#oh god help me i am trapped in a prison of the mind

[othernaut]

Character Creation Challenge, Day 15: EverQuest Role-Playing Game

Appearance is reality.

The placid picture of a Koada'Dal enchantress sits by a marble-veined window in one of the spiraling towers of Felwithe, sipping clear tea and taking measured notes. The curling fern in the window sways its long leaves whenever another scholar passes by, dappling the study table with a manicured representation of the Greater Faydark in totality. A stiff-backed librarian passes by and takes in the scene, the open books and organized notes - the teacup conspicuously placed far away from any uncaring elbow or flailing pen. Nods, whispers a pleasantry. Smiles, and moves on.

One of the open books is a Freeport merchant's guide, outrageously unethical, detailing just how much a person can fleece their suppliers before they need to begin bribing the authorities. One is a dwarven judiciary book, little more than court transcripts, thought so worthless it had to be rescued from a midden. Two are explicitly and enthusiastically pornographic. The fifth, a delirious religious tract praising all-consuming, all-destroying Solusek Ro, was discovered in a cult compound, copied in secret, and is powerfully heretical to the nature-worshipping elite of the High Elves.

The notes, then, are about influence. The levers of influence, the mechanics of want and refusal. In sixteen pages of looping shorthand, the enchantress has detailed the skeleton of a philosophy, one built from its bones to influence people, to change their opinions, to manipulate their favor, to cause them to do and believe advantageous things. To a detailed reader, it would appear psychopathic. To a passerby, it appears as schoolwork. To her, it is the only means she has discovered to interact with other people.

Appearance is reality.

Two months earlier, the enchantress was breathing hard under the all-concealing canopy of the Faydark forest, sweaty and dirt-stained, standing over a corpse. The orc was a young one, she could tell. She was young herself; like recognizes like. The heavily-muscled creature carried a chipped sword and a belt full of beaten knives, but no trophies - no teeth, no ears, no locks of hair. A pawn, she remembered. Not yet an adult, to the orcs; it would have needed to kill before being trusted with that status. That would be why it attacked so fiercely, why it had sprinted towards her the second it saw her. She, actually - the enchantress only noticed these differences once the violence was done. The orc was attempting to earn her place. The enchantress was attempting to save her life.

Battle was quick, a matter of seconds. A spell cast reflexively, learned and memorized but never tested. The enchantress manifested a braided loop of magic around the orc pawn's throat, seized it in place while the spell choked the life out of it. Only now, in the frayed peace of the aftermath, did she realize she had other choices. She could have become a flower, a fallen log; she knew the illusions, she had the capability. And now a corpse was cooling at her feet and no one would know the orc had died, not if she didn't speak of it.

There came a rotation of perspective, under the shadow of the leaves. If she modified the illusion, took on the appearance of the orc, then she could prise a tooth from her victim's head and take her place in the clan. She would be inducted as a member of the Crushbone clan, in whatever means the orcs sought to do this, and live as a tested equal among a people she had only known as enemies. How different would it be from her own life? Would she crumple under brutal reality? Would there be something there, something alien but not altogether unpleasant to the Koada'Dal and her life of genteel isolation?

Appearance is reality.

Five years earlier, the apprentice enchantress was stopped in her tracks by a spell trap. She had only just begun her studies; she had never seen this kind of magic before, never felt it. All muscles in her body seized and any thought bent towards motion or speech died unmanifested. It would have been terrifying enough, had she not been miles below the Academy spires, exploring hidden passageways that she was distinctly not permitted to see.

But what else was there to do? When classes ended, everyone either paired off or gathered in clumps. She was left alone at her worktable to pack up her things in silence. She tried, she really did. She introduced herself, made jokes, did everything she knew how to do, but the best she could hope for was a polite goodbye. She didn't know whether everyone had already found exactly the companionship they needed or whether it was something to do with her. She bathed, she had a decent personality (according to relatives), her clothing was decent and her hairstyle recent. As she learned the illusions, she applied them to sharpen a cheekbone or conceal a blemish. And still she sat there, day after day, packing her things and listening to a camaraderie that she would never be a part of.

So she wandered. She wandered in the steepness of the hills, stayed out late, watched the stars. When she did the illusion right, she took the appearance of burning candles and stayed in the temple to watch the secret lives of acolytes and priests. She wandered by the gate, sat by the burning braziers to watch the Faydark, green and glorious. Alone, always alone - and now alone here, in the dark where the familiar had become a threat, unable to move a muscle.

Someone came and got her, of course. She got a lecture about which places were appropriate for a student and which were not. Because she was known to her teachers as a quiet and studious elf, she would be forgiven her transgressions - so long as she never spoke of it. Never mentioned that she had seen the pale marble of Felwithe shift to an older stone, a darker foundation, deep in the bones of the city. Never mention the ever-burning purple flames she found flickering at the end of that tunnel - that she had fixed her eyes on and wondered, while her body failed to move. Let it sift into obscurity and it will be as if nothing had happened, as if there was nothing at all to discover.

Appearance is reality.

Ten years earlier, she watched a shipment of raw stones delivered to her parents' jewelry shop. Night after night, her parents worked to cut and polish those rough bands of color into glittering gems. They went out in bulk, too, to Ak'Anon. Something to do with gnomish experimentation. They would never adorn a finger or enliven the curve of an ear.

Fifteen years earlier, they cleared the furniture from her brother's room. The stonework items, they would be broken into slag and dumped as gravel on the Caravan Road; all the wooden ones would be burned. Her mother filled the space with potted plants. The light, she said, was ideal, as if it were made for this. They never spoke his name again. She didn't have a brother. But that's when her father began the habit of spitting whenever the name Crushbone was said in his presence. The houseplants flourished and her mother spent hours in that room every day, alone.

Twenty years earlier, she had been playing by a lone tree in the gardens when a pixie twirled down out of the leaves and sprinkled her with dust. With a laugh and a word of magic, the pixie turned all her hair a vibrant pink. She laughed, too, which seemed to surprise the pixie - so it changed its hair to match. Giggling, it fled into the trees, leaving the girl alone with her alterations. The color change was permanent. She had to cut it all out for it to grow back the same basic blonde she was used to. Her parents fretted, made her cover her head. They hadn't heard the laughter, they only saw the consequences.

In the undefined future, the enchantress might do incredible things. Who could say? It was a world of adventure and excitement. People broke the barriers between planes, met their gods in the flesh, and slew them. People died unremarked in a nameless stretch of forest and that was all there would ever be of them. What mattered was the narrative, and that was a universal province. If the world saw her as beautiful, as powerful, as well-traveled, capricious, as everything she would ever want to be, would there be a difference?

Would anyone care?

Appearance is reality. Anything was fair.

*****

Solstyce Wintersun High Elf Enchanter 3 Training points: 0 Alignment: DG (perceived NG)

Str: 8 (-1), Dex: 14 (+2), Con: 11 (0), Int: 20 (+5), Wis: 12 (+1), Cha: 19 (+4) Speed: 30, Size: Medium, Languages: Elven 4, Common 4 Senses: Infravision Hit Points: 11 Armor Class: 13 Equipment: Quarterstaff, adventurer's clothes, spellbook, 4 daggers, 10 tiny daggers, backpack, bedroll, candle, flint and steel, ink (1-ounce vial), inkpen, small steel mirror, belt pouch, 6 days rations, 50 feet of hempen rope, sewing needle, 1 pound soap, waterskin, 11 gold pieces

Base Attack Bonus: +1 Melee: 0, Ranged: +3 Fort Save: +2, Reflex Save +3, Will Save +5 Proficiencies: Simple weapons, one-handed blunt, two-handed blunt, piercing, throwing. Class features: Spellcasting, bonus mystic feat feat. Feats: Combat Casting, Extend Spell, Dodge Skills: Appraise 6 (Int, +11), Bluff 6 (Cha, +10) Channelling 6 (Con, +6), Meditation 6 (Int, +11), Spellcraft 6 (Int, +11), Knowledge 6 (mysticism, Int, +11), Diplomacy 6 (Cha, +10), Animal Empathy 5 (Cha, +9), Sense Motive 6 (Wis, +7), Trade Skill 5 (jewelcrafting, Int, +10)

Available Spell Level: 2 Mana: 30 Spells Known: 1 - Lull, Minor Illusion, Shallow Breath, Pendril's Animation, Minor Shielding, Weaken. 2 - Gate, Color Flux. Prepared Spells: 1 - Minor Illusion, Shallow Breath, Pendril's Animation, Minor Shielding, Weaken, Gate, Color Flux, Lull.

*****

As I continue this challenge, as I write these bits of (hopefully) good fiction for bad games, I come again and again to this idea of exorcism. Of a personal closure, of pulling things out of myself and, by making it explicit and giving it stats, transforming it into a thing that can no longer trouble me. A thing that may be a part of my past, yes, but nothing I need to be ashamed of anymore. Look at it, it's got 30 mana and a +11 to Meditation. I know exactly what it is now.

EverQuest was the first game that ate me. I never had a chance. I had already been hooked by the seductive imagination of the fantasy genre and, like our protagonist above, spent most of my life achingly alone. To find a place where I could engage with others about my sparkly magical interests, and I could do it exactly as and how I wanted to be perceived? I never had a chance. They baited the trap with belonging and knew exactly what they'd catch.

It's been literal decades since I've touched anything related to EverQuest, but this silly little fantasy world is still an indelible part of me. I met friends that I've known, now, for years - I've had a 25-year-long conversation with a dude I first knew as a bucketheaded human paladin, what the fuck is this life. My tastes in fantasy have grown beyond the out-of-sequence Dragonlance and clearly-unredacted Greek myths that fascinated me as a lonely kid, but every weird obsession has to start with the simple things. And even now, decades later, here I am, making my old EverQuest character exactly as she would have been walking out of her starting city, having already done all the bat and spiderling killing she'd need to begin a long career of bullying sand giants and turning into trees in front of the bank doors so no one could get out.

As for the game itself? It's 3e D&D. If you know what that is, you know what the EverQuest Role-Playing Game is. But it's also good 3e D&D, to a point. The mechanical changes that White Wolf (jesus christ, yeah, it's White Wolf who made this) put in place to make the tabletop feel more like the MMO serve to improve the base game of D&D without adding too much complexity. A lot of the modules and additional adventure packs are, like, dungeons the game very much intends for you to grind for loot, and while I found this hilariously incongruous to what I come to tabletop for upon first blush... yeah, yeah, this is basically exactly what someone wanting to play tabletop EverQuest would want in 2002. I built my old High Elf Enchanter and immediately felt the urge to go troll Crushbone. It's in me, now. The hook that caught me once knows exactly where to slide in.

Next up: I deserve a good RPG for once, as a treat.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Hiiii!!!! Uuhh sorry I get a bit awkward to approach new people but oh my god I needed to say that I absolutely love your work!! Im truly a fan!! Your Fierce Deity fics bring me to life and I cant stop thinking about it <333

Not sure if this idea is interesting enough but I cant stop thinking about it and I thought you could maybe like it!!

I keep thinking about Reader talking with the Fierce Deity's mask (imagining he still sealed in the mask) like he was physically there, just rambling. We could show him the sky and the grass, mundane things, talk about our thoughts and ask questions to him, like what is it like to be a god and if he is happy with his life.

One question that also pops a lot in my mind is asking what gods thought of humans or maybe, what he thought of them, of us!! Ofc he doesnt respond bc he is inside the mask but then one day he is off of it and he remembers each and every question we ever asked, and is willing to answer them all NFKENFKWFKWKKFKWKDKW

Its just an idea, you dont really have to do it, but everytime I think about it or Fierce in general, I cant help but also think about you <333

Im really glad I found your work!! I hope we can be friends!! :DDD

I wish you a lovely day my little leaf!! Toodlessss 🍃🍃🍃

𖠰 Woods 𖠰

Okay first of all, this idea this absolutely amazing!! I'll have you know I was practically VIBRATING with excitement while reading this! You have no idea how stoked I am to receive asks like this, so do not feel bad at all for sharing! Also what we're literally already besties <3

Man In The Mask

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): N/A

Masterlist

What are you?

It was a question the Fierce Deity had heard a thousand times, often accompanied by blood and blaze: a question of those he protected... and those he did not, whispered on the heels crimson-dripped lips and frightful eyes. He was a god of war, and thus not one to engage in the folly of mortals. Orders were his foundation, and steel his soul, wrapped in a righteous evil that not even the goddesses could bear to gaze upon.

Which is why he felt nothing short of hedonistic when it fell from the lips of the paltry mortal's holding the wretched mask that trapped him centuries earlier. Voice soft and eyes softer, touch featherlight on the chipped edges of his prison. There were thumbs on the apples of his 'cheeks', and the deity was caught between rage and sorrow. Tumultuous emotions were not his strong suit, and neither was restraint, from the way things were looking.

He didn't need to stand before them to feel their weakness, as was typical of most humans, but there was an ember in your eyes that seemed to burn with a light he didn't dare remember, shining like a beacon in the night.

"I wonder who painted you," the human, you, mused, stroking again over the half-glossed finish of the mask. Gentle, comforting, and utterly indecipherable to the deity inside. "You're so dusty; did Time even polish you?"

Why... Why was that relevant? Never in his wildest thoughts had the Fierce Deity expected Time to intrust his 'care' to a human, much less you. His very existence was a burden; how could a so-called hero willingly place something so... so destructive in the hands of, well, he considered you quite innocent to the tribulations of war and bloodshed and sorrow.

But what could he do but wait, snug under your arm, as you prattled on about anything and everything. The notion that you were naive enough to talk to a mere mask, of all things. Had you no sense? No discretion? It was a question he often asked himself, though only because there was no one else to answer.

That didn't stop his dull wonderings on whether you would ask such questions if he stood before you in the flesh. Would you cower? Fight? Flee? Perhaps he would remember the words that fell from your mouth, just to prove himself right once again.

***

The Fierce Deity mask weighed heavy in your hands as you plodded down the small path towards home. A thick forest bordered you from the east, while a blooming prairie stretched as far as the eye could see from the west. There was no doubt in your mind that you were incredibly lucky to live where you did, a fact that was only exemplified by the nine heroes that had crashed into your life (and living room) through a portal that looked straight out of Coraline or some shit.

Never in a million years would you have expected Time, the distrustful forest child he was, to entrust anything to you, much less a mask that supposedly held the spirit of one of the greatest entities of his world, but you supposed it was only proof that miracles did still exist. Maybe.

Either way, you had taken up the mantle of caring for the mask, and there was no way in hell you were going to screw up. Not that Time would let you, the worrywart, and you were only just beginning to catch him not staring holes into your back.

Chronic mother hens aside, it didn't take a genius to figure out there was something terribly wrong with the item tucked under your arm. Whether it was the crimson and navy facial markings or innocuous radiation of something akin to evil, you had no doubt that Time's warnings were not in jest.

Despite this, you couldn't quite shake the idea of a soul being trapped inside, well, the mask was practically a prison at this point. And maybe, just maybe, you felt a modicum of guilt at the entity's fate. Had he deserved it? Perhaps. Was it cruel? Without a doubt.

Which is why you found yourself taking the Fierce Deity's mask with you when you went to the store, or the library, or simply for a walk in the forest, tucked in your satchel to protect from prying eyes, though you always adjusted the cover so at least one of the eyeholes was free to gaze upon the wonders of your world. It was a small mercy that you were willing to afford, one that quickly spiraled into conversation with the mask itself. You always had a habit of speaking out loud, and now you, presumably, had an ear to listen.

But it was all speculation at this point; Time had never outright confirmed whether a living creature resided within the painted oak, only that it was imbued with an evil so ancient it could challenge the goddesses. You had stopped listening at that point, muttering 'drugs' under your breath, but there was always hope in your tone when you reminisced about the world around you.

With a sigh, you stopped, bringing the mask to the forefront of your vision, thumbs instinctually tracing the crimson stripes on the cheeks. It was baffling that something so beautiful could feel so wrong in your hands. You desperately wished to uncover the truth, to breathe in the big reveal and revel in the known mysteries of life.

"What are you?" The words slipped off your tongue like silk, right enough that you could have chalked it up to fate. The mask felt warm, basked in the fading rays of the golden sun, and you had the distinct feeling of being watched. The pads of your thumbs stroked the raised cheeks of the mask, disturbing a thin layer of dust, as more words spilled forth. "You're so dusty; did Time even polish you?"

It felt strange, talking to the mask as if it was a person, but you were too intrigued to care. If an entity truly resided within, you wondered what he thought of you. Was he impressed? Disgusted? Resigned? You had grown up with the belief that if gods truly existed, their disappointment would be without bounds, but that assumption didn't feel accurate when you stared at the shadowed skin of your palms through the eyeholes.

What horrors had a deity of this caliber seen through eyes of oak... and why were you so desperate to find out?

***

The Fierce Deity was convinced you were either crazy or stupid.

Night had fallen some time ago, filling your small quarters with only the pale light of the moon. His prison sat propped against the contraption you called a 'lamp', facing the bed in which you slept. Your nighttime routine was... unusual, to say the least. In his time, maidens wore long shifts to sleep, while here, you had treated him to the ludicrous sight of what could only be described as the shortest britches he had the displeasure of viewing and a sleeveless rag of a tunic that looked as though you wore it to a scuffle with a large animal, not to mention the sheer audacity you had to undress before the mask without regard for decency. Had the Hero of Time not informed you of his status in this wretched prison, because it was as though you had forgotten or simply didn't care at all?

Whatever the case, it was with much dread that the Fierce Deity only found himself more attracted to the mortal cursed with his care. Your life was, at most, mundane, yet you spoke as though every day was a great adventure, in a tone that could have inspired countless scribes into a flurry of activity. More shocking, however, was how he could feel himself clinging to your every word, like a dog waiting for scraps. He had been alone for so long, and the reality that a mere mortal considered him, well, mortal enough to converse with was a reality he never imagined contesting with.

But, despite how thrown off he was, there was a certain comfort in the quiet nights you spent together, however inadvertently they came to be. After a life of isolation, he found a purpose in the steady rise and fall of your chest, in the snorting giggles of your laughter, and the way you flipped the edge of your pack to grant him sight, never mind that he was fully capable of viewing the world without it. It was for that reason that the rage in his battered soul waned a fraction, leaving a sliver of room for whatever this was, and the reason his mind refused to release thoughts of your whispered queries, always centered on him, whether it be his health, status as a deity, or happiness.

Farfetched as it was, the Fierce Deity, god of war and blood and death, waited hours for you to wake, unblinking because he would be damned to miss the very moment of your return to the land of the living, the languid stretch your body performed as you groaned softly, rubbing the creases of your eyes with the same gentleness you treated him to. He would study the outfits you wore, committing them all to memory so he could better understand the core of who he considered to be his savior. Maybe then, when he was free, he could begin to repay your kindness–bit by bit, word by word–until distance became more of a myth that him, and your tender warmth could be validated by more than just a paltry mask. Your very breath became his meaning, your soul his muse, and the Fierce Deity was sure he would never forget it.

But in the meantime, perhaps he would remember the words that fell from your mouth, just to prove you right once again.

I can't begin to express how beautiful this felt to write. The Fierce Deity truly is my muse.

ALSO there will be a part two, so keep your eyes peeled!

[skzoologist]

The link

word count: ~1.8k

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

summary: Everyone has their own limits, but some turn a blind eye to it.

a/n: If there are any mistakes to this, please tell me so I can fix them, as I wrote it past midnight when I wasn't feeling well. I ran through it the next day, but I am just one person and so mistakes could have easily slipped past me. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Back to the masterlist

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

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Bae had been feeling off all day, from the very moment he had opened his eyes. It was an unsettling feeling, one that sat heavily in his stomach and made his organs twist into knots, like a myriad of snakes piled on top of each other.

Then he met the others and it all became clear, the air so tense you could basically cut it.

He felt nauseous.

It was comeback season; their album was nearly releasing and so everyone had been working day and night to perfect their skills, to perfect this gift for their fans. Each member sported an aura of exhaustion around them, the skin underneath their bright eyes dark and dull. Some looked more worn down than the others, contagious smiles not quite reaching their eyes.

Bae wasn't an exception to this, far from it. He had pulled his fair share of all-nighters, only beaten by 3RACHA themselves. Perfectionism ran in his veins, and so he could easily recognise when someone was trapped in their own mind, ruining their body for the sake of some unattainable perfection.

And it didn't take more than a single glance to see it on Chan, the signs all there and hard to deny.

The male looked like death itself, forced into a prison of flesh and hating every second of it. Those chocolate eyes were dull, never truly seeing what was in front of them unless it was that cursed laptop screen he had spent days upon days staring at. Not to mention how irritable he was, snapping so easily that the younger members were now afraid to approach him, sparking quite a few confrontations that were hard to break.

And Bae was forced to witness it all, heart heavy as their strong leader was crumbling to the ground in front of his very eyes.

It was late at night that Jisung asked him to stop by their studio, needing some advice and Bae had always been happy to help, especially in such stressful times. No matter how much his own joints ached, mind on the brink of exhaustion, he would always heed the members’ calls. And so his hands deftly packed his bag and locked the room, being the last one to stay behind and practise the dance moves until they were burned into his synapses.

He made quick work of the way there, empty hallways bright in contrast to the outside world that was bathed in darkness.

Once he reached the door, he peeked his head in, no need to knock as he was a regular there. Jisung noticed him almost immediately, as if the male had been staring at the door this whole time, rushing to his side with an almost panicked look. That made the alarm bells inside Bae’s head ring ceaselessly, already guessing that it was about Chan; and it wasn't anything good.

“Hyung, oh my god I'm so happy you're here. Chan hyung’s out of control and at this point you're the only one that can help.” - the frightened boy rushed out, words nearly unintelligible.

Bae held Jisung close, running a calming hand through the younger's dark locks as he put a tiny smile onto his face, hoping to reassure and calm the slight trembles in the other’s body. He already knew what this was about; sadly it wasn't the first time, and most definitely not the last.

“It's okay Sungie, go back to the dorms. I'll take care of it, hm?” - he hummed out, voice low and unwavering.

Jisung nodded, looking up at him with wide, grateful eyes. With a small push of his hands away the quokka went, and he was forced to address the heated argument that could be heard from inside the room by now.

Right, Changbin was still in there with Chan.

With a deep inhale Bae pushed the door open, softly closing it after he slipped inside. A sight he was unfortunately familiar with greeted him: Changbin was shouting back at Chan, both participants equally frustrated with each other. So much so that they didn't even notice him, only when he placed his hands on the younger's shoulders, touch firm yet gentle.

“Bin, I got this. I'll pack up afterwards, just go after Jisung. Please?” - Bae asked in a soft voice, his voice only heard because the two were surprised into silence by his sudden appearance.

When he felt that the other was about to protest, unable to let things go, he hugged Changbin from behind and gently squeezed him into himself. It was something he had always done in times like these, when things got too heated; and it never failed to calm Changbin down, something he was hoping to achieve at that very moment.

It seemed to have worked once again as the younger's shoulders slightly relaxed, a long sigh heard from his direction. Bae patted his back, watching him leave before he steeled himself, eyes now staring at Chan.

Chan, who went back to working on a track, jaw set so tight Bae was afraid the man would break a tooth. Still, he knew he wouldn't have an easy time with the older and so he softly called out to him, slightly dejected at the lack of reaction.

That didn't deter him and so he tried again, only to have the raging storm that was now Chan directed at him.

“What? You're gonna tell me to go back and rest too? Save it, I don't fucking need it right now.”

Bae took in a deep breath, the burning in his lungs grounding him and granting just enough distraction to steel himself. His hyung wasn't acting like how he usually did; these words weren't truly his.

“If you're just gonna stand there, you can go. You're bothering me.” - Chan mumbled and Bae could feel his own storm brewing inside, answering the older’s in a silent rage.

With a single step he closed the distance, hand slamming against the table with such vicious force that Chan flinched, wide eyes now blinking up at him.

“I don't need your sass right now either!” - he hissed out, face now so close to Chan’s that he could see the wonderful array of browns swirling inside those eyes.

He took another breath, eyes slightly narrowing down at his entirely too tired hyung.

“I understand the pressure you're under, and you know I do. It's not easy to be the leader of our group, especially when it's comeback season and work buries us alive. But please, listen to us. You need rest now, not more work!” - his voice was determined, words cutting straight to the point as he knew just walking around it with pretty sentences wouldn’t work.

His pleas fell on deaf ears, Chan’s eyebrows furrowing in renewed anger.

“I know my own limits, so y’all can stop pestering me so damn much.”

Bae never wanted to hit Chan so much before, to make the older see some sense already. He could feel his own pulse climbing, heart beating faster and faster. That sickening feeling that resided in his stomach was now replaced by burning acid. The sorrow he felt for the man was the only thing keeping it in check.

“If your limits include snapping at us constantly, then by all means, go ahead. I'll just go back to drying up Innie’s tears then, but maybe Sungie joined him by now too.”

Bae was aware how cruel saying that was, and his heart hurt at the words. But nothing else worked when Chan became blinded by deadlines and the impossible weight of public expectations; he knew, he had tried everything in these past years without any success. His heart ached and broke into tiny pieces at his hyung's expression, eyes now wide and filled with nothing but immense guilt and regret.

Before Chan could say anything Bae pulled him close, not caring how this awkward position was hurting his aching back. He could feel the older tremble in his hold, hands latching onto him as if he was Chan’s lifeline.

There was only silence after that, no sound heard besides the occasional quiet sniffle. Bae didn't acknowledge those quiet little sounds, instead he soothingly ran a hand over the other’s back and drew little shapes into the clothes skin there. The hold on his clothes tightened, making his heart squeeze painfully, pulling the other impossibly closer to himself.

Once he was sure Chan was calm enough, he gently pulled back, giving his hyung an understanding smile.

Chan was always there for all of them, giving them a shoulder to lean on whenever they needed it. He was a constant in their life, their rock, their pillar; something they could lean on when times turned harsh. There was not a day when none of them leaned against their oldest hyung in a way, may the reason be something silly like a lost game, or something serious like the fear of failure.

It didn’t take long for the older to weasel his way into Bae’s heart, and so he swore to himself that he would let Chan lean on him, seek comfort in him, no matter what.

“I'll pack up and then we can go, alright? Save your work in the meantime, before it gets lost.” - he gently instructed before doing as he said he would, waiting for his hyung's nod.

There wasn't a lot to pack up, only Jisung and Changbin’s jackets, along with a bag that belonged to the former. Bae put them all together, the bag slung over his shoulder and the jackets tied around it, leaving his hands free.

“Ready?” - he asked, glancing at an awaiting Chan.

The male stood there, eyes cast towards the ground in shame as his hands fidgeted and tore at his nails. Tension was visible in the older's form and Bae could feel his heart painfully squeeze at the sight, silently beckoning Chan over.

Once his hyung was in reach he kneeled down, back open and turned towards the other.

“I don't-... Bae…” “Hyung, please?”

His voice was nearly pleading, wanting to lessen Chan's burdens as much as possible. Thankfully there were no more protests heard in the silent room as the older climbed onto his back, actions slow and hesitant.

With a single motion Bae stood up, a surprised little sound escaping the one he carried. It drew the smallest of chuckles out of him, yet he just silently went on his way back to the dorms, letting the teasing comments die on his tongue.

It was quiet, neither of the two really spoke on the short trek. They didn't need to; there was a certain level of understanding between them, forged by the time and difficulties they had faced together. It was more than enough for Bae to understand Chan’s silent words, his hyung practically melting into his hold as time passed. That hold around his neck was steady, trusting, and he couldn't ask for more.

“Thank you.” - the words were murmured into his skin sleepily, drawing a small smile out of him. “I'll always be here for you, Hyung.” - his words were but a whisper, afraid to shatter the tranquillity that settled over them.

[dopelavender]

Trapped by your love | Eddie Munson x Reader

•

A/N

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

Summary: Eddie breaks up with the reader because he feels he doesn't deserve her :(

Word count: 2.8 k

Warnings ⚠️ : Angst, a whole lotta angst; alcohol consumption, and more angst ig??

Note: hi my lovelies! let me know if you want part 2, so we don't end it on a cliffhanger and I can bring some joy into your lives after all this angst! enjoy! ♡ XO

•

Your eyes are closed. The cool night air is vibrating around you, alive with the energy of dozens of teenagers in motion, trying to drown their sorrows in cheap beer and good music. Every beat is rushing through you, pumping your blood and electrifying your muscles. Your movements are fluid, hands up in the air, letting themselves be led by the sweet melody that’s flooding your ears, blocking out everything else.

“We are strong

No one can tell us we're wrong

Searching our hearts for so long

Both of us knowing

Love is a battlefield.” 

Pat Benatar’s emotional words resonate with your heavy heart. They fill your head, substituting the loud thoughts that have been eating away at you for the past months .All you want to feel is this moment, because anything else would hurt too bad.  As if thinking that you’ve forgotten about them for too long, yesterday’s memories crawl their way back into your mind. You chug your warm beer, trying to make them go away but they’re still there, making your chest tighten. Oh god, not now, you think. The crowd suddenly becomes suffocating. You elbow and push your way through the sweaty bodies, making your way inside to the pub’s tiny bathroom. 

The door shuts behind you with a slam, as your hands harshly grip the cold sink tile beneath them. Your head drops, arms shaking as tears start streaming down your face. It’s been too long since it happened, you should be fine by now. But wherever you go, whatever you do, he’s always in the back of your mind. The music is now a muffled sound, but you still manage to make out the words that twist the knife in your heart

“ You're making me go

Then making me stay

Why do you hurt me so bad?

It would help me to know

Do I stand in your way

Or am I the best thing you've had?” 

It’s hard to enjoy the party. It’s hard to think straight. It’s hard to stop crying. It’s hard to breathe….without Eddie.  

March 1986. 6 months earlier

“So what are you saying?” There was no way this could be happening right now. You try and remain stoic, but it’s impossible. Your tone was getting louder, emotions pouring out of every word. Maybe you just hadn’t understood what he was telling you. Sometimes things get mixed up without us wanting them to. You sit on the couch in Eddie’s living room, trying to work out the reason he was saying these things. Playing with your hands, you squeeze them tightly in hopes of grounding yourself. 

“I’m saying… I- I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” Eddie was leaning against the wall, his eyes glued to the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. If he saw your beautiful face, the face he loved more than anything in this world, he knew he couldn’t go through with it. But because he loved you so much, he had to. He had to put an end to it. It wasn’t going anywhere. You had just graduated, top of your class. You could go to any college you desired, yet you chose to stay here in Hawkings, with him. Your future was glistening brightly ahead of you, and all he was doing was slowly dimming the light, until there was nothing left but despairing darkness. 

His fate had been decided by the family he was born into. His mother bailed out before he could even remember her face and his old man had been in and out of prison his whole life. Uncle Wayne had been the only form of parental love the boy had ever known and he was breaking his back day in, day out, to put food on the table. Society hadn’t been kind to him either. He was hated and labelled as a freak. Eddie knew his life wouldn’t amount to anything big. As much as he despised it, he could slowly see himself turning into his father. After all, he was a worthless drug dealer, repeating his senior year for the third time, wasn’t he? He selfishly allowed himself to fall in love with you. But how couldn’t he, when you were the most precious soul he had ever met? Not falling in love with you seemed like a challenge many a man have failed yet and yet again. In the end, he had to face the truth: you were just too good for him, and nothing would change that. 

“Eddie...I-I don’t understand...Did I do something?” You look up at Eddie with your heart silently breaking, wondering where it had all gone wrong. The room starts to feel too small. You get up from the old couch, grabbing Eddie’s hand to make him look at you. But he doesn’t. His eyes stay focused on the floor, curly locks of hair falling over his face, hiding the tears that were starting to build in his eyes. “Please, please just tell me what it is so we can fix it. We can fix anything, baby. Just please tell me, Eddie…” You let go of his hand and bring both your hands to his chest, sliding them up to cup his face. He gently removes them and pushes you away, his eyes finally meeting yours. Eddie’s heart sinks as he looks at you, fully transparent, with fear and sadness written all over your face. Fear and sadness he had caused. 

“This just isn’t working. We’re not working anymore.” That’s a lie, he thinks The words leaving his mouth were in complete antithesis with his feelings. But he knows if he told you the truth, the real reason he was breaking up with you, you would never accept it. So he had to sell it, somehow. 

“What do you mean?” Should you have known he was feeling this way? Now, when you think about it, Eddie had been distant these past few days. No cuddles, barely there kisses and fleeting, superficial touches. You didn’t think much of it, blaming it on your conflicting schedules. He was busy playing shows since his band “Corroded Coffin” started getting recognition around Hawkings and you were busy at the diner, working extra shifts to earn some more money, since you and Eddie had been talking about getting a place together. But it seems there was more to it than you thought. You close your eyes, take a deep breath in and slowly let it out as you prepare yourself for the worst “Do you not love me anymore?”

His gaze shifts uncomfortably, looking everywhere he possibly can just to avoid your eyes, now open and expecting an answer. Of course I love you! I love you so much it hurts, he thinks. Even so, he doesn’t say that. Instead, he lies to you “No. I don’t”. 

Your eyes close again, you can’t seem to keep them open for too long. The reality you were faced with was just too agonising. You feel your nails digging into the flesh of your palms, your hands curled into tight fists. The pain will hopefully wake you up from this horrible nightmare. And when you wake up next to Eddie, he’s going to kiss your wet cheeks and whispers sweet nothings in your ear until you fall back asleep, safely wrapped in his arms, the way you did a hundred times before.  

But this time, the nightmare doesn’t stop as you open your eyes. 

“I think you should go” his head leans against the wall behind him, his Adam’s Apple moving up and down as he tries to undo the knot in his throat that’s making it hard for him to talk. Please don’t leave me, he thinks. Please see through my act. You always said you could read me like a book. So do it now, sweetheart. Read me. 

“I’m not going anywhere” That’s my girl, Eddie thinks “I’m not going anywhere until you look me in the eyes and you tell me you don’t love me anymore” You see his head snap down, jaw clenching as he searches your face carefully. You swear you can see a shadow of fear in his eyes. Why would he be afraid, when he’s the one ending things so carelessly? 

Oh no, oh no no no, he rages inside his head. Please don’t make me do that. I can’t do that, Y/N...

Your eyes never leave his face, waiting for Eddie to do what you asked of him. This all seems unreal. He swore he would never hurt you, and you believed him. You believed him with every ounce of your being because he was Eddie. Sweet, kind, loyal, goofy, loving Eddie. You didn’t know who this person standing in front of you was. But it sure as hell wasn’t the man you fell in love with. 

He looks at you, even though you’re putting on a brave face, like you always do, he can see how vulnerable you are. Your hands come up and wrap around yourself. He wants nothing more than to stop this. To hug you and kiss you and tell you you’re his universe. 

“Say it” you raise your voice. “Say it Eddie, and I’ll leave”. And you would. You would leave his life, if that’s what he wanted. But only if he said it. You know that Eddie could never look you in the eye and lie to you. So if he’s going to say it, he must really mean it. 

Eddie pushes himself off the wall, stepping closer to you. You breathe in his familiar scent, a mix of cologne, cigarettes and weed, thinking it might be the last time.  

Don’t say it, Munson. Be selfish, he thinks. Say it was all a mistake, drop to your knees and beg for her forgiveness. As much as he wants to, he knows he’s doing the right thing for you. As much as it kills him, he has to make you leave him, because he knows he could never leave you. 

“I don’t love you anymore” His face is wooden as he looks you in the eyes. Confusion, anger and defeat infiltrate your bones. Your heart is scorched and spasming. He really didn’t love you. Your Eddie didn’t love you anymore.

He opens the door to his trailer, stepping aside to make room for you “Now leave.” 

Present day

A loud banging noise on the door pulls you out of your reverie. “In a minute” you yell and look at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were red and puffy, mascara running down your face. Well, aren’t you a sight to see? you think to yourself. You try your best to fix your makeup and pull yourself together before exiting the bathroom.  

There’s a line of pissed off girls waiting outside the door, giving you dirty looks and making rude side comments as you walk past them “Jesus, how much coke did this bitch snort?” a redhead snickers. You ignore them and make your way to the bar, ordering another beer. You feel a bit of tension being relieved as the cold liquid pours down your throat, making you forget about everything for just a second. As quickly as it went away, it all comes flooding back in. 

Breaking up with Eddie was the hardest thing you’ve ever had to go through. First, it was despair, excruciating pain that wouldn’t let you eat, sleep or do anything else than think about him. You called this the withdrawal stage. Every bone in your body was craving for him, and punishing you for not supplying. You figured you just had to sweat it out until he was out of your system. Although it was hard, you managed to make it through. But then came the dreams. Tortured dreams, reminiscent of your time spent with Eddie. You would dream about him laughing, embracing you, kissing you, making love to you, only to wake up heartbroken and alone, sobbing his name into your pillow. Now, it’s just this numbness and emptiness that never really goes away. It’s worse than the withdrawal or the dreams, because you’re starting to see things as they are. Before, there was a glimmer of hope that maybe you would get back together. But at this moment in time, you’re haunted by the thought of spending your life without Eddie by your side. And that’s something you would never be able to get used to.

These past few months have been a struggle trying to remember what life was like before Eddie. You go out with your friends, party, have meaningless one night stands and then do it all again the next day. It was all monotone, but for now, it was better than crying yourself to sleep. 

Someone bumps into your back, making you stumble forward. You grab the countertop for stability and turn around, prepared to snap at the culprit. 

“Hey, ass-“ your voice sticks in your throat when you see that familiar head of hair and that charming smile every girl in your high school used to swoon over.  “Steve?” you stare at him, dumbfounded. For the first time in months, you actually feel true happiness. 

“Oh my god, Y/N!” the very next second he pulls you into a tight, smothering hug, knocking the air out of you. As glad as you are to see him, and you truly are, it’s a bit difficult to breathe with Steve squeezing the life out of you.

“Steve-can’t-breathe…” you try and say, face buried into his chest. He lets go of you, but leaves his hands on your shoulders as if he can’t believe you’re actually there.  

“Wow, look at ya! I almost didn’t recognise you, and I mean that in a good way” he smirks as he looks you up and down, taking in your outfit. Your style had changed a bit since the whole…Eddie thing. The colourful, decent pants and blouses being substituted by darker coloured, bolder dresses and skirts.  

“So what’s up?” He finally lets go of you and motions for you to sit down in the stools. 

“Nothing much. I’m here with some friends from college. But what about you? You’re quite a long way from Hawkings. What brings you here?” You see him shift uncomfortably in his seat at your question, picking at the label of the beer he had ordered for himself. 

“Oh, uh…you don’t know?” 

“Know what?” were you supposed to know something? “Ohmygod, did someone die? Is it Robin? It is, isn’t it? I always knew that clumsy lump would get herself killed one day!" 

"What? No!" He stops your rambling 

"Oh, thank God" you look at him relieved, with a hand over your chest "What's the occasion then?" 

"Uh well you see-" 

Steve gets interrupted by a mans hand on his shoulder. "Hey Steve, they're gonna start playing soon so you should come now if you wanna get a spot in the front" 

"Right! Thanks man, I'll be right there" The man leaves and Steve's attention returns to you, his eyes still looking at you in a cautious and unsure manner. "Y/N, you really don't now who's playing tonight?" 

"No, they usually don't have live bands and if they do I don't really care much for them, I just come for the bottomless Martinis and the cheap beer" you laugh, but Steve seems to be far from amused. "Why? Who's playing?" 

As Steve opens his mouth to respond to you, he's interrupted by the sound of a guitar. An all to familiar voice speaks into the microphone, generating playback: "1,2,1,2…Alright, good evening ladies and gents. Hope you are all ready to rooock tonight, 'cause I know we are"

Your heart reacts before your brain, tightening at the voice you hear blasting through the speakers. Although you spend all your time fighting to forget that voice..it remains imprinted on your mind and soul. 

You slowly turn around, looking to the stage at the back of the bar. "I am Eddie Munson and it is my pleasure to introduce to you... Corroded Coffin! Let's get it boys!" 

To be continued

[nani-nonny]

Okay! Okay *inhale* oh boy boy oh boy!!

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY BECAUSE MY BRAIN IS TRYING TO CALM DOWN AND AT THE SAME TIME AM STAMMERING BECAUSE AM EXCITED?!?!

First of nonny you want to sleep but before that you drop a snippet on our foreheads that DESTROYS MY life!!/j/t/lh

At the beginning i was like "bro! Is this part of - what was that fic called? - our lasting life?" From just seeing F!Leo get called "Lee" and i was thinking "WAIT HE'S ALIVE?!" BUT NOPE!! MOFO IT'S A DIFFERENT FIC - if i can call it that - AND WHAT HAPPENED?!

Like I swear to god everytime you drop some random snippet from a new possible fic idea my brain turn to this:

Then i find it hard to focus on the snippet because: 1 AM HELLA EXCITED AND CAN'T STOP JUMPING AND SMILING AND GIGGLING AND GASPING AND SWEARING!!! 2?! Am still trying to think is it related to another fic you have or is it new? And trying to understand how it goes or what could have possibly happened and where are they?!

And at the beginning i thought "wait, is this the possible beginning of the fic 'our lasting life' " (don't hate me if i forgot the name 😅) did little blue fought kraang then got pulled into the portal which ended him in the bad timeline future?!

But no! It turned out Lee came back home! So... What happened? Why is leo scared? WHERE IS THE FAMILY?! - And after reading the tags - HOW LONG HAD HE BEEN IN THE PD?!

Seeing Lee going sensitive as if he have a time bomb just to make sure blue is okay is just wholesome and comfort me about this whole angst snippet (I BLAME YOU FOR THIS 🫵🫵🫵/j/lh) and he even so considered he even back away and give him his back to take his time and am like 🥹🥹🥹

But it broke me again how little leo is crying. Tho understandable, baby blue spent time in PD probably longer he needs help, therapy and comfort!!✨✨

My big question is: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?! I need to pinpoint my location and know what's going on?!!

I hate you Nonny/t

thanks for the snippet tho *eat it while crying*/t

Oh my goodness hahahaha!

I’m glad you liked the snippet pfft—even if I hardly remember it because I’m still sleepy. :D

And you’re correct, kind of it’s not fair if you bounce between theories hahaha!/j, it’s a separate idea not affiliated with Our Final Resting Days (hehe our lasting life/t)

Hehe continue the habit of looking at the tags on posts >:D I’ll usually sneak something in there hehehe

And yes! Little Leo, or Little Blue, was trapped in the prison dimension. Don’t ask how, even I am not sure haha! Luckily he got out with most of his mind intact, but pretty damaged so it’s not much consolation…

But I can assure, Lee, or F!Leo, travelled from the future to get Little Blue out of the prison dimension. Well, that wasn’t exactly the initial plan, but became the plan.

I was going to add in the part of Little Blue’s thoughts moments before his rescue but I was tired, and now that part is long forgotten in my mind. :) but I believe it was going to a grand climax-like thought process for Little Blue such as:

Is it… It’s not moving. It’s not moving…! Is it finally over…? Did I win…? No, that’s not right. It’s playing with me again, I can’t fall for it.

Though, perhaps it’s a good thing I didn’t write that part because I don’t like writing the turtles in first person pov. :D

But good question! What happened? I don’t know hahaha! I was slightly inspired by an animatic I reblogged haha! I’m not sure I’ll ever revisit this idea but it was fun, kind of. Would have been more enjoyable if I hadn’t written it when I was trying to sleep… /hj

Don’t hate me hahaha! Again, I’m glad you liked this snippet :))))

[rise-my-angel]

I am here for your takes on Dani. I'm glad I'm not the only one who thought her x Jon smelled of hot garbage. Like at best she was meh, and then when the two of them met I was just like "oh no....you're an entitled bitch". And now that its been years since I last consumed GoT, my thoughts have fermented into "oh no, she really is a conqueror" "oh no, everyone loves her because 'pretty badass lady'" "oh no i'm the fandom minority again". Anyway, where was I. She and Jon had no chemistry. The end.

The *only* way putting them in a romance even makes sense in concept is when you realize Benioff and Weiss gave Jon the Young Griff arc. It's why they gave him a Targ name, beacuse if they call him "aegon" then they can fufill that part of the books without ever having to establish Young Griff as his own character. He is the supposed son of Rhaegar Targaryean and Elia Martell, he goes to Westeros with intentions of using his better claim to take the throne and intends initially on marrying Dany, and it's theorized heavily that Dany will see his claim as a threat and the Burning of Kings Landing will come down to Aegon against Dany.

Jon Snow has nothing to do with that. He is a moral opposite to Dany as a charecter, and we've seen him time and time again be at strong odds against people with her morals. But by giving him the Young Griff arc, it means putting him into the romance spot when it makes no sense for him.

Hey I put a read more beacuse I cannot shut the fuck up about how this relationship is just rape and abuse but beacuse Jon's a man we think he wants it.

All of season 7 Jon is so out of place because he doesn't belong anywhere near Dany's Iron Throne plot, and he's being forced to interact romantically with a charecter that clearly he does not like as a person and is uncomfortable with.

But, Dany is the sacred cow of the GoT/asoiaf fandom. You love her and if you critizize her for villanious actions or morals then you are using bad faith towards her. While I personally don't like her, I don't mind other people liking her but I despise that her stans all refuse to allow any conversation about her being a morally bad person. A person who enjoys cruelty and death, enjoys creating fear and is smug when she can control others. That is not a person Jon would love, let alone even respect.

Their entire relationship wreaks of abuse, of Jon being forced into this and knows he cannot leave it without risking his and his families lives. Remember when Tyrion gave a very small level critisism of her actions and she angrily accused him of treason and siding with his family instead of her? Well what do people think would she have done, if her attraction to Jon was refused? Someone who she took all the defenses away from, all the power from, and could have killed at any moment (dont make an ygritte comparison mimi dont make an yrgitte comparison this is a different anti jon x fandom female fave charecter post).

I don't care how the show frames it, or what the intent was. What we got on screen, was Jon Snow being held prisoner to an immoral, cruel, military conquerer. And when that woman was attracted to him, she essentially forced herself into his life and gave him all but no choice. The Jon bending the knee scene and..the uh...boat...scene...later...uhhh....anyways, those to me feel so out of charecter. You cannot convince me Jon did any of this willingly. He is clearly trapped in this situation and cannot leave and is only with her beacuse she is violent and bloodthrirsty. But beacause Jon is a strong, capable man, it's not talked about as if he's the victim and that is insane to me. (Oh my good god the ygritte comparisons are almost laughable send help).

I don't consider a lot past season 5 to be canon, but if I am forced too, then I refuse to accept Jon was a willing participant in that relationship.

Jon's parentage reveal will always be about the revelations of his mother, and the understanding and acceptance of WHY Ned raised him the way he did. And how it was both his parents, his mother and his adopted father who loved him and kept him safe. The very fact that Young Griff's entire story is based around whether or not he truly is Rhaegar's son as opposed to that being a twist reveal is beacuse HE is the charecter whose Targaryean links is the important one. Jon's story is about him as Stark, and is always shown to be the moral opposite of Dany.

Their relationship in the best senario is not canon, but if it has to be, then there is no world in which Jon is there of his own free will. He is being forced into this relationship against his will. But considering his other love interest was another charecter who essentially forced him into a relationship against his will, and we were supposed to root for that tells me all I need to know.

Dany is a sacred cow charecter, and her stans are unreasonable in defending her. When you can like a charecter and critize them for their actions. Ned Stark was an idiot for ever trusting Petyr Baelish, Catelyn Stark's spiteful attitude and neglect of Jon Snow is was abusive behavior, Theon Greyjoy was a moron who ruined his own life for a father who long since abandonded him. Bam all charecters I love and there are some major flaws that I refuse to defend them for but thats also what makes them good charecters. Their flaws arent writing flaws, they are personal flaws for them as people.

Dany is not allowed to have personal flaws she is always to be justified even with incredibly bad faith defenses, but when she is flawed it's the writings fault not hers. Dany is a cruel, sadistic, controlling, military tyrant who enjoys watching her subjects fear her and her dragons. And she forced Jon Snow into a relationship with her beacuse otherwise then he is against her and we already knew she has no use for people who dont support her to be alive.

Jon Snow deserved better then to have both his love interests be domineering, controlling, abusive women who forced him into a romantic and sexual relationship.

Also, I mean, incest being normal is only a learned trait from Targaryens supporting their own blood purity. Jon was not raised to think incest is normal. Dany thinks its normal beacuse she and Viserys both were raised to think that, and Young Griff thinks marrying Dany is normal beacuse he too was raised with the mentality that Rhaegar would've been raised with. Jon finding out Dany was his aunt would've had Jon looking right at Sam and just

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Prisoner 505. Pt. 2

König x reader (y/n)(codename: Buitre)

Warning: none, spelling and grammatical errors. Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

«Listen, Püppchen (doll), you're free because of me, you're out of that place because a fuckin idiot in KorTac bought you, so don't make it more difficult, this is your only chance, will you work for us or I can take you back to rot in that fuckin' black hole. Hmm? What will you decide, Schatz?.»

Pt.3

König quit his hand but had you against a wall, trapped, he was right, he and whoever bought you helped you, you have your freedom back, but... At what cost? You would have to work for them, doing what 7 years ago put you in that prison, you debated in your mind, at the end the idea of going back to that place wasn't the best option, since you also killed a guard, your punishment would be certainly worse than ever before.

- Fine.

- What?

- I'll go with you, you're right I'm being very ungrateful, let's go big boy.

- Don't call me like that.

- Well, you never told me your name.

- König.

- Well, König, I'm y/...

- I know who you are, let's go.

He started to walk back to the car, he thinks he knows who you are, but what that file says is not even closer to who you are, you're not who he thinks.

On the ride, all was silent, you tried to distract yourself but the silence was uncomfortable, König on the other hand, looked as if he was enjoying it.

- can we stop at some restaurant or something? I'm hungry you took me out of prison before lunch time.

- Nein, now be quiet. By the way, take this, is for you.

He handed you two files, one is from prison and the other says KorTac. You sighed and started to read it, it's a good payment, they will make you a little interview just to confirm who you are and obtain more about you, after that you will be under watch and under a very strict routine, just to be at the same level as the rest. «Shit» that's all you whispered while you were reading.

- I still can take you back if you want.

- of course not, is just... A lot on my plate.

- Why did you break someone's jaw this morning?

What? How did he know? Oh... Right, the stupid guard.

- He was being an idiot, just like the guard, that fat ass was always provoking me, punishing me without reason, he had what he deserved. The other well... He was touching me in a very improper way, without my approval, we were on the line to have our breakfast so I attacked him with the fork and stabbed his eye, hit him with my food tray, and kicked him repeatedly until the guards separated us.

- How did you end up in that place?

- I thought you knew who I am.

- Just Answer. I'm uncomfortable with the silence and your eyes on me.

- Well... I was on a mission, interrogating hostages, men, women, but... I have one rule, No kids, I will never hurt a kid. Anyway, my Lieutenant started to torture every hostage, in very dark ways, I wasn't comfortable enough doing that... But you know, I followed his orders but my limit was when he put a kid on that chair. God... He was just a kid, less than 8 years old but with the courage to not talk even when my comrades were hitting and torturing him in ways I bet he still doesn't forget... At some point someone brought his little sister, my lieutenant asked me to shoot at her, I made a decision. I shoot, but not at that little girl, I shoot at my superior, then the rest of my unit, I guess I lost my mind in that moment, then I let those kids go and I ran away.

- You're a deserter.

- Yup, I was, obviously they found me, my father... He was the one who was conducting that mission, when he knew all what happened, he had two choices, help me or execute me. The rest, you can guess what happened, no?

- Ja. Well, was interesting. The first part of this interview is over.

- Did you... record me?

He simply nodded and showed you a voice recorder. You rolled your eyes, you thought he was at least trying to have a conversation. Eventually you fell asleep, a Knock on your window woke you up, König asked you to roll down the window and gave you a brown paper bag, you were still trying to figure out where you were, it was the gas station, König went back to the car and drove, you opened the bag, food, simple but looked better than all the meals you ate at prison.

- Thanks... Oh god this is delicious! Fuck!

- It wasn't that good.

- Did you eat while I was here asleep?

- Ja, now quiet. We'll arrive soon.

You continued eating in silence observing the view. And as König declared, you arrived sooner than you expected. The place was located in the middle of nowhere, a forest, you walked behind Him just observing, then both found a small vigilant station, with a small screen, König wrote some numbers and his hand on it, the entrance opened and then... More walk, a building was not so far, all black, some windows but everything was dark, not signs of someone awake. König took you to a room, was bigger than your cell, cleanest and more elegant than your old one, a bed perfectly done, white and black sheets, a bathroom, a desk with a chair and a small closet.

- You can sleep here, I'll be back in the morning and I'll take you to your... Activities. Be ready.

You nodded and he left, you saw him walk and got inside a room not so far from yours, you closed your door and ran to the closet, there were some clothes, you changed to a clean big shirt and went to sleep.

Next morning, you woke up and got ready, König never appeared so you went to look for him, on your way you found yourself with some other KorTac members, they were playing chess, you joined them, while König was already looking for you everywhere.

«Did you lose something König?» «Nein, Roze» König knew it was his fault for not arriving on time but it was also yours for not waiting for him, just like he asked you to do, some laughs caught his attention, he looked through the window, there you were sitting on a table playing with Horangi and Aksel.

- and just like that, I win again!

A big shadow covered the three of you, you turned your back and König was standing there, you stood up quickly and gave him an apologetic smile.

- We're late, let's go.

You waved goodbye and left, it was a funny picture, you looked like a lost puppy following König through the hallways, you noticed everybody around was looking at both of you and also you saw how König's body tensed, you were going to ask if he was ok, but then he stopped and knocked at the door which was quickly opened, a redhead man appeared and asked you to get in. He made you the same questions as König did the day before and some other about your past.

- Why did you join the army? What kind of education did you receive?

- My father was in the army, I suppose he's retired now, he sent me to a military private school after my mom died, after that, I formally joined the army, I never thought about doing something else.

And indeed you never thought about doing something else because your father never saw you as his child, when your mother died, your dad was very active in the army, he was too busy, not ready to actually play his role as a father but tried his best, taking you to 'the office', involved you in a world a kid shouldn't be, but it wasn't that bad, you learned a lot. Then, your dad saw in you a project, you were no longer his child but his project, 'a new kind of soldier', trained and prepared to kill from a very young age, so he sent you to that private school.

You never had a chance to relax or be a kid, He taught you all he learned in his fresh years in the army, he paid the best 'education' for you, you learned about guns, bombs, knives, military strategies, combat and personal defense, survival, first aid, all you could learn for being at the loftiness of the worse scenarios. Even during holidays, while other kids were enjoying and relaxing, you were there training, reading, learning as much as you could, you never complained because you thought that was his way to show you he cared about you, until that day when he shot at you.

«You're an ungrateful bitch! All I did for you and you simply put it in the trash!??» those were the last words you heard from your dad.

- The day you "Died", why did your superior don't kill you?

- He was my father, I suppose he didn't want to be the one who would kill me, he sent me to that prison expecting someone else did what he couldn't.

After more questions, more answers, they finally welcomed you.

- Well, Buitre, welcome to KorTac, as part of our protocol you will have to stay at least 3 months living in the base, after that you will be free to look for your own place, also a new identity and a new codename, We expect great things from you.

- Yes Sir, thank you so much, you won't regret it.

[randomly--accessed--memories]

Went through the RAM playlist and picked out all my favorite lines

I still don’t know who you are / I only know that I’m still lonely / That morbid sort where even company can’t cure me / And the more you reassure, the less I trust - Against the Kitchen Floor

All the king's horses and all the king's men / Couldn't put me back together again - All the King’s Horses

Make me pay for fucking up the rest of your life - AND I’M GONE

Take my identity / All the best parts of me / And mould them into what you want! - Another Tuesday Night

And it’s my problem if I have no friends and feel I want to die - Are You Satisfied?

A prison’s not always a dark place / With grey closed in walls and big loud chains / They can hide in the skin of a home - As Above So Below

Someday I will go back outside and see her, okay - Baby Hotline

Reborn / Reform / Twist my legs to one / And mind to none : Don’t leave me be / I’m a bathtub mermaid / I cannot swim but only sing - Bathtub Mermaid

I feel like / I never knew you / And I never wanna know you again - Better Off Gone

In this case, just won’t you go and please let it be / Because I still won’t be able to say sorry - Breaking Things Into Pieces

Tell me when to drink, tell me when to eat, tell me when to smile, tell me when to breathe / Tell me when I overreact / No, tell me again, please / I love being told what to do, but only when I'm told by you / At least, that's what I used to think, but nowadays, I'm on the brink - Cannibal

Take this pill, you'll feel much better / When you wake up numb and your brain's been severed - Careful What You Wish For

Take a good look this is me / This is what I’ve come to be - The Chattering Lack of Common Sense

They say they wanna help, but they always fucking leave - CODE MISTAKE

When did I become a man / Trapped inside a ghost? / If you could only see me now / I know I'd disappoint somehow - The Comfort of a Laugh Track

You'll be fine you honeycomb / Who could ever hurt you? Who could be so cold? - Community Gardens

I’ve become what you like / I am what you wanted, right? - Copycat

Stay asleep / And blame / Everyone for giving up - Cross

Oh, circumcise my love for you / It's far too vapid and aimless - Cupid

Under my skin, you're unwrapping / All that I am, I swear / I wanted to keep, I wanted to stay / Deep in your head forever / I wanna show you something / Melting through my brain / Every time you're around / You're assaulting me - D D D N N N A A A

Carved right into my head / Quick lobotomy / Then left me for dead - Dangerous

I don't think I know myself, without your help - A Dangerous Thing

Buried in the basement, cold cement / Dead comes talking, can’t put them to rest - The Dead Come Talking

So I’m taking your narrative, and I’m making it mine - The Dismemberment Song

I’m gonna be in love forever cause I’m gonna die tonight : Transformation complete, transformation complete / You are now, as you once were: beautiful - DOGMATICA

Well, who should I be then, if I'll never be the same? - Dr. Sunshine Is Dead

I’m black, then I’m white / No! Something isn’t right! / My enemy’s invisible, I don’t know how to fight - Echo

And so long to the person you begged me to be / He's down, he's dead / Now take a good long look at what you've done to me - Farewell Wanderlust

You hurt me / You hurt me / But it's all okay / Because I love you anyway : I have no clue what you’re saying / I’m gonna lose my mind! - Folie a Deux

I was shown my place, but I didn’t care for it - Gambler

I get to be dumb, you get to exercise control - GIRL HELL 1999

I’m not her / And I’ll never be / I’m just debris - Going Insane

You told me something along like / The lines of “It’s all my fault that you are the way you are” / That is right, it is all your fault / But I hope you just remember that it's not all there is to it - Heavenly You

A vivisection of me / Done by God for all to see - Honey I’m Home

Am I a toy to you, my love? / Just a thing to play and / Then throw away - A Human’s Touch

My love must be a kind of blind love / I can't see anyone but you - I Only Have Eyes For You

Me and the TV are enemies / Sickening static surrounds my mind - I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead

I've got you under my skin / I've got you deep in the heart of me / So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me - I've Got You Under My Skin

You say that I’m better / Why don’t I feel better? - Karma

Do I know who I pretend to be / Of whom am I a copy? - Language of the Lost

I only turned out to be just one more girl you slew - Let the Record Show

There’s an old voice in my head that’s holding me back / Well, tell her that I miss our little talks - Little Talks

You’re just a clown, just a pet / Whispering love yet again - Loveit?

Some moments last forever, but some flare out with love, love, love - Love Love Love

And now, even though you're mad, and these memories won't stay / That's okay / Cause now I get to meet you for the first time every single day - Marbles

Die once every three minutes - Marijuana’s a Working Woman

Doctor, I can’t tell if I’m not me - The Mind Electric

You want a taste of my brain / Okay, it’s yours anyway - Misery Meat

You were never my god - My Creator

The girl is like an architect / And I am just the new invention - New Invention

Please spare me indignity / And won't you please give me some decency? / And won't you please call it if our time is through? / Cause I know that we fall apart when nothing's new - Nothing’s New

I know exactly what’s best for you / I’ve don’t exactly what’s best for you - Novocaine

You're not a coward 'cause you cower / You're brave because they broke you / Yet broken still you breathe : Cause I'm not trapped, oh with you, you see / You're the one who's trapped with me / Cause you are in the earth of me / You are in the earth of me / My head's not yours, it's mine / And I'll take my fucking time / 'Cause I know, I know, I know - The Old Witch Sleep and the Good Man Grace

Novocaine, lobotomize me, teach me how to think - P3T

Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils - Pet

What’s a pound of flesh between / Friends like me and you - Pound of Flesh

Folded puppets in a chest / Satin, static, lost in manic - Puppeteer

Close your mouth / And your eyes / And your heart / Your new eternity lies with us - Return to the Motherland

I get high to leave all these problems on the ground / Then to my surprise, they're right there when I come back down - Riptide

Look at me, look me in the eyes / Forget yourself, surrender your mind / Right now, you're mine / All mine / Give in, you're mine / All mine - Rule #34

Must be lonely loving someone / Try’na find their way out of a maze - Should’ve Been Me

There's something quite enjoyable when someone is destroyable - Sink or Swim

You hung me on your wall / Stabbed me with your push pins / In public, showed me off - The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Now it sounds so good to me and it used to sound so good to me! / It doesn't sound so good to me, it never sounded good to me! - There’s Something Happening

This, this, this is not love / I don’t know what it is / But I know this / This is not love - This Is Not Love

You’d say that things have improved, right? - Those Who Carried On

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life - tolerate it

I know / You belong to somebody new / But tonight you belong to me - Tonight You Belong to Me

So she dressed me up as the man she loved / Then threw me in a box when she had had enough / Now the light of day I no longer see / She stuck her voodoo pins where my eyes used to be / Accidentally tragic / Victim of her black magic / Had a boy once who loved me / Now he's so afraid of me - Toy Boy

The things I see are a dread I must withstand / On my own - Uncanny

I don’t think there’s anyone under your skin - Under My Skin

I wanted someone tall and firm to reassure that I'm doing this right / But it's starting to hurt when you hold me tight - Unreliable

When I'm too far gone / Dead in the eyes of my friends / Will you take me out of here - Watercolor

Stranger things than death can happen / To lab rat girls and pretty white rabbits - …well, better than the alternative

And when you scream, "I'm not alright" / And throw my picture at the wall / You were supposed to be my light / And keep me safe against them all / "How could you leave me here?" you'll scream / And louder, I'll scream back to you from that unknown / And say, "I know you're strong enough, I know you're strong enough / I know you're strong enough to do this on your own” - Welly Boots

Transformation / You've changed within / Some selfish mutation / A stranger I once called a friend - What Have You Become?

My head is spinning, I am beaten in the end - White Happy

Just take me as I am / A memory so vivid / And savor all the parts you can / Cause no one mourns the wicked - Wicked

You don't have to say you love me / Just be close at hand / You don't have to stay forever / I will understand - You Don't Have to Say You Love Me

[caramel-catss]

god loves you, but not enough to save you

on ao3

word count: 5k

triggers: suicidal thoughts, depression, religion/religious trauma

four times the deities did not answer link's prayers, one time they did; legend character analysis with a focus on him and religion

i.

Link wouldn’t call himself very religious, but he pays his respects to the Golden Three as he should. His uncle taught him his prayers, the nightly ones before bed, the morning ones at breakfast. He told Link, if you’re worried about something, pray to the Goddesses and They will protect you.

And tonight, Link says his prayers as he always does. He sits at the foot of his bed, eyes closed and hands softly curled together, and whispers a thank you to the Three for protecting his family. His uncle is at the table, doing the same, though he won’t be going to bed for a few hours because adults don’t have bedtimes. 

“Mothers Din, Farore, and Nayru,” Link murmurs, eyes closed. “Thank you for more sun today, even though it’s raining now. Uncle and I picked apples but now my arms hurt, and I’m kind of tired of picking them, so could you make it not stop raining tomorrow? Thank you. Um… keep keeping me and my uncle safe, please. Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Are you all done with your prayers, Link?” His uncle smiles from his seat, but he looks tired. Link nods. “Goodnight, then. I’ll be here a while longer. I sense something… off, around here.”

“Goodnight, Uncle!” Link says, unbothered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Link turns into his covers. Sleeping can be hard sometimes, usually when he’s excited, but it’s okay tonight. His arms still ache a little bit, so he doesn’t mind resting them. He hopes that, tomorrow, his uncle will bake a pie, and he’ll be able to eat more apples than he’ll pick. Thoughts of fresh apple pie in his mind, Link quickly falls asleep.

Help me…

Please help me…

I am a prisoner in the dungeon of the castle. My name is Zelda.

Link wakens with a start, surprised by the words of the girl in his mind. Trapped in the dungeon? The wizard, Agahnim? What was happening? 

Link opens his eyes and turns towards his uncle, who’s looking at him. It’s so late in the night, now, why is he still awake? Did he hear Zelda’s voice, too?

Just as Link opens his mouth to ask, Uncle starts talking. “Link, I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back by morning. Don’t leave the house.”

Uncle gets up and leaves, and Link is left, stunned. No, his uncle can’t go alone, that’s dangerous… but Link’s just a kid, what can he do? 

Slowly, Link picks himself up and walks to the nearby chest. He takes out the lantern inside. Maybe if he goes after his uncle, he could help? Or his uncle would help him, more likely… but either way, he can’t leave Zelda alone! She needs his help, and he can’t just not help her!

More determined, Link leaves the house. It’s still storming outside. Thunder scares him, but just a little. He’ll be okay! He’s brave, and he’s 12 now, so he’s almost a teenager. That’s practically an adult.

Link sneaks behind the castle and tries not to worry about the guards. They’ve always looked a little scary, but now they look so off. He can’t place why. 

Some intuition of his tells him to move a suspicious plant, and oh! An entrance! Link slips into the dungeon.

Link creeps down the hallway, making sure to be slow in case any guards are nearby. A low moan catches his attention, and he turns his head-

“Uncle!” Link gasps, suddenly breaking into a sprint. His uncle lays against the wall, clutching his stomach. He looks up at Link, and Link notices his face wobble for half a second.

“Link…” Uncle coughs up blood, and Link darts to his side. “Gah…”

“Uncle, are you okay!?” Link panics and tries to help cover the gash with part of his uncle’s clothing. He winces at the blood, trying not to feel queasy.

“I didn’t want you involved in this,” Uncle murmurs. “I told you not to leave the house…”

“I-I had to help!” Link cries, trying to hold his uncle closer. He doesn’t know what to do, he can’t breathe- the Goddesses! He’s scared, so he should pray to the Goddesses!

Link closes his eyes and puts his hands together, like he always does in the mornings and before bed. “Please,” he whispers. “Please- please help Uncle be safe…”

“My boy…” Uncle’s hand weakly trails to Link’s shoulder. Link hiccups. He’s trying to look strong, not to cry, but it’s really hard now.

Then, Uncle surprises him by shoving two items into his hands.

“Take my sword and shield and listen.” Uncle’s voice is serious, and he looks at Link dead in the eye. “You can focus power in the blade… then release it using the secret technique handed down by our people…”

Link doesn’t dare breathe, doesn’t dare say anything. But oh, he wants to cry into his uncle’s arms, wants to curl up into him like he did as a child.

Uncle coughs again, and Link can see that he’s fading. Quietly, he thinks another prayer to himself, desperately hoping this one reaches the Goddesses. He can’t die now… please, don’t let him die! I need him! I need his help!

“Link, you can do it!” Uncle makes a small, sad smile. “Save the princess… Zelda is your…”

“...My?” Link whispers, staring.

“...”

It’s quiet.

Link shakes, like how he would when it got dark in the orchard. His lip wobbles. He stares at Uncle, and Uncle doesn’t stare back.

Slowly, Link reaches over and pushes his eyelids closed. Now… now he looks like he’s sleeping…

The Goddesses…

Uncle always said They would protect Link if he prayed to Them. But… he did, and They didn’t answer. They didn’t… protect Uncle…

Link has to force himself to his feet. He tears his eyes away from Uncle, and he tries to forget about him. He tries to forget about everything, except for Zelda. He needs… he needs to rescue her. He has a sword and shield, he can defend himself with those… he’ll be okay…! He’ll be okay.

Link wipes his tears, and he keeps moving.

-

ii.

The Triforce is waiting for a new owner. Its Golden Power is in your hands… Now, touch It with a wish in your heart.

Blood drips from Link’s lip. He wipes at it, carefully, trying not to spill too much. His leg really hurts from when he tripped fighting Ganon, there’s a long gash through his arm, and he feels a little lightheaded.

The Triforce appears before him, golden and glorious. Link can immediately tell It’s just as beautiful as the legends say. An artifact created by the Goddesses. An artifact he’s to wish on, a prize for defeating Ganon…

Link stumbles, catching himself on the wall. A wish… what would he wish for?

For the past few months, all he’s been doing is working towards saving Hyrule… but now Hyrule is safe, isn’t it? What’s waiting for him at home? His uncle is… dead.

The thought only reminds him of Princess Zelda, now without her father. They both lost their family. Would she have to become Queen, now? All alone? Link doesn’t want that for her, he wants her to be okay. He… he wants to be okay, too.

The soldiers, who attacked him, they didn’t deserve to have their minds warped. The people he’s met who have suffered so much under Ganon’s rule… the people who died…

Link takes a deep breath, a wish coming to his mind. He reaches out, gently placing his palms on the Triforce, and whispers.

“I wish… I wish for Hyrule and its people to be restored. Including the king… and my uncle.”

The Triforce glows with holy light, enveloping the entire room. Link bathes in it.

Link runs up to the castle, dashing through the secret entrance to avoid the guards. Both old habit and the soldiers’ occasional attacks keep him doing this. Plus, Uncle won’t let him carry around swords anymore, though he doesn’t know about the knife Link keeps in his boot. It’s there just in case something strikes at him - which has happened, especially around the castle area. It makes Link feel safer.

Zelda has called for him again, a short, personal message through their telepathic connection. Her father, though revived a mere month ago, has fallen ill. The King of Hyrule is known for falling sick often, but Zelda sounded worried, so Link’s going to be there for her. That’s what friends do, right? Zelda is the only person his age that he really knows, and he wants to comfort her.

Dodging around guards and sneaking up to the chambers, Link carefully slips into Zelda’s father’s room. The King of Hyrule lays on his bed, eyes closed, shakily breathing. Zelda sits by his side. Hearing Link enter, she looks up.

“Link!” Zelda smiles. She looks tired. Link closes the door behind him and rushes over.

“Hi,” Link replies. He pauses, debating if he should bow to the King or not when he’s like this, but Zelda takes his hand before he can decide.

Zelda pulls him into a hug. “Thanks for being here,” she murmurs.

Link doesn’t really know what to say, doesn’t know how to feelings, so he replies, “Yeah.”

“Father isn’t feeling well again,” Zelda pulls back, frowning. “...Worse than his usual cough.”

The King coughs beside her, as if on cue. Link’s eyebrows furrow.

“The Triforce should have made him all better,” he murmurs. “How is he so sick already?”

“I don’t know,” Zelda replies. She moves back to her father, placing her hands on his shoulder. “But he said he wanted to talk to you… something he had to say, in case… something happens to him.”

“Oh,” Link says. Because, oh.

“Father,” Zelda whispers, tapping the King. “Link is here to speak to you.”

The king wheezes, cracking his eyes open and looking at Link. He looks old, older than he usually does. He pushes himself up, reaching out to Link.

“Link, my boy,” The king murmurs, his voice hoarse. He sounds very, very sick. “There is something you must know…”

Link takes off his hat and holds to his chest, walking closer to the king. “Yes, your highness?”

“You are…” He breaks off with another cough, hyacking for a second before continuing. “Link, you are my son…”

“What?” Link blinks. To his side, Zelda gasps.

“I…” The king frowns, eyes moving to Zelda. “You and Zelda… half-siblings… I am sorry, daughter…”

“Father, don’t overexert yourself!” Zelda’s voice is shrouded in worry.

“I-I don’t-” Link stutters, surprised. Half-siblings with Zelda? Wouldn’t that make him…

“You were sent to live with your uncle,” The king starts again. “Your mother’s status… you could not live as a royal.”

Link gapes. Did… did Uncle know about this? He… would have to, wouldn’t he?

“I am… so proud, Link. My… son.” The king smiles, then closes his eyes again, taking a shaky breath.

“I…” Link blinks, and he can find no words.

“Father, wait, don’t sleep yet!” Zelda lightly shakes her (their?) father, panic rising in her voice. “The medic said you should stay awake…”

Link backs up, slowly. His hat falls to the floor. This room, it’s suddenly too small, and he needs to run and get out. Every time he panics, it’s been because something has wanted to attack him, kill him. Link pats around himself until he finds his boot, kicking it against the ground and grabbing his dagger. He holds it close - just for comfort, he needs something to fight with when they come and attack him - but his hands are shaking too much and he drops it on the floor with a loud clang.

Zelda’s head whips around just as Link is grabbing it again. Her gaze softens.

“Link,” she murmurs. “You should go… we can… talk about this later, okay? Just… take your time.”

Link nods. He feels dizzy as he runs out of the room, following his route out of the castle as fast as he can. The woods aren’t safe, but nowhere inside is safe either, and he runs around until he finds himself sitting on the roof of his house.  He stays there for some hours, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth.

That night, the king passes away, leaving behind more questions than answers. Link’s uncle doesn’t answer them well. He only finds out that his mother died years ago and that Uncle was only to tell him about his bloodline as an adult. Link feels lost.

Link and Zelda do not talk about it. Zelda closes her doors to grieve after her father’s death, and Link, who never knew him, has no idea how to help. He begins to feel antsy at home, unsure what to do with his life.

And then, Uncle falls sick.

It’s the same sickness the king had, the one the palace medic could not find a cure to. 

He passes away in the middle of the night. Just like how he did a year ago.

The Triforce did not save him. The Triforce did not save the King of Hyrule. Link prayed for them both, experienced them alive again for a short few months, and then they died again. His wishes… were they really answered?

Link decides that he needs time away from Hyrule, from his kingdom which hurts too much to live inside. He tells Zelda he’s leaving to train, something short, a couple months at most. She asks if he’ll be back before her coronation next spring, and he says he will.

She sees him off before he sails away. 

“I pray for your safe return, brother,” Zelda says. It’s the first time she’s called him that, but he’s focused on the word ‘pray’; it stings him in a way that surprises him.

“...Thank you, sister. I’ll be home soon,” Link replies. And he doesn’t think he will, but he hopes that at least he’ll arrive back before her coronation.

-

iii.

Crash!

“Shit!” Link pulls harder on the rope, trying to keep his boat in control. He’s been on the water for a few hours, setting out early this morning after leaving an abandoned island he’d spent a week exploring. He had no idea there was a storm up ahead, or he would’ve stayed another day or two.

A wave crashes into the side of Link’s small ship, sending the entire thing rocking and nearly throwing Link overboard. His boots lose traction. He slips to the ground, hitting his arm, and he yelps in pain.

Scrambling back up, Link grips his hands harder on the rope. They hurt with how tightly he’d already been holding them. He’s absolutely drenched, which doesn’t help with his grip. Lightning crashes right by him, thankfully in the water, making Link gasp. He tries not to scramble to the other side. He’d lose any control of the thing he has left.

Thunder booms across the sky. Link pulls as hard as he can, trying to stay afloat. He closes his eyes, and despite himself, cries something in desperation.

“If there’s anyone out there that can help me… please! Please, Goddesses!”

He almost doesn’t realize that he said it. It’s still a bit of a second nature to him, though he kind of stopped praying when his uncle first died. Link falters a second as his mind drifts to that, but it’s a second too long. A bright flash lights up Link’s boat, and for half a second, he lifts his head before the lightning strikes him and the world goes black.

Link opens his eyes and gasps, expecting there to be no air. But no, he’s in a… bed? Where’s his ship? Why’s he in a room?

Link shoots upwards, darting his eyes around in a rabbit’s panic, looking for his kidnappers. He spots them quickly - a girl dressed in blue, and a man with a handkerchief tied around his neck. His hand reaches for his arm, ready to grab his backup-backup dagger, but he finds nothing there. They disarmed, him, too!-

“What a relief!” The girl’s voice stuns him and sends him out of his panic. Link stares at her, stupidly, unsure what to ask her first.

“I thought you’d never wake up!” She continues, smiling. Link squints at her as she speaks, realizing she looks familiar. “You were tossing and turning…”

“Zelda?” Link interrupts, wiping his eyes. This girl’s hair is styled just like his sister’s, but as soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels like an idiot.

“What? Zelda?” The girl laughs. “No, my name’s Marin! You must still be feeling a little woozy.”

“...Sorry,” Link mumbles. “Uh… where am I?”

Marin’s eyes brighten. “You are on Koholint Island!”

Link nods. He pushes himself out of bed, combing his fingers through his hair to find that it isn’t messy. Come to think of it, he’s all dry, and he doesn’t smell like saltwater. Okay, so not kidnappers.

“Do you… have my things?” Link asks. Wow, since when was he so awkward?

“Um… if you follow the lane south, you’ll reach the beach where I found you,” Marin replies. “I think Tarin has your shield, though.”

“Thanks,” Link nods. He starts to walk over to the other man, but Marin suddenly speaks up again.

“S-since you washed ashore, lots of nasty monsters have been in the area, so… um… be careful, okay?” Marin looks a bit embarrassed.

Link blinks. He can count the amount of people who tell him to be careful on one hand, so he doesn’t know how to reply. “Y… Yeah, I will.” 

Marin smiles, relieved. Link collects his shield from Tarin, and he waves goodbye to the two on his way out. Koholint is a bright, sunny island, and the air feels so fresh compared to Hyrule’s. It instantly puts Link in a good mood, and he smiles as he jogs down to the beach. Maybe the Goddesses did answer his prayer this time! 

As Link grabs his sword from the beach, he’s still smiling. He grins even as an owl shows up and starts to speak at him, quickly becoming an annoyance. Other than the bird, this island is perfect! Everything here is perfect! He could get used to this, really.

…In hindsight, he really should have realized it was too perfect.

-

iv.

The Wind Fish is glorious, in the way only a deity could be. He floats above Link, one eye turned to him, expression set in stone. Link tries not to wobble under his gaze. He’s still shaking from fighting the Nightmare, from seeing Agahnim and Ganon and they can’t be here and he can’t move-

Link takes a deep breath, the way that Marin showed him, counting to ten before he releases it. He locks eyes with the Wind Fish. Can He notice Link wobble, Link pressing back tears already? Link tries to press back all of his anxieties. He has a wish to make.

“I AM THE WIND FISH…” His voice booms, hurting Link’s ears. “LONG HAS BEEN MY SLUMBER…”

“Wind Fish,” Link murmurs, cutting His speech short. He almost thinks the deity hasn’t heard him, but the Wind Fish pauses. “I… may I make a wish to You?”

“WHAT DO YOU WISH, CHILD?”

In. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Out.

Link sinks to his knees. He curls his fists together in front of him, bows his head, and sniffs. For this wish… he will have to beg, to offer all of himself for anything, any bit of mercy. He is fully prepared to do so.

“This island…” Link whispers. “It is beautiful, with beautiful people. People who don’t… deserve to die. I-I… I wish for the island’s safety… I wish for Koholint to be real. Marin, of Mabe Village, she wants to see the world. She wants to leave. She wished to You, Wind Fish, please grant it. Please, please, save these people. Your people. Even if… even if you only save Marin… I’ll give my life for her freedom. Just… please…”

“BOY.” The Wind Fish’s mouth does not move. His face remains neutral. But Link… Link can feel the anger. “YOU ARE THE MESSENGER OF AWAKENING… YOU CHOOSE TO WAKE ME, KNOWING THE FATE OF KOHOLINT…”

“I-” Link’s eyes fill with tears. This isn’t fair- what he’s saying- it’s not fair, he couldn’t do anything else- “I g-got the instruments for you! I h-helped the residents for you! I-I followed everything the owl told me… please…!”

“I HAVE AWOKEN… WHEN THE DREAMER WAKES, THE DREAM ENDS…”

“No!” Link gasps. “Please, no, I just want her to live!-”

“LINK… IT IS TIME TO WAKE UP!”

The dream fades around him, and Link can do nothing but watch it all crumble away. He can vaguely hear the instruments play around him, can only choke when the water hits him suddenly and throws him upwards. Light blinds him.

Link awakens, and he is alone.

The first thing he feels is the board slipping under him, and he gasps, heaving himself further on top of it. He coughs up saltwater, throws it back up into the ocean. His eyes sting, his stomach aches with hunger and thirst, and his head hurts so badly. He clings onto the raft harder.

Link glances around, and his lips wobble. Koholint is gone. Marin is gone. He failed. Again, he failed. His lower lip wobbles.

Link’s tears turn to sobs. He hiccups, his rabbit heart beating fast, and he can’t even try the breathing exercise without remembering who taught him it and crying harder. Why do the gods hate him? Why can’t They protect what he loves? Hasn’t he done so much for Them!?

A roar sounds, the call of a whale, and Link sees the shadow cover him. He looks up. The Wind Fish flies through the sky, on His way to His next victim. Link shakes. His teeth grit together. He grabs the raft as hard as he can, his knuckles turning white, and he screams. He screams so loud that the horrid God will have to hear him, have to hear his agony, his anger.

The Wind Fish will have to understand what He’s done to him, what He did to that entire island. Link screams so the Wind Fish will understand pain, will understand his suffering, will see everything He’s done, he hates Him, he hates that he’s been used, he hates everything he’s done for Gods who do nothing in return, Koholint is dead, Marin is dead, and Link’s voice hurts, and maybe he’ll drown, and maybe he’ll meet her again if he does, and maybe he wishes for that instead!

Link screams until his voice is hoarse, until the Wind Fish is but a speck far away. His nails dig into the wood. Splinters line his fingers, and he can’t bring himself to care. He can’t breathe through his nose, and his mouth is so dry, and it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.

Link lays back on the raft, trying to position himself in a way that makes his back hurt the least, chronic pain be damned. Another result of all he’s done for deities. He closes his eyes, takes in a shaky breath. He hopes - not prays, hopes - that a ship will pick him up, because he knows Marin would be upset if he died here. But at the same time, he hopes he falls off the raft and drowns.

The world is so, so cruel.

-

+

Link gives up on deities, damn Them all, for the next 5 years.

He does not pray. He saves the Oracles but avoids any religious discussion with them. And depending on who he’s with, he’ll openly heckle and mock the Three. He holds off around Zelda, though, out of respect for his sister.

Link ends up not making it to Zelda’s coronation. Not by a long shot - after being wrapped up with the Oracles, he arrives home a grand total of three years after he set off. Two and a half years since Zelda became queen. Enough time that most of the kingdom thought he was dead.

That’s fine, he ends up spending more than enough time at home to make up for it. Arriving back at an empty house makes him realize what he was running away from in the first place. Suddenly, the deaths of Uncle, Marin, and so many others hit him with full force.

Link does not leave his house for nearly a year. Most of the time, he doesn’t even get out of bed.

He dreams. He dreams about Marin, he dreams about Uncle, he dreams about worlds when maybe he was favored by the holy beings he works for. There’s nothing else to life for him. He’s tired of adventuring. He can’t spend time in Hyrule without feeling sick. The apple orchard is dying from neglect.

And then Zelda appears, drags him out of bed, and makes him do something with himself. She shows up and takes care of the house. Then, she convinces him to get out of bed and go on walks with her. She tries to get him to take care of the orchard, but it hurts too much to look at. The last time he stepped foot inside it was the day his uncle died.

Within the next few months, Link slowly gets back on his feet. He refuses to come live at the castle, so Zelda works out a blacksmithing apprenticeship for him. But Link still finds himself oversleeping, clinging onto dreams. Gulley has to wake him up in a rush sometimes. But he’s making progress, so he focuses on that.

Before Link knows it, what little of his life that he’s picked back up and carefully pieced together is shattered again. Apparently, it had been decided that his time to recover was up, and he becomes the Hero of Legend again when another world’s sorcerer infiltrates into his own.

And Ravio. The purple-clad merchant infiltrates Link’s home and heart, too. While Link is less than thrilled about his prices, the fact of someone else living in the house brings him more comfort than he’d ever think it would. Also, Ravio… Ravio has this effect on Link that only Marin had before. Link’s not sure how to feel about it.

Link ventures through dungeons with a practiced ease. He lets Ravio rent out items to him that he really already owns, but what’s the harm in Link having a soft spot for him? Except for the harm in his bank account, of course…

Lorule is like the Dark World, just less shitty. Link isn’t stuck to a useless form there, either, which he doesn’t mind. He keeps his moon pearl on him anyways. Just in case.

Before long, Link comes face-to-face with Yuga. He tries not to freeze when he becomes Ganon. He gets thrown into walls, beaten up as a painting, but he finally drives his sword into the beast’s skull a final time.

Hilda’s story moves him. Ravio’s story moves him. He understands. He understands how the Triforce failed them.

But when Link stands before the Triforce a second time, this time with Zelda, he chokes up at the thought of wishing on it.

Zelda notices him, and places her hand on his shoulder. He takes a shaky breath.

“Link…” she murmurs. “This… this is a chance… I understand our reservations, especially yours…”

“It won’t fix anything,” Link’s voice cracks. He doesn’t even know what he’ll wish for, but he knows It won’t.

“We have to try,” Zelda says. “The Triforce… It was created to make miracles happen. Lorule needs a miracle. If we want to bring back their holy power… we’d need another one to do that.”

Link realizes now, realizes what she’s talking about. And he wants to yell, to kick the sacred triangles in anger. How fucking unfair was it that the fate of an entire kingdom was in the hands of one magical artifact? How the destruction of It, even with good intention, ruined all the life in Lorule? Ravio and Hilda - they are good people! They don’t deserve to live in a dying, suffering world all because one fucking piece of the Goddesses is gone!

“Breathe, Link.” Zelda’s voice calms him, and he realizes he’s been hyperventilating. “You don’t have to wish if you don’t want to… I can do it.”

“I-I…” Link stutters. He thinks about Ravio. The pain he’s been through to get Link to this moment. It’s not fair of Link to abandon Ravio’s hope for his land, after all Ravio has done… he owes him. “...I’ll wish.”

“Okay,” Zelda replies, pensive. She’s in her own conflict of emotions right now. Link wishes he could help her. “...Together?”

“Together,” Link agrees.

The two place their hands on the Triforce.

Link wishes for the restoration of Lorule’s Triforce, for the sake of the Loruleian people. He wishes that for once, if the Goddesses will listen to him just this once, that They will help Lorule. He can’t let another nation die. He can’t. If he’ll never see Lorule restored, then so be it. He wants nothing for himself from this. He just wants, with all his soul, for Lorule to live.

Lorule’s Triforce is restored, and it stays.

Link doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He first hears about it when Hilda and Zelda open the barrier between their worlds again. Lorule, while still climbing out of their dark ages, is experiencing the light for the first time in centuries. It’s beautiful, they say.

For once, for once in his blessed-damned life, his wish came true. This wish, this prayer… only came true after Link swore he would gain nothing.

Link is the Hero of Legend. His sworn, sacred duty is to carry out the Goddess’ will. He… he is owed nothing by Them. They see him as the Hero. Nothing more. Undeserving of receiving blessings himself.

The thought makes him sick.

Link continues to fight. He continues to be the Hero, continues to adventure, because it’s all he is worth.

And he never, ever prays again.

[shitshowkb]

okay so i haven't watched in MONTHS but i just spent the last few days binge watching season 2 so as per usual here are my reactions throughout the ENTIRE season. i need season 3 like yesterday.

✧ fire country - season two reactions below the cut ✧

• i'm still mad that bode's ass is back in prison and i get that he did it for freddy but i'm still mad about it

• ope there's my favorite dilfs

• FUCK SLEEPER

• also if B doesn't get out of prison soon i'm gonna RIOT

• also can we please tell bode he has a kid, maybe he'll get his shit together and act right

• earthquake and a fire, let's goooo

• "but now i got me a knife" boy if you don't stop i stg

• you have got to be shitting me omg

• ambulance guy is kinda fine 👀

• not this idiot stitching himself instead of going to the infirmary

• i KNEW gabs had a thing with the medic

• tell him jake 👏🏼

• this shit is stressing me out

• if bode kills him, he's fucked

• oh great another earthquake

• man i knew it was gonna come down to bode saving this asshole

• "us being the next vince and sharon" gabs you barely even know this man

• bitch!? AN ENGAGEMENT RING

• MY MAN IS BACK AT THREE ROCK, LET'S GOOOOOOO

• oh my god AWKWARDDDDDD

• "i'm so happy for you" lying ass

• sharon on a motorcycle? that's HOT

• man i can't wait to see bode being a dad

• drunk kids doing drunk things, gotta love it

• shar gotta get it together, i get that she's pissed but come on

• fire below, fantastic

• come on gabs

• this shit is always so stressful

• OH SHIT, OH SHIT

• i KNEW vince was gonna hit him

• man i just need vince and shar to make up already

• not liam being the drone operator guy

• fuck him up vince

• "you won't break this family, but you will help keep it safe"

• man i love bode

• this whole little village of people are gonna cause some bullshit, aren't they?

• oh shit

• OF COURSE the cars are on fiRE

• this is intense

• god i love these leone men

• liam shut the hell up dude

• thank god eve and manny made up

• gabs baby that man is so in love with you, please pull your head outta your ass

• "you met a girl" HIS DAUGHTER DUMBASS

• these two idiots

• damn sharon looks FINE in that outfit 🥵

• idk man i can't see gobs being happy anywhere besides 42

• "no manny, i can't be your date to jake's wedding" 😂

• man i feel like that reaction was a little much

• like they were just helping that little girl???

• and now bode can't see gen??? that's some bullshit

• i don't like chemical fires, too many unknowns

• of course there are people trapped

• bode with this little girl, y'all he's gonna be such a good dad 🥹

• trouble in paradise

• oh dear god where does an explosion always gotta be eminent

• man i like cole, i hope eve changes her mind about him

• OH MY GOD

• OH THANK GOD

• eve better not send cole back to prison

• lmaoooo diego is pissed

• eve come on

• oh my god no

• a fire tornado!? seriously!?

• i am STRESSED

• this is crazy

• besties we're in a wooden shack in the middle of a FIRE TORNADO, we can't stay here

• cara better not die man i stg

• hell yeah eve

• holy shit

• oh my god NO

• i'm sobbing wtf

• this is not okay

• man gen better be bode's daughter

• man i do not like this shit

• why is bode always in some crazy ass life or death situation

• fuck him up mickey

• BODE'S NOT HER DAD!?

• WHAT THE FUCK

• this show just stays pissing me off

• having them build a fence around fire camp makes me so sad for them

• and it makes me so sad that bode can't be at gen's guardianship signing thing

• manny perez is so mf fine

• why is everyone so pissy about the fire camp now??? it's always been there and they've never bothered anyone so stfu thanks

• eve baby, you gotta chill out a little bit

• what the fuck oh my god

• and now the guardianship signing is postponed, greatttttt

• i don't like how any of this custody stuff is going down

• look at gabs killing it on her first day as medic

• hell yeah eve, tell em 👏🏼

• oh here we go

• this damn show either has me stressed tf out, crying or pissed off i stg

• you have GOT to be shitting me

• NOT VINCE, PLEASE NOT VINCE

• oh thank god

• man i think jake is gonna be a great dad, but this makes me so sad for bode

• because i know he's gonna be an AMAZING dad

• WHAT THE FUCK SHUTTING DOWN THREE ROCK!?

• vince and manny are my favorite bromance

• dammit vince

• gabs please talk some fucking sense into vince

• oh gabs mom is gorgeous

• i don't know if i like gabs mom yet, pls hold

• oh good lord, can we not have vince's life on the line again!?

• vince leone you stubborn idiot, please go fix your heart issue

• dammit vince COME ON

• MOTHER FUCKING UNCLE LUKE

• HE'S THE ONE WHO RECOMMENDED CLOSING THREE ROCK!?

• someone beat his ass i am BEGGING

• when i said someone beat his ass, i DID NOT mean set the firehouse on fire in the process

• "my boy's a poet" i love cole

• "I will get you to that fire" hell yeah you will

• so gabs and diego aren't actually gonna get married, right?

• alright campaign fire i already know this shit is gonna be intense, let's gooo

• "promise me you won't die" this poor girl

• bode is SO mf fine

• gabs is insane bc i'd be climbing that man like a tree

• if vince doesn't tell bode and sharon what's been going on with him i stg

• manny what the actual fuck are you doing!?

• i feel like gabs should just beat vince and manny's asses, they need it at this point

• billy burke playing his guitar, god bless 😍

• these two idiots LOVE each other come on

• tell him eve 👏🏼

• i'm glad gabs told bode but i fear that shit is not going to pan out well

• manny and gabs made up, time for vince to stop lying to shar

• "we're trapped" vince i stg

• OH AND THE FUCKING TREMOR IS BACK

• fantastic. great. wonderful.

• besties i am going to lose my shit

• dammit vince don't you fucking give up

• i am ✨stressed✨

• NOW KISS

• YASSSSSSSSSSSS

• "another bad decision" bitch shut up you love him

• THREE ROCK WILL REMAIN OPEN

• HELL YES

• A WARRANT FOR MANNY'S ARREST!?

• is this a fucking joke!?

• BUT WAIT does this lead to INMATE MANNY!? because i lowkey wanna see that

• now where the fuck is manny? please tell me he's not this stupid

• don't you fucking run manny

• MY MAN GOT THE EXTRAORDINARY CONDUCT CREDIT

• LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO

• MY MANS IS FINALLY FREE

• last episode let's gooooo

• gabby baby pls don't marry diego

• man i think eve would kill it leading all the fire camps but i don't think she wants to leave her people and edgewater behind

• and jake becoming an inspector?

• nah baby, bode is getting out and i need him to fight fires at 42 with his people

• vince and shar are so happy 🥹

• OMG FREDDY

• bode baby please avoid that man like the plague

• gabs sent bode the exact donut he was just talking about getting the next day? SOULMATE SHIT

• "it's just a donut" is it bode, is it really??

• the leone men out here cleaning firetrucks because they can't run calls, i love them

• manny what the fuck are you doing sir??

• bode baby please don't fuck this up

• explosion at the hospital, here we go

• ugh i love this man

• and he was literally born to be a firefighter

• if he doesn't get to be a member at 42 i'm DONE

• cole out here making some damn good points to eve

• "aw honey, you waited up" lmao i love bode and freddy

• "first 72 are up. you stayed out of trouble, now you need to start some." freddy i love you

• "go get your girl bode"

• bode out here on a mission to FUCK SHIT UP

• man come on

• hell yes sharon wants her old job back

• can uncle luke please fuck off to like canada or something

• "do they still do that thing where they ask if anyone objects?" lmaooo eve knows

• RICK IS GEN'S DAD!?!?

• NO MOTHER FUCKING WAY

• CARA BABY WHAT WERE YOU THINKING

• WHAT THE FUCK MAN

• she can't do it, she can't marry diego

• man why does the season gotta end like that

• i hate cliffhangers man

• uncle luke i'm begging please do this one nice thing for ONCE

• also if jake loses gen it's going to fucking wreck him

[aelfgiure]

Cold. Dark. Hunger.

All I am, hunger. Thirst. Squeakmeat! Grab, crunch, crunch all, warm squeakmeat in belly,so good, so comfort. Lean on stone, spot where water trickles right into mouth. Drink and drink and drink. Ahhh.

Hunger pain gone. Thirst pain gone. Squeakmeats afraid to come near me now, ha! Sleep now, curl tight and sleep. Hunger will come again, but so will squeakmeat. Maybe a bug too. But sleep now.

"Hello? Anyone alive down here?"

Waking up - hear it again! Real voice! Cough. Try voice, manage "h,h,h,heeelp?"

Oof. Sound like squeakmeat. Try again.

"Help. Please." Coughing. But hear voices! Hear big feets stamping, not squeakmeat scurry! Oh, what is?

LIGHT, OW LIGHT HURT EYES, PLEASE, PLEASE MERCY -

Hand touch face, soft. Oh, so soft smell like dream, but I stink! Oh, soft sweet one, sorry, sorry. "Sorry, ah, am am smell."

Soft cloth over eyes. "It's all right, poor soul. Let's get you out of here."

Try stand, fall. Oops. Put on thing to carry, soft voice keeps talking, so hushed. Hear other voices, deep some. Kind some. Angry some, please, not me not me, sorry - oh, not at me. Angry voice drop soft thing on me, soft warm. Too much, all confusing! Sleep, sleep to hide from it.

Wake up, warm soft bed, bright bright room! Can see everything! Was washed. Was dressed. Oh, such comfort, how long? Was deep, captive, forgotten. Even by me. Now this? Why?

Curl of... paper, yes. Remember paper, wax seal, words. Letter, for me? Open, out falls key.

Damn. Head hurts. Should remember words, head hurt, eyes hurt, mind hurt! Sleep in soft, may help? Sleep again.

Ooooh, wake to smell of heaven! Room brighter, can see more. On on on table, yes table, is tray, yes has cover. Lift, I sit down hard, I cry. Joy in tears, in heart. Sit in, in chair, remember chair, yes this is soup, is broth, take small sip.

Body shivers all over, almost too much! So good. So so much better than squeak- no. Rats. Remember that! Rats, but this better. Cleaner. So so good. Sip, and sip, and sip. Slow. Careful. Door creaks, I look - so so sweet face person. She. Yes, she smile to me, offer cup of of potion! Yes, remembering words more.

"Thank. Thank you." Words clumsy. But I smile to her. "This iss, is good."

Most I say in long long long time. Feels strange.

"Here, drink this now. It'll help you get better. Once you recover a bit more, we can talk." She has kind smile.

I drink. Then sleep.

Days pass. My mind returns, slowly. There's a mirror, my appearance is a shock, even to me. Pale, gaunt, like a skeleton, a litch. Gods, how long was I down there? And why?

My hosts bring me simple food, dress me in warm clothes. The lady helps me walk, a little farther each day, as I grow stronger. She talks of flowers, dresses, her servants and siblings. Cheerful things. My body grows stronger, my eyes recover. The physical heals fastest.

Memories begin to resurface. I was imprisoned for a reason, but I'll be damned if I remember it. As memory returns, so do my skills. I was educated, and I remember how to read, how to write and cypher. The tastes of the herbs in the potions are familiar, and they begin to surface in my memory, their names. Their purpose.

My muscles rebuild and I start lifting things while I'm alone in my room. It feels correct to have strength in my arms again, and I wonder why. Who was I? What was I?

One day, we walk as far as the Throne Room and the Audience Hall. My escort tries to turn me around, but I open the doors, knowing that part of my past happened here, I was condemned to that living death in the dungeon in this room.

Memory rocks me back on my heels. The room is the same but the trappings, ah, the tapestries and decor are very different. When last I saw this place, the wall hangings were dark brown, the sigils on them in green and corroded silver. It stank of blood and fear. The walls, the stonework, were discolored with scorch and smoke marks, there were iron rings with chains to keep prisoners there, waiting to be sentenced at the king's whim. The throne was still there, but it had been shattered. I ran my hand over the wreckage and smiled in satisfaction at the changes.

This place, ah, this was so very different! The stones had been scrubbed clean, gleaming white and grey. The tapestries had been woven to tell the tale of revolution, the overthrow of a foul monster and the restoration of a kingdom from tyrany to freedom. The high dias was gone, in its place a simple wooden throne and many chairs, and small tables. It was altogether pleasing.

The woman who rescued me hurried into the room, trailed by her servants. "Do you remember who you are, now?" she asked anxiously. "Are you all right? I was afraid to reveal too much, before you recovered -"

"Peace, Your Highness," I chuckled. "May I read that letter which was left in my chambers?"

She handed it over, biting her lip nervously. Yes, things were as I remembered, but with details I never knew. My brother was my betrayer, yes, how cliché. That he had been able to afford a sorcerer powerful enough to keep me alive in that dank hell for so long, that was a surprise, and one that seemed to have bitten him in the ass in the end. (Heh. He deserved it all, the incompetent fool!) The key was to the casket that held my mortality, gods alone knew where it ended up.

"Your Highness," I handed the letter back with a courtley bow, "pray tell me, what is our relation to each other?"

She thought for a moment. "If I calculate it correctly, you are my great great great grand uncle. I think." She took a deep breath, and continued "so the crown and kingdom are yours, by right of birth and precedence. Shall I-"

"By Our Name, no!" I laughed. "Young lady, I've only begun to recover. I'm nowhere near ready to reign, now or perhaps ever. Please, my royal nibbling. Please, teach me all about this new world. Teach me everything so I can be of use to you, as you seem to have it well in hand.

"I have but one request of you, if you would indulge me."

"If I can, I will," she responded.

I walked over to the wrecked throne, a great and savage joy burning in my breast. "Build a privy over this mess. It deserves it."

You’re stuck in a dungeon. you have been in here so long you don’t remember what crime you committed to be thrown in here. The kingdom has long since collapsed, and you’ve been stuck drinking the drips off the walls and eating the rats. One day you wake up to a surprise, a letter and the key.

[aogram]

Knight of the Order - (Prisoner 001) Renata First Trial Voice Drama

Read under the cut! No TWs apply.

Heavy footsteps, and a door swings open. A woman sighs.

Verus:

(Prisoner 001… dressed in a bright yellow, but she looks so melancholy.)

Renata:

There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you wouldn’t show up.

Verus:

Well, I’m here now. I don’t think I kept you waiting too long.

Renata:

No, you didn’t. I suppose that… time tends to stretch itself out when one is alone.

Verus:

Hm?

Renata:

Oh, nothing! I’m just glad you’re here now. You can… you can go ahead with the interrogation!

Verus:

(And with that, the gloominess is gone…)

I will, then. Prisoner 001. That is you, correct?

Renata:

Yes. That’s me.

Verus:

I’m the Warden. I am called Verus. I’m here to ask you some questions. Do you agree to answer them?

Renata:

I can’t promise I’ll have all the answers, but I’ll cooperate as best I can.

Verus:

Good enough. To be honest, I was worried the first prisoner would be difficult to deal with.

Renata:

Ease your worries. I doubt you’ll find me hard to work with. I like to think of myself as cooperative enough.

Verus:

Thank the gods.

Renata:

The gods… Yes, indeed.

Verus:

So, if you’d please state your name, age, and occupation?

Renata:

My name is Renata del Sol. I’m 26 years old. And I…

Verus:

Occupation?

Renata:

I was a knight. Of an order in Cormyr.

Verus:

Interesting. Was, in past tense? You aren’t anymore?

Renata:

Well, there are usually consequences for committing a sin such as mine. Being expelled from the order is one of them.

Verus:

…That makes sense. So you're from Cormyr? I’ve been reading a bit about Faerȗn’s many cultures, and Cormyr certainly does have a history with knights… Were you a Purple Dragon Knight, by any chance?

Renata:

Hah. No. I was a member of a much more… private order.

Verus:

I see. I might want to ask more about that later. So, would you mind telling me how you’re adjusting to life here?

Renata:

Well, I don’t like being trapped inside. But it’s alright. There are people to talk to in here. I like to help them out. Cooking, cleaning, setting things up. It’s what’s keeping me sane, I suppose.

Verus:

(She laughs, but there is truth to that statement…)

Who have you been talking to? Names won’t mean much, as you’re the first person here I’ve talked to, but I’d like to know how you’re getting along with everyone.

Renata:

It’s Danzmyr, mainly. He’s the drow-- the fourth prisoner, I believe. I like listening to his stories.

Verus:

004. I see. Is he friendly?

Renata:

Very friendly, if not a bit odd sometimes. I doubt you will encounter difficulty with him.

Verus:

Well, that’s good. Who else have you been talking to?

Renata:

I’ve also had a few conversations with Araglar. He’s a very sweet boy. It breaks my heart to see him here.

Verus:

Anyone else?

Renata:

I’ve been trying to train with Ralis, the Gith, as he seems skilled with the sword, but he doesn’t seem to want to talk to me. I’m sure he will warm up eventually, but for now, I am training alone.

Verus:

Training?

Renata:

With the sword, and in armor. Physical conditioning, the like.

Verus:

I doubt you’ll be seeing a battle any time soon.

Renata:

True. But that’s no excuse not to keep my mind and body in shape.

Verus:

You’re disciplined. I admire that.

Renata:

Thank you, Warden. I… don’t think so myself, but thank you.

Verus:

Is that so? Why don’t you think so?

Renata:

If I were truly disciplined, Warden, I wouldn’t be here.

Verus:

(And there’s that air of somberness again…)

You believe you wouldn’t have done what you had done if you were more disciplined?

Renata:

Correct. If I had trained properly for the situation, it would not have happened.

Verus:

Why’s that?

Renata:

Killing the person I killed… it was the easy way out. I could have achieved my exact same goals in another way.

Verus:

So then, you believe that you're guilty? That you deserve to be condemned?

Renata:

Yes. It’s a simple situation, really.

Verus:

You killed someone, so you should be condemned. That’s how you see it?

Renata:

Correct. But… it’s more than that. More than just killing someone.

Verus:

You did more?

Renata:

Yes. Well… no, not really. I didn’t do any other actions other than end a life, but ending that life… wasn’t my only crime.

Verus:

I think I understand. It was more than that to you?

Renata:

Yes. Almost any soldier has ended a life. Even a knight like me may have cut down an enemy. But the circumstances, the implications, are what makes what I did a sin.

Verus:

Are you going to tell me exactly what the circumstances and implications are?

Renata:

I… I’m not sure if I can say it. I don’t want to say it. I’m sorry.

Verus:

Oh. Well…

Renata:

I’m sorry. You deserve to know more.

Verus:

I’ll find out soon enough, anyway, I suppose.

Renata:

You will. You’ll find out… everything.

Verus:

I don’t doubt it. Though… I have to admit, the way you’ve talked about your murder has piqued my interest.

Renata:

'Murder'... Murder is simply ending a life. Calling it just a murder would be… too generous.

Verus:

So I take it you feel guilt for what you did?

Renata:

Yes. An immense amount.

Verus:

…well, that’s a good thing, I suppose.

A chair slides back as someone stands up.

Renata:

No, Warden, it’s not! It’s the bare minimum!

Verus:

You may see it as such, but it would not surprise me if other prisoners are completely unrepentant.

Renata:

Someone not being evil doesn’t make them good, Warden. I worry about the fact that you should know this, if you are going to judge us!

Verus:

Not always, perhaps, but we’ll see how I feel about you after I hear your song.

Renata (inhaling deeply):

Right… the songs. Speaking of which… how exactly does that work? How does one… view my memories through song?

Verus:

I could only guess through some kind of magic.

Renata:

You don’t know?

Verus:

I wasn’t told much of anything beyond my job here.

Renata:

Oh. I guess I was hoping I could maybe get a little bit of information.

Verus:

I’m sorry. If I had more information, I would tell you.

Renata:

It’s fine. I was the one not telling you what you needed to know.

Verus:

You’ve been nothing but cooperative. You deserve to know a little bit about your situation.

Renata:

Thank you. I appreciate it.

Verus:

Don’t thank me.

Renata:

Sorry.

Verus:

Don’t apologize either.

Renata:

…

Verus:

Is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything you’re comfortable talking about? We are running low on time.

Renata:

I don’t think there’s anything else.

The sound of gears grinding and the platform lowering.

Verus:

I think it’s time for you to go now, Renata. Do you feel ready?

Renata:

Yes, I think so. …Do you?

Verus:

Do I feel ready?

Renata:

Yeah. I don’t know what you’ll see in there, but if everything is shown, it might be a little… Well, you may need to steel yourself.

Verus:

I think I can handle it.

Renata:

Alright, then. I trust your word. Good luck.

Verus:

Good luck to you too. Prisoner 001, get ready to sing your sins!

---

Read Renata’s first trial MV transcript here

Vote here

[moomanities]

Module 6

Re-Incarnation

BY EVA GORE-BOOTH

The darkness draws me, kindly angels weep

Forlorn beyond receding rings of light,

The torrents of the earth’s desires sweep

My soul through twilight downward into night.

Once more the light grows dim, the vision fades,

Myself seems to myself a distant goal,

I grope among the bodies’ drowsy shades,

Once more the Old Illusion rocks my soul.

Once more the Manifold in shadowy streams

Of falling waters murmurs in my ears,

The One Voice drowns amid the roar of dreams

That crowd the narrow pathway of the years.

I go to seek the starshine on the,waves,

To count the dewdrops on the grassy hill,

I go to gather flowers that grow on graves,

The world’s wall closes round my prisoned will.

Yea, for the sake of the wild western wind

The sphered spirit scorns her flame-built throne,

Because of primroses, time out of mind,

The Lonely turns away from the Alone.

Who once has loved the cornfield’s rustling sheaves,

Who once has heard the gentle Irish rain

Murmur low music in the growing leaves,

Though he were god, comes back to earth again.

Oh Earth! green wind-swept Eirinn, I would break

The tower of my soul’s initiate pride

For a gray field and a star-haunted lake,

And those wet winds that roam the country side.

I who have seen am glad to close my eyes,

I who have soared am weary of my wings,

I seek no more the secret of the wise,

Safe among shadowy, unreal human things.

Blind to the gleam of those wild violet rays

That burn beyond the rainbow's circle dim,

Bound by dark nights and driven by pale days,

The sightless slave of Time’s imperious whim;

Deaf to the flowing tide of dreams divine

That surge outside the closed gates of birth,

The rhythms of eternity, too fine

To touch with music the dull ears of earth—

I go to seek with humble care and toil

The dreams I left undreamed, the deeds undone,

To sow the seed and break the stubborn soil,

Knowing no brightness whiter than the sun.

Content in winter if the fire burns clear

And cottage walls keep out the creeping damp,

Hugging the Old Illusion warm and dear,

The Silence and the Wise Book and the Lamp.

Eva Gore-Booth takes us on a journey in her poem of what it could feel like to experience reincarnation. The protagonist details of slowly watching everything fade away, including herself, as she feels herself passing on to the afterlife. “The world’s wall closes round my prisoned will,” is a metaphor for how trapped she feels, unable to further see the starry sky, the glistening waves, the grassy hills. She eventually goes on to accept her descendence, feeling satisfied with what she has seen, what she knows, and accepts that she will not be going further, as Time has decided that hers is up - she is “the sightless slave of Time’s imperious whim.” This is to represent that none of us have a say in how much time we get in this world, that “Time” is a dictator and will decide it for us. She then ascends back to reality, ready to start her fresh life anew.

Gore-Booth’s use of imagery really helps the reader to visualize each stage that the protagonist is passing through on her journey. You can almost picture the “star-haunted lake” and the “dewdrops on the grassy hill.” You can almost hear the “wet winds that roam the countryside” and the “flowing tide of dreams divine.” Her description of dark nights and pale days almost compares the transition to be similar to that of seasons changing. She writes “Bound by dark nights and driven by pale days, The sightless slave of Time’s imperious whim” which is symbolic of her feeling trapped in a long, cold, dark winter away from everything she loves and knows.

[thecagedwyrm]

as something of a celebration for having my poem (that i poured a large part of my soul into) NOT be entered into a competition, i will now be showing it to whoever the hell this reaches.

take from it what you will.

give me criticism, please.

(also keep in mind i am so incredibly new here)

Betrayal

Do you feel it?

The marching?

The marching that

fells?

The marching that

brings man, beast,

and God

alike to their knees?

I do.

It betrayed me,

defaced me,

warped me,

mutilated me,

into something

I can promise you

isn’t me.

I am a pig

trapped

in the body

of an angel.

But this prison rots

and it doesn’t

stop.

I would ask for

help,

but I know nothing would keep

my feathers from falling

or my halo from cracking

or my skin from sloughing

off its musculature.

My luster is gone

and my shine has faded

but here I am,

still trapped

in a cage of Its making.

And the

pain,

God the

pain.

I watch as

my skin sours,

going green and gray

and yellow and purple.

I watch as

the fat shoved on to

my bones

curdles and reeks,

the stench of it

screaming out to

those around me

just how wrong I am.

I watch as

the blood in my veins

scabs and thickens

into tar-like sludge

that drips and plops

wetly

on to the ground

beneath my feet.

And everyone can see.

See my discolored skin,

smell my festering fat,

hear my dripping tar-blood.

I feel their gazes

burning on the

decaying corpse

that I inhabit.

While they don’t say it,

I know they must think that

I’ve fallen from heaven

with all the plumage

on my back.

Those unspoken thoughts

are at times worse

than the pain of rotting.

Oh how I want

to scream

that “I’m not

what I seem,”

that “this isn’t me!”

But it’s not like

They would believe me.

All they would say

is “you are made in His image,”

and, “He makes no mistakes.”

So all they see

is the angel

who can’t live up to

her name.

[deviatory]

 “I am a monster any way you look at it. I am what I am needed to be. You are merely the shackle I need. My abstinence.” A voice came murmured with a deep and even timbre from all too parched lips and teeth which ached for the warmth of fresh meat sink.

Slumped, picking broken skin. His head hung heavy. A strew of furniture and paperwork tossed haphazardly against the floor in futile frustrations. For the moment there was calm. The prayers helped, and too, the soft brassy tones of the zonophone. Seated faced in the bitter light which slipped between the cracks of the curtain from the room of which Malachi had made his prison. The death of Qaqu had not left him with the sense of relief he had hoped for. Vengeance was not in his heart. His feelings were complicated. Confused, and frustrated. Trapped. Trapped. By honour, by duty, to men that would not care? It’s all he knew. Oh god, why did it have to be him? Malachi had been taught right from wrong by the end of a whip. It was all he knew! He had never intended to hurt anyone before, however, Malachi knew if he were to step foot out of this room he would, and he knew he would not stop himself.

His gaze barely lifted, a shard of light pierced over the palest glistening silver sunken in bruised flesh, to acknowledge the entity which crept up behind his solitary being. He did not want to and in part he did not have the courage to. He knew what was behind him, his heart knew, even without a name (a name he would not utter), and he knew that knowing was a privilege. Noble had he might have made his being to atone for the sins of creation, Malachi, had been born with a coward's heart, and yet somehow the entity’s whispers were a frightful comfort opposed to this silent madness.

Perhaps out of some delirium of the mind, fear for some non-existent soul or the stubbornness of his species Malachi could not help a sardonic smile. “Has God sent you to me? Am I being tested?” He sighed, stifling a scoff. His hand brushed over his tired face.  “Mayhaps you’ve come looking for another “hay burner”? — I’m afraid I sold them all.”

@deviatory asked: ❛ i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me. ❜ (Malachi for Famine) / &. 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.

" Why, of course, little Malachi. " Long legs restlessly move around him, quiet in their dance and seemingly aimless, simply taking one step after another and, coincidentally, coming to a halt behind him. Hands are clasped behind his back and it seems more as though he strolls, as if there is no bother in the world at all. " We are all plagued by an appetite to do so many terrible things in this world. To do violence, to take revenge. I'm glad I can do my part in keeping you from indulging in such treat. " Slowly does he bend down, his cold breath cascading down the other's neck, his ear, and when he speaks again it is nought but a whisper kept between them. " And I do know that you want it so badly. But what would be left of you if I allowed that to happen, hm? "

[aceofwhump]

Hi! I hope you’re having a good day! (Or evening, depending on what time it is). If it isn’t too much trouble, do you have any fic recs for Morpheus whump from The Sandman, please?

I am having a lovely day! Thank you for asking! I hope you are too!

Oh my gosh DO I! I've been reading a lot of Sandman fics lately so I've got quite a few recs for you!

Dream of Death by Gueniver Summary: What if Jessamy had managed to escape from Alex's gun and could inform the Endless of Dream's Capture? What if Death could save Dream only after a few years of capture? The tools are still lost, but he has his sibling's help.

Losing control by Random_writer (SB_95) Summary: When everything seemed too much for him to manage, Dream seeks refuge in the house of his only friend. The problem is that the situation is not so simple, and now his family decides that they want to help him solve his problems, even without him asking for help. However, Dream only wants help from one person, and is not a Endless.

Shall We Dream (of a Brighter Future)? by Merianon Summary: In which: Alexander Burgess is a little more curious and open-minded as a child; Jessamy the Raven takes a risk; Dream of the Endless just wants out of the snow globe; Paul McGuire thinks Alex should have done this years ago. Now featuring Hob, who's very happy that his "not"-friend might be a little more than that.

A shift in the sand by purplegardenshark Summary: Alex Burgess makes better decisions, and a friend. The story shifts accordingly.

slow burn by arahir Summary: Morpheus’s expression melts into unreadability. “Would you have come to my rescue again, Hob Gadling?” “Yes. God, yes, I would have. Of course, I would have." Hob learns where his friend has been, and even Dream of the Endless might, on rare occasion, need a hand.

Darker, Still by CeruleanHeart Summary: When Dream doesn't show up for their appointment in 1989, Hob decides to devote a part of his immortality to looking for his mysterious friend. He is dedicated not to wait and hope for another century for the slim chance of seeing him again. Even if he has to bribe, lie and steal, use every trick in the book he's learned in the past 600 years, he will find him. After over a century, Dream has almost given up on the hope of ever escaping his prison when help finally shows up in the form of someone least expected, compelling him to re-evaluate the nature of his interest in an old acquaintance.

And I'll kneel down, wait for now by Thesuspiciousflyingjellyfish Summary: As the night comes, Hob waits. The person that arrives is not his usual companion. But they certainly direct him to his wayward friend.

Looking For A Dream by Picture_Yourself Summary: A prequel to my fic I'm Morpheus, Please Dance With Me. It's 1989, and Hob Gadling is waiting for his friend to show up. But unfortunately, Dream is still trapped in the Burgess estate with no way to escape. Now Hob needs to find out what happened to his friend and help him the best he can. On his adventures he meets a... colorful collection of ordinary and fantastical characters.

Discontinued until further notice :(

For Want of Caution by mayanpaw Summary: Hob Gadling was not by nature a cautious man but even he knew the value of keeping track of those who would be too… intrigued by his condition. In 1926, a chance conversation in a bar alerts Hob to the fact that Roderick Burgess has captured another immortal, one that sounds eerily similar to his friend.

I just wanna sing until I die by creativefuckerzspring Summary: First, He turns up 130 or so years later. Then, he turns up 6 years later at his doorstep, shivering and drenched like a wet cat. Hob is utterly confused why the lonely Not Friend of his is breaking patterns so severely.

Baby Brother by Anonymous Summary: Death has known for years why Dream had fallen silent and where he was being held, but she's been unable to act upon her knowledge until he'd been locked up for over thirty years. When she finally has the time to save him, she is horrified to see what they've been doing to her baby brother all these years.

Stubborn, Prideful, Dear by two_hundred_percent_trash Summary: First, Lucienne was Dream’s raven. Then, she became his librarian. Through it all, she was always by his side. It was always the two of them, together. ~*~ A queerplatonic interpretation/relationship study of Morpheus and Lucienne’s relationship.

Step by Step by Hopeful_Foolx Summary: After all that happened, that the Lord of Dreams gets sick is a surprise ... to nobody but himself. Three chapter with three (or more) people that are there for him.

To Learn to Breathe Again by ironlin Summary: Upon returning back to the Dreaming, Dream finds himself struggling. Thankfully, Lucienne is there to help.

Better to love whether you win or lose or die by WitchyBee Summary:

The life and times of one Robert Gadling. - - Excerpt: Hob ought to take the hint; he knows he should. A crystal-clear rejection of his friendship. Message received. But Hob Gadling didn’t survive plague and war, weather years of hardships and heartbreak and Thatcher-era Britain, without a profound sense of stubbornness about him. Unyielding hope, however foolish it seemed sometimes, got him here. It’s why he’s still alive

Regis Sanguinem by AllOfTheChaos Summary: Alexander stands up on shaking feet. “I can’t do this anymore.” He takes a few steps back and his eyes shift towards Dream. “I’m sorry.” He whispers before turning around and heading up the stairs, one of the guards quickly follows after him, a hand on young man’s back to steady him. “Alex! Alex, get back here right now!” Roderick hollers back. He turns to the Endless and growls. “You’re never getting out of here.” Before following after his son. *** Roderick Burgess doesn't meet a fatal end and after his son leaves him, things take a dark turn. In his desperate attempt to take power from his prisoner, Roderick Burgess resorts to twisted ways to force the Endless to give him what he desired: Immortality. Dream never thought humans capable of such cruelty and yet here he was now scared and in pain, hoping for salvation.

More often than not. by TrainWreakBeck Summary: “Is that why you missed our meeting then? Some fucker had you in a cage?” There’s a slight growl in Hobs voice as he has to speak his friend's fate aloud, he expects him to again be amused by Hobs anger but he simply looks away towards the window with no clear expression. “…perhaps.” There’s no real intonation in his tone and Hob feels a brief stab of anxiety over what that could mean.

In which Dream and Hob have a conversation which quickly leads them to decide that meeting once every hundred years isn’t quite enough for them anymore.

which is worse, life without death or sleep without dreams? by galaxy_of_pi Summary:

It had been thirty three years since he was abandoned. It had been a hundred and thirty three years. It had been a lifetime, and it had been an instant. But Hob was waiting, and would always be waiting, because his Stranger was worth it. AKA the heist to break Dream out of his snowglobe prison

Bones Don't Rust by not_whelmed_yet Summary: The same capture & rescue fic everyone has written, but playing off two ideas: - I wanted to see Dream’s physical recovery take long enough that he could begin his mental/emotional recovery before heading back to the Dreaming - There’s a lot of ways to hurt an anthropomorphic entity without taking them out of their snowglobe