding starlight.’”

Yoongi’s eyes find yours, brows creasing, “And I’m supposed to be this saviour?”

You stare at him in silence for a moment, there’s a pity in your eyes that Yoongi’s too used to, something he’s gotten too many times in his life. You nod slowly, then grimace, “I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to take in. And I know it’s frightening.”

That’s an understatement, really. Yoongi had become comfortable knowing that he’d always be nothing more than he was, just Yoongi, breezing through his life as a man who didn’t have much of a childhood to speak of. Someone who was just another face in the crowd, a cog in the machine; nothing special. And he was okay with that. Life was…well, it was life. He’s had his ups and downs; he’s had hard times and times that made the difficulty of his life an afterthought. He was fine with that. This? This is something else entirely.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he stares at the book in his hands with a frown. This isn’t fair, is it? Yoongi’s always said he had a shit time as his day-to-day muddled together and became repetitive, working to only survive with the cards he was dealt. But it was his. Compared to this influx of information that he’s some sort of prophesied Messiah, his life was easy. He’d rather wake up in his bed right now, late for work and swearing than be sitting here trying to make sense of it all.

He could feel your eyes on him and he dare not meet your gaze. You sigh, there’s a rustling of your clothes as you stand and tuck the chair back into the corner it was in before. “Are you hungry? I can bring you something.”

He wasn’t really, Yoongi doesn’t think he could stomach anything if he tried, but he nods anyway. You’re kind, he thinks, and he doesn’t want to be rude.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

You return fifteen minutes after, with a silver tray, smiling softly as you hand it over. There’s a silver bowl of chicken – At least, he assumes – soup, and the smell reminds him of Mrs Li’s cooking. A smaller bowl of assorted diced fruit, a slice of buttered bread and a gold rimmed glass of water. “Hoseok said anything too heavy may upset your stomach…”

Yoongi’s stomach rumbles before he can say anything and he flushes, clearing his throat, “Thank you.”

You smile again, nodding, staring at him long enough that he feels a little awkward about it. You seem to catch yourself, looking away, “Right then, I’ll be off.”

He wonders briefly if your feet are cold as you make your way back to the door, “Oh!” You turn around, “When you’re done, just knock three times on the wall.”

“Okay…” Yoongi glances at the wall and when he looks back, you’re already going through the door and closing it. He sets the tray on his lap and picks up the spoon, stirring the contents of the bowl around, finding potatoes and carrots among the pieces of chicken. Tentatively, he takes a spoonful, and it’s – quite frankly – the best thing he’s had. He didn’t realise how hungry he was until the soup was gone and he was slowing down as to not choke on the bread.

He glances at the book, resting on the table against the wall, he takes and sets the tray aside and wipes his hand against the material of his sweater before reaching for it. Opening the book, he finds the first page.

Year 871 We had not known that the shadow arcane would sire chaos, there was no way to know. So many lives were lost in the attempt to stop it, and the kingdoms are divided. We’re at a loss, it wouldn’t be long before we’re all gone. We must do something, anything to stop it—

The words trail off into muddled ink and Yoongi can’t tell what it says, the other page dates the same year, but speaks of something different. He picks through the bowl of fruit and picks up and apple slice.

Year 871 The Arcane of Light, created for the purpose of subduing the Arcane of Shadow. The strength of the Arcane is immeasurable, though, it’s volatile. We assumed that Zephyr is just unable to control such power, but he’s the only one who can wield it. We can only trust him. If he can stop this, we can end it, and perhaps, stop this from reoccurring. Arcanes has broken down into subfields, we’ve found, and as reveling as that information may be, we can only hope to wipe the Arcane of Shadow completely so that it may never bestow itself upon another.

Yoongi reaches into the bowl for more fruit only for his fingers to hit the bottom. He tears his eyes from the page, pouting at the empty bowl. He stares at the words on the page for a quiet moment before shaking his head and setting it aside once more. He looks at the wall and wonders what would happen if he knocked it, would the tray disappear? He knocks three times like you told him to and waited, its completely quiet for a moment and then the grating sound of stone against stone shatters the silence. Yoongi startles and whips his head to his left to find a part of the wall pulling in on itself, a man younger than him steps out of the darkness there, dressed in white and gold.

He bows at the waist and smiles when he straightens, “Good evening, my Lord. I trust your meal was satisfactory?”

“Uh…” Yoongi stumbles for his words, “Yes…”

The man walks over, “Wonderful! I’m Wooyoung, Head Chef.” He picks up the tray, “If you need anything, don’t be afraid to send for me.” He motions at the wall Yoongi knocked on before he was leaving back through the wall and Yoongi watches as it drags closed, shifting back into place as though it never moved.

There’s a knock on the door and Yoongi thinks he can’t catch a break as it opens, thankfully, it’s someone he’s seen before. Seokjin stands in the doorway with narrowed eyes, looking like he’d rather be doing a million other things. He comes into the room and shuts the door behind him. He’s holding a bundle of something in one of his hands and a pair of boots in the other. Yoongi can only make out navy blue.

Seokjin says nothing as he walks over, setting the folded bundle on the table and the boots on the floor. “You can’t walk around wearing…that.” He waves a hand at Yoongi’s sweater and jeans with a frown.

Yoongi looks down at his sweater and then at the bundle Seokjin brought with him, “Ah…right.”

“I’ll wait outside the door, let me know if you need help with the clasp.” Seokjin leaves him to change, and Yoongi moves over to the table.

The navy-blue bundle unfolds into a cloak like the one Seokjin and the other guards wear, there’s a long-sleeved white shirt with gold trimmings and black pants that are soft to the touch. Yoongi changes in silence, folding his clothes neatly, the only link to the place he came from, and sets them aside. He finds cotton socks stuffed into the boots and he pulls them on before putting his feet into the boots. The cloak is a little heavy in his hand as he secures it on his shoulders and clasp it at his throat. He wanders over to the mirror mounted on the wall, looking and feeling little uncomfortable.

He takes a breath, moving towards the door he pulls it open. The hallway looks completely different than it was when he first ventured out into it. The wall across from his room had a window, where Seokjin sits on the sill, talking to a bird.

“I already fed you.” He says and the crow squawks indignantly, its head leaning down to nip at his hand, “Ow! You little—”

Yoongi clears his throat and Seokjin looks up, he gets down from the windowsill, letting the crown hop off onto it, there’s a soft clink of something metal, two silver bands on the crow’s leg catching the light of the setting sun. Seokjin shoos the bird with a hand, “Go on.”

The bird ruffles it’s feathers, cawing loudly in what Yoongi could only decipher as offence at Seokjin’s shooing before it flies off. Seokjin turns to him, giving him a once over and a silent nod, “Come, Hoseok’s waiting.”

[Bold: can't tag]

Permatag: @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @astormunchar @eren-fall @taestefully-in-luv @main-bangtansmauyeondan @xpeachesncream @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond

Series Tag: @purest-expressionofgrief @i-dont-give-a-fok @xyahrinx @3sriracha @loveyoongles @studiosakuras @amon-rei @mssukeyna @freyawreya

[baby--b4t]

hey pookster i’m just leaving this here because I know you’d do justice if you ever made it into a minific :3

kaveh absolutely LOVES horror/creepy things, especially when regressed, but alhaitham can’t do it. like CANNOT.

sincerely, 🐠fishie anon :3

OH MY GODS ANON YOURE SAVING MY WRITERS BLOCK RN (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ʃƪ) im gonna try and write a quick minific in hopes that itll make me wanna post more and work on my bots. ALSO TY FOR THINKING SO HIGHLY OF ME- i feel like my writing is mid but ill try my best for this silly idea (its super late as of replying to this so sorry if its a bit jumbled or doesnt make sense-)

(fic under cut)

Kaveh was supposed to be in bed hours ago. 5 hours and 38 minutes, to be persice. Alhaitham had been counting. He did everything he though would work to get Kaveh to finally lay down, close his eyes, and rest, but nothing was working. Warm bottle, bedtime stories (he had read 7 different stories at this point), and even trying different stuffed animals and pajamas. Nothing. Alhaitham was exhausted.

“Hayi? Do da tree birdies sleep? Wha’ about… Oh! Wha’ about da creepy crawlies in da kitchen?” Kaveh had been asking nonsense questions like these all night, part of the reason he was still awake at nearly 4 in the morning.

“I dont know, Kaveh. What I do know-… Wait, whats in the kitchen?” Alhaitham began to answer before he registered what kaveh had said. He sat up in the bed a little bit and looked down at Kaveh. “What did you just say is in the kitchen?”

“Da creepy crawlies!” Kaveh excitedly exclaimed, a wide smile forming behind his pacifier. “Dey have 6 leg, 3 eye- BIG eyes, and are really teeny tiny. Dey walk around in da dark and eat da bread! Dats why it has all da holes.” Kaveh started giggling, his tiredness clearly showing in his speech.

Alhaitham felt puzzeled. More than when he was trying to figure out why Kaveh wasnt sleeping yet. But what was getting to him the most was the though of some spider-like creatures crawling around in his food while he didnt look. He shuddered, the thought of bugs in general making him feel gross. He rubbed up and down his arms for a moment, trying to get rid of his goosebumps, before pressing further into this. Surely it was Kaveh just being silly… Right?

“How do you know this? Who told you about these… ‘Creepy crawlers’?” Alhaitham asked as he tried to fight the tiredness in his mind. This whole talk took a turn that was not helping his already fatigued state of mind.

“Dey told me! I got mad ‘cause my sandwich had holes, and I asked and dey told me.” Kaveh explained trough slurred giggles and mumbles. “Dey very small, so is easy to make holes. I scolded dem like you always do for da holes…” The more Kaveh explained, the more Alhaitham imagined a ton of ant-sized abominations crawling around their pantry. He shook his head and tried not to gag.

“Kaveh, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the ‘creepy crawlers’ arent real. You probably dreamt about them at some point.” Alhaitham tried to explain to Kaveh, but Kaveh didnt seem to want to believe it.

“What?!” He sat up in the bed with Alhaitham, jaw dropping and his pacifier almost falling out. “But.. But dat were so cute-“ He felt himself tearing up over the fact that the little creatures he thought were so adorable werent actually real. Alhaitham sighed, realizing that now he had to deal with a meltdown.

“How about you go to sleep so you can dream about them? Does that sound like a good idea?” He suggested as he tried to coax Kaveh into laying down again. The poor baby was so tired at this point he didnt realize that Alhaitham was moving him. It did seem to stop his oncoming waterworks, however.

Kaveh gave a small nod and snuggled back up with Alhaitham. It seemed like as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was in a deep sleep. That baffled Alhaitham. How in the world would Kaveh be so willing to dream about thousands- No, millions of little spiders in his food? If Alhaitham saw them, he would already have a match in hand to burn the house down.

However, Kavehs great big imagination never failed to impress Alhaitham. He just seemed to show it so much more whenever he regressed. A soft sigh came from Alhaitham, just accepting it. His little Kaveh would just have that sort of creepy imagination and he couldnt stop it… But he would still be checking the entire house for bugs when they woke up. No ‘creepy crawlers’ get to live rent free.

[stardewscribbles]

~Filling in the Gap~

(Thought a good first post to test the waters would be something for Sam! Maybe by chance it will be good. Here's to hoping!)

headcanon|scenario|imagine|playlist|txt

You lay flat on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Your eyes puffy and stinging from the fresh crying session, the fifth one this week to be exact. Maybe you were hesitating the inevitable, clinging to the last little bit of your so called self control. You were feeling another bit of tears welling up and you were so busy trying to bury yourself in the thought of anything else that you didn't even notice the sound of the front door opening. Sam doesn't hesitate to open the bedroom door as well. "H..hey you okay?" His smile falls from his face as soon as he sees your current position. He knew better than to ask you again. The last time he askes, you were more upset at him than he'd previously expected. However, you always apologized for unloading your anger on him (which didn't happen often).

You don't respond to his question, covering your eyes with both hands and grimacing at the burn of new tears. You feel the bed sink in beside you. Next you feel his hands on your exposed arms, rubbing small calming circles into your skin. "Please talk to me this time. Please Y/N, I'm beggin you." You can hear the sadness in his voice, nearly breaking at the thought of you shutting him out again. You done it so often lately that it was expected but he still wouldn't give up asking you the same things. He wanted to get inside to the core, past the walls you'd built up around your jumbled mind and hardened heart. You finally submit to him in this.

"I feel...empty. It feels as though lately nothing is feeling that weird void inside my chest. I try to keep up with my hobbies and the farm but it's not enough. When I'm with you or friends, I laugh and joke around but when I'm by myself again, it all feels the same. My goals are still there but the future feels so far away. I feel like I'm quicker to anger lately and that amongst the sadness I'm afraid I'll scare you away with my attitude." You look at him finally. He smiled softly and wiped a tear or two away before cradling your face in his hands.

"Y/N you don't scare me. If we're being honest, your attitude is nothing that I can't handle. I know it's just that you're going through a tough time right now. I also know that the anxiety medicine you're on isn't cutting it anymore." He drops on facts and you grimace. "I'm scared to change it. Something 'as needed' means I'm not confined toward having to take it every day. Something more serious feels like a 'can't go back' type of thing. I just want to be normal. Why can't I just be normal..." You begin tearing up again. He chuckles and wipes more moisture off your face. "Baby, you ARE normal. Majority of people on the planet have to deal with this condition. Hell, I think half the people in Pelican Town deal with it to be honest. You are normal in a majority rules sense. Besides, I want you to always do what's best for you. There shouldn't be a reason you have to keep putting yourself through this silent torture when there's something to help. If you don't like it, try a different one. I want nothing but the best for your well being after all."

"I'm scared."

"It's okay to be scared. I'm scared sometimes too y'know?"

You laugh quietly. "Since when have you ever been scared?" He chuckled at your words and thought for a second before responding. "Hmmm...well, I was scared you'd say no when I first asked you out. I was scared I wouldn't be able to beat the 10th level of my favorite game. I was scared I'd break like...my MILLIOTH guitar string when I first started playing." You both laughed at his exaggeration before he began to speak up again. "Right now I'm most scared that you're denying yourself the help you need just because you're worried about making the switch. I love you and I never wanna push you into something you don't want to do. My job as best partner ever is to be there for you every step of the way...whichever direction you decide to take." He pauses and looks at you expectantly. You smile and sigh before rolling your eyes. "Fine, I'll call Harvey in the morning and set up the appointment." He cheers rather loudly and smothers you in kisses, relishing in the way you laugh for him.

For the rest of the evening, there are dried tears, laugher, and a full belly as you both enjoy a big helping of your favorite 'breakfast for dinner'. Finally for the first time in a long time, that gap in your chest fills more full than ever before.

[batteredrugosa]

WIP Wednesday Prompts

I STG this game is the only thing that gets me to actually sit down and write regularly. People asked me for words? Cant let them down! and then I have fun in spite of myself. This is a chunk of my short story Lion from my 2020 NaNo collection. It finished the month as a series of scenes with no transitions, so I have been making a story out of it.

posted for: @tamsinswriting, @asha10100101010, @somefishycat

Y'all got a long snippet; I got caught up in this one this morning.

When 9:30 came and went and the rest of the group had not returned, Emma, started to get mildly concerned. She hoped that they had not gotten lost; the caves were well marked and the side tunnels were blocked form wandering, but if someone decided it was a good idea to break the rules, there were all kinds of potential dangers. By 10:00, Emma was feeling frantic. She stashed her gear in Gillian’s tent and headed up the trail towards the cave entrance in the hopes of finding her friends just running a bit late.

The cave mouth quickly appeared before her, and she saw some foot prints in the dirt heading into the cavern, but nothing coming out again . She started to enter and realized she had forgotten to bring a flashlight with her. As she turned around she noticed a wet spot on the cave floor, just at the point where the light began to fade. She walked closer to take a look and saw it was a smear of dark red blood. Her mind began to race with worry and fear as she frantically patted pockets for her cell phone to call the ranger station. She found it in side pocket of her pants and as she thumbed it open everything went dark as a thick meaty hand slapped a cloth over her mouth and a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She took in a deep breath to scream and immediately felt light headed and muzzy. Her thoughts scattered into a jumble and she passed out as she was being dragged backwards into the dark.

*******

When Emma woke her head was pounding, She was slumped against the wall of a cave and the world around her was pitch black. She heard small sounds that let her know that she was not the only one bundled against the wall and when she tried to open her mouth to cry out, she realized that she had been gagged and that she was bound hands and feet. She heard purposeful movement from somewhere else in the cavern and two people talking in a language she did not understand. She craned her head trying to see something of what was going on, but the room remained too dark to see anything clearly. Whatever conversation was being had by the people that she imagined must be their captors came to an end and she heard footsteps approaching her. She closed her eyes and pretended to be passed out, hoping that they would assume she was more disoriented than she was. The rough hands she remembered from before wrapped around her arms and pulled her away from the wall and up to her feet, giving her a bone rattling shake. “Wag ough girlie. Ye hev been paid for.“ His accent was unusual with guttural vowels and a rolling r sound that made his English very hard to make out. Bought and paid for? She stumbled a little on her unsteady legs but quickly found her balance and stepped back from that meaty hand. She had to get away from here. If she was compliant maybe this new person would take her somewhere with light and she could orient herself. Was this some sort of human trafficking ring on Cooper Mountain? She sensed another presence close to her and another hand reached out to touch her arm. “Come girl. I will lead you until we are way from these and I can make a light for you to walk.” These hands were smooth and warm to the touch. Their owner quickly scooped her up as though she did not weigh a thing and she felt a breeze on her face. They were running fast and silent through total darkness. She wanted to struggle, but she feared falling and getting knocked out again so she held herself as still as she could, holding back a whimper of terror as her captor carried her through the unrelenting darkness.

[ahundredtimesover]

You did your big one with the last update.  I was on an emotional roller coaster. It took me almost 2 hours to read all 23K words because I had to stop several times to process my emotions with our couple. OMG so many feels and my babies I was just drowning right now, like their lack of emotional maturity, it’s so pitiful to see play out I feel like they are definitely sabotaging their own happiness and as much as I want to be mad, considering both of their backgrounds, it makes sense. it also is why they are so perfect for each other so it’s hard no scratch that is painful to see them  be a part when we know they are so much better together. Sorry my mind is all over the place. I hope for JK’s sake Namjoon has a wife. When the two families history was being revealed I really thought Daddy Jeon maybe had an affair with her mom so I was totally shocked that isw as an emotional affair with Mr Ri , like shocked stupid . Ugh I love how Hobi is all for family and willing to there fore JK at anytime . I hate how she feels that burden to server the family/company . But I do feel that JK is now being punished for something outside his control . I am drawing a parallel of how her crazy father lead to him being left in the rain as a kid and now her moms history with the company is leading to him being left by the women he loves now . It makes me question the string of fate that connects them , is this string a string of destiny or a noose that will burden their relationship to be ill fated . I am on the edge of my seat waiting for them to follow up now that everything is out in the open.

In a perfect world OC works for RKive and has a longstanding partnership with the Arts Center , I marry Yoongi and we all live happily ever after . Also I am curios where the hell is JK’s older brother at , do we know as readers . Will the family’s all reconnect at some point . Which supporting character delivers the speech to push OC to analyze her feelings for JK and his words . Is the ex boyfriend gone for good . Anymore plot twists , I am going to be up all night now .

Thank you for posting I love the series so far . I hope you ace your test/paper !!

Sorry if this is a big thing jumble i used text to speech for a large portion because I had to speak these thoughts into the universe

🚧spoilers 🚧

HI OMG U USED TEXT SPEECH? Haha why does that amuse me! I'm just imagining someone just expressing all this and says "In a perfect world... I marry Yoongi and we all live happily ever after" with a straight face hahaha but... same. 😂😂

Anyway. If 23k took you that long... Well, there's 24k and 28k. I can't shut up. 🫣🫣 But yes to emotions! We'll have more of those!

Of course, it's so easy to say that they're so stupid and perhaps they are. But similar to what you said, they have a lot of baggage that they carry and it's not easy to just give in to one's feelings when there's so much weighing them down.

And lol at the thought that there could've been an affair haha someone said that, too! But no, it's actually much more painful. And true, JK's experiencing all this and it's out of his control - he loses whether he asks OC to stay or lets her go. It's similar to her feeling selfish whether she resigns or not. We lose something with every decision we make but like Mr Ri said, we have to make them; it's the only way we can stand by them.

It makes me question the string of fate that connects them , is this string a string of destiny or a noose that will burden their relationship to be ill fated - getting all poetic on me now? BUT HMM interesting question. We'll just have to wait and see! As for your other questions... I can't say much but it'll be fun!! 🤭🤭

Pls don't apologize. I love these messages. I'm sorry I got to it late. I managed to submit my paper and my brain's just been tired for the past few days and I have 2 more to submit... HAHA but yes, I appreciate you. Hope you enjoy the rest of it!! 💕💕

[199716]

turn the lights off - 2024

its the new year again.

I always feel strongly about new beginnings. ends. everything that starts will always come to a stop. an end. every beginning is an end. and every end is a new beginning.

there is something so overwhelming, big and enormous about things ending. I feel like I ought to accomplish things, and have them for show, but I always end up feeling like time has passed me like a speed train and I am left with all my baggage still waiting for a ride home. A passenger too late for the ride, or too distracted. to consumed by something else.

there is a certain kind of melancholy that I have been feeling lately. is it loneliness? is it longing? is it ungratefulness? I am not too sure. but what is life without such intense emotions that follow you around. they hide in plain sight, so subtle, so familiar.

my thoughts are scattered, as always. I'm pretty sure you know this by now. but I always like penning them down like this - I love its imperfections, the incoherence of it all is what makes this all real. so so real.

I always think that I am always introspecting - don't get me wrong, I do, but I feel like introspection works best when you write it all down. you make it real, seen, and tangible. because if you don't, it will get lost and jumbled up with all your other thoughts.

what should I wear today? how long would it take me to get to Mont Kiara from Ampang? what if this is all there is to this? am I being honest to myself? how long is this written submissions? is the deadline tomorrow? Am I losing my grip? Am I attentive enough, am I listening? Am I speaking sense? what do I feel like eating today? should I get sushi? what time is band practice today? Are we playing 5 or 6 songs? Am I doing enough as a child, as a friend? as someone who has everything in place for her to just pay attention to?

There are things I wish to change about myself in the new year. I feel like I don't sit with myself enough to identify what I am doing right and what I am doing wrong. Life has felt like a long marathon. I feel like I have given away so much parts of myself to others, and it has come to my own dissatisfaction about my own time and space with myself.

I am still finding balance.

I am so much more than just what I can do for myself. I want to do more for others. I want to be there for others. However it has felt like my company is hollow, because sometimes I am not me. I am just a shell of someone who is moving from place to place.

I hope they don't feel like my company feels hollow. but I do, I feel like, I am so, all over the place. I wish I could offer more from myself. But I am everywhere, like smithereens, when I crash I am bound to hurt.

So this year I want to slow down. finding balance between spending quality time with people that I love and quality time with myself. spending more time with nature, going on long walks. drinking my favorite drink. finding joy in all the small things. because what if I could no longer live this life? what if this life is taken away from me.

I ought to be thankful always.

I'll see you next year, hopefully with a more peaceful heart.

[gazetotheabyss]

    I read the words plain as day on my computer screen some weeks ago. With no context it might seem so entirely monotonous. Like the pop up anyone might see on any given shady ass website they come across while doom scrolling. 

    But I think I'm getting ahead of myself. 

    My name is Geri. I, like most people my age, grew up in this wild age of information. My parents from the generation who slaved away in times of the unknown, blessed by the ignorance of some harsh bouts of misinformation given to them by Aunt Agnes some odd years ago that they just didn't have any sort of measure to dispute. Or, and God forbid, having to go to the library. But us? All of us? It's all at the tips of our fingertips, isn't it? The age of rumor and myth was killed by the dawn of Snopes and Wikipedia, and for the most part that's okay.   

    God, I'm sorry.   

    Okay.   

    I'm not that type of person to go on long diatribes about nothing. At least I wasn't. It's all twisted in my head now. Where to start, where it's going to end. I'm committing to just writing as a train of thought, to make sure I get it all down for posterity. It's all a mess and jumbled in my head, so some things might be out of order, but this is all true. As much as I would have loved to have been making this up.   

    Blah blah blah, it was a normal day. Went to work. Came home. Do you really even care about those details? Reading about the sort of hot pocket me, a broke college student, picked on that monumental night? After finishing up a particularly grueling portion of a paper I was working on for the Lit class I'm taking I had to shut off my brain. You know, decompress? My brain was fried, I was tired, but I just couldn't bring myself to sleep. The thought of working so hard the whole day only to waste what little free time I had with sleeping just sounded so fucking miserable. So, doing what any of us do, I laid there. Practically catatonic under a mountain of blankets, cozy up, listening to whatever YouTube videos I could find to just play in the background, while just scrolling. Post to post, site to site. Not even really reading or processing. Just scrolling, hoping to feel something.   

    I thought I would fall asleep for a minute or two. I clicked some link, shady as it might have been, thinking by some measure it was a joke or something since I'd just been imbibing in some pseudo-deep meme content after a bit. I'm hesitating to type the name of it right now, because I really don't want to curse anyone with this, but just know it was very... I don't know, 90s Geocities. The top of the page read 'Library of Eternity' with some bad clipart of a book. It was all very bad and by all rights writing it off should have been what I did, but that late with so little brain power the curiosity is stronger than the will to click away. Clicked the little book and my screen went black. Fucking virus, right?   

    Honestly that's what I thought. All the furious clicking, slamming my fingers angrily on the keyboard, it really didn't seem to do shit. After about ten minutes of screaming to any higher power who would listen a window popped up.   

    Corny shit, right? I've written off my laptop at this point. Maybe I can cry to mom and dad and beg for them to help me pay off a new one? Maybe Klarna? I just thank anyone who would listen that I didn't have any important information on there, and that two-factor authentication was on for my email. I close the damn thing and toss it off my bed, and that should be the end of it. If I had any sense about me at the time maybe it would have been, maybe if I knew the things I knew now or could go back and stop myself. 

    I browse reddit a couple hours, play some stupid game I saw on a mobile ad because fuck I'm bored, and that's the night. I pass out, wake up with a sore nose and my phone on the floor after passing out while browsing.   

    Then comes the beloved day off. The holiest of days to those of us playing double time as college kids out here in the trenches. I'm pumped, at least once I drag myself out of bed after hours of '5 more minutes'. Now not exactly being a social butterfly, most of the time my days off consist of exactly what you'd expect from someone who goes to school, goes to work, and has most of their friends online. I dick around on my computer, doing exactly what I did the night before. Now my dumbass, completely forgetting most of what had just transpired, gears up to do the exact same thing. Getting all cozy under my blanket fort again, ready to stream some movies, or binge the same show I've watched about a hundred times. But I open my computer and that popup is still fucking there. Mood trashed. Life ruined. Day off totally and completely in the gutter.   

    Nothing better to do. No computer, nothing else on the docket. I really have nothing to lose. At least for foresight purposes. So, boom, I clicked yes. But all it does is open up another pop up.   

    Fucking. 

    Yes? 

    I clicked yes. How much more ready could I be? 

Clicking yes again I'm ready for meat spin, surprise real life gore, or some other sort of stupid jump scare surprise. But no, nothing so fun. Just another goddamned window. 

This 90s ass virus website just called me ignorant. A challenge I could never have backed down from. No one will ever call Geri Monaghan ignorant. I was not about to be challenged by some two-bit website probably programmed before I was born. 

I’m ready. 

At the time that was what I thought. Of course, I did. How the hell would anyone expect-- 

My screen went from black to white. Okay, not expected in the slightest. It started with one sentence, then another, and they just kept lining up one right after another like a typical word document. Eventually when it ran out of room on the screen they started overlapping. I shouldn’t have been able to read or understand any of it with how fast it was happening. I just stared blankly, reading and absorbing every fucking word. Even as my screen went black, blank from all the information overloading it, I was retaining every written word. It was torture. It felt like hours were going by. Days even. Stuck in that fucking trance lost to endless streams of eternal information pouring bit by bit into my brain. 

No one ever tells you how loud silence can be. Staring into the blank void of my screen was like staring into entropy. All sound vacuumed from my room, all life void from my body. But trapped. I was still in there. Stuck frozen with my eyes open, unable to close them or even move as that information became more. Like eternity spread itself open before me, my consciousness was ripped away. I was at the start of it all. 

No. 

Sorry. 

That’s not right. 

It was before the start. The black void. Before life, before time, before existence. A place where things like us shouldn’t be. Like tendrils writhing and slithering, it probed my mind. The worst headache I’ve ever fucking had times a million. Drilling a half inch bit into my skull without me ever going into shock or going numb to the pain. Everything went white again. The page was clear, and I was sitting on my bed again. Laptop open. Screen still black. Not even a minute had gone by. 

Staring into that empty screen. That digital fucking abyss. I still felt like I was floating in that vacant nothingness. Existing before anything. 

I know there’s so many guys out there who pretend to be know-it-alls, or that they have all the answers...  

My head. 

Felt so heavy. Just to exist even now while I’m writing this it feels like I’m trudging through miles and miles of heavy sludge like thoughts to even get to the point. All this stuff sitting in my head. The real stories of how life and history happened. The beginning, the end, the swirling concepts of space and time that mankind has only scantly begun to get a grasp upon. Omniscience? But in a head not meant to keep it. Answers to every question, knowledge of every fact that could be, would be, or had been. 

I took an aspirin and decided to go for a walk. Maybe the fresh air would help. Maybe I just fried my brain last night reading a bunch of random shit after reading hours and hours of random Wikipedia articles or know your meme pages blankly to just fill the gaps.  

For a minute it did. 

Lights felt brighter, sounds felt clearer. I didn’t even put on my glasses today and I could see just fine. Something I didn’t even bother questioning in the moment. Mom always told me to never question good things and I wasn’t about to start now. 

It really wasn’t until later in the day I was hanging around with my only real-life friend at this school. I don’t know, we’ll call him Tom. Tom and I usually do the same shit I do at the apartment. Only sometimes we smoke weed too. Everyone does that with their friends, right? Sit pretending to actually hang out when you’re both independently browsing on your phones while some random shit plays on TV? He asked me some random question. 

I’d tell you I don’t remember it, but I do. I remember every detail as it hit me at that moment. Piercing through whatever fog the day had put to haze over the vast span of eternity all of those eons and eons of information just struck. Being shot in the head wouldn’t have felt all that much different. I answered his question. 

“Bro, do you think there’s life on other planets?” 

“Not within our immediate solar system.” 

Not stated as an opinion, but as a fact. I was on autopilot, like a fucking Alexa or Siri, just blindly answering the question in totality as I knew it. Like knew it. Subjects I’d studied for years and years on end. Tom stopped me about halfway through. 

“Dude what the fuck are you talking about?” 

It was fair. I think at some point I stopped speaking English, and it was more just guttural noises. Some foreign language? Alien. Obviously confused, I replied. 

“You asked me if I thought there was life on other planets dude, I’m just telling you there is.” 

“How can you possibly ‘know’ that?” 

Going off in a trance again pretty much, I told him all about the Library. All the things it showed me. I tried for him to keep it vague. But he kept prodding me. Asking me for more. I couldn’t shut it off. Like the curse of knowing all of this stuff was more than just the knowledge itself but having to share it just as readily. Which sounds great. Like the benefit of knowledge to mankind. 

I told him everything. I looked him dead in the eyes. Answered every petty or grand question that came to his mind. Ones I couldn’t possibly know the answer to or ones that had just been prying their way at his mind. 

He asked. 

Oh god he asked... 

“Can you tell me everything?” 

I told him no. Like I was being pedantic or something. Fucking possessed, not able to stop myself or control my own body I just grabbed hold of him. 

“No, I can’t tell you everything. There’s no time. I can show you though.” 

Both hands on either side of his head, staring into his eyes. 

“Dude don’t be gay.” 

Which was funny as hell coming from the gay dude, but I wish I could laugh. He just went silent. This wasn’t like a movie or anything. There weren’t bright flashing lights, or some orchestral song to demonstrate just what was happening. Just Tom’s face going from bright and lively to sinking. All the color drained from his face. Happiness turned to horror. Tom just started screaming. 

He wouldn’t stop. 

The loudest blood curdling scream I’d ever heard, and it’s haunted me ever since that night. Like all this information was attacking him. He was begging for me to stop but I felt my fingers furling on their own. I was squeezing him, holding him in place. My mission was to make sure he learned everything I had. By the end of it he had screamed himself down to a rasp. An hour or so passed while we were sitting there. When my hands finally let me let go of his head, he just sank. Tom sagged, his whole body wrinkling on the couch for a moment while he breathed ragged. I sat there. Feeling empty. Nothing. Then, all I could do was sit there on his couch and watch him while he calmly and slowly stood up. Take a minute or two to compose himself or process the information and then run at his window and just fucking leap.  

Tom was gone. One of the few things I don’t know is what exactly Tom saw that drove him to do that. Whether it was a specific piece of information, or if it was just his mind trying to process everything. Like burning out a CPU by overworking it. 

Cops came, because of course they did. A man just killed himself, and they come up the stairs, bust down his door, to find me just sitting there. The thousand-yard stare, locked in my body like a puppet while someone else moved me. Question after question came. I answered them all honestly. Their final one broke me out of my daze. 

“Why do you think he did it?” 

I started crying, because it was all my fault. I just told them I didn’t know. It was the only question I could think of where I didn’t actually know the answer. 

That week after that was a blur. I sat in my room doing my best to avoid talking to anyone while the Uni excused me from my classes for a while. Something about it being the last of my worries, but sympathy expires. I know it does. The vast swathes of information that shifts and wriggles through my brain like a virus. Infecting every part of myself that had ever been. I know what I was like before. Who I was. I’m having trouble holding on to whether or not that’s who I still am. The perspective of every single thing I knew has been warped beyond belief and I can’t look at life the same way I did before. 

What was the point? I asked myself aloud. 

And then I knew. 

Why were we here, then? 

And then I knew. 

So, our whole purpose in life, the meaning of everything we’ve ever done-- 

But I already knew. 

Mankind wasn’t meant to. Knowledge is not a gift. So many people spend their entire lives trying to find the meaning behind action. Why are we here? Where do we come from? 

Is there a higher power? 

Questions people live and die trying and failing to answer, I knew in an instant. I knew how Tom’s mom felt getting the call from the school. Every agonizing thought. I knew immediately how Tom felt, overburdened and overwhelmed. 

And I knew how burdensome I’d been to everyone around me. Every single negative weight on my consciousness about what everyone thought about me outweighed any single positive counterweight it had. The disappointment I’d been. When you’re alone in the dark, in the deafening silence of a room black as pitch is when you start whispering the worst questions to yourself. The ones you don’t really wanna know the answers to but muttering them just helps you feel better. 

Looking out across my desk, passed the light of my laptop, now I can still see the darkness of the void. The nothingness that probed my mind and let me see everything I’d ever asked. I claw at my scalp until it bleeds, scream until my voice can’t even carry sound with it. I haven’t eaten anything in days. I know there’s no point. No reason. I look in the mirror and I don’t even recognize the hollow shell of a person I’ve become. I just see... how tired I am. I’m so exhausted. Every time I sleep, more and more knowledge just floods into my head. For days I’ve felt like a balloon about to burst. 

Maybe that’s what Tom saw. 

Maybe he saw what would become of me, how it would feel. 

Decided that he didn’t want to become this. 

I looked up last night at my ceiling. Laid out flat on my bed, I asked to forget. If there was some way to unknow all of this. Could I go back to the way things were before? I remember very clearly the pop-up. As if the memory was spitting in my face. 

Ignorance is bliss. 

Humans weren’t meant to know this much. 

The void, the ardent darkness lingering in a time before time. This morning, it called to me. Maybe it always did, but now it spoke and for the first time I understood. I can’t go back, can I? I’m trapped in this loop of suffering, with entropy pulling me apart from the inside. 

There is no God listening. 

No, that’s not true. There is no God answering our prayers. But it’s listening. Amusing itself on our suffering. It has fooled us into thinking there was ever any reason. There was ever good and evil but, in the end, there is only nothing. Nothing like there was before. Tom isn’t living it up in Heaven playing guitar and smoking weed in the afterlife. He’s not in Hell lamenting his sins or paying penance to some arbitrary rules. He’s gone. What I don’t know yet is if it’s the same for everyone, or if it’s my fault. If having this knowledge is what did it?  

This whole thing to say I’m scared. 

Or I was scared. Maybe this has been my way of working up the courage. 

I’m so tired. I can’t sleep anymore. Every time I try, I just wake up more exhausted. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I tried. I tried to forget, I tried to make myself forget. I couldn’t talk to anyone else. I was afraid of what might happen if I did. What if they asked me like he did? It’s what it wants. I know it. 

We weren’t meant to know. What we are meant to know isn’t even a full sentence on a page in a chapter in a single book in the endless library of eternity. We’re lucky to finish a word by the time we die. My head is pounding. It feels like any moment I’m just going to explode.  

I can’t do this. 

I’m sorry mom. I’m sorry everyone. If you read this, and then happen to come across that site? 

Tom was right. 

[empressofthesunwriter]

Nothing is True

… Everything is permitted.

What is real?

What is not?

Is she just turning crazy or are other powers at work?

One thing is clear Kohana will get to the bottom of this and maybe change the whole Ninja-World at the same time.

S.I. Third Shinobi World War 

Chapter 3 : Searching for answers

Kohana couldn't make sense of the memories and sensations that flooded her mind.

Who was Haruno Kohana?

And why did she have memories from a different time and place?

It was all too much to process.

As she walked towards the nurse's office, she tried to focus on her mission: to keep Rin alive and prevent Obito from turning into a monster.

But even that seemed overwhelming now.

How could she possibly change the future when she didn't even understand what was happening to her?

When she arrived at the nurse's office, Rinka greeted her with concern. "Is everything okay, Kohana-san?"

"No,", Kohana admitted. "I'm just...I don't know what's going on with me."

Rinka nodded sympathetically. "It can be difficult adjusting to life as a ninja. But remember, you're not alone. We're here to help you."

Kohana appreciated Rinka's kind words but couldn't shake off the feeling that something bigger was at play here.

She needed answers, and fast.

But where would she even begin?

As she lay down on one of the beds in the nurse's office, Kohana closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She couldn't afford to panic or lose control now; too much was at stake. She needed to stay focused on her mission and figure out what was happening to her before it was too late.

But for now, all she could do was rest and hope that things would become clearer soon enough.

Kohana's mind was still a jumbled mess as she lay on the bed, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

She couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more to her memories and sensations than just being a ninja.

As she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, she tried to recall any details that might give her a clue as to who Haruno Kohana really was.

But all she could remember were flashes of people and places that seemed familiar yet distant at the same time.

It was frustrating, but Kohana refused to give up. She knew that if she wanted answers, she would have to keep digging until she found them.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her - what if she asked her friends and family about her past? What if they could help her piece together the puzzle?

With renewed determination, Kohana sat up and looked at Rinka with newfound hope in her eyes. "Rinka-San that mind sounds strange but...can you tell me something about me?"

"Of course, Kohana-san," Rinka replied with a smile. "What would you like to know?"

Kohana took a deep breath before asking the question that had been weighing on her mind. "In your opinion who is Haruno Kohana?”

Rinka's eyes widened in surprise at Kohana's question. She hesitated for a moment before answering. "Haruno Kohana? That's your name, Kohana-san."

"I know that, but what is my character?”, Kohana frowned, feeling frustrated that she was not getting any closer to finding answers. “What are my good treats, what my bad treats, that kind of things."

The nurse looked thoughtful for a moment before responding. "Well, from what I've observed, you're very determined and focused when it comes to your studies. You're also very caring towards your friends and willing to do whatever it takes to protect them."

Kohana nodded, feeling somewhat satisfied with the answer. But she knew there had to be more to her than that.

She needed to keep searching for answers until she uncovered the truth about her past and the mysterious memories that plagued her mind.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Kohana got up from the bed and headed out of the nurse's office, ready to continue her quest for answers.

The school day was over and Kohana walked down the hallway, she felt a sense of determination wash over her.

She couldn't let these memories and sensations consume her any longer. She needed to take control of the situation and find out who she really was.

But where to start? She didn't even know where these memories were coming from or why they were haunting her now.

Then, an idea struck her - what if she consulted with the village elders? They had a wealth of knowledge and experience that could help shed light on her situation.

Suddenly new memories rushed her and they weren’t at all pleasing.

All about one of the village elders Shimura Danzo.

How he had a secret army named ROOT doing the dirty work for him...how he tried to prolong the third Shinobi World War!...how he was responsible that in the future the whole Uchiha-Clan would get massacres by the clan head oldest son!

The green-haired girl just leaned forward and threw up in disgust. Luckily she was already out of the academy, so no one would care if she vomited on the ground.

So, no, Danzo and the village elders couldn’t help her.

They were a problem that needed to be resolved.

It seemed like she had the whole world against her.

Kohana took a deep breath and tried to push the disturbing memories of Danzo and ROOT out of her mind. She couldn't let herself get sidetracked by their sinister agenda. She needed to focus on finding answers about her own past and the mysterious memories that plagued her.

But where else could she turn for help? Who else might have information about her past?

Suddenly, she remembered something - the library! The Konoha library was filled with books and scrolls that contained information about all kinds of subjects, including history and genealogy.

Perhaps there was something there that could shed light on her situation.

With renewed hope, Kohana headed towards the library, determined to find the answers she so desperately sought. As she walked through the aisles of books, she searched for anything that might give her a clue about Haruno Kohana or her mysterious memories. It was slow going at first, but eventually, she found a book titled "The Genealogy of Konoha's Shinobi."

As she flipped through the pages, Kohana felt a sense of excitement building within her. This book contained detailed records of every shinobi who had ever lived in Konoha, along with their family histories and other important details. Perhaps there would be something here that could help her uncover the truth about herself!

For hours, Kohana pored over the book's pages, taking notes and cross-referencing different names and dates. It was tedious work, but also incredibly rewarding - she was finally making progress in her quest for answers!

And then...she found it - a name that made everything click into place: Haruno Sakuya.

According to the book Haruno Sakuya was the clan head of the Haruno family during the Warring States area.

She wasn’t a ninja, but a Miko who was rumoured....to see in the future?!

Kohana couldn't believe what she was reading.

Was it possible that her mysterious memories were actually visions of the future?

And if so, what did that mean for her and her mission to protect Rin and prevent Obito from turning into a monster?

The implications were staggering, but Kohana knew one thing for sure - she needed to learn more about Haruno Sakuya and her history.

She found it in a little booklet. Long forgotten and dusty.

The young girl couldn't believe what she was reading. Haruno Sakuya, the clan head of the Haruno family during the Warring States era, was rumoured to have high-spirited energy and could seek Nature Chakra without Sage Mode, which gave her the power to see into the future.

She had aided the First and Second Hokage with her visions and had even foreseen Uchiha Madara's betrayal and the battle between him and Senju Hashirama.

But despite her knowledge, she couldn't prevent these events from happening.

Kohana sat back in awe as she absorbed this new information.

It seemed that her mysterious memories were actually visions of the future, just like those of Haruno Sakuya!

But what did this mean for Kohana's mission to protect Rin and prevent Obito from turning into a monster?

Was it possible that she too could change the course of history with her visions?

She continued ready.

The booklet talked about how Sakuya herself said that some things happened and couldn’t be changed, even if you tried hard enough.

That didn’t sit well with Kohana. She felt like her ancestor told her she couldn’t change faith.

“Oh we will see!”, she grumbled to the book.

Kohana would be damned if this terrible future happened!

Then came a part of the booklet that was supposed to be written by Sakuya herself. A part of a diary was found, yet the scholars couldn’t make sense of it.

With a beating heart, Kohana read the passage.

>>I tried my best, yet I failed. I thought our love was strong enough to not make Madara walk the same path he did in canon, but I was mistaken. Black Zetsu's influence is way stronger than shown in the manga. Why did I not connect earlier that the Ōtsutsuki are Isu’s! One part of the Isu’s managed not to get killed or banned into the Nexus, because they eat the God Fruits of the planets they come across. If I still was in my homeworld my assassin’s brother and sisters needed to hear this. Juno in her spectral form is already dangerous enough, but Isu who are flesh and blood? I’m beyond feeling scared, I’m terrified. Blasted artefact who sent me to this world! This Piece of Eden is more trouble than it’s worth it, but if I can’t change history now, I will do it again and the Piece of Eden will help me!&lt;<

Still, Kohana sat there staring at the booklet, till the words became foggy before her.

What?

What the hell did she just read?

Was it really possible that her ancestor, Haruno Sakuya, had come from a different world?

And what was this talk of Isu and Pieces of Eden?

It all sounded like something out of a fantasy novel.

But if what she had read was true, then it meant that there was more to the world than she had ever imagined.

She needed to investigate further and find out everything she could about the Isu and their connection to the Ōtsutsuki.

Perhaps there were clues hidden in the village archives or in ancient texts that had been forgotten over time.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Kohana closed the booklet and stood up from her seat in the library.

She knew that her quest for answers was far from over, but now she had a new direction to follow - one that could change everything she thought she knew about herself and her mission as a ninja.

“Konoha-Chan are you sure you are up for training?”, asked Rin worried.

Luckily her little research in the library didn’t have made her late for the training session with Obito and Rin.

While the Uchiha warmed himself up, Rin checked on her.

“I know today was weird.”, Kohana admitted. “But I’m fine Rin-Chan, really. I promise I will stop if I feel sick.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Hey girls are you ready now?!”, called Obito eager over.

The three of them began their training session, but Kohana couldn't focus on the task at hand.

Her mind was still reeling from everything she had learned in the library.

She couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something big and dangerous lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

As they practised their jutsu, Kohana kept an eye out for any signs of danger or unusual activity. She knew that she couldn't let her guard down now - not when so much was at stake.

Yet despite her vigilance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The training session went smoothly, and before she knew it, it was over.

As they walked back towards the village, Rin turned to her with a smile. "You did great today, Kohana-chan! You're really improving."

Kohana smiled back weakly, still lost in thought about what she had learned in the library.

She needed to talk to someone about it - someone who might have more knowledge about the Isu and their connection to the Ōtsutsuki. But who could she turn to?

Maybe she should first learn more about Haruno Sakuya. It could be possible that her parents had some of her dairy or other things left behind by her ancestors.

Yes, this seemed to be the most logical step.

Haruno Sakuya was something real. Well, more real than whatever she had written in the snippet in the booklet.

Kohana made up her mind to talk to her parents about Haruno Sakuya and see if they had any information or belongings left behind by their ancestors.

She knew that it was a long shot, but she had to try.

As she entered her home, she was greeted warmly by her parents.

"Welcome home, Kohana-chan!”, called her Kaa-Chan. “How was your day?"

"It was good," Kohana replied with a smile. "Where is Kizashi-Nii?”

“Your brother is with his team aka. Mooning over Mebuki-Chan.”, chortle Oto-San.

The young girl couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Of course, her Nii-Chan would try to court his longtime crush now that they were back in the village for break, till they got out to the war front again.

Kohana sat down with her parents and explained everything she had learned about Haruno Sakuya.

For the time being she left out Isu, Ōtsutsuki and whatever Piece of Eden was.

Her parents listened intently, sadly they didn't seem to know much more than what was already written in the booklet.

However, they did mention that there might be some family heirlooms stored away in their attic that belonged to Haruno Sakuya.

Excited by this new lead, Kohana rushed up to the attic with her parents' permission. As she rummaged through old trunks and boxes, she finally found a small wooden box tucked away in a corner. With trembling hands, she opened it up and found an old diary inside.

She recognized the elegant handwriting as belonging to Haruno Sakuya. She knew that this diary could hold the key to unlocking even more secrets about her ancestor's past and the Isu.

Nervous she looked down at the diary.

This was a lead, why did she hesitate so much?

What made her so scared?

Maybe she had a feeling whatever was written in the diary would flip her whole world upside down.

Taking a deep breath she began to read.

[thegeneralreturns]

Thoughts on OPPENHEIMER

Christopher Nolan is a great director who, for the past fifteen years, has devoted himself to making less-than-great films. The Dark Knight was the last time he sought to entertain, enlighten, or inform, and ever since, he's constructed his work for the sole purpose of getting us all to congratulate him on being the cleverest little boy there is (yes, even Inception, don't @ me). He directs like Salman Rushdie writes, and I don't entirely mean that as a compliment. God in Heaven save us from artists who know they're good, but think they're cute.

So it is with no small amount of satisfaction that I report that Oppenheimer break's Nolan's dry spell. It's the best film in his filmography, and my dissatisfaction with his more recent work should not, I hope, obscure the Gadsden Purchase worth of ground that covers.

If it is a standard biopic, then it is one fed through the woodchipper of Nolan's penchant for chronological jumble and thematic obfuscation, constructed less to draw attention to itself, and more to follow a dramatic and emotional through-line. The chain of events may be veined with diversion and distributed piecemeal, but how you feel about what you're seeing is as straight and as true as an arrow's flight.

Those worried about an attempted rehabilitation of J. Robert Oppenheimer himself need not do so, for Nolan can't make any clearer the fact that he holds the man in almost sneering contempt. Portrayed by the wraith-like Cillian Murphy, he is not afraid to portray him as a man blessed by vast intelligence, yet in a poverty of anything even remotely resembling a damn lick of sense as his personal relationships blow up in his face as spectacularly as any bomb might. And the film goes to great pains to show that even his late-inning mea culpas are a luxury he can't afford and didn't earn.

This is where Nolan's almost alien detachment really works for Oppenheimer's benefit, as the standard story beats of triumph are handled like that of a parent looking at a child who has no idea what they did. Even the third-act redemption, which would have been milked by a lesser filmmaker, is viewed through a thick film of sour irony. The mask only slips after the Trinity test, when Oppenheimer addresses a crowd of people, and the pyrotechnics attendant make apparent that this character is beheld by a director that hates him.

Oppenheimer is the best film of 2023 so far.

SIDE NOTE THE FIRST: A movie for grown-ups made eighty million bucks in the US this weekend. Say Hallelujah, c'mon, get happy.

SIDE NOTE THE SECOND: It took him over twenty years, but Nolan finally wrote his first legible and compelling female character. Congrats to Emily Blunt on her impending Oscar nomination.

SIDE NOTE THE THIRD: Matt Damon's character states he studied engineering at MIT, and all I could think was that Will Hunting got that time machine up and running.

[trickkombowerskru]

Friends With More Benefits-Klaus Hargreeves Imagine

Request: No here is the 16th day-yes 16th the person who got day 15 never responded to my message- of the 25 days of trickkombowerskru! which goes to @rigbabys​ and they wanted a Klaus Hargreeves imagine where him and the reader are friends with benefits but he falls for her? 

A/N: So uh this is faaaaar overdue and I am so so sorry thank you for being patient with me.

Warnings: Mention of sex at the end

You push your hair back, putting it into a ponytail then getting a drink of the water that was set on the bedside table. Klaus taking in all your movements carefully, you mesmerized him. 

There was always an unspecified tension in the air whenever you finished hooking up, could have something to do with how things could sometimes get intense between you two or maybe it was the fact that Klaus had managed to completely and utterly fell in love with you. 

Yeah maybe it was something to do with that. You lay back down into his arms, sensing the tension more than ever this time. You move to look at him, a questioning and concern filled expression on her face.

"You got something on your mind?," You ask shaking Klaus out of his thoughts.

"What? No. Nothing Y/N."

"You sure? You just seem so far away."

"Well I'm not. I'm here with you," he smiles leaning down to kiss you.

"You know you can tell me anything," you confide, there was such a level of trust built between the two of them. 

This is exactly why Klaus bottled his feelings for you up he didn't want to throw off your dynamic and make things weird. You had been there for him during his lowest of lows, your couch had been always open and a frequent crashing place for him after a drinking binge or a relapse or anything else he needed it for. 

"I know."

"I can tell when you're lying to me."

"Really it's nothing."

"Are you using again?"

"No! No no no it's nothing like that. I've just had a lot of feelings lately."

"Alright well that's good at least. I don't wanna push you to talk about it if you don't want to."

"It's not that I don't want to it's that I don't know how to."

"Okay close your eyes, take a deep breath."

He follows the instructions not sure where this is going.

"When you exhale just let the words fall out. Whatever it is I'll understand."

Klaus was hoping that'd be true, eh what the hell. He figures now, it'd be better to tell you while you're single before you two have to stop sleeping around when you find someone. 

Klaus preps himself, he was just gonna rip off the bandaid the worst you could say is no and the two of you could discuss things. Which while terrifying he knew now it couldn't mess up your dynamic, at least not entirely.

"Ithinkiloveyou," Klaus lets out in one jumbled mess.

"What? i didn't catch any of that," you questions.

"I think....no I know..."

"Know what?"

"That....that I love you."

"I love you too."

"No like LOVE you love you."

"Oh...."

"Yeah"

"How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long have you known?"

"It started a while ago, but knowing I think about 3 months."

“3 months so you've definitely had time to think about it... shit."

You notice as Klaus' face falls.

"It's just like why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I was scared. I didn't wanna fuck this up. And it's not exactly easy pouring your heart all over the place."

You kisses him he's in shock for a moment before melting into it

."I feel like that should make it clear how I feel about you, but just it case it didn't I love you too. So when you taking me out Hargreeves?"

"How's tomorrow" ,he proposes.

"Mm sounds perfect to me," you reply with a smile. 

Klaus feels a huge weight off his shoulders, you didn't freak out, and you felt the same way, was he dreaming?

"Ow," he says as he feels a pinch and looks to see you smirking.

"You're not dreaming."

"You. Bitch," he laughs.

"What are you gonna do about it," you tease.

"Oh ho ho I'm gonna.... I'm gonna get you," he says shifting to move you two for him to be on top.

"Oh are you?," you question amused.

You turn the tables and flips the two of you again, holding Klaus' hands above his head. You kiss, quickly things get heated when Klaus reaches up and gropes your breast. 

Needless to say that got both of you revved up and it continued to lead to your first ever round as an official couple.

[jaemsun00]

NCT Mark + 00Line When you come home drunk and horny

This is mature content, not much graphic details though. Read at your own risk :)

- MARK

As soon as he heard your going out on a girls night, he was planning ahead. He has dealt with your drunk ass to many times to count. So it was no surprise when you came home giggling over absolutely nothing. Mark thanked your friend who acted as the mother tonight, taking you out of her hands. “Good luck with her” she nodded before going back to the car with some more drunk girls.

“Mark!” You shouted, right in his ear at that. “Hi. Quite your voice down please” he whispered, worried you would wake his house mates up. Which you did but... “I missed you. So so much” your words were jumbled but it still made some sense.

“You saw me less than three hours ag- what are you doing” his voice was now high pitched as your hand traveled down south. “I missed you” Mark has never dealt with you like this, usually you would come home and pass out, this has never happened.

“Okay yeah Uh your hand is” he still held onto you as you placed your right hand right where a certain something was growing. “You missed me too” you chuckle to yourself but Mark awkwardly pushes you away.

“Your drunk. Let’s go clean you up” he nodded to the stairs but you scoff. “Let’s go to the couch and do something else” you sing out, strolling your way towards the grey sofa you helped pick out a few months prior. “No baby, come on” he grabbed onto your arm to pull you gently.

“Why won’t you fuck me?” Your straightforwardness made Marks eyes widen, a bit to wide actually. “Your being-“ “why not?” You whine, flinging your arms around like a child. “Your drunk and I’m not taking advantage of your state” “but I’m asking you” Mark sighed before grabbing at your arm again. “I don’t care, come on let’s get you cleaned up” once he finally had you walking semi straight, he let out a loud sigh.

- RENJUN

You were bored, and your boredom led to you drinking almost a whole wine bottle in a span of an hour. Renjun was late home so you just kept drinking. wine and you never really got along, You being a light weight and all. As soon as you heard your code being put in, you got excited. Fixing your posture as you heard his shoes being kicked off.

“I’m home” he sung out, words quickly seized as he saw the way you were lying on the couch. “Hi” he smiled, ridding of his jacket as he also got excited. That until he saw the half empty wine bottle on the little table beside you. “Hiiii” you wave seductively at him, your legs opening a bit more to show him what exactly he was missing.

“Yeah Hi. Your drunk?” He stood tall, the excitement leaving his body as he knew he can’t do anything with you in this state. “What makes you think that?” You whine, completely not in the right state to even be awake right now.

“The bottle, not to mention the red mark around your lips. I’m gonna go for a shower” he sighed, picking his jacket back up and start his mission to the bathroom. “I’ll come just a- ow” your cry made him turn back to you. You’ve fallen of the couch.

“No your not. Come on let’s go get your teeth brushed” he held out a hand for you to take but instead you slapped it away. “If I can’t shower with you what’s the point in getting up” “your being a child, you’ll feel better in the morning”

- JENO

“Your girl is getting a little... too handsy don’t you think?” Jaemin nodded towards a drunk you, who kept your hands all over your boyfriend. Jeno nodded, removing your hand form his crotch. “Welcome to the world of a drunk ____” he joked before turning to kiss your lips like you whispered for him to, among other things of course

Jaemin just nodded, clearly uncomfortable with you feeling up his friend right infront of him. “I think we might head home” Jeno stood up, a hand on your back as you followed. “Yeah yeah let’s go home” all the people at the table looked towards you two with knowing eyes. Jeno shook his head “sleeping, we are going home to sleep” he said turning to look down at you who was wearing a pout.

“Sleep? Ooo you wanna do it in the car??” You ask eagerly, already ridding of your -Jenos- jacket. “No no. Come on” he grabbed both your wrist to stop your wondering hands which knew their way to the place you wanted.

Jeno reckons this car ride was the hardest. Your hand rubbing along his crotch every other second. You trying to nibble on his neck, it was far to distracting.

Finally pulling up at the apartment complex, he grabbed your hand. “If your not to bad tomorrow we will begin this” he pointed between you two before unlocking the car doors. “I’ll come around, stay there”

- HAECHAN

“Your girlfriends drunk”

“Of course she is. So your gonna let her stay at your house right?” Haechan was joking, well your best friend hoped he was. “Your hilarious, come and get her” she snapped the last part, Haechan sighed hearing your drunk calls for another of your friends. “I reckon it’s your turn to babysit. Thank you” “if your not hear in 5 fucking minutes, lee Hacehan. I promis-“ “okay okay. I’ll be there”

He kept to his word, being there in amount of 3 minutes thanks to the club being close and the traffic was short. “Where is the drunk lady” he pulled up, three of your friends held you back from vomiting your guts up. “I don’t own her” Hacehan shook his head as he saw you, but he still got out to help you.

“Hiya baby” you mumble, grabbing at his cheeks to squish them. “Mmm your hair is wet, why?” He asked ruffling your drenched hair. “Girly thought it was fun to have a water fight with herself in the bathroom” your best friend spoke up, patting Haechan on the back before bidding a goodbye.

“You wanna know what else is wet?” You whispered into his ear making him almost chock on nothing. “Your scalp” he smiled before helping you to the passenger side of his car. “Nope lower” Haechan closed his eyes as he finally got you to sit properly on the seat.

“Well that’s sounds like a you problem” he smiled, leaning over to grab at your seatbelt. You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, knowing how that usually gets him going. “If it’s a me problem, I might aswell fix it right now” you smile once he plugs you in.

Hacehan shook his head. “Your to drunk sweetie. You won’t even know where anything is” he joked before hoping into his side. “I don’t like you like this. Where is the other Hacehan? The one who will gladly touch me?” The boy nodded, with a smile.

“He is still here. But he can’t exactly- do what you want right now. Tomorrow night is a different story though” 

- JAEMIN

Jaemin sat on the couch, ignoring your calls of his name. It’s been two hours since you yelled at him for waking you up early. An hour since you decided to down three vodka drinks. Twenty minutes since you begged for him. But he has ignored you, even though it was hard.

“Jaemin” you whined walking into the living room to see him. “Your ignoring me! I did nothing” he could hear the pout in your voice but didn’t dare to look at you, knowing he would give in if he saw it.

“Fine I’ll just go blow Jeno or-“

“Excuse me?” His head snapped up, seeing your red cheeked self. It was clear you had a little bit to much for your body. “Oh so that’s how I get your attention?” You chuckle, nodding as if you did something good.

“You don’t like the idea of my mouth around-“ Jaemin coughed to cut your words short. “Your being silly. Go drink some water” he nodded towards the kitchen, acting as if your words were not bothering him.

He hated you drunk, mainly because of this reason. You being the horny person that you are, and he can’t do anything because of obvious reasons.

“I don’t want to have water in my mouth, I much rather... some thing better” your eyed his crotch, licking your lips a bit to obviously. Jaemin scoffed, standing to his feet. Surely he was still a bit mad at you for earlier. But gosh you were so dang cute right now.

“As much as that sounds very exciting, baby. I would rather you suck me off when you know what to do”

- YANGYANG

All YangYang wanted was to go to sleep, not be driving over to your place and handle a drunk you. “Why’d you drink?” He whined once he saw the bottles scattered across your table. “I got fired” you shrug as if you weren’t crying over it for the last three hours. Yangyang’s eyes went wide when he heard that.

“What? Fired? Why?” He asked all at once, coming to stand beside you as you sniffled a bit. “Someone better. I don’t know he is a stupid boss anyways” you mumble the last part, YangYang patted your back as you downed another little bit of your drink.

“So you spent your money on alcohol? Baby that-“ “I called you for a reason you know?” Your boyfriend nodded, surely he thought you called him for support, to get your mind of the  events that you just went through.

Well how wrong was he. Cause now he was pinned down on your couch with you straddling him. “We cannot do this” he smiled trying to push you off his thighs but you pushed him away. “I want to. It’s okay” you smile drunkily at him and it makes him sigh.

“I would love to but baby, I don’t think right now is a good time for this” ignoring his words you lean in for a kiss again but he moves his head so your lips collide with his cheek instead. “We can do this any other time”

“But I want it now!! Oh come on I know you do to” you grind a bit on the growing tent inside of his pants. Groaning a bit YangYang sat up half way. “Please not tonight. When we have sex I want you to remember every detail, okay?”

Giving up you roll off his lop, sitting beside his legs instead. “I want another drink” “no no. No more”

- SHOTARO

“Babbbyyy” you scream through your apartment. Hoping the boy you need right now is here. “Shotaro?” You try again, walking into your bedroom to see a small light shining up the room. Shotaro laid comfortably on your bed, blankets pulled to his chest as he watched a drama with his AirPods in.

Shotaro saw the  silhouette of your body before pausing his episode. “Hi your back?” He smiled brightly at you. Switching on the light, you strode closer towards him.

The poor boy had no clue what was about to hit him, thinking you looked as normal as you usually do. That until you started sexily climbing up the bed. Hands on his legs as they got closer and closer.

“What are you doing?” He chuckled nervously, moving his legs underneath your hold. “I want you” you spit out making Shotaro drop his phone on his face, he forgot he still held it above his head.

“Your drunk?” He finally put two and two together, after smelling it once you got close. “Not drunk enough. So let’s get you ready” you sing out, handing pressing down on his sensitive area. “I’m uh. No” he stumbled among his words.

Of course he wanted your mouth around him but you clearly weren’t in a state of mind right now, probably about to pass out as soon as you got him out of his sweat pants.

“No? Why not?” Shotaro sat up, grabbing your hand to hold. “You need sleep, baby” he raised an eyebrow at your scoff. “Sleep is overrated. But you know head isn’t over-“ “baby. Please” he begged with his eyes that made you scrunch up your nose. “You always get what you want. It’s annoying” you whine before falling to lay beside him. Minutes later and you were passed out just as Shotaro expected.

[enrapture]

Since I’ve failed to keep in touch on certain social medias like this one that I used to be on all the time, I wanted to do a lil update.

I will try to make this as short as I can. (I failed)

I’ve been taking time to reevaluate, work through, come to an understanding and acceptance of certain things. Trying to change within myself & ask myself questions and take my time figuring things out as I tend to be my own worst critic. Trying to move more with love, openness, respect, understanding and honesty are the core elements I desire in life. I will not settle for less but at the same time I will remember that imperfections make us human. No one, thing, is perfect. Everyone fucks up. It’s okay. everyone goes at their own pace in life unless chosen otherwise. Obv depends on the situation but yeah. Moving on… I feel like if I don’t say what comes to mind I’ll forget and it will eat at me if I don’t talk about it or I’ll remember it later and then I’ll talk about it but now it’s too late and it’s considered out of context and then I’m looked at like HUH. So yeah I’m a bit of a mess. LOL.

God I say so much detailed shit that makes 0 sense lmao. This is all a jumbled mess but go on keep reading if you give a shit. ily, for those that take the time to get me, understand my scattered thought brain. You’re dope. Thank you. Anyway, It’s all about within yourself. Feeling your feelings. Experiencing things and surrounding yourself with similar <good> natured people. With Happiness blooms in the bones so to speak. Just doing. Just being. Just flowing. So it goes. Figuring out what I want out of life currently, the people I want to be surrounded by, and work on my mental health. Work on things because I want to and try to become a better person overall. (Speaking of mental, mine hasn’t at all been the best or the easiest this year. taking it one day at a time. Is the nicest way I can put it.Adhd/Depression/anxiety are difficult to juggle.) I know as time goes by life won’t be easy. Trying to accept that. realizations can be impactful. Making actual decisions instead of procrastinations as well as learn and practice accepting things for how they are. For what they were. And not make excuses. I’m working on a lot haha. I’m <trying> to get back into various hobbies such as (art, writing, poetry, photography) as of late all I’ve been doing is working, planning for New York, going out and about, watching films/shows, listening to music, once in a blue moon playing video games (im waiting on my monitor to come in since mine just stopped working for no reason. It’s a Samsung thing HAHA just trust, I’m not the only one it happened to unfortunately) and reading with my time.

For those who don’t know I’m visiting New York for the first time in two weeks and I’m (most likely) moving there in the beginning of the year. Maybeeeee around my birthday (Jan 28th) I dunno yet as of current. But Im thinkin about going to school sometime after everything is settled. I’m taking some time to figure out what I want to do rn. I know I want to take a few classes in art, do something in regards with cinema, maybe do somethin with coding/graphic design??? Idk I have a few things in mind. I just need to take time after running around like a madman getting the house ready/myself ready, work currently and work on balance 🤍🖤 try to not be up in the clouds too long ya feel? I’ve got goals and I’m working at em one day at a time. :,) it’s hard but I think it will all work out in the way it will and it will all make sense eventually. For the first time in a long time, I’m hopeful.

It’s a new start. A new beginning. I’m nervous/excited. More growing, learning shitsy shits to do~

Authenticity is sexy. Consideration. Reciprocation. Communication & understanding is sexy. Taking the time to figure yourself out as well as others is sexy. The realization of truly Highs and lows - flaws and growth not being stuck in one or the other for too long despite them are sexier.

Romanticize •positivity• into your life.

And if you’re going through shit, know that it will work itself out soon. Easier said than done, but it will. Everything will make sense in time. Give yourself that time. 💛

As someone who’s been through a lot of unspeakable but some speakable hell, who gets it, trust me you’re meant to be here.

If there’s a sign, this is it.^ stay. Continue on. But yeah update Im probably most likely moving LMAO.

Okay, Phew.