#so its really dangerous to leave the dead intact.

[dyad-of-fate]

:)

Zombies shouldn't growl or snarl, they should babble a mixture of incomplete word sounds and whole words or sentence fragments. Every zombie should sound almost but not quite like it's trying to tell you something.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Re:Birth | Re:Start [Part 1]

He's just a vulture, searching for scraps to survive, when he finds more than he could've ever thought of finding. This could turn his whole life around- but oh no...

Tags/Warnings: Post apocalypse AU, Alien AU, Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Adult Themes, mild Violence and Blood, mentions of death, sci-fi, romance

Wordcount: 5.7k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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“Everything that’s in it is yours.”

That was what he was told when he bought the pile of scrap, all of it junk from ages ago still valuable to someone like him. He trades this stuff after all- a member of the ‘Vultures’, a group of people who take on trash to pick out the most vaulable parts of it all. This time, Jungkook got his hands on something special- an old abandoned rescue ship back from when earth first fell to nuclear weapons. That was hundreds of years ago by now, planet completely abandoned and only inhabited by intergalactic clean-up troops trying their best to save whats left of it all.

Opening the once automated sliding doors in the back is tough, but Jungkook makes do with some of the equipment and knowledge from years of experience, eventually finding his way inside. It’s small for someone like him, but probably spacious enough for a good amount of humans, which this was made for after all. The lights don’t work, and he doesn’t really expect them to- but what does surprise him is the still glowing red emergency lights further in the distance, down a small hallway kind of way.

The moment he reaches a door that’s sealed heavily, he’s a bit stunned. It’s known that humans have made a certain type of energy preserving system to keep ships like these going for hundreds of years, but many if not most of them all either crashed, or opened early on other planets during their great escape from earth centuries ago. And with the rather short lifespan of humans, there’s as of now no record of a surviving full blood human on any of the planets of this solar system.

Aex 3 is Jungkook’s home planet- he never had to adjust to anything here. He was born here, and most likely, he’ll spend his dying years here too, whenever that happens.

As he tries to find a way into the large bunker-like room, he has to think of what he might find. Most likely corpses he will have to report to the government so they can be disposed of in a proper manner considering that research on humans is still going on, and its also not like he hasn’t seen a dead body before. He’s well aquainted with rotting flesh and decay, after all, that’s what he’s living off of in a way. But he can’t say that he likes it- not at all. He’d love to avoid the sight and smell, if possible.

When the doorlock hisses at the strength he uses to pry it open with a metal tool he keeps around for cases like this, he know he’s close to finally opening it. But what he’s met with once he’s finally in, squeezing through a rather tight opening since the door has rusted so badly to the floor that it just can’t open any further, leaves him stunned yet again.

It’s cold in here, and most of all dark, if not for a few pity lights still glowing, although some are flickering on their last breaths. He instantly puts on a facemask just in case there's anything dangerous in the air- just as a safety measure. Many of the to him familiar cryo-chambers are fogged, empty, leaking or partially opened- and the smell is familiar too, flesh of the poor souls who never made it out alive still faintly in the air. The humans once inside the pods died long ago, long enough to only leave mostly bone and clothing behind, but what Jungkook’s glowing eyes keep their attention to, is a single cryo-pod, small digital panel still active, though it’s covered in dust.

He’s walking closer, because if that think is still working, he might have a chance at recovering those energy cells humans used back in the day still intact. That would fetch him a fortune, for sure- there's rich collectors of these things on his planet, and on others close by.

Though, his hand stutters the moment he removes dust- because the information on the panel cannot possibly be correct.

It displays a name first, and then a year and a date. He assumes this must be your date of birth- which is so long ago he’s sure his own lineage wasn’t even created yet. He’s born a species of alien-human connection, after all; a species created from very early attempts at specially modifying human DNA to make them more capable of intergalactic travel. It was considered failed at first, but after generations, Jungkook’s species has become stronger, healthier, taller and most of all- exactly what they aimed for.

There is no planet he couldn’t survive on. His body is capable of adapting to the most unfriendly environments.

It simply took time- and humans are said to have been terribly impatient.

He slides his finger over the panel, sucessfully swiping to another set of information, most of it telling him that the system is still active, still running. But there’s also other info that causes his warm-blooded body to cool down signitatively.

‘Starting SYSTEM_STOP:HIBERNATION-EXIT'

“Wait, no no no no-” He panics, tapping away at the screen until he manages to somehow not have the whole thing unfreeze on him, leaving him breathless for a good moment or two. With an unsure hand, he wipes at the glass front, to uncover a soft, red light inside, and most of all-

A body. And it’s most certainly not dead-

It’s a full-blood human.

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It’s been two days.

Two days since he found you in there, still kept in your little pod, still completely unaware of what’s going on around you.

Do you dream? According to a friend of his who researches humans, you could be, but apparently the chances of that are very low due to your brain being kept at a stage of being not active. Jungkook faces a very bad situation here, because technically, he should absolutely report this to his local research office- but he’s also sitting on an amount of money that could change his life forever.

No more scrap metal. No more sleeping in his small apartment that’s falling apart. No more fighting on the streets over pitiful amounts of change.

He sighs as he sits down close to your pod, opening a bag of snacks for himself as he looks over at the clear top. Your eyes are closed, and you seem to be in a very good shape. If he was to calculate correctly, you were about his age when you left earth and got put into this thing- and yet, you look to be very small compared to modern day human-descendants and most species of humanoid beings. He himself is a little above average, sure- but that’s besides the point.

If you woke up now, you’d probably be traumatized.

Namjoon, his friend who studies humans, had told him once that humans can die from emotional trauma alone. Their own immune system can just one day riot against its own host and kill it from the insides. And DNA can mutate from nothing all of a sudden and create tumors that burden the body so much it cannot continue normal function.

Humans are so frail. Should he just.. Do you a favor?

Your family, your friends, everything you knew is gone after all. You’re alone, a sole survivor, and once the institute gets a whiff of your existence, you’ll probably be kept like a laboratory animal in a sterile environment for testing and research. It’s fucked up- but Jungkook isn’t a murderer.

The next day, when he’s back again, he watches you once more- taking you in for a moment, mesmerized by the simple fact that you are existing. The odds of this are so incredibly small that it fascinates him to no ends. He’s asked Namjoon about some stuff last night over drinks, and apparently, most humans who exited the hibernation protocol all lack any memories. They have basic knowledge of functions, they can speak and they know how to balance and have basic reflexes- but they all have to re-learn more complicated tasks like tying shoes, or even how to calculate and tell time. So maybe, if you were to wake up, the trauma wouldn’t be so bad?

Jungkook is conflicted. The price you’d fetch for him would be astronomical. He’d be set for life, and some. It’s just a call. Or even just a text to namjoon.

He’s killed a guy before. Shot him right in the chest for having attempted to sell his own kid on the streets, and Jungkook felt not a single drop of remorse. And yet, he can’t do this. He can’t just be the same as everyone else.

You don’t deserve this.

But do you deserve to live like this too?

You’ll never have a normal life, not at all. You’ll either have to be on the run forever, or set yourself into the laboratories- both options aren’t ideal. Jungkook scratches his head for a moment, before he sighs, and slides one of his hands over his face in agony. This issue isn’t letting him sleep for a second. What’s he supposed to do?

Can he trust namjoon enough to file him in on this?

Sudden light makes him snap his face towards where you’re still in hibernation however as the panel seems to malfunction for a good second or two, causing him distress. The light inside your pod are now off as well, putting you in complete darkness- and he doesn’t know what posesses him as he taps and swipes once more, frantically trying to find a single setting to activate. And then-

‘Starting SYSTEM_STOP:HIBERNATION-EXIT'

This time, he lets it happen, steps a bit aside just in case, even though he doesn’t know what might happen now. Maybe you’re dying in there, or maybe this is simply the course of nature in a way? He doesn’t know, as the pod hisses and clicks, something sounding as if it snaps apart or breaks, worrying him. After a good little while of this, there’s silence, lock on the clear top clicking, but never opening.

Should he take a look? It won’t hurt, right?

The small panel is now dark, and as the inside of the pod foggs up, Jungkook realizes that it might just be stuck- hands of his forcing the acrylic glass upwards until it finally opens with a painful cracking sound of the hinges protesting against his aggression.

It’s silent, again.

He can’t hear anything out of the ordinary, if anything he hears even less noise than usual with the ventilation of the system and the flickering lights finally having given up by now. As he looks inside, he notices just how.. Clean everything is still where you’re laying, looking like you are simply asleep. But what concerns him is the fact that, while one touch offers him the knowledge of your body temperature rising and heart beating again, you’re yet to gain consciousness.

Jungkook knows next to nothing about human health. Why would he?

So, minutes later, he’s guarding the tight squeeze at the entrance to the room you’re in, Namjoon looking at him with suspicion and crossed arms. “You have to swear first.” Jungkook almost growls threateningly, holding out his hand.

“I swear I’ll report nothing.” His friend replies, before he hooks his ring finger around Jungkook’s, and pulls till there is a quiet crack- a way of proving that he means his ‘promise’.

“Okay.” Jungkook sighs deeply, panic still present in his bones as he lets his friend into the chamber.

“Wow. This is all incredibly preserved..” Namjoon says, already distracted by the remains of a human with mummified flesh still present, when Jungkook makes an almost growling sound to get his friend’s attention. “Right. What do you have there?” He asks, walking closer- before his eyes widen, and his steps become longer, quicker, like he can’t get closer fast enough. “That is..! Is she alive?!” He gasps, frantically looking around before he steps around the pod for a better angle to look at you.

“Yes? No?” Jungkook struggles. “I don’t know. The whole thing.. Made weird noises and I think the system gave up, so I made it exit the hibernation stuff-” Jungkook explains, while Namjoon puts his glasses on.

“She was still in hibernation when you found her?” He asks, and Jungkook nods. “That is.. So she just exited.. I- Jungkook, I would’ve brought more equipment if I had known-” He mumbles to himself as he seems to gently turn you a little in the cushioned bed you’re in, specifically designed to move and tilt to not cause any pressure on the body over time. “She’s a bit cold I believe.. And considering that no one has ever survived in these pods for so long, there might be damage to either internal organs or her brain..” He says, before he steps back. “Either way, she can’t stay here.”

“Oh wow I would’ve never guessed.” Jungkook sarcastically responds, rolling his eyes before he looks around. “How do we get her out of here without anyone noticing?” He asks, as he picks up a blanket. “Can we just.. Wrap her up and I don’t know.. Maybe say she’s a friend from Vinos? They’re pretty short people too..” He tries to come up, and Namjoon seems unconfident.

“I’m not sure what the dust might do to her skin, since she has been kept in isolation for so long, and she might not react well to the environment here..” He thinks, when Jungkook looks at him urgently. “..but you’re right. Yes, lets.. But be careful.”

“I’m always careful-” Jungkook complains almost childishly, though he hesitates a bit at approaching you with the blanket, a little worried now.

“Let me do it-” Namjoon tries, but Jungkook shakes his head, and carefully moves you into a sitting position, where your body leans heavily against his own, a form of physical contact he’s not quite used to, especially from the opposite sex. “Care-”

“I am careful.” He huffs, as he makes sure to wrap the blanket around you as best as he can, before he scoops you up to carry you. “Alright, lets get out of here then.”

Namjoon seems a bit hesitant at first, torn between staying and leaving-

But ultimately, he chooses the last option, and leaves behind Jungkook.

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“Alright I made sure it’s not connected to any of the servers anymore, so now I just have to-” Namjoon begins, as Jungkook jumps up to your defense at the sight of the needle. “-Jungkook, I have to take at least some blood to make some research as to her current state.” He reassures his friend, who only reluctantly sits down again. Somehow, with you being unable to really do anything, let alone consent, Jungkook feels incredibly protective.

He knows he wouldn’t like someone poking around on and inside him either while he was unconscious.

But Namjoon is right- there's no real other way to check up on you other than this- so he lets his friend continue, tests soon bringing in results as you’re hours later asleep on a mattress Jungkook usually sleeps on in his home. Namjoon had brought his equipment along with him, fearing that his own home that’s paid for by the research institute might be too dangerous for you to reside in.

While Namjoon is busy looking at the results in Jungkook’s little open kitchen a bit further away, Jungkook himself is busy thinking about what life will look like for you, if you survive. Somehow, you remind him of himself when he was born- tellings of his mother reminiscing about how he had been born underneath the open skies, with no place to call home, and no guarantee of survival. He ultimately did simply because she took him in as her own- but if it was any different, he wouldn’t exist today.

How will your life play out now?

In a way, he believes this might be the universe giving him a chance to pay back that second chance at life he’d been given so many years ago. Maybe now, he can be that person to pick you up and help you gain your footing in the world. He might not be the best person considering his job and own struggles- but he surely wants to try.

Because all other options just don’t sound right.

“It seems like she has an infection currently.. Her white blood cells are elevated.” Namjoon says as he walks closer with a digital tablet containing all the information from the tests he made. “Her kidneys don’t seem to work properly.”

“Does that mean she will die?” Jungkook worries, and Namjoon sighs.

“No, and if she does it won’t be from a mere kidney infection, at least not in the stage she’s in.” He explains. “Her temperature is a bit high and when she wakes up she will definitely feel uncomfortable, but nothing that can’t be treated with standard antibiotics.” He says.

“Antibiotics?” Jungkook cringes. “That’s.. Ancient medicine.” He says, and Namjoon nods.

“She’s technically ancient too, Jungkook.”

Right.

“So, when will she wake up?” Jungkook wonders, as Namjoon measures your heartrate with a small electronic device close by to keep him constantly updated.

“Probably in the next few hours. Her body is slowly adjusting to the change in her environment, that’ll take some time.” He says, and Jungkook is a bit reassured by the clear calm attitude his friend has while making sure to keep an eye on your vitals.

“Namjoon?” Jungkook asks, as his friend looks up at him. “I’m.. Glad you’re here.”

“Well, you should be.” Namjoon proudly smiles, happily accepting that praise when you suddenly squeeze close your eyes, the first sign of life you gave until now. Jungkook is instantly sitting up, standing somewhat over you as Namjoon pushes him back with a hand on his chest. “Give her space. We don’t know how she’ll react.” He says calmly, as Jungkook worriedly watches you slowly wake up.

It visibly takes you a while to open your eyes, but when you do, it’s like Jungkook is caught up in a moment of timelessness.

It’s tough to explain- the second your eyes meet, he’s caught off guard like an animal staring right at it’s biggest predator, unsure what is about to happen now. He’s not fearful of you, absolutely not- but he’s frozen in place, and it only takes a moment until he realizes what’s happening.

“Well, at least she won’t have issues finding someone to look after her.” Namjoon says, having noticed from the way Jungkook’s pupils dilated to the slight parting of his friend’s lips, that he’s clearly just imprinted on you. It’s common for his age and species after all- and it’s also not very surprising, considering that he has a good amount of human DNA in him that survived all those centuries.

“I- uh, wait, no..” Jungkook stumbles over his words, as he clears his throat, and shakes his head. “I can’t. I don’t have any funds to really feed another person, and neither can she live here-”

“We’ll take his step by step. For now, this is where she’ll stay.” Namjoon decides, before he walks closer to you. “Hm. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asks you, and you look at him for a moment, visibly turning a little unsure and even fearful of the situation.

You.. Kind of understand them. But it’s like they’re speaking with an incredibly strong accent that makes it tough to really pull apart the words and their meaning if they speak fast.

“We are friends.” Namjoon explains, as Jungkook walks closer. “This- that’s Jungkook. I’m Namjoon. And you?” He wonders, as you think for a good while, causing the older alien to worry that you might not understand common language.

After all, from what he knows, humans used to have many very much different languages in which they used to communicate in, before the interplanetary counsil decided on a single language to be spoken and taught to everyone. So maybe you weren’t taught universal language?

But then you meekly utter your name, and Namjoon sighs in relief.

“Good. Very good, thank you.” He says, as Jungkook adjusts your blanket when he notices you shivering. “Can you sit up?” Namjoon wonders, and you do, slowly, with the help of Jungkook’s hand on your back- the researcher quickly moving to check you over a little more, just to be sure.

You just let it happen, instead looking around the rather dark and small apartment for a moment.

You have no idea where you came from- only having some faint memories of putting on a very standardized set of clothes and laying down in a very cold bed? You don’t quite remember what exactly it was, but you do know that you went to sleep in there- last sight that of someone with a facemask tapping on a digital panel, before you went to sleep. And then?

Darkness. There’s nothing else.

You don’t really feel frightened by those two people any longer as you take a proper look around and at them both, curiously watching the way Namjoon seems to lift your arms to test your reflexes and strength. Jungkook next to you keeps an eye on things, and for some reason, that makes you feel protected.

You lean into him a little while Namjoon seems to talk about something incredibly complicated, way too fast for you to really understand it- but Jungkook appears to understand, so you’re not worried about anything for the moment.

After all, you also don’t know that your life didn’t just begin again-

But that it just got a whole lot more complicated.

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“There. That should be more comfortable.” Jungkook offers, having finalized his task of putting another mattress down onto the floor next to where he usually sleeps.

You now have your own blankets, pillows and mattress- after just a few days, Jungkook has quite clearly decided to keep you around, and make your situation a permanent one. He’s learned a few things about humans and their health from Namjoon who had to go back to the institute in order to not have them get any suspicions.

Jungkook has, since then, begun to dig through the rest of the thing for valuables- wrecking the open pod as well just to make sure that the government officials won’t look too much into things once they pick up the other remains.

“Where do you.. Go?” You ask Jungkook, as he sits down on his own bed next to where you sit. He seems to have equally a bit of trouble understanding you properly, but he tries hard, and you appreciate that. “like, during the day. Where do you go?” You ask, and at that he seems to understand.

“I take apart things, and sell the most valuable parts.” he explains. “Uh.. Like..” He takes a box of screws and tools. “I take this, see?” He says, before he takes out the tools of the tiny metal box, putting them into their own spots. “And then I sell everything. This for ten, this for fifteen, and so on.” He attempts to explain, and you perk up at that, nodding.

“I see!” You say, making him smile almost shyly at seeing you happy. He carefully puts everything back into the box before putting it away, when he hears your stomach growling, causing him to look at you with wide eyes for a second before he realizes that you probably haven’t eaten anything today.

“Oh! I don’t.. Have anything here you can eat.” He mumbles a bit disappointed, before he looks around.

Should he do this? He probably shouldn’t, but he could always just pass you off as a someone born on Vinos. And to be fair, everyone would absolutely believe that considering that you do fit them mostly. Not quite, but mostly.

But oddities define the norm, as they say.

“To be fair, you do need clothes too.. You can’t keep wearing mine.” He says, before he gets up. “Come on, I’ll carry you since you don’t have shoes yet.” He offers, and you accept that, letting him carry you on his back with his hands steadying your legs at your thighs on his sides, while your arms are over his shoulders. It’s your first time outside, and Jungkook doesn’t really think about it for a good moment, until you seem to hide in the crook of his neck. “Oh- right, the sun must be really bright.. I forgot. Sorry.” He says, as he hurries to walk in the shadows of the buildings as to not have you burn into a crisp on his back.

He wonders what the weather was like on earth before it got poisoned. Was it nice? What was nature like? Or the cities?

What was your life like before all of this?

“Alright- in here you can walk, the floors are relatively clean. Let’s get you some shoes..” He mumbles, as he leads you around with a hand on your upper back right between your shoulders, as he looks for anything that might fit you.

You don't remember where you came from, and neither do you remember if you've always lived here. Everything looks foreign but also familiar to you, as if the world you're currently in has shifted just enough to be different, but not enough to become strange. You struggle to read most signs and labels, but you also realize that you don't have to be able to do so, as Jungkook walks around a corner with a pair of shoes for you to try on.

“They should technically fit? I don't really have a good eye for sizes..” he mumbles, as he watches you slip into the shoes that fit surprisingly well. There's a bit of room there for thicker socks if the weather gets colder, so you'll be able to wear these in any kind of weather.

Wait. Do the seasons even change here?

“You like them?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, because you genuinely do. When he walks to pay for them, you instantly put them on near the exit of the store while Jungkook pays for them at the counter, where a young lady with silver strands in her hair takes his money to count and then nod. When he walks towards you, you kind of feel like the canine creature outside the store tied to a lamppost by its owner just seconds ago, seeing your person again. There's a strange mix of relief and happiness when he takes your hand to walk through the town with you, the man looking around for what you think might be something to eat.

He finds it, after some walking. Though he hesitates to enter.

“Is it dangerous?” you ask, having to repeat your question as he leans down to hear you better over the sound of talking people, honking vehicles and construction work nearby. He shakes his head- though it doesn't convince you.

“its not dangerous, no. I just.. don't know if you can eat any of what they offer.” He explains, before he walks inside. “lets see.. you can surely eat something we get for children…” the tall man mumbles to himself, before he orders something. The hood of his sweater has been pulled over your head this entire time as if to hide you- and you can see some other people, shorter than you, wear clothes in a similar way. One of those people waves at you with an odd gesture that catches you off guard- but you try and repeat it the best you can, causing the small table to erupt into laughter of endearment.

Someone walks closer, stands next to jungkook. He instantly holds onto your hand.

“A fellow Vinoson. Didn't think you'd be that kind of guy, Jungkook.” The young man seems to joke, making Jungkook laugh as he squeezes your hand a little.

“ah, what can I say? I guess you were right when you said you can't resist their charm sometimes.” He says, and you’re not quite sure what he's hinting at. But you also trust him- so maybe this is simply for the best to play along, as you push yourself into Jungkook's side a little like you've seen another couple do earlier when you entered.

“ah, well she seems to be charmed by you just the same.” The man nods, before he nods to you. “Do you by chance have any cobalt-capsules in your stock?” he asks, and Jungkook agrees with a head-gesture.

“actually, I do. But i'll have to raise my usual prices a bit these days, since the quality is high for these, and you rarely get them in that state anymore.” Jungkook says while waiting for his order of food to arrive. “they're all between 70% and 85%. Got them checked at Yoongi's.” he proudly says, clearly confident in his tone.

“My, that sounds indeed like a rare gem you found there. How much for five?” the man asks, and Jungkook picks up his order of food in the silver lined paper bag, before he turns fully towards his apparent costumer.

“1.4 Kay. I gotta feed two mouths these days, hope you understand.” Jungkook appears to joke- though that glimmer in his eyes tells you that he's genuinely serious with the price, almost hopeful.

“you now what?” the man says, before he nods to you. "Alright.” The man agrees. “Though only for a chance to meet your child, once its there. I cannot imagine what a Vinoson and a Humanoid would create.” He jokes, making Jungkook cringe a little as he nods however.

“deal. Though, that might take a while.”

Back at home, now with the food in front of you, and the thick long sweater-poncho kind of situation off of your body, you take your first bites of food. “according to the notes left by Namjoon, local produce and oil should be fine for you to consume.” He offers as reassurance. “So this has no meat in it. I'll do some research later- or you can have a tiny bit of mine, and see how you do?” he asks, and you nod at that, causing him to laugh. “did you even understand me, or are you just agreeing to anything?” he jokes, but you shake your head.

“no, I understand.” You answer, almost a bit offended. “I just.. you talk fast sometimes. Then I struggle.” You explain to him, and he nods.

“i'll keep that in mind then.”

Later during the rest of the early day, he turns on the radio- while you still struggle to somewhat understand the fast speech especially with the occasional static cutting the announcer off, you listen to it.

“-have come to the conclusion that the remaining human bacteria in the cryo-pod found at Ainum-Square last week, have simply been remains that were well preserved due to the system's battery system still being intact. Researchers have also examined the other human remains at the site, and told ACS-Station that the passengers of that flight most likely died shortly after impact due to pressure changes and lack of oxygen.”

You listen to it still, when Jungkook walks up behind you, clearly curious, but also hesitant.

Do you remember those passengers? Or do you not?

“I'm human too, right?” you ask Jungkook, who nods. “And you're a.. humanoid?” you ask, making him nod, though he shrugs his shoulders.

“that's the broad term. In reality, there's different humanoid races. I was born here on Aex, so i'm technically an H3. The third Humanoid species to inhabit a planet.” He explains. “take it as.. every humanoid started from humans, right? And then they kind of.. began travelling. Some stayed on Cepheid, and became very resistent to the harsh climate and hot temperatures. They're H1. H2 are the ones that eventually populated Chronos 16, those are really sensitive to light, but they can endure freezing climates. Have a weirdly arrogant attitude though..” Jungkook mumbles. “and then, well, H3 are people like me, who were born here on Aex. We grow a bit taller, our bodies can adapt to changes in atmospheric pressure and we have more.. I guess, complex social behavior?” he wonders. “huh, but I'm rambling. You probably didn't understand half of it.” He sighs with a smile, though you shake your head.

“so.. where are the original humanoids then?” you ask.

“they're on earth, mostly. Helping in the cleanup efforts after the nuclear disaster of 2245.” He explains.

“and.. humans?”

Jungkook grows silent for a moment, before he turns a little to you, as if to invite you for something you're not sure of. “Most of them.. died during the disaster, or from the health effects of exposure. Many fled to neighboring planets, and eventually.. well, they got scared to be wiped out entirely, I guess? So they began to try and enhance their DNA to create stronger and more resistant generations. It.. took them too long though. They got impatient, and abandoned the project after not even a century.” He says.

“So, no humans are alive anymore?” you ask, making him laugh.

“they are. In my DNA, and many of the other Humanoids.” He offers kindly. “and, well, in you. A pure human, so to say.” He offers.

It takes you a moment to take all of it in, really think about it and process that information. What Jungkook is saying is that the project never failed- but simply took too long for any human to ever see the results it brought. You're the last of your kind, possibly.

“Why did you.. say I was from Vinos?” you ask, and he sighs.

“because.. a lot of human history got lost in the disaster. And a lot of it, no one can read.” He explains. “I’m.. worried. About what the research institute might do if they knew you existed.” He simply says.

“will you.. can I stay here?” you ask. “for now?”

And jungkook nods, with a kind smile.

“of course.” He says, putting a gentle hand onto your head.

“I’ll try my best to keep you safe.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[jaysfavoritee]

arsonist | p.js

PAIRING. prince!park jongseong x reader

GENRE. angst

CAUTIONS. brief mention of blood

SYNOPSIS. In another world where Park Jongseong did not have to uphold himself to be the strongest, he would have an easier time forgiving you.

PLAYLIST. arsonist, halsey

HAVE YOU EVER GIVEN THE WORLD TO SOMEBODY AS A GIFT AND HAD IT RETURNED?

“I do,” is a statement that comes out of his mouth with the dullness of a crayon that had been left unused for a long while. Its color won't be used, no, but its color remains. It's intact just like the rest of his pieces that hold him up together and he refuses to tell you about it.

Hatred is such a strong thing. Jongseong doesn’t prefer to hate. He would rather deal with the drag of the carpet on his skin when he lays down, staring up at the ceiling, knowing that he would be scolded by his father. He would rather experience the humiliation that he goes through quite too frequently than hate someone.

Yet, you somehow found a way to slither into these parts of himself, and he absolutely hates you for it.

White is a fascinating shade to him as it brings forth the nothingness that lingers but is something that represents purity and innocence, beauty and allure, something that should be of living. Memories to be celebrated like sparkly champagne that burns in your throat to remind you of the air that keeps you warm.

Though he stands on this altar, in front of a woman that he doesn’t know the name of, wearing a shade that should celebrate this marriage, he can only think of charcoal and the midnight sky instead, and in some way, it’s all so familiar.

ARSONIST BURNING DOWN THE WORLD TO FEEL ITS HEAT.

In the coldest days of winter, where he would embrace the frost and blue and white and all of the ice that had accumulated beneath his boots, the feeling is undeniably estranged. Blood of his scraped and cut-up hands like paper drips onto the snow, all drenched in white—the innocence he had desperately sought. The purity that he had associated with white was its representative, only to be tainted by the plethora of plasma, sinking deep into the frozen water.

How could you?

He looks into the eyes of his mother, said queen, dead eyes that hold a handful of bones and leaves, crawling out like vines that are coughing. Rose petals have already withered as they mirror Jongseong’s two irises, feel all the same, and look all the same, but they never are. Is that how you felt? Should he feel like this?

“You’re going to do great things, aren’t you, son?” His father sings the words into his ears, but it isn’t quite reaching him. His chest is heavy with a pile of something—what could it be? It’s hard to describe, he really can’t describe it, but it’s the heaviest feeling. It’s heavier than an anchor, it’s heavier than all of the water that flows in a sea, it’s heavier than the ring that is kept wrapped around his finger, it’s heavier than anything he’s ever had to hold. Of course, he has to hold it; who else would?

Jongseong knows the bucket he holds, such clear and shiny liquid he tells himself, it’s so transparent. It’s already as if he knows the answer himself. This liquid, clear, nothing it holds like the purity of white or the prestige of such gold, or the sadness attached to the navy, but it holds danger. You could see the danger so clearly.

Something else that Jongseong knows is that this bucket isn’t as heavy as everything else he had to endure. Rather, it’s light as a snowflake that lands on his jacket, he doesn’t feel it but he knows it’s there. Or, it’s as light as a match that balances between his fingers.

He also knows that it wasn’t as difficult to set the kingdom aflame. It’s what it took to watch everything around him relax and limp, the scent of wood burning and blazing. The burn lingers, nasty even, and he could do nothing but watch.

That’s what you did, as well. You watched him play with the clear liquid and the match that might as well be his only friend. It’s not something you’d like to see, but you did anyway because he was a bastard and you found it comforting.

Death is quite comforting, Jongseong concludes, as he begins to see the life of the kingdom dying. The pillars that melt, the raging brightness of such danger, fuels him more than anything. It fuels him the more he does it, and it went from the death of the royalty that he was well part of, to the death of the trees and the bushes and the smell of the color auburn will forever haunt him. He thinks because of that, he died too, but it’s taking too long for it to be in effect.

THE ARSONIST DOESN’T FEEL THE EMBERS ON HIS FEET.

You were that purity and innocence. You were the beauty of everything and nothing all at once because Jongseong admired you for everything you were and were not. How could someone feel like the warmth of midday somewhere in July, but so distant that the warmth is somewhat an illusion? Am I really feeling this warmth?

He hated you for all that he couldn’t piece together. He was sure he had it written down to the core, but the paper would crumple or the pen’s ink would fade, dancing and once more, dying.

Are you proud to be the one thing that ends up killing him?

Jongseong didn’t throw on his jacket as he faced the harsh, cold wind. He faced himself for what he could never bear because it’s easier to do that than to face what he’s known forever. He sleeps in a fantasy that the color auburn would not exist or the scent of something burning would make him forget, but it always makes him remember.

Have you ever woken from a dream just to realize that you’re still asleep?

The shame that builds within his arms is not strong enough compared to the numbness on his lips. It’s something he cannot feel as he rubs the tip of his finger alongside the cracked bundle of skin and muscle. Do you hear him for what he is? He cannot see what’s around him as he wishes to go back to a moment in time when he hadn’t met you, because ever since his life felt like it was in a constant state of burning and mourning.

Though, he fell in love with this feeling.

ARSONIST, YOUR HUMAN STARTER KIT CAME INCOMPLETE.

The burning scent of a tree or a house is different than the scent of a human. He would constantly burn his skin for what it’s worth because he’d always take the blame, so it stings, it pulses, it taunts, it exists, but he doesn’t mind. The burning scent is something that will always fill his nostrils more than the scent of bread being served at a bakery, or the scent of his bride’s perfume lingering into the air that smells like a mix of everything he hates, including the scent of your favorite scarf, like auburn.

Though he wishes to smell it, he wishes to pinpoint what it is to exist alongside the wood, alongside the fire, alongside the cold snow outside, alongside the beating of his heart, alongside everything he knows and what he doesn’t.

In another world where he didn’t have to be placed as someone important, he would take the opportunity to pour the clear liquid on your clothes, on your skin, including your favorite scarf, so all of it could wither away from his mind. He doesn’t want you to stay anymore, yet, you’d stay stubbornly.

He wishes that you would take the time to get away because he understands that if you did, he would probably be less dangerous than what he is. He wouldn’t have to know by heart what it does to be consumed by the fire that he had created on his own. One day, he might even walk into the flames he birthed, for a reason or no reason at all.

Warmth in contrast to the coldness that stings as he lays on the piles of snow in front of your gravestone, and he told himself that he’d clean it up, but that’s only if he’d ever get to it. He thinks about burning your gravestone every so often, but decides against it, because he doesn’t want you to be consumed by his faults.

He’ll always hate you for it.

MY APOLOGIES, ARSONIST, YOU LOVED ME.

[pseudowho]

how would each JJK man react as they got RAN OVER😍😍😍😍😍😍 NOTHING TELLS YOU WHAT TYPE OF MAN THEY ARE LIKE THEIR REACTION TO GETTING RUN OVER ! 😍😍😍😍(I’m insane)😍

Okay alright, these are quick fires so LET'S GO:

Ijichi: Apologises to the car, bows all the way to hospital.

Gojo: Car doesn't hit him. Car comes off much much worse. After casually checking on the passengers, leaves in a hurry. Urban legends start to float around about a tall blindfolded ghost who is legitimately untouchable.

Geto: Burns down their whole fucking village.

Toji: Brushes it off. Another one where the car comes off worse. It's an inconvenience picking bits of fender out of his hair, more than anything. Absolutely does not give a single shit about the inhabitants of the car.

Nanami: Seamless barrel roll over the bonnet and boot of the car, lands on his feet. Straightens his tie. Gently raps on the window of the car. First checks the passengers are alright, then gives a stern but well-meaning lecture on dangerous driving.

Ino: Sloppy, apologetic, really actually hurt but tries to brush it off like it's nothing. Goes to Nanami to see if Nanami will teach him how to get run over properly.

Yuuji: Takes a DEVASTATING BLOW...and just walks away. Fully laughing and good humoured but inexplicably missing a whole leg. Even more inexplicably, the passengers of the car see him walking round with two totally intact legs just the next day.

Megumi: MAHORAGA

Maki: Graceful barrel roll like Nanami. Lands on her feet. Bullies and berates the car until the car AND its passengers are crying.

Yuuta: Couldn't look any more tired, after scrambling to his feet and convincing Rika not to reduce the car to smithereens.

Sukuna: ARSON. 15,000 dead, nobody knows why, because the car didn't even touch him.

Hiromi: Barrel roll but not neat about it. Sloppy, sighing, angry rap on the window. Takes full insurance details, files a police report, insists on a court date because god knows he might actually win this one.

Choso: Unsure at first exactly what a car is. Accuses it of killing his brothers. Total car annihilation. Finds out the car WAS another brother (from a Curse Womb-vroom-vroom). Total emotional breakdown.

-- Haitch xxx

[alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice]

The Ever Seeing Eye

(A/N: Continued from here, featuring my warlock Tav who is in a romantic relationship with her patron. I actually made this warlock character and her pact before playing BG3. It was a little too perfect how well it worked out for causing conflict >:) Also, I'm well aware that there is more than just the one artifact in Ethel's lair/on her person. I'm switching it up for drama. Also, defeating her in the tea house was accurate to my playthrough if anyone would like to know how I did it I can make a separate post. Part 4 here)

What is it about fey that they delight so much more in screwing over a fellow fey than any other creature?

Lyra ponders this question, along with wondering if that is precisely why Midnight adores her so rather than taking a lover of his own kind, as she delves into the hag’s lair.

Of course, Lyra, no stranger to dealing with fey, has already disposed of the hag in the tearoom upstairs, much to Midnight’s delight. “I can sense a delightful trinket down there in her workroom, a necklace, not too far from that human you’re so intent on rescuing,” he whispers in her ear, “I want that one. Fey magic should stay with fey, after all.”

Shouldn’t be a problem at all.

But it would just so happen, that as they have descended the stairs into the green-lit museum of hag horrors, Gale clutches at his chest, and looks to Lyra pleadingly. “I uh, I don’t suppose you looted any magic artifacts off the hag corpse upstairs, did you?”

“Potions, yes, artifacts, no,” Lyra answers. “We just fed you two days ago. You went without an artifact for several days since the crash. What’s changed?”

Gale’s eyes are desperate as he shakes his head in bafflement. “I’ve no idea… but something has changed. I could feel it before, the last one did not satisfy the way it should have… Perhaps something more powerful would do the trick.”

Lyra sees the strain in his face. This condition saps at him. “Do you need to wait in camp, then? You’re clearly unwell.”

“And leave the lot of you to face a hag lair down a wizard? Perish the thought. Old biddy might be dead, but this place is sure to have plenty dangers on its own. We press on! Besides, where better to find a suitable artifact than a hag lair? Surely she has something stashed away.”

Lyra frowns, knowing for a fact she does, and praying that she happens to have more than just the one.

They point the way out for all those fortunate enough to still be alive and intact once the hag’s magic wore off. Most of those wearing the masks were too far gone, and both Gale and Lyra could tell that attempting to remove the masks would have disastrous consequences for them.

Mayrina showed the way to the workroom, with a portal out of the lair. Lyra zeros in on the necklace immediately, picking it up from the desk and inspecting it, considering. After a moment, Gale says, “ah, delightful, you found something. May I?”

Lyra pulls away from his reaching hand. “Isn’t there something else in here?”

“All we’ve found are a collection of very non-magical rings and some dodgy potions that I would not drink for a hundred gold,” Astarion reports.

Lyra saw what happened to Wyll for disobeying his patron. His body is permanently altered for it, and he got off easy.

But surely Midnight would never be so cruel to her? She loves him. They’ve been lovers for over a year. And Gale… she doesn’t know the specifics of his condition, but he seems he would die without it. There is clear pain in his eyes.

“Swear to me that you need it, really need it,” Lyra says, meeting Gale’s pleading eyes.

“I swear upon the weave itself, that it is a matter of life and death.”

Lyra hands him the necklace, and he smiles in relief. She has just enough time to enjoy that grateful smile before she collapses, and the world goes dark.

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #2: Horizon

When the Crystal Tower had first emerged along Mor Dhona's shattered skyline, Ashelia Riot's initial reaction had been one of dismay - as well as no small amount of indignation that the wreckage of the Praetorium had already been overshadowed. But the ubiquity of NOAH's operations in the region helped to restore some normalcy to life at the Sandsea: in keeping with Sylvan Rain's prediction, the realm's next crop of would-be heroes turned to new horizons scarcely three weeks after the Riskbreakers' grand victory, and no small number of them were set on plumbing the Labyrinth of the Ancients.

A'zaela Linh was among them.

The Riskbreakers lacked two significant resources following Operation Archon: leads, and coin. The Eorzean Alliance had seen fit to reinstate the utmost confidentiality to any further missions against the Garlean Empire, and Ashe found the mere thought of begging Raubahn Aldynn for her inclusion galling in the extreme. The mad rush of visitors to the Sandsea's bar, inspired by the company's fifteen minutes of fame, had since slowed to a trickle; the resulting profits had prevented them from bankruptcy but did not leave them with enough overhead to make the kinds of investments that would ultimately provide security in near- or long-term future.

That made A'zaela's partnership with NOAH something of a godssend, as it would empower them to keep an ear to the ground for intelligence of a realm-threatening nature. Even so, their best dragoon would need outfitting for such a dangerous mission.

"Really, Ashe, it's fine," A'zaela said for the umpteenth time as Ashe pulled her axe from the belly of a particularly large leech. "I-I can find other work to get the equipment I need. You should think of yourself."

It was a polite way for her to say that Ashe was still wearing the same cast-off warrior furs that had barely deflected Gaius van Baelsar's bullets. All the same, Ashe shook her head. "Nonsense. You're out in the field far more often than I am."

A'zaela wrinkled her nose but offered no protest to that logic.

Ashe stared down at the dead leech without the faintest idea of how best to claim her proof of victory from its slimy hide. "If you're looking to repay me," she said, "consider a detailed report on the Crystal Tower's interior more than sufficient compensation." She settled on skinning the turgid lump of flesh as if it were a sandworm, then regretted the course of action immediately as a foul-smelling ooze emerged from beneath her axe's heel.

The task did not require two people, and yet A'zaela surged into action at the creature's tail. "I can start by telling you what I've seen so far."

"Please do."

"The good news is that the Labyrinth's dangers seem to be… self-contained, if that makes sense? They were created to guard the Crystal Tower. Even now that they've woken up, they're not in any danger of leaving."

Ashe breathed a sigh of relief, even as she tore the leech's pelt free.

"But there's a lot we still don't know." It was reassuring to Ashe that her friend used the word "we" to describe NOAH and its work. "Like how so many of the Tower's defenses are intact after so long, let alone how they operate at all. G'raha - he's a researcher from Sharlayan - he expects that Syrcus Tower will be even more dangerous, since it was the center of the Allagan Empire."

"Well," Ashe said. For a moment, she might have left her remarks there; then she stood and straightened her back, and the Crystal Tower shone out at her through Mor Dhona's roiling, aether-drenched sky. "…Fucking Allagans."

"A-Ashe?"

"I'll not claim to be especially well-versed in history," she said, perhaps as a concession, "but it is always striking to me that none of our present troubles would exist without the Allagan Empire and its legacy: Dalamud, Garlemald-" Ludo. The thought, the memory of him might have stopped her nascent rant on any other day, with any other friend in her company. "I cannot look on that bright blue eyesore without imagining the endless conquest once required to sustain it - all the Ala Mhigos and Domas of ages past. Power begetting power; misery begetting misery."

When she turned back to A'zaela, it was to find her with her ears lowered, her tail curled almost between her legs.

"I'm sorry, A'zaela," she said at once, surprised to realize that she meant it. "I didn't mean to imply- That is, I know you despise the Empire as I do."

"I understand," A'zaela replied, though her voice had fallen even quieter than usual.

Ashe busied herself with scraping away as much of the leech's subcutaneous fat as she could, then folding the pelt into her satchel. "Do you think there's a way for Allag's legacy to be redeemed?" she asked at length. "That all its technology could be… I don't know, repurposed? That it could come to stand for something greater than oppression?"

But A'zaela simply shook her head. "I don't know, Ashe." She, too, stared up at the glowing crystal spire, though her face conveyed a more mundane sadness than Ashe might have expected. "I suppose… I suppose we'll find out. When the expedition's over."

***

Ashe spent much longer in the Seventh Heaven's bathrooms than she'd intended, but the leech's stink had lingered all up and down her arms in a manner that no amount of scrubbing had seemed able to remedy and she was loath to greet Ilberd in such a state. When at last she emerged devoid of her armor, Astodan stood next in line for the toilets, this time wearing a porter's coat and a low turban to hide the linkpearl in his ear.

"Your comrade should know," he murmured, "that her activities have attracted the notice of a particularly high-ranking imperial defector."

She knew better than to draw attention to the warning by acknowledging it in public - and yet the mere possibility of a threat to A'zaela of all people sent a chill through her blood. "What do I need to do?"

Astodan scowled at her. "I'll inform you should I learn more."

The bastard would make her work for the information, much as he always did, but it did not bear thinking of with A'zaela unreachable in the Labyrinth. She pushed past Astodan without another word to him and made her way over to her old contact flashing Resistance hand signals from the bar: hostile territory, ready to engage.

[fangirlstorycreator]

Hope you are all good! I really had a thought stuck in my head about Jack Blaylock. Let's say his girlfriend is an assassin just like him and she had to end up fighting a few dudes off with her own katana in the dead of the night. Jack walks in after she just finished off the last guy and came out from the shadows. I believe he would be turned on seeing his girl in action 😏ending in some good love making. If u are comfortable though💚

Absolutely anon 😊 apologies for the delay today, my house has been in the midst of thunder and lighting for most of the day, the wifi was out and I had no data 🤦‍♀️ please enjoy 💚

You were very suprised you'd end up finding love while working as an assassin, and yet, that's how you met your boyfriend Jack. He was a gorgeous man who you got on with like a house on fire, even though he was partial to his moments of temper. He never ever lost it with you, but you had seen him angry before, and instead of feeling nervous or afraid, it actually kind of turned you on, but you didn't tell him that yet. One evening, both you and Jack had your own separate assignments, yet strangely in the same part of town, its then you discover that Jack had to take out a bosses som from a bad family, and you were taking out the boss! Jack didn't know you had the more dangerous job, so you didn't tell him, the last thing you wanted to do was worry him.

After you got the information, you headed out in your car in the direction of the man you had to assassinate, and waited in your car during the dead of night. About half an hour went by before you saw your target, he was accompanied by 3 bodyguards as they headed into the lobby of their private hotel, separate to the rest of the street. There were guards outside, but you were easily able to slip past them and head inside the lobby, along with your guns and your katana strapped to your back. You stayed quiet, careful not to be seen as you followed these men up the large stairs and through the hallways, they certainly had a very big hotel for themselves.

They reached what looked like the master suit of the hotel, one bodyguard went inside with the target while the other two stood against the door. You covered behind the wall, taking out your throwing knife, no bigger than your hand. And when you threw it, it went straight into the head of one guard, and before the other could do anything or alert anyone, you used your silencer gun and shot him in the head too. They were both down and this was your chance to get inside. You sneaked up to the door, opening it carefully, not realising there were more men in there, another 5 intact, but it was too late now, they'd seen you come in. "Ahhh, is this their pathetic attempt for an assassin? Please, I think I've been more scared of my own reflection" "Well I cant say I'd disagree with you, you are one of life's more hideous men"

"And your about to have your blood sprayed all over this room. Boys, dispose of her!" All 5 of the men advanced in you, for the split moment you had, you shot down 2 men with your gun, but when one kicked it out of your hand, you had to pull out the big weapon. You grapped your katana and sliced right through one guys waist, making the top half of him slide down onto the floor, and the other two try to fight you against your sword. Unfortunately for them, they were fighting against you, they didn't have a chance. Within the blink of an eye, both men were sliced and fell to the ground dead, leaving just you and the target alive. "Clearly your men couldn't do their job every well" "You b#tch! I dont even care if you kill me, my son will kill you if you try" "Your son? Oh you mean David? The guy who is currently getting his brains shot out by my colleague?"

"You-you what?!" "Yeh sorry, but it seems your legacy is no more" "YOU B#TCH!" He tried to swing at you with his own machete he his behind him, but again, you were far too good at your job. And just as your katana swiped up and sliced off his head, the door opens, to where you see your boyfriend Jack. The head rolled over to his foot, but he just stood on it "Well? It seems we both completed our assignments" "Jack? What are you doing hear?" "I took out my target already and I wanted to check on you. I didnt know you had the more dangerous job until our boss told me after I killed the son" "Yeh, oh well it's done now. Shall we go?" "Yeh, come on baby" You both leave the scene, and head away from the room and past the other rooms of the hallway.

"Hey uhh, you wanna know something interesting?" "What's that?" "The way I saw you take out that guy with your katana, the skills you showed. It really turned me on..." "It did?" "Oh yeh...in fact, why don't we take a little detour in one of these rooms before we report back?" "Really? Hear?" "Come on where's your sence of danger? You know it would be so hot...." He says pushing you up against the wall. "Yeh...I think it will...." Your lips crash against his and lock in a desperate need, just as he takes hold of your hips and picks you up, wrapping your legs agsint his waist. You both crash into the room, and he presses you up against the door, grinding his hips inbetween your legs.

He moves your trousers and underwear down just enough to access you, and then he pulls out his large throbbing member. There was no warning, no talking, just one hard and deeply penetrating thrust as he enters you in one move. "Huh! Oh f#ck!" He isn't gentle with you, he slams you against the door, hard enough that you think you could bring it down, but you dont care, he felt so good inside you that the rest of the world was a blur. He let's out some amazing grunts and moans, making you gasp and swear under your breath as he f#cks you mercilessly against this door, over and over again, he wont stop until he hears you scream.

Which after a few more thrusts, you do just that. It's such a strong orgasm that one hand is gripping his hair and the other is holding onto the wall for dear life. Your body is vibrating with excitement and your desperate to have SOMETHING to keep you still. Your now only able to exhale some little wimpers as he also comes down from his orgasm too. "Jesus f#cking christ Jack...." "I know.... that was so god damn hot" You smile before leaning down to give him a kiss, but then he says "So? You wanna go for round two? We didn't even make the hotel bed yet..." "Round two? Baby I'm ready for round 3!" "Oooh, someone's exited again. If that's what my sexy girl wants, then that's what you'll get..."

[wayward-hums]

For instance: recent studies on PTS have presented, that the diagnosed subjects show a significant difference in volume of hippocampus and amygdala. To me, this clearly indicates that those misdiagnosed with disorders of thought and affect, despite of showing signs of a psychotic breakdown, being administered medicines, must have turned out resilient to all treatment. It may take years, decades, until specialists realise the ‘worst’ option - I apologise for the bias - as it appears plausible that ‘the sufferers' (recent statistics: 1 out of 16-17 people last time I checked) aren’t really as mentally disordered as they are, I’d say, “idiosyncratically ‘retarded’".

The study of philosophy came next, as psychiatry could not bring satisfactory answers at all. 

Thankfully, a significant amount of philosophical content, was already familiar to me, since the field of linguistics is concurrently linked to the studies on being. As the constructs described by psychiatry form a system of a written law, a set of rules, a guide into productivity, that is subsequently organised within an already existing foundation, it can be deconstructed with ease. However, the issue of ‘I’ - has always been problematic, even to the wisest of madmen - ever since an animal became self aware. As psychiatry fails to explain the very root of human error, one has to venture a wee bit further - just like with anything else really - to the very source of its existence. A psychotic episode could constitute a breakthrough…: surely - the mind gets lost, and the road that leads to its retrieval is immensely unwelcoming and unsightly - nevertheless, the wisdom given by insanity from within and from without is served freely, imposed forcibly within the flow, and exchanged automatically, as the societal 'soap bubble’, or the personal ‘wall’, depending on circumstance, vanishes. The ‘traps’ left by those in doubt who were before are stumbled upon throughout further discovery. They are there to remind that we are all human, despite of it all. And most, I reckon, have to start alike: “why am I, I?”, (so many get stuck at the hyperreal red stop of monkeys in the pale moonlight, or venturing further back, get mesmerised by lizards baking in the sun), to know how it goes. It is easier now to get out of these ‘traps’, though - from sinking into the realms of religious dogmas, or being lured into the Oedipal net, into a state of organised confusion, where enslaved with a vision of the fulfillment of desires designed externally “for you” one ceases becoming, to finding self at the dead-ends of internally hidden holes of solipsism, or - on the contrary - being locked in the anxious file cabinet of radical materialism… - as those in doubt who were before us, were there too, all human, after all; some of them wrote passages of their labored release from own past inclinations that signify the prevailing nature of some profound dream we are all, seemingly, after. Hence, as long as question is posed, there’s a chance the doors of endless possibilities have been unlocked already, and with each and every one originating from the exact same source, some were friendly enough to leave the copy of their copy of the key behind them. 

What would I like you to think of me?

Know that I am

What do I think of us? 

We come so anxious and worried about the hostility of the environment; the malice of sharp smiles and beady eyes is upon us. We've felt... We continuously feel heavy pain in our heart. Our chest is growing an evil lotus flower of pastel slime that bursts intensively out of our solar plexus. The only thing still intact is our spirit, and although its walls are being pricked constantly, we don't panic. On the outside of itself, people seem hostile. We sense danger. We feel too vulnerable, our sternum holds an invisible metal screw that is receding persistently, whilst our momentum is ebbing within it the entire time, as if we existed in the applied reality only as a heavy metal body, and the rest wasn't here anymore. People are looking at us with drone empty eyes, without any glimpse of selfhood, and the demons are standing still. Our belief is that people constitute a myriad of components that form different shades of grey while our strength is determined by how much force we possess to remain decent. It terrifies us, as the reality becomes less and less real and our mind more and more abstract. Life is a state of one's mind... Such state can be heavily affected by the environment, by the other. We perceive the hyperreality slowly mesmerising us into an anxious insignificant suit asking us to join the oblivion where nothing resides, where we are (not) in a way, already.

What do I think of you? 

Sounds are essential, you know. The youth is - in fact - the key to salvation. I'm writing this to you at the age of 40, so I'd like you to think and feel the impossible: “escape”. The older you’ll get the more gradual the change will become, you will learn to defragment self, believe me, you will overcome self, you will reinvent self, to the point where you'll realise viscerally and absolutely that there is no self. Outside it is all a matter of libidinal force. One fine day your happy bubble’s gonna pop. They will start picking, and you're fragile, they will poke accordingly with their (dis) order, their musick (sick). You will start raising above, higher and higher due to your resistance, and if you’re strong you will prevail alive. The more you’ll resist, the higher you will get, there lies a  issue ahead, never the less - you can’t escape societal gender binary no matter what you are, my little tree, my flower, my transgender love, my queer, my unique "transcendered". Let’s face it now - you’re fucked, fucked up, fucked over, and god help you if you just want to get off… At this point you are scared - it seems to you that the sound became a subconscious feeling on the move to find you: sharp teeth, crooked smiles, shiny eyes of beasts start reflecting your essence. Terror of the other, so remote from you out there, resisting to the further borders of sanity. 

Now stop, and read me this: You’ve reached a channel you will surely fall from. My assumption is that your blooming understanding of violet makes you tread very carefully. As above so below.

So what do I think you should do with all this?

The only thing you should do, you should punch a Nazi

For poetic reasons.

All is transient, everything is temporary, you're capable of the personal flow, just know that you are, and everything else will unfold by itself, try not to try, accept setbacks, sit tight, and brace yourself in the face of the great annihilator and the absolute signifier, we are all scared shitless, we are in this together you and me. I hope my poetry isn't pure shite and you will find something wee for yourself within it so without further ado:

[deerydear]

I reckon that a few years after Tom had healed from his injuries, Terry had managed to track him down. He was very weak-willed, and easily malleable.

At some point she involves him in torturing other people. She has a knack for it, she laughs while doing it. She gets off.

All he sees is pain. He had wanted to prove himself to her. As he's choking a man out, the man looks in his eyes and realizes that he is nothing inside. That he's better than the person strangling him -- that this is equivalent to a temper tantrum. He just needs to wait for it to be over.

It's a unique thing for the person you're strangling to look in your eyes and know they're better than you. He felt undressed, like he was crawling on the floor again, like he was nothing more than what she did to him. and here he was, only acting out to try to make himself anything more than a victim. The only motivation -- empty. He knew that anything more that he did to this man would not hurt him. He had seen the truth.

Utterly impotent. My hands mean nothing. They make nothing.

Several years into their cohabitation, she was hit by a bus while crossing the street. It was an accident. The driver was crying, absolutely remorseful. He had no idea of any of her past, and he might never know. No one talked, no one reported to the police. She died, painted like a victim. He paid for her funeral.

Suddenly, Tom was thrust out into the world again on his own. No one to lean on. He had receded from all other relationships when the abuse began. Most of his friendships were fairweather, anyways. Party friends, fun to do drugs with. Nothing serious. He hadn't developed a sense of responsibility. He was dramatic, immature, .....easy to get away with. Boy cries wolf.

He wasn't so dramatic, now.

An old friend was freaked out by his mute stare. The man he had lived with prior -- the woman's brother -- tried to offer comfort to him. Tom used to seek his company often, but after all these years, he only trusted Terry. She wouldn't leave him alone. Ludwig tried to give him a hug, and he started crying and defending himself, running away, crying out for her. All these years.

Did you know that eagles like to eat baby herons?

To watch a bald eagle raid a nesting colony of great blue herons is a gut-churning experience. “The herons have a progression of alarms,” explains Ross Vennesland, a researcher with Environment and Climate Change Canada. “They start with a chortle, and quickly move to really hideous screaming as the eagle swoops in and lands on the nest.” The adult herons are usually forced to flee, while the eagle cracks open an egg or flies away with a chick. “It’s a pretty horrible scene to witness,” he says. You’d think the herons would want to build their nests as far away from bald eagles as possible. But you’d be dead wrong. Research on the southwest coast of British Columbia shows that herons are deliberately seeking out nesting pairs of eagles—and building right next to them. “You can understand the predator wanting to be near the prey, but not really the other way around,” Vennesland says. “We were amazed. We call it the mafia-protection racket.” A heron’s decision to build right next door to such a dangerous predator is a delicate trade-off. Bald eagles are territorial and will chase off other eagles. A heron colony with a neighboring eagle pair may lose some young to them, but the carnage would be greater without their protection.

and now she's dead.

There is no justice in the world, just wind blowing through an empty autumn field. He had grown into the shape provided by her. He figured he wouldn't ever see life without her, again. He had adjusted, adapted, maladapted, and here he was... Done all that for it to amount to dirt on a grave. He could have secretly resisted, kept parts of himself intact and whole... bided his time, but he gave in. He wanted comfort.

"Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood."

-- 1984

I keep hearing this fragment of an online conversation:

"Chat!!!! STOP RALLYING BEHIND GRIFFITH!!!!"

It is reminding me of when I had to take my old roleplaying friend aside and explain what was happening behind the scenes to her.

In our roleplay, I played two characters. One of them was very smart, well put together, and she lied. She lied right to her brother's face. He could have seen through it. He had evidence of what was going on, but as my friend put it: "He just hoped that if he ignored it, it would resolve itself."

and that is a relationship that happens in the real world. That can happen, if you choose. In our roleplay, I wanted to be realistic. I wasn't going to give her more information than she would already have naturally.

"*puts hands on your shoulders* I'm going to lie to you. Watch out. Are you ready?"

Who even does that in the real world? No! They just lie!

So I drunkenly explained this seven years later, after we reconnected.

"I wanted to believe her and side with her because she seemed to have herself put together. She seemed stable."

and the person she was torturing seemed to be a total drunken mess, totally incoherent, unwilling to speak, terrified. She would tell him that she knew all his secrets, that there were secret cameras recording everything in the house, that she knew everything he said, she would know if he asked for help. and what if her brother rejected his plea? What if he humiliated himself for an even-lesser position in the food chain?

So he never spoke, and he commited suicide later, and the EMTs saved his life, and he went to go live somewhere else.

and her brother developed a drinking problem, afterwards, and he realized the weight of his mistake. This realization did nothing to relieve the pain that this boy went through. He was still trauamtized, terrified of that man because he just sat back and watched, and he had actually beaten him up one time that the boy had tried to hide in his room, to get away from her.

"STOP COMING IN MY FUCKING ROOM!"

and so all his apologies fell into a deep well that muffled all vibrations. They are insignificant in the enormity of it.

and that man didn't want to see himself as a bad person, or he did, but he wanted to think of it as a funny thing and not a horrific thing that leads to a young man committing suicide.

or maybe none of it matters...

and that's just how the world can be. There can be people who watch someone get abused, and they want reassurance that they aren't a bad person for not helping. "Oh I can make it better, now!" Can you?

Seven years of my life stolen away. Can you bring that back?

[zoeykallus]

Crosshair – My Beloved Enemy 19 – I've Never Been Good At Goodbyes

Crosshair x Female!Reader (FF)

Warnings: ANGST/HURT/ Ouch/Heartache/Fluff, but the sad kind

_______

Author's Comment:

Reused this gif again, because right here and now it fits almost perfectly. PS: Ouch.

_______

What Happened Before:

Part 1 - Crash Landing

Part 2 - Hot And Cold

Part 3 - Hello Kitten

Part 4 - Look Who’s Back

Part 5 - Rebel Darling

Part 6 - Burning Anger

Part 7 - Love And Pain

Part 8 - A Difficult Reunion

Part 9 - The Bitter Taste Of Blood And Failure

Part 10 - Where The Dead Ships Dwell

Part 11 - A Lonely Firefly In Space

Part 12 - Broken Wings

Part 13 - A Helping Hand

Part 14 - The Justifier

Part 15 - The Bounty

Part 16 - Trapped

Part 17 -I Love You Too

Part 18 - When The Past Catches Up With Us

Part 19 - I've Never Been Good At Goodbyes

Hunter and Lando looked at you like you had the answer to all the outstanding questions, but unfortunately, you didn't.

Kyllan Coltroy, was a mistake that now caught up with you. You had barely been old enough to marry when he asked you, and why you had said yes then, you didn't really know in retrospect.

Kyllan was handsome, the kind of guy every woman turned to, and many a man too. Tall, well built, full, pitch black hair, eyes as blue as sapphires, a striking, flawless face as if chiseled from marble. Yes, in retrospect, you had been dazzled by his would-be charm and looks. The moment you realized he was a selfish airhead, unfortunately, came just after the wedding ceremony when you saw and heard him talking to one of his subordinates, boastful, condescending and not particularly eloquent, to put it kindly.

Kyllan could have been the perfect man with a little heart and mind, but he was far from it. You had known how influential he and his family were, you knew the only way to get away from him was to simply disappear and that is exactly what you had done at the time.

"I don't know what we can do. I hate to say it, but the bounty hunter is right, if he's on his way here too, we're screwed. He'll bring a lot of his men with him. Kyllan isn't the brightest, but he's not taking any chances," you said dejectedly.

Hunter looked at you sympathetically. You could see that he was torn with his thoughts, wanting to protect his brothers, but also not wanting to let you down. You couldn't let him wear himself out because of you, that more damage was done because of you.

"Where is Rex anyway?" you asked nervously, hoping for the Captain's strong shoulder.

"He had to leave on a mission, the resistance on Naboo asked for his help" Hunter explained "If he had known what was going to happen here, he would have stayed".

You sighed. There was no other choice.

"The Firefly is practically intact. I should leave Bespin, alone."

"That's crazy," Lando said, "You're a much easier target alone."

Hunter gritted his teeth, you knew he was feverishly searching his mind for another solution.

"I have to go, it's the only way to protect all of you and prevent Bespin and its people from suffering more damage and loss. I am very sorry that it has come to this, I wish I could make it up to you, but I know I cannot. What I can do is to protect you from further danger from him," you said seriously and resolutely.

Of course you had a certain fear, but you knew it was the right thing to do, basically the two men knew that too.

Lost in thought, your fingers reached for the Crosshair pendant on your necklace, leaving him behind hurt the most by far. At the moment he was mad at you too, or disappointed, and you didn't really have time for explanations, Kyllan might already be on his way, you had to leave immediately. That didn't make things easier, but you had no choice.

As you entered the hangar, you saw Tech, Echo, Crosshair and Wrecker working on various things on the Marauder. You didn't really have time to say goodbye, so you tried to slip past them quietly. It was awkward and you didn't like it, but it was better if you left right away. You didn't have time to get into discussions, because you were sure that if they knew what you were up to, they wouldn't want to let you go.

Echo, however, put a spoke in your wheel.

"Ad'ika! Where are you going?"

The question was innocent but it made you wince.

Crosshair looked up from his work and moved toward you just as you opened the Firefly's ramp.

"Can't tell you right now. Hunter will explain everything later," you said evasively.

Crosshair quickened his steps, keeping a critical eye on you as if he suspected you were up to something stupid. When he reached you, he firmly grabbed your arm to keep you from entering the Firefly.

"Where do you think you're going now? We have some things to discuss, you can't just run away from it!" he growled, half indignant, half miffed.

You sighed and looked up at him sadly. You almost reminded him that he ran first, but now was not the time and you didn't really blame him for doing so either.

When he saw the expression on your face, he softened.

"What's wrong?" he asked much more gently.

You gently but firmly pulled yourself out of his grip, kissed him softly on the cheek and said, "I'm sorry I let you down. This man means nothing to me, he is my past that I ran away from, I never expected him to still be looking for me after so long. I love you more than anything, I always will, don't worry about that."

Uncertainly he frowned.

"I was surprised, I admit that.... I'm not really angry. I was just rattled. But what worries me much more right now is that you sound like you're saying goodbye" he spoke seriously.

"Indeed," Echo commented from the background, critically.

"For the time being, I do have to go. I just wanted you to know that before I leave."

"But you'll be back?" asked Wrecker lurkingly as if he suspected what Tech already knew.

Your eyes wandered over Tech who had already understood the situation, he hardly dared to look at you, his gaze was sadly lowered and you saw that he had to pull himself together.

"Sure. I just have to do something so we can get rid of the guy who put the bounty on me. But I have to do that alone, I'll be back afterwards," a lie had never been so damn hard for you, even if you generally didn't like lying, this was the hardest one of your life.

Crosshair looked at you like he had trouble believing you, but didn't want to distrust you either.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" he asked cautiously.

You shook your head, "I don't know, but I have to go now."

You pressed a slightly longer kiss to Crosshair's lips before turning away, running up the ramp and closing it behind you without looking back. You knew it would only hurt if you looked back. That one kiss had probably been your last and you would have loved to drag it out and enjoy it even longer, but there was no time, even for that.

Crosshair looked critically at the closed ramp; when the machine started noisily, he took a step back. He glanced at his brothers and caught sight of Tech.

Gritting his teeth, he said, "Something's wrong here, you know something! What's wrong?!"

Tech looked sadly at his brother, his eyes almost tearing up behind his yellow tinted goggles.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Wrecker asked softly, "She's not coming back, is she?"

Echo frowned and said, "But why not? Why would she lie to us?"

"To protect us," Crosshair spoke somberly "I can't...I can't let that happen, she's in danger on her own!"

His gaze twitched to the hangar doors where Lando and Hunter were just showing up. As the heavy metal gates opened, his heart began to race.

"No! Close the hangar doors!" he shouted to Hunter and Lando and ran toward the men, Tech, Echo and Wrecker following.

"This is going to be messy," Hunter muttered quietly, earning a worried sideways glance from Lando.

"He'll do anything to keep her from leaving without him?" guessed Lando.

"Exactly," Hunter confirmed, "And we have to stop him."

Crosshair approached and Hunter was already standing in front of the console that controlled the hangar doors. Hunter didn't want you on your own any more than anyone else, but he understood and accepted your decision, and for now, it was the right decision to protect lives, including those of his brothers.

"Get out of the way!" grumbled Crosshair, reaching out to push his brother aside.

Hunter, however, braced himself against the sniper's grip and soon after, Lando also helped hold Crosshair down.

When Crosshair realized he was definitely going to be held back, he got rougher, trying to kick and punch to get to the console, but Hunter was prepared for it and out-maneuvered him until he had him in a headlock.

Crosshair threw himself around, causing Hunter to land under him and let go for a moment.

"You sons of bitches! Get your hands off me! You can't seriously be okay with her going off on her own!" he rumbled as Lando and Tech held him until Hunter was back on his feet, and stood in front of the console again.

To his left and right, Lando and Tech each held one of his arms. Crosshair looked over his shoulder and saw the Firefly slowly floating toward the open hangar doors.

"No!" he exclaimed, bracing himself against Lando and Tech, nearly breaking free as well, if Hunter hadn't intervened.

"Wrecker, would be nice if you helped out!" growled Tech.

Wrecker defiantly crossed his arms in front of his chest and murmured, "No. I don't want her to go. I won't stop her from doing what she wants, but I sure as hell won't stop my brother from trying to protect the woman he loves."

Echo said: „Don't look at me. I pretty much think the same“

A little surprised the men looked at each other, but there was no time for discussion anyway.

You flew the Firefly carefully and slowly towards the hangar doors to avoid colliding with other ships or people still in the hangar. You looked through the cockpit window and saw the tussle at the hangar console and felt a merciless fist close around your heart.

The closer you got to the gates, the better you could see the situation and the pain in your chest got worse and the burning behind your eyes more intense. Crosshair wouldn't let you go and the others were trying to keep him from closing the hangar doors.

It hurt so terribly to see him so desperate. You couldn't hear him, but you could see that he was screaming something at the top of his lungs. You had never seen him act so agitated and intense. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, silently, while you turned your eyes away with a heavy heart and steered the Firefly through the open gates into the sky.

Over the comm you heard a crackle, then Crosshair's breathless, hoarse voice: "Kitten? Y/N, can you hear me?"

Contact would only last until you were in hyperspace.

In a trembling voice you answered him softly, "I'm so sorry. I've never been good at goodbyes. You know I love you, don't you?"

His voice sounded pressed as he said, "If that's really true, then come back!"

You held the micro closed to hide the sob that escaped you. By the time you had collected yourself, the Firefly was already breaking through the cloud cover and the darkness of space loomed before you.

"I can't, Crosshair, please forgive me."

"Cyare..." he spoke softly "I love you and no matter what you do now or where you go now, I promise you I will find you"

Suppressing another sob, you activated the hyperspace jump and opened another open comm channel.

"Kyllan. This is Y/N, I understand you are looking for me and seem to stop at nothing to get me. I am traveling in the old Firefly I stole from you back when I took off. It has a new ID, but it's the same ship. I'm on my way to Onderon, you'll find me in the Highlands. Come and get me."

Crosshair slowly sank to the floor and sat down. His pulse was racing so fast he was dizzy, he felt like he was losing his footing.

Tech looked up and said, "Y/N just sent a message to Kyllan Coltroy on an open Comm Chanel."

Crosshair looked up startled, he was pale and looked slain.

"Let's hear it," Hunter grumbled.

"Kyllan. It's Y/N, I hear you're looking for me and seem to stop at nothing to get hold of me. I'm traveling in the old Firefly I stole from you back when I took off. It has a new ID, but it's the same ship. I'm on my way to Onderon, you'll find me in the Highlands. Come and get me."

Wrecker put his hands on his hips and said, "Well I don't know what you're up to, but Crosshair and I are going to Onderon. I'm sure Lando will lend us a ship, am I right?"

Lando grinned with a sigh and nodded.

"I have a very good ship sitting here on site right now. It actually belongs to a friend, but he doesn't need it right now. If you bring it back to me in one piece, you can have it. It's fast and reliable."

Everyone looked at Hunter.

He threw his arms in the air and said, "It's not like we weren't looking for her sooner or later anyway. We'll go together, anyone who wants to come along"

"We are all coming," Echo said „And all this drama was for nothing, poor brother“, and helped Crosshair stand up.

Tech nodded with a sigh but he smiled, he was relieved to know the guys would go come after you.

"We should hurry", Crosshair said sternly.

@twinkofthedink

@tazmbc1

@kristinainspace

@ladykatakuri

@inthemoshpitt

@whore4rex

@rexandechosandwich

@anndraco0523

@revan-posting

@dwarfnip

@ben-is-a-hoe

@ttzamara

@ilikemymendarkandfictional

@kaminocasey

@brynhildrmimi

@photowizard17

@moondust-24

[smileyoongle]

Falling for a lounge singer (Yandere!Mafia! BTS)// Kim Taehyung

Requested anonymously.

Summary: Working as a part time singer, you never thought you'd find yourself becoming the centre of attention of a man's life, especially one who you can't run from.

Word Count: 2.5K

The city was laid out brightly before you, cool wind making your hair stick to your glossy lips as you rested your elbows on the railing of the rooftop. Working for hours amidst people who were rich and liked to show off was stressful, especially when you knew you didn't fit in between them. If it wasn't for your voice, no one would even give you a second glance but there you were, attracting loud applauds every time you held the mic. It made you feel almost cocky but your conscience didn't allow it, reminding you of your place in this world time and time again.

With a soft sigh, you stared at the pretty sky, the stars scattered across it twinkling to grab your attention yet failing to do so. Because even though you loved the peace and quiet, your mind was restlessly loud tonight. Loud with thoughts about a man you had seen too many times, but never had the pleasure of meeting. A man who had sent you a single white freesia every night before disappearing without a word.

But tonight was different. Because he wasn't here. In fact, he hadn't been here for the last three days and if you were being honest, you missed him.

You missed his dark eyes that gazed at you with so much fervour that it made you dizzy. You missed how his attention made you feel like it was just the two of you in the room. You missed how he was so mysterious that you had convinced yourself to approach him. Yet, he managed to really slip away this time.

Glancing at the dried freesia in your hand, you traced it's dead petals, barely hanging on as the rest of it began to fall apart. This was the last one you had found near your vanity, not having seen another since he disappeared.

"Where did you go?" You mumbled, twirling the stem between your fingers, being as gentle as you could. There was no way for you to know if you'd ever see him again because every time you asked the staff about him, they just brushed you off by saying how some things were better left unknown. It made you wonder what was so bad about him that no one was willing to say a word.

"I'm right here, petal."

A deep voice stated from behind you, your heels quickly making you turn around to see who it was but the darkness and the distance between you two made it hard for you to tell. You frowned, watching the man's silhouette move closer to you, your fingers tightly holding onto your flower. And as soon as your eyes took in his face, your lips fell apart in a silent gasp.

There he was, looking at you with the same passion that his eyes held every time you saw him. You could feel your heart lose its rhythm, pounding erratically in your chest making you almost breathless. He was a lot more beautiful up close, your mind not having prepared you for seeing him here at all. Upon seeing you so speechless, he let out a low chuckle, one of his hands curled behind his back as his fitted black shirt hugged his biceps perfectly.

"Is this my punishment for having left you alone? You refuse to talk to me?" He asked, tilting his head to study your expression better. You remained silent, still processing the fact that the man you were so desperately looking for, was now standing so close to you. A part of you wanted to tell him that you could never be mad at him when he looked like an angel but your tongue stayed tied.

He hummed at your silence, taking another step towards, his eyes glancing at the dead flower that stayed intact between your fingers. Slowly, you felt his hand hold your wrist, a shiver running down your spine at his touch. Bringing it up, he took away the flower, throwing it somewhere to the side only to present another freesia before you, this one a striking red that made your heart skip a beat. You held onto its stalk as your mystery man placed it between your fingers, your cheeks growing warm at the way his eyes stayed fixated on your face.

“Red?” You asked, returning his gaze with an equally feverish one, his lips morphing into a smile upon hearing your voice.

“And she speaks.” He laughed lowly, his deep melody echoing in the silence of the night. Taking yet another step towards you, he placed his hands on the railing behind you, trapping you in close proximity. Your back rested firmly against the bars, your chest almost touching his.

“Yes, petal. Red. Do you know what it means?” He murmured, only loud enough for you to hear. Lost in his eyes, you didn’t notice the hand that was now tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips being the sole focus of the man’s attention. Resting his palm against your cheek, you found yourself leaning into his warmth, sighing at the butterflies you felt in your stomach.

“No,” you answered, closing your eyes when you saw him lean down until his lips grazed the shell of your ear. His long fingers brushed your hair away from your neck, your own hand clutching the flower tightly to calm your heart that was about to jump out of your chest.

“It symbolizes passion,” he whispered, his hands moving down to hold your waist and pull you flush against him. Speechless, you rested your hands on his chest, biting your lip as your forehead fell against his shoulder.

“Who are you?” You inquired, finally asking the question that had been gnawing at you ever since you saw him. A dead silence fell over the both of you all of a sudden, a frown etching onto your forehead as you were made to pull away from him a little. You found yourself missing his embrace, feeling as though you had known him for a long long time.

“You don’t know me,” he said, more like telling himself again rather than asking you. Gently shaking your head, you placed your gaze on his chest, a peek of white bandages catching your eye from beneath the few buttons that were left open at the top of his shirt. Without a thought, you moved it a little to the side, your eyes widening at the small red patch that stained the centre of the dressing, your lips parting in shock at the realisation that it was, indeed, blood.

“What happened?” You asked, worry and concern lacing your voice. He pursed his lips, his jaw clenching ever so lightly along with his hold on your waist which grew tighter. Wincing in pain, you looked at him in confusion, wondering if you had said something to upset him. And before you could ask him, he said something that perished all the warm feelings that had been brewing in your chest lately.

“My name is Kim Taehyung, Y/N. And I’ll be really mad if you decide to run away now.”

With eyes as wide as they could be, you stood frozen in his arms, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Fear consumed your entire being, your throat running dry at the very thought of being here with Kim Taehyung, the man who was responsible for the rise of one of the biggest cartels in the world. His hands were stained with the blood of god knows how many people, the wound on his chest suddenly making a lot of sense. Losing your grip on his shirt, you let your arms fall to your sides, unmoving and unable to process the situation anymore.

Suddenly, you were aware of his burning touch all over you, your mind screaming at you to get away from him. Yet you didn’t make a move, because you knew very well that you were almost nothing in front of a trained killer who could snap your neck in the blink of an eye. Parting your lips, you willed yourself to scream as loud as you could, failing yet again with his icy glare staring you down.

Gone were all the emotions you had witnessed in his eyes a few minutes ago, making you feel as if this was a whole new man that you had never met before. A tear ran down your cheek, your brain slowly hitting you with the mixed amount of emotions that were driving you insane. You were hurt, scared, disappointed in yourself and a lot more you couldn’t yet place a finger on.

“Y/N,” his voice brought you back to him, wary of the hand that was now wiping away your tears. Eyeing him cautiously, you tried to think fast, escaping him being the only agenda on your mind right now.

Taehyung knew what you were thinking, it didn't take a genius to know that all you wanted was to run away from him before things became a mess. But it was too late now, your innocence having left Taehyung mesmerized a long time ago. And now that you were so close to him, he was ready to do anything to make you stay.

"I don't wanna die," you said, your voice wavering with the dying confidence that burnt in you like a flickering flame. Being in his arms felt good, but knowing that those hands could also push you off the roof without anyone finding out was a thought that overcame everything else.

"And you won't, petal. Just because I'm a dangerous man, doesn't mean I would lay a finger on you," he answered, quickly catching onto the fact that you thought of him as a killer. It hurt him to know that you so easily forgot every other feeling you had been sheltering all this time, his identity crumbling down to nothing in your mind. But he would fix it.

He would fix you.

His words were enough to let you know that he wasn't planning on letting you leave, convincing you seemingly the only thing on his mind. At this point, violence seemed your only answer, your eyes once more taking in the sight of the bandaging on his chest.

"I'm sorry," you apologized beforehand, inhaling nervously at his confused expression before digging your nails into his chest. A growl left his mouth immediately, his hands letting go of your waist as you pushed him to the side with all your strength and bolted towards the door.

Taehyung fell to the floor behind you, his hand covering his shirt right where the wound was, the wetness of the blood seeping through his bandages. He hissed in pain, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the wall. The sound of your cries felt like music to his ears, your small fists banging on the door which had been locked the second Taehyung stepped onto the rooftop. It was funny of you to think that you could overpower Kim Taehyung so easily, your obliviousness once again showing through your stupid attempt to escape him.

Tears ran down your cheeks upon the realisation that you were stuck here with him, your heart pounding in your chest just like your hands against the door. You were a fool to think Taehyung wasn't fully prepared. Of course he had expected this from you. Of course he was one step ahead of you.

"Please, someone open the door!" You begged, sobbing with your forehead against the cold metal, slowly sinking to your knees. Just then, you heard his laugh, deeply resonating around you as you frowned in silence. It was endless, not the kind of laughter you'd hear after a joke but the kind you'd hear only with the intention of being mocked. He was laughing at you and your silly attempt of running away from him, knowing very well that Kim Taehyung did not let go of things that he so desperately craved. You being one of them.

"Did you think it was that easy, Y/N?" He asked, his voice dripping with amusement. Turning around to face him, you stared at him with teary eyes, watching his painful state with a heart full of regret. You weren't one to hurt people at all, let alone intentionally and yet you had taken such a drastic leap tonight. To save yourself. That was truly justified, wasn't it?

"Petal, even if you had managed to leave this place, I'll have you know that I'll always find you." He grinned maliciously, making you truly scared of him. Gritting his teeth, he stood up, your back pressing against the door as he slowly proceeded to stalk towards you, his gaze pinning you down and rendering you unable to move. You felt like a prey before him, his angry eyes telling you just how much you had pissed him off.

"I just wanna go home," you stated, frowning at him with wet cheeks and quivering lips. Halting right before you, Taehyung kneeled down, his hand coming to rest against your cheek.

"And we'll go, Y/N. We'll go to our home," he mumbled almost lovingly, his eyes glistening with so much affection that if you didn't know any better, you'd think he loved you. The truth of the situation though, was that Kim Taehyung was obsessed with you and there was no way you were going to let him take you.

"N-no, I wanna go to my home," you dared, Taehyung's jaw clenching upon hearing your words. Within a second, his fingers dug into both your cheeks, your lips pouting at the force with which he was holding your jaw in place. Leaning closer to you, Taehyung's nose brushed against yours, your own hand taking hold of his wrist to make him let go.

"What a shame it'd be to know that your little sister had to die because you couldn't make the right decisions."

Eyes widening, you let out a whimper at his threat, your breath having been knocked out for a second. It was as if the world had stopped around you, your heart wishing that this was all just a bad dream. The thought of anything happening to your sister was enough to break your will, especially since you were the only one she had. If she were to get hurt because of the one person who was supposed to protect her, then you couldn't even begin to imagine how meaningless your own life would become.

Taehyung loosened his grip on your jaw, watching you cry harder because of what he had said. It hurt him to know that you were crying because of him but he had to say it. Sure, you were hurt right now, maybe you even hated him but he knew that once you became his, you'd never have to see a bad day in your life. He would love you so hard that you'd never think about anyone else ever again. It was going to be just you and him. Forever.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't hurt her." You cried, sealing your fate with the devil with no chance of going back. Smiling fondly at you, Taehyung wiped your tears, the stench of blood hitting your nose only for you to see his crimson tainted hand grazing your cheek.

"I'll take very good care of you, petal. Don't you worry your little head," he cooed, your eyes staring at him with horror. You could feel the blood now staining your cheek, Taehyung's eyes adoring it with a hint of madness. His blood on your skin was like his name on a trophy, a sign of who it belonged to. And it gave Taehyung an immense amount of pleasure to see your innocence tainted with his filthy gore. The colour red was yours and Taehyung couldn't wait to paint you in it.

"We'll be drowning in love soon, just wait and watch."

A/N: Hiiii, see I am back again! I don't have much to say today cause I am really sad for some reason. You know, the kind of sad that makes you wanna just sit and cry all night? Yeah, it's THAT!

Anywayyyy! I'll probably be posting each member in a break of 4-5 days because I want each member to get their fill. Soooo, the next one comes in a while! Till then, have fun, guys. Ily<3

[asweetprologue]

hematoma of the heart

Octoberfest 9: Wound reveal (whumptober #30)

Hitting the tree is more surprising than painful. A strange shock goes through Jaskier’s entire body when it happens, a litany of unspoken no no no through him as his side slams into the wood and he topples to the ground. For a moment he can’t see, can barely even think, just feeling a dizzying sense of wrongness that makes his skin buzz with anxiety. 

Then, finally, the pain does come to him, bursting from his ribs. If his breath hadn’t already been crushed from his lungs, he would have wheezed at the intensity of it. He lies there for a long moment, curled into a protective ball and trying to get his chest to expand beyond the jagged feeling in his ribs. Through bleary eyes, he can see that Geralt is still fighting the fiend, twisting and rolling deftly around it. That’s good, Jaskier thinks. Gives him some time to sort this out. 

The fiend hadn’t even really been paying him any mind, which was almost more embarrassing. Jaskier had gotten in the way, a bit, though it wasn’t really anyone’s fault that the fight stumbled its way so close to his hiding spot. Normally Geralt would never allow Jaskier to tag along to a fight this dangerous, but as usual trouble found them. Geralt had picked up the smell of the fiend on the breeze, and the noble bastard hadn’t been able to leave well enough alone. His stubborn bravery and selflessness is one of the many reasons Jaskier loves the man, but at this exact moment he finds himself wishing that, for once, they’d just kept out of it. 

After a long moment of lying still and trying to gather his wits, Jaskier slowly sits up. He leans his back against the offending tree and tries to stay as still as possible, not wanting to draw the fiend’s attention or break Geralt’s stride. Mentally he takes inventory. Toes and fingers wriggle when he tests them, so that’s good. No pain in his neck, though it radiates out from his left side and across his back like a sunburst. When he sticks a hand against his shirt he doesn’t feel the wet, tacky sensation of blood, so aside from a few abrasions it looks like he’s escaped with his skin intact. 

Jaskier knows his ribs are bruised, maybe even slightly broken, but overall it’s not as bad as it could be. Jaskier watches as Geralt’s sword descends into the neck of the fiend, a hot spray of blood splashing across the ground and Geralt’s face. The second the beast falls to the ground, Geralt looks up and finds Jaskier’s gaze, his own eyes wild.

Jaskier realizes two things at once. One: Geralt is going to be livid if Jaskier was hurt during a fight, and there’s a very great chance that it will make him not want to take Jaskier on hunts in the future. He’ll say that Jaskier is at risk and is a risk himself, likely to cause Geralt to get distracted and wind up with one of them dead. Never mind that Geralt often needs help after a hard fight, might not be able to make it back on his own or just needs a hand patching up the worst of his wounds. Never mind that Jaskier hates being left behind, hates sitting in a cold, empty camp or inn waiting to see if Geralt will come back this time. Never mind that Jaskier’s entire supposed reason for being here is to get first hand experience of what monster hunting is really like, even if that maybe isn’t so much the reason he’s so dedicated to the Path anymore. 

And two: Geralt will blame himself. 

Jaskier decides, in the span of a second, that he’s not going to say anything. It’s not so bad, after all. How hard could it be to keep a few bruised ribs to himself? 

In the time it takes for him to determine this course of action, Geralt is upon him. He doesn’t touch - Jaskier touches Geralt. Geralt does not touch back, unless it’s to manhandle Jaskier out of danger. Jaskier tries not to think too hard about why this is. Geralt looks at him, his eyes intense but unreadable as always, and Jaskier takes a steadying breath that makes his ribs ache. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, almost more of a grunt than a name. He’s only breathing a bit more heavily than normal, as if he’d just been on a light morning jog. “You alright?”

Jaskier nods, forcing himself to climb unsteadily to his feet. The movement is agony, his back screaming as his muscles shift and stretch. He bites his cheek, forcing himself not to gasp or wince. The pain isn’t sharp, just pulsing, which is a good sign. He thinks. “All accounted for,” he says to Geralt, hoping that his voice doesn’t sound too strained. 

With another human, Jaskier doesn’t think he’d have been able to get away with it. No one would be able to get thrown against a tree with such force and pop back up perfectly alright. But Geralt isn’t human, and over the years of traveling together, Jaskier has realized that Geralt knows fuck all about how much humans can withstand. He is both terrified of their fragility and entirely unaware of their limits. He grew up around witchers and has never stuck around any human beings long enough to figure out what really could hurt them. Jaskier thinks, sometimes, that maybe Geralt doesn’t touch him because he’s afraid Jaskier will break. But then Jaskier falls from a horse or gets punched in the jaw or stumbles over the side of a small ravine and Geralt will act surprised when Jaskier’s ankle is twisted or his face is bruised. The witcher just has no idea what will actually cause damage and what Jaskier can walk away from.

So Jaskier plasters on his most convincing court mask and gives Geralt a winning smile, and he knows he’s won when Geralt gives an almost imperceptible shrug. Jaskier watches his shoulders drop ever so slightly, his expression loosening just a fraction. Jaskier drinks up Geralt’s worry like a man drowning of thirst, but he’s still relieved when Geralt turns back towards the fiend. If Geralt knew he was really hurt, his tender concern over Jaskier’s well being would morph into guilt and anger, and that’s the last thing Jaskier wants. So he forces himself to follow after Geralt, and he doesn’t even limp. 

Jaskier does not limp as they set up camp that night, or as he follows Geralt to town the next day, or over the course of the next week on the road. It’s probably making the healing process longer than it needs to be, he knows, but he’s in too deep now to back down. And if he winces occasionally when he’s getting up in the morning, stiff and sore and aching, or if he sucks in a breath to hide a yelp when someone brushes past his wounded shoulder in an inn, Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. Jaskier changes when Geralt leaves for breakfast or to take a piss or to bathe and he thinks he does an okay job, overall, of hiding it. It hurts in another way, deep in his gut, that Geralt doesn’t say anything. Jaskier doesn’t want him to say anything, doesn’t want him to know, but in another way he does. He really does. He wants Geralt to find out and be upset because he cares about Jaskier, cares about his well being and whether he’s in pain. He wants the full force of those golden eyes on him with total attention, those broad hands running across his flank to search for damage. Jaskier wants. 

Maybe that’s why he lets his guard down. Or maybe he’s just healing nicely, and so for a few hours Jaskier just… forgets. They’re in a tavern, stopped in a small town a week and a half away from the fiend encounter, and Jaskier is a bit drunk. He’s been playing, for the first time since he was thrown into that tree, and it felt so good he got a bit lost in it. The crowd was small but invested, lively and eager for entertainment, and Jaskier had been passed more than a couple of tankards. Geralt had watched it all unfold with mild amusement, matching Jaskier cup for cup but barely tipsy by the end of the night. Jaskier had stumbled up the stairs with Geralt close on his heels, likely making sure he didn’t tumble back down the steps. He isn’t that drunk, truly. Barely wobbling as he’d made his way into the room. But as he tugs off his boots now and tosses aside his doublet, he’s drunk enough that he forgets, for the first time in a week, that he’s got something to hide. He turns away from Geralt and unbuttons his shirt, yawning around some garbled sentence about how many ales he’s had. The fabric has barely left his shoulders when he hears Geralt make a strangled sound, and turns to find himself nose to nose with the witcher. 

“Uh,” he says, articulately, and hisses as Geralt’s fingers come up to prod his side. Oh, right. Fuck. He’d been doing so well. 

“What the fuck is this?” Geralt asks, and his voice comes out as a low, warning growl that Jaskier feels in his toes. It’s threatening, he reprimands himself. Geralt is scary when he’s mad. Not hot. Scary. “Jaskier,” Geralt says, and Jaskier snaps back to the moment. 

“I’m fine,” Jaskier says, too quickly. He’s trying to pull his shirt back up to cover up the canvas of blue-purple-yellow that’s scattered across his ribs and shoulder, but Geralt’s hands are in the way. He must be truly surprised, to break his own rules about personal space like this. “I fell, it looks worse than it is. Nothing to be concerned about, truly, I don’t even think my ribs took too much damage -”

“When?” Geralt says. His tone and his hands are demanding, pulling Jaskier’s arm up away from his body so Geralt can get a closer look. Jaskier feels himself flush under his touch, and he’s annoyed at himself for it. 

“Uh, a - a week ago? Around then? It’s been a few days.”

Geralt looks away from the bruises, his eyebrows pinched together. His golden eyes are intense, searching Jaskier’s face for a lie. There’s a moment of quiet between them, Geralt thinking with his hand spread across Jaskier’s ribs, and then his face softens with surprise. “The fiend hunt,” he says, and then his face shutters into that expression, furious and guilty, that Jaskier was trying to avoid this whole damn time. 

“I was fine,” he tries to say, but Geralt is already growling at him. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Jaskier?” he snaps. Gentle-rough hands push Jaskier down onto the one bed in the room. They’d decided to share, to save money. Always to save money. Geralt starts pacing, not an aimless trek but a journey around the room, pulling various supplies out of their scattered bags. “You could have died. What if your lung had been punctured? Or your kidney ruptured?” A jar and a roll of bandages are thrown down by Jaskier’s side, and the bard winces at the sharp movement. Geralt stops in front of him, fists clenched at his side, glaring down at Jaskier’s face. Accusation in every line of his body. 

Jaskier sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, not bothering to hide the wince as it pulls at his side. “I didn’t want to worry you,” he says, and his voice is smaller than he’d like it to be. He didn’t do anything wrong, really. Geralt isn’t entitled to know of Jaskier’s every scrape and bruise. Yet Jaskier feels guilty regardless. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The fiend was there, so was I, I ended up fine! I’ll be better in another week or less.”

Geralt looks away, jaw clenching as he studies the far side of the room with intense scrutiny. Without looking back, he says, “You should have told me.” 

Before Jaskier can respond, Geralt turns and gathers up the supplies on the bed and sits down beside him. The lid of the jar pops off, releasing a cool, minty smell into the air. “Lift your arm up,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier does. He can only go up so far without pain, so he rests his forearm on Geralt’s shoulder, suddenly aware that he’s bare from the waist up and Geralt is still fully dressed. It makes him feel off balance and short of breath, for some reason. A moment later Geralt’s fingers are smoothing lightly over his ribs, rubbing whatever salve was in the jar across Jaskier’s bruises. The gentle touch steals the rest of the air from Jaskier’s lungs.

Jaskier lets Geralt work on him in silence, the minutes stretching out silently between them. He’s not sure what to say - how to tell Geralt that he didn’t want him to be mad without sounding like a child, how to make Geralt feel less guilty without being patronizing. Jaskier never quite knows how to manage Geralt’s emotions, not like he does everyone else’s. A crowd, a pretty barmaid, a professor at Oxenfurt, all of these are easy to push and pull where he pleases. Easy to predict. Geralt… isn’t. He digs in his heels when Jaskier tries to lead him, closes himself off when Jaskier tries to get a peak under the mask. Geralt is, Jaskier thinks, perhaps one of the most complicated people Jaskier’s ever met. He knows that’s part of the draw. But it’s frustrating in moments like these, when Jaskier wants so badly to say just the right thing to make Geralt’s shoulders relax, to make the deep frown marring his lovely mouth loosen into a smile. He thinks he could figure it out, given enough time. If Geralt will let him. 

When Geralt finally moves to face away from him, to attend to his back, Jaskier speaks. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he forces his voice to be steady and firm. “I didn’t want to worry you. I didn’t want you to feel bad for not - That is, I don’t blame you. And I didn’t want to slow you down.”

Geralt's hands still on his back, his warm palm burning where it rests on Jaskier’s shoulder blade. It’s so hot in the room, sweat prickling against Jaskier’s brow, and Geralt’s hand doesn’t move. “I don’t care if you slow me down,” Geralt grunts. Jaskier can feel his breath on the nape of his neck, and he can’t suppress a shiver. Geralt must notice, but he doesn’t comment. 

“You very much do,” Jaskier argues, irritated. “You remind me on a near nightly basis that if I’m not up when the sun is you’ll leave me behind. I don’t even bother to ask for a break anymore because you never fail to remind me that it’s my choice to be here. And it is, I know that. I’ll keep up, and if I can’t I’ll take my leave. You’ve made it quite clear that the onus of responsibility rests with me, and I accept that.”

From this close Jaskier can nearly hear Geralt grinding his teeth together. “Not at the expense of your health,” he says, and he sounds properly angry now. “Fuck, Jaskier, you can’t think I’d - That I wouldn’t wait, that I’d leave you behind when you were hurt. You could have fucking died, if it’d been more serious. You couldn’t have known that it wasn’t, right away. What if I’d woken up the next day and you’d choked to death on your own blood in your sleep? What if you’d -” He cuts himself off.

Now Jaskier turns to face him, shocked by the display of emotion, feeling Geralt’s hand shift across his back. Geralt looks away from him, hiding, but the expression that Jaskier catches on his face is… pained. As if it would truly hurt him, to see Jaskier damaged beyond repair. Hesitantly, Jaskier reaches out and touches Geralt’s knee. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t think of it that way. I just didn’t want you to take it personally.”

Geralt’s eyes meet his again, smouldering in the low light. Jaskier suddenly remembers that he’s a bit drunk, and they’re so, so close together. The space between them is warm, and Geralt’s hand slowly slides down his back to rest at Jaskier’s hip. “I always take it personally when it comes to you,” Geralt says. Jaskier breathes out shakily. Geralt reaches out with his other hand and gently grasps Jaskier’s elbow, making Jaskier’s fingers press more firmly into his knee. “Tell me next time,” Geralt says. And then, “Please.”

Jaskier is powerless to refuse him anything in this moment, so he says, “Alright. I will. Just don’t leave me behind.”

“I won’t,” Geralt says softly. “I won’t. I promise.” Something tense releases in Jaskier, because Geralt is not frivolous with his words and a promise means something coming from him. He won’t leave Jaskier behind. 

“Well good,” Jaskier says, and smiles easily at him. His side feels better now with the salve and the fuzzy layer of alcohol in his system, and every part of him touching Geralt is tingling pleasantly. It’s a lot of parts, he realizes giddily. He’s nearly in Geralt’s lap, held close by Geralt’s hands in something that’s nearly an embrace, and Geralt’s lips are right there. All Jaskier would have to do is lean forward just a smidge, press them together gently, soft as a feather -

Geralt’s eyes flicker to his mouth, and Jaskier flushes hot all over. Gods. Just a look and he feels undone. 

But before he can do anything, Geralt is up and halfway across the room, tucking the jar away like nothing had happened. Jaskier lets out a breath that’s equal parts disappointment and relief. A moment later Geralt is back at his side, holding the roll of bandages. 

“This will keep you from pulling them while they heal,” Geralt says gruffly, and Jaskier obediently raises his arms up as much as he can. Geralt wraps up his ribs efficiently, and it does feel a little more stable. It will help him sleep, at the very least. Just before he wraps the light gauze around Jaskier’s shoulder, Geralt leans in and drags in a deep breath. 

Jaskier splutters. “Are you sniffing me, Geralt of Rivia?”

Geralt huffs out an amused breath against his skin. “Checking for infection. You don’t smell sweet, so you’re probably alright.”

“I smell plenty sweet,” Jaskier gripes. Geralt finishes the bandages, tying them off neatly. Jaskier feels compressed, a bit, but it’s for the best. 

“You smell like ale,” Geralt says with a raised eyebrow. “And the salve. And that lavender soap I hate.”

“You only hate it the first day I use it,” Jaskier points out. The smell is too strong for Geralt to abide by. Jaskier tries not to use it unless they’ll be apart for a day or so. He’d bathed with it the day after the hunt, hoping that the intensity of it would mask anything else Geralt might scent on him. Pain, or distress. Geralt had supported a pinched look of annoyance for a full half a day.

“Go to sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt says, and it sounds annoyed and fond at the same time in equal measure, which Jaskier wouldn’t have said was possible before he met Geralt. The most complicated man he’d ever met. “You need to rest.”

“Up at dawn?” Jaskier guesses, shucking off his pants and settling under the covers. Geralt removes his own boots and pants and crawls in on the other side, settled between Jaskier and the door. Jaskier’s not sure if it’s to protect him or to keep him from running off. As if he ever would. 

“We’ll leave when you're ready,” Geralt says, snuffing out the candle flickering on the bedside dresser. In the darkness, Jaskier hears, “I’ll wait for you.”

For once Jaskier has nothing else to say to that, so he settled down into the covers and plans to sleep past noon.

[nobodylivesson]

Hi!! How are you doing? I hope you're fine with the pandemic going around, so I want to request Jin-woo x fem reader, where reader is a guardian spirit in a dagger he got from clearing the demon castle and she's attached to Jin-woo now cuz he's really strong? It's fine if you don't want to 🤗 anyways remember to drink water😘

The Silver Dagger

Fandom : Solo Leveling

Paring : Sung Jin-woo x Guardian Spirit! GN reader

Requested? Yes

»»————>❃<————««

Jin-woo huffed a little as he examined his now red-stained clothes

“Ah it has become such a mess but they weren’t matching my size recently. Guess have to buy new clothes soon” Jin-woo thinks as his eyes look at the bodies of Hwang Dong-Suk and his companions

“The association won’t let this slide, have to come up with an excuse and also have to make Jin-ho quiet about this” Jin-woo thought eyeing the orange hair guy who seemed to be puking from the look of the bodies

Jin-woo and Jin-ho eyes meet for a slip second causing Jin-ho to puke more while Jin-woo sighed

Suddenly something silver caught Jin-woo’s eyes and tilted his head to see a dagger at the corner of the dungeon. After walking close to it he could finally see how the dagger looked

The dagger was a mix of silver and black, with the handle having a very beautiful carving of a person dancing and a person standing at the tip of the dagger’s cover. The whole thing was made of fine metal which was intact without any scratches or marks

“A dagger? It doesn’t seem like a drop so what is it doing here? And it seems to be in very good condition….Was it one of those guys? Hmmm…..” Jin-woo wonder after he picked up the dagger

But he couldn’t ponder much as the dungeon started to shake making him snap his head towards the ceiling

“The boss has been defeated so it means the dungeon is going to close soon. Let’s get out of here” Jin-woo says towards Jin-ho who just meekly nods before getting ready to leave

Not thinking much Jin-woo decided to take the dagger with him and inspect it at home since leaving such a good looking dagger here would be a waste

But it seems this decision of Jin-woo is going to give him much more than what he would have thought

»»————>❃<————««

Jin-woo looked at the dagger at his hand with raised brows as it doesn’t seem to enter storage and Jin-woo had to wrap it at a cloth provided by Jin-ho before bringing it in his hoodie’s pocket

The more Jin-woo examined the dagger the more his curiosity grew and new questions raised

“Where did this dagger popped out of? Was it really from one of the guys from the dungeons? If so, then why didn’t they used this against him during the fight? Why wasn’t Jin-woo able to put the dagger in the storage if this dagger was a part of the system?”

Jin-woo just sighed and plopped down on his bed as his hands moved from the top of the dagger to the bottom when he realized he hadn’t taken the blade out of its cover

So bringing his right hand to the handle, Jin-woo tried to pull it but was surprised it didn’t come out

Yet he still shrugged it off and now with much more strength tried to pull it again which much to his relief finally came out

The blade was shinning as if it was made just a few moments before Jin-woo found it and when he brought it close to his face, the blade reflected his face as clear as day

“Well no matter how weird and mysterious, I can’t leave a good thing behind so I guess I can use it in my next raid” Jin-woo thinks and tilts his head when for a second he thought he saw something appear on the blade

Jin-woo jerks himself straight and examines the blade carefully but as one expected nothing was there

“Am I tired and hallucinating things? Well today was an eventful day, guess I would be sleeping early today” Jin-woo mumbles while massaging his eyes

A sudden knock to his door made Jin-woo stop what he was doing and immediately put the dagger at the table before covering it with the cloth he brought it in

When he looked at the door again, Jin-woo saw Jin-ah was peaking through the door

“A guy named Jin-ho has called and asked for you” Jin-ah says to which Jin-woo nodded before saying “Understood, I’m coming” as he started to walk towards the door

Suddenly Jin-ah screamed causing Jin-woo to quickly look at her to see his little sister looking at something behind him with utter shock

Jin-woo turned around in time to see a shape forming which with each passing second seem to turn more and more into a person

And in 1 minute, a person appeared in Jin-woo’s room out of nowhere who looked like a foreigner and was wearing clothes that looked like were of the medieval time?

But Jin-woo realized that the appearance wasn’t important now and in an instant Jin-woo was standing in a defensive position before Jin-ah

“Who are you and how did you enter my room?!” Jin-woo cautiously spoke with a straight face and cursed inside that there was no weapon in his hand at the moment

Jin-woo didn’t know what kind of a being this person was they just appeared out of nowhere. So a tense atmosphere spread across the room as stayed behind Jin-woo and gripped his cloth in fear at what might happen while Jin-woo thought of what he can do to make sure Jin-ah got out of there safely if the situation got messy

But all the tension broke down when the intruder suddenly smiled before saying “Hey, hey, you don’t need to be so cautious I’m not dangerous and it’s you who brought me here” while pointing at Jin-woo

“What?” Jin-woo says when he feels a stare towards him making him look down to see Jin-ah looking at him with questioning yet suspicious eyes

“Hey, you saw him appear out of thin air so how could I have brought him?!” Jin-woo says in panic as if everyone has turned against him to which Jin-ah says “I don’t know what you hunters can do so….suspicious” causing Jin-woo to shout “HUH?!”

This caused the intruder to laugh before they in a cheery voice said “What I meant was you’re the one who brought this dagger, so it’s you who brought me in the house cause I live inside the dagger”

A silence fell between all three of them before Jin-ah and Jin-woo shouted “Eh?EHHHHHH?!”

»»————>❃<————««

“Well let me introduce myself, I’m [Y/N] [L/N] and I have been trapped in this dagger for more than 100,000 years due to some kind of curse. But I guess I can also be called a ‘Guardian Spirit’ of the dagger” the intruder or [Y/N] says cheerily as they sat in seize-style

While Jin-ah and Jin-woo who was sitting opposite to them on the sofa were intrigued and baffled respectively

“How do you expect us to believe you like that?” Jin-woo says with a frown to which [Y/N] chuckles before saying “Yes, believe or trust isn’t something that could be gained just by a mere talk and we need evidence to prove it. But unfortunately, I don’t have the means to prove myself trustworthy yet maybe if you heard my story then I can gain some of your trust?”

“Story doesn’t give anyone the right to be trusted” Jin-woo says his face becoming serious now with a cold gaze to which [Y/N] without even being fazed says “But I want you to believe me” while tilting his head to the side, happiness shining in his eyes

Jin-woo gets taken back and blushes a little because [Y/N] look kind of cute so he brings his left hand to cover his face

Jin-ah who has been nervously watching all this jumps at the chance and says “Hyung, let’s listen to what they have to say. I don’t think someone bad would say they can’t be trusted and then ask us to trust them with a story”

Jin-woo wasn’t convinced but a tiny part of him wanted to know about this person called [Y/N] who appeared out of nowhere and now was sitting in front of him with a smile

“Okay” Jin-woo says with a sigh causing [Y/N]’s face to relax a little, a nostalgic look now replacing his smiling face as he says “This is the first time I ever told anyone…….I was from the [C/C] but I was orphaned and I was owned by a wealthy merchant. I knew my fate was to be sold to some people long enough but then one day he arrived, my master. He was a scholar from South Korea who had come to [C/C] for some work and saw me being displayed by my owner. I still don’t know why he did it but he brought me that day and took me along with him back to South Korea. I thought he only brought me so I can do work for him but he taught me how to read, write, cook, and skills to live. My master was someone who saved me and gave meaning to my life, so I decided I would for the rest of my life serve my master. But then one day at night, my master took me and brought me to a cliff before thrusting that dagger into my hand. He said ‘Please live on and forgive me’ before pushing me down the cliff. I don’t know what happened after that as I was enveloped in bright light but then I woke in a dark place. Over years I realized I somehow got imprisoned inside the sword, would never age again, survive any kind of disaster, and my master long dead. I wasn’t able to draw out of my cover by anyone and was constantly sold. So that’s how I moved from different parts of the country and saw all this from inside the sword. But then you came and drew it out, being able to give me the opportunity to at least come out. I don’t know how he was able to do it and I don’t know why he did it but I have long accepted I won’t ever get answers to these questions. Well, that’s my story.”

It was a long story and [Y/N] was already past the age of grieve, learned to go over it with passing time. Their personality and the things taught by their master was what kept them true to themself

When [Y/N] was amused to see Jin-woo looking skeptical and Jin-ah looking like she is going to break into tears any moment

“I think that-” Jin-woo started by Jin-ah interrupted him by saying “It’s very sad that it happened with you,[Y/N]!! If you’re the guardian spirit then do you take care of the dagger as well?” making [Y/N] laugh a little before saying “I’m fine, Jin-ah. It’s been a long time and I’m very happy that I could come of the sword in my physical form after so many years. And yes! It’s because of me living inside it that the dagger is so shinny and sharp even after so many years”

Jin-woo sighs and says “Jin-ah don’t we need to make sure he is telling the truth?” to which Jin-ah huffs before saying “Hyung, you don’t need to be cruel. I have been observing [Y/N] since the time they came out and they don’t look like someone who wants to harm!!”

Jin-woo sighs even louder before saying “Just because they look innocent doesn’t mean that they would be innocent and why are you so adamant that this person isn’t a bad person?!” to which [Y/N] quietly adds “Well one more thing I forgot to add is that I can’t do much except getting out of the dagger in a physical form and make sure it’s always in a great form. Also to come out I need to be very near the dagger or else I would be forced again inside the dagger, it seems. So you can have control over what I can do” while showing how taking the dagger away from them starts to make them fade slowly

“We can’t be a bad person to someone who looks very happy to be finally being able to come outside. And if [Y/N] can’t do much in this form of their then it’s not a problem right?? If you still have doubts keep [Y/N] with you for few days and take them around Seoul so you can see if they are telling the truth! Won’t you do that hyung??” Jin-ah says while giving puppy eyes

[Y/N] suddenly perked up when they heard this and looked at Jin-woo with shining eyes before asking him “You would do that for me???” happiness radiantly from them

Jin-woo moves back a little with an unbelievable look as his little sister and [Y/N] bring their faces close to much

“Okay okay fine! I would do that!” Jin-woo says while covering his face out of frustration in a tired face as his sister cuteness along with [Y/N]’s cute eyes were too much for him

Jin-ah and [Y/N] jump around the room in victory, the dagger still in [Y/N]’s hand as they talked about what [Y/N] can look at around Seoul

Jin-woo eyes the dagger before it travels to [Y/N] face which he finally has to admit is very cute

Even if he wasn’t sure about [Y/N] he can’t just dismiss after looking at [Y/N] through this whole ordeal that they are indeed very cute not only face wise

A blush rose to his face at what he was thinking before he sighed and rested his face in his palms before thinking “What have I gotten myself into??”

»»————>❃<————««

Hello everyone this is my first ever request and I'm so happy that I'm finally done with it!! Thank you for re-reading my rules and changing your request as well! I didn't wanted to miss the chance to write for Jin-woo as my first request. I don't know how it is and if it matched what the requester wanted to miss writing this me to write(I hope so for even a little bit it did) Anyway if you want a re-written version of the request you can drop by in my ask box, I won't mind!! Also in a few days, I would be done with the other request as well so stay tuned!

[virlath]

The great betrayal

So far, we’ve only really heard what happened in ancient times based on Solas’ own words. But we also know that he speaks in half truths. His own dark legends as told by Felassan, his old friend, paints him as cunning and practiced in double-speak dark wisdom.

His MO is reminiscent of Imshael, a forbidden one who tricked Michel into releasing him (thereby reactivating the eluvian network, which was ultimately what Solas wanted). They both blur the line between spirit and demon and they both traverse the fade as if it is their home.

And I have to say, Solas’ version of events leading to Mythal’s death doesn’t add up.

He claims the precursor to the veil was the evanuris killing Mythal. Abelas reaffirms this version of events by specifically saying ‘the dread wolf had nothing to do with her murder. She was slain, if a god truly can be, by the people who also destroyed this temple’.

But at the end of the day, the only person who stood to gain the most from Mythal’s death was Fen’Harel and his slave rebellion, not the evanuris.

After all, the evanuris’ entire claim of divinity hinged on the claim that they were truly ‘immortal’.

"The gods, our Evanuris, claim divinity, yet they are naught but mortals powerful in magic who can die as you can. In this place, we teach those who join us to unravel their lies."

Based on ancient mosaics at Fen’Harel’s sanctuary, we can presume the evanuris knew the secret to ‘effective immortality’ by body hopping. I am assuming the method to do this is probably similar to Corypheus and his arch demon.

It seems that not many regular people knew of this secret however, which was why Solas took it upon himself to start his rebellion, expose their mortal flaws, and fight back against them to reclaim their freedom.

If the evanuris betrayed and killed Mythal as Solas says, they would have had to announce to everyone that the head of their pantheon, the goddess of love and protection, was dead and gone forever. But in doing so, they would also be exposing their own false divinity, revealing that they themselves can also be deposed.

According to Solas, Falon’Din started many wars to gain more worshippers. They likely started all these wars because the evanuris had the security of effective immortality. Their primary motive seems to gain more followers or slaves, rather than power over each other. In fact, Solas’ surprise at learning Corypheus also learned this secret proves it was not common knowledge even back in ancient Elvhenan.

So, knowing that the evanuris likely kept the secret of true immortality close to their chest, why would they want to off Mythal completely? Deposing her did not automatically mean they gained more power. Remember her killers destroyed her temple but left her well intact, and that was really where a lot of her power lay.

Maybe they were really were power hungry as he says, and mutinied against Mythal. Maybe they were poisoned by the void’s magic. Or maybe, they were manipulated by Fen’Harel to betray and kill her, to set an example and turn people against the false gods.

"The brand of the Evanuris can be lifted from you, that all may know you oppose their cruelties. None here are slaves. All are under our protection. All may choose to fight."

Fen’Harels sanctuary reveals his rebellion actually did attempt to try to fight against the gods. So imagine if Mythal, the head of the pantheon, was actually killed.

Mythal’s death would have sent a very clear message to the evanuris and everyone under their rule- the gods were not divine, and they were all mortals just as they were. This event would have been a huge turning of the tide for Fen’Harel’s rebellion to be honest.

I previously thought Solas and Mythal worked together in their rebellion, but maybe Solas was cunning enough to evade even her. Based on Cole’s dialogue, it wouldn’t be a surprise to learn he was also once a slave of Mythal’s (he left a scar when he burnt her off his face). And as to the reason why he doesn’t trust anyone? His distrust could simply be because he himself is the betrayer.

We can assume from DAI’s epilogue that Mythal and Solas were once close and Flemeth even calls him ‘old friend’. Perhaps Fen’Harel used his close relationship with Mythal as his shield, because the last person you expect to betray you is the person closest to you.

Just remember, an enemy can attack, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse. 

Solas does seem genuinely remorseful about everything and his dialogue with Cole indicates he created the veil to save them. Maybe the evanuris were on a trajectory to destroy the world by using their magic and their slaves in their endless wars. Orchestrating Mythal’s death could have been a big part of his rebellion- he needed to resort to drastic measures to send a clear message.

I did not lead a slave-rebellion against immortal mage-kings without getting my hands bloody

There is also the propaganda on the dread wolf we can find in trespasser:

The pages of this book-memory?-warn of a terrible danger, a wolf with slavering black jaws and pits for eyes. The Evanuris-the elven gods-stand in a ring around it, as if preventing it from attacking.

"Beware the forms of Fen'Harel! The Dread Wolf comes in humble guises, a wanderer who knows much of the People and their spirits. He will offer advice that seems fair, but turns slowly to poison. Remember the price of treason, and keep in your heart the mercy of your gods."

It’s been assumed that this propaganda was released by the evanuris to dissuade people from joining Fen’Harel’s rebellion. But a lot of it also rings true, and it is one of those codices that has bugged me for ages in how foreboding and ominous it is.

It has parallels to the inquisitor’s own journey. It has elements of Solas’ own MO. And it reveals that Fen’Harel potentially even manipulated the false gods themselves.

From the dev notes in DAI, he will kill anyone- even Flemeth. He killed Felassan, his old friend. He says in Tevinter Nights, he will kill anyone without hesitation if they stand in his way.

I think there is a lot of solid evidence of his underhanded tactics in the events leading to Mythal’s death. Maybe he persuaded her killers to leave the well intact so that she could come back as a new being and reclaim her power. As he says ‘his people do not die so easily’. Mythal’s death and creation of the veil could have even enabled the blight as we know it today...

Because as told by Flemeth, Mythal became a wisp, just like Solas’ wisdom spirit friend. Based on dialogue with him, he insinuates wisps grow and reform in the void, where its assumed the blight’s magic is based on. 

Maybe his intention was to use Mythal as an example for his rebellion, but also attempt to reform her because she was his friend. But along the way, Mythal’s spirit corrupted into vengeance because she was ultimately betrayed by people she trusted.

If Mythal was Fen’Harel’s big sacrifice, it would also draw so many obvious symbolic parallels to Andraste, who as I’ve said before has a lot of suspicious links to Mythal. Remember Solas’ chess game with Bull in DAI? He sacrifices the queen in order to win the game.

This is of course all speculation and deduction- I don’t claim that Solas definitely betrayed Mythal. But from a story perspective, this would be an absolutely amazing plot twist, even bigger than the reveal of Solas being the dread wolf.

I mean....can you imagine that reveal in DA4?! It would explain so much of his regret and burden of guilt because Mythal was once his closest friend. On a thematic level the emphasis on power and sacrifice and revenge and forgiveness would all be there.

Fen’Harel being the betrayer but not the true killer but the orchestrator behind everything, completely embodying the trickster god trope...ahhh I just can’t stop thinking about this tbh.

[shdwwlkrsblog]

Zombie apocalypse with dsmp (dream smp) members

Just got the idea and yeah enjoy

c!awesam dude in imposter in " realife" better said adding some things to Minecraft, think of it as modpacks

In here are : c!Awesamdude , c!foolishg , c!dream ,

Warnings : blood , weapons , injuries , murder ,

Masterlist

C!Awesamdude

Shotguns or any other guns weren't effective against the infected of the virus at all but it was effective chopping of their heads , interrupting nerves going to the infected brain and wich was controlling everything , the virus was going for the nerve system and the only way was like mentioned before cutting it's control off. But wich wasn't easy due to its good control of the never system the change of getting bitten was higher and you and Sam couldn't afford getting bitten . A friend of your who was bitten cutter of the bitten part . Their arm. stopping the infection , wich was the only way but the chance of surviving it aren't high due to the high blood pressure the virus gives the body . You looked over at Sam who was looking at his axe sharpening it the wrong way unsharpening it but he seemed calmed . He stopped and dropped the stone looking at his hand blood was dripping down a "oh shit " escaped your mouth before you heard the grunting and moan screaming behind you. those fucks were able to find you so quickly? How ? If their noses are that good surviving is going to be even harder but no time left Sam grabbed you in bridal style picked up few weapons and sprinted away leaving the food behind . "Sam th-" "shhh its okay I know how to hunt" and he continued sprinting until Sam stopped and sat you down "we should be far enough " he said out of breath and sat down next to you " Sam you didn't need to car-" you were interrupted " but i wanted to " he said "bu-" "no but" "but why did you do that ?" You said it really quickly so he didn't had the time interrupting you and he understood everything "i idk i just didn't want you to be in danger and die , i need you . Alive" he confessed an awww escaped your mouth and an blush creeped behind his mask making you giggle "it's not funny , you're important " he said volume rising slightly , "naww someone likes someone " his blush darkened "com'on shut up " "make me" he threw his mask away and crashed his lips onto yours catching you off guard . He separated you both for few second " i love you" "love you too Sammy" you said before he trapped you in a hug

C!Foolishg

Foolish was working on one of his new building Projekts in His human form when he heard grunting ,groaning and heavy breathing coming closer he turned around and was met with a horse of zombie but not the normal type those were faster and seemed to be smarter some held things that can be used as weapons but before observing more one of them attacked him but he was able to dogde and sprinted to where you were after reaching your home he broke in the door and panted "everything okay foolish ?" You asked and he shook his head no . " a horde of Zombies came to me and they were coming from the direction where .....the others are . " His face looked terrified and sad " they can't be dead we need to check on them" you said and he nodded grabbing your hand "close your eyes " he said and with a loud bang you stood infront of the prison wich was half destroyed . Sam was fighting some of the infected his chestplate broke as he took another hit . You and foolish ran to him , stabbed the zombies and burned them killed the virus controlling their muscles and nerves. one of them tried attacking you from behind but foolish quickly killed it "those things are really clever " Sam said while taking a healing potion . "If you both would have come a minute later i would end up like the others who stayed here" he said and took his extra iron chest plate out of his inventory and then looked at foolish the down at your hand chuckling , then you felt pressure on you hand and looked down .foolish was holding your hand "naww you both are so cute"Sam said and behind and your partner blushed that's when you noticed . He didn't wore his mask and emerald green eyes were looking into yours . But the sweet moment was interrupted by an explosion and a Wilbur walking out of the smoke " you guys are the only alive things around here " he said and stood next to Sam TNT still in his hand "we need to find a safe shelter is there anything that isn't detroyed? " Foolish asked while looking around eyeing the ruins of the once intact buildings " i don't think so but we can build one " wilbur said while showing a stack of obsidian "where did you get these ?" You asked because it wasn't natural for a Wilbur to have interest in blast resistant blocks like obsidian " idk found them in a chest and yeah thought would be good taking them with me " he said while shrugging with his shoulders " hm anyways we should start going I'm sure more things are infected and on Their way to us " foolish sounded worried and frightened but there wasn't time to think. The group headed towards east maybe we are safe there you thought and grabbed foolish hand making him smile and look down to you

C!dream

" dream please slow down " you were out of breath since 2 hours you've been running behind your boyfriend who wanted to get as far as possible away from the plague or "zombie apocalypse" how he called it . He didn't even took one break from running and you wondered , how can he have that much stamina ? Finally he stopped and you were able to stop too and fell to the ground , before hitting it his arms catched you and he let out an laughter before sitting down with you . " Maybe we should take a break " he said and pulled you in his lap and layed his head onto your shoulder "yeah I need definitely a break " you said and took off his mask . It didn't surprise him since you're always taking it off because it's " more comfortable" cuddling without it but he knows that you bust do it because you love his face . "Dream?" "Yes babe?" You sat up looked into his eyes and said nothing "you horny again ?" He joked and you shook your head " no but do you think the virus will be over soon?" " I hope so babe" he answered " but we need to get as far away as possible i don't want you to die like the others " he said his voice changed into a sad tone . You were there for him the whole time and never left his side he wouldn't be able to live without you he looked at you who was now playing with his mask he smiled , took his mask , Placed it on your face and stood up before picking you up " ik you can't run that's why I'm going to carry you to a safe place " clay started running again and you watched the sky through his mask . Suddenly dream stopped sat you down and shipped his axe " don't look behind you " he growled and sprinted away slashing and breaking of bones was heard and it suddenly stopped , a bumb was heard . you turned around seeing your dreamie on the ground trying to hold away one of the zombies . Suddenly anger formed and the want to kill them .You quickly sprinted towards them but tripped as one zombie suddenly came out of an bush attacking you but there was no time that can be wasted you quickly stapled it slashed its head of blood spilling onto dreams mask . You then ran towards the other zombie jumping at it and tossing it away from him sitting on it you pinned it's arm to the ground like Jesus arms were nailed the the wood and stabbed the hell out of it blood spilling everywhere and a shocked dream but he somehow thought of it as cute and sexy like you're jealous that the zombie was in top of him and not you . The thought pulled an chuckle from him " stop laughing or you're next " you threatened out of fun and walked to him helping him up " are you hurt?" You both asked the same time and laughted "yeah I am and you ?" " No I'm okay " " good ngl it was a bit sexy that you were jealous that the zombie was in top of me and not you " he said and you punched his shoulder playfully " i wasn't jealous !" "You were of else this mask wouldn't be completely red " he said and pointed at it " i was worried " " still looks like jealous to me " he joked and grabbed your hand " but it doesn't matter I still love you " and smiled

Yooooo first dsmp Post hope ya'll like it , maybe I'll post more like this and make dsmp my main fandom i write for???

Ask box open

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

Ready for zombies, Zoro, and some hurt/comfort? Then take a swig of this potion for @quirkyseastone ‘s “Brew a Love Potion” event! (But please read the warnings first!)

Characters: Zoro x Reader; appearance by Bartholomew Kuma

Genre: Zombie/Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort (a bit light on the comfort though, woops)

TW/CW: Violence, guns and swords, blood, light gore, mentions of cannibalism, undead bodies

Inspiration: The concept for zombies in this fic is inspired by the novel Breathers by S.G. Browne (at least, what I remember from having read it over 10 years ago...)

Word Count: ~3.1k words

...

"Hold still, we're almost..." You apply the last bit of blush before appraising your handiwork. Not bad, if you said so yourself. At a glance, Zoro doesn't even look dead. "There. Want a mirror to see?"

"I trust you not to doll me up too bad." Roronoa Zoro yawns, even though the legendary zombie hunter no longer needs to sleep, having recently been turned into a zombie himself. Which, contrary to popular belief, is not in and of itself a death sentence. Most zombies act as they did in life, even if their bodies no longer recover the way a living human's does. The danger comes from the zombies who try to stop this decay by feasting on human brains...and sometimes more dangerous are the humans who've decided that every zombie is a ticking time bomb regardless of said zombie's intentions. 

At least Zoro had never been that way, but now he's got to hide from the hunters who once considered him a legend. Sure, it wouldn't be hard for him to fight off hunters, even if you've had to stitch each limb back on at least twice (and you're still not sure where one of his eyes ended up). But you'd rather your newfound partner in protecting innocent zombies not cause a scene simply by walking through the market.

"Remember, don't rub your face. This makeup cost me a fortune. And try to fake breathing this time, okay?"

"Yeah yeah, I got it." He manages to take a breath that's believable but isn't so deep that it rattles the loose bones and organs in his slowly decaying chest.

Both of you get to your feet and finish the rest of your preparations for the outside world. Your clothing hides as much skin as possible, even with the warm temperatures outside. You spray Zoro down with cheap cologne so he smells less like roadkill and more like a teenager trying to cover up a bad case of B.O. And you slip on filtration masks in a vain attempt to avoid the ever-present smoke and dust beyond your walls.

No one's sure if the zombies came about because of the bombs, or if the bombs were secretly launched because the powers-that-be learned about the first nascent zombies and failed with their pre-emptive strike. But now much of the world is a wasteland, and bargaining for resources is bad enough without half the population lobbing accusations of cannibalism at the other half. You can't hold off this trip any longer, because you've ended up looking after a number of innocent zombies, and they need medical supplies before they fall apart any further.

You shoo Zoro away from the driver's spot on your motorbike. "Nuh uh buddy, we aren't getting lost today." You've heard a new band of hunters is coming to town, and the last thing you want is to run into them before you have a chance to secure your supplies.

"I don't get lost! They just keep changing where the market is." Zoro still reluctantly waits for you to take your place at the front before he sits behind you and firmly snakes his arms around your waist. You pretend you can feel his pulse when he holds you, even though you know the heart in his chest has long stopped beating.

Markets are supposed to be neutral ground. Everyone needs resources to survive after all, and one of the few things that bombs and zombie outbreaks couldn't kill is commerce. Stalls line the aisles of what was once a grocery store, faded advertisements promoting foods that no one's seen in years, and someone has fixed the speaker system to play the same old pop hits in a vain attempt at normalcy.

You hold tight to Zoro's hand, both to keep him from getting lost and so he stays close in case of danger. He obliges, and even holds bags for you as you pull him around. You might've called this romantic in the times before, back when your purchases would've been far more frivolous than bandages and shelf-stable rations, but you're unsure how close you and Zoro would've been without being thrown together by circumstance.

You pause by one stall, eyes wide. Zoro doesn't notice and keeps walking until he notices that you won't budge. He raises an eyebrow when he finally joins you. "What, some kinda' plastic plant?"

"Not plastic. It's real." You forgive him the mistake though, as the plant has sturdy, waxy leaves that almost look sculpted. It feels like so long since you've seen anything green (aside from Zoro's hair), much less an actual plant. But you note the name scribbled in tape on its battered plastic pot. It's nothing useful, not medicinal or edible in the slightest. Just a begonia that hasn't even bloomed yet.

The shopkeeper asks, "Gonna gawk, or you gonna' buy?"

You know you can't afford a plant, what with how rare they are. You might be able to bargain and beg if it were something more useful, but...

"We'll buy." Zoro slams something down on the table. "This'll be enough?"

You catch the glint of gold peeking from between his fingers. Jewelry isn't useful anymore, but human greed has a hard time giving up old habits. The shopkeeper smiles wide and practically shoves the begonia at you with one hand while snatching up Zoro's earring with the other. You thank him and depart the stall without another word, clutching the flower close to your chest.

"What was that about?" You hiss at Zoro.

"Looked like you wanted it," he says with a shrug. You squint up at his remaining earrings, only to realize that in his haste to remove the one he traded away, he tore the hole in his ear a little in the process. Probably didn't even notice that he'd done so, the stubborn fool...

Well, what's done is done. "Thank you. I'll make sure to take excellent care of it."

"Don't mention it." Which you know is Zoro-speak for "you're welcome". So you smile back at him without saying anything more on the subject, and continue the rest of your trek through the market.

You make the mistake of thinking this is a surprisingly nice day. But you don't realize that someone has noticed how Zoro isn't bleeding.

When Zoro pulls out one sword and tightens his grip around your midsection, you don't have to ask why. You're being followed.

You absently wonder what gave you away. Never removing your masks? A smudge in Zoro's makeup that revealed the deathly pallor underneath? It doesn't really matter, you think. Whoever is after you will chase you down until they can swing their weapons and play at being heroes, so all you can do is fight on your own terms. You avoid going home and swerve the bike toward the burned-out husk of an abandoned store that not even the most desperate zombies would hide in.

You glance at the tilted rearview mirror on your bike. The figures chasing you are hulking brutes, but nothing compared to their ringleader. He's built like a brick house with legs, and his imposing figure is thrown off by the pristine white hat topped with small bear ears. Instead of a holstered weapon, he has a bible strapped to his side. You've heard of this man. Judging by the look in Zoro's eyes, he does too. One of the most notorious zombie hunters in the country: Bartholomew Kuma.

What is he doing here, of all places?

Zoro says, "Soon as we touch down, hide. It's me they want."

"I can't just leave you. You know who that is back there?"

"Doesn't matter. I already died once. They can't do worse than that to me. But they could still hurt you plenty. 'Specially if you came back before they were done with you." In the rearview mirror, Zoro's eyes are sharp and cold as his blades.

You know how to handle a weapon in self-defense, but you're nowhere near the master that Zoro is. And he has a point. You're still human, you can bleed, you can hurt. And that might chew Zoro up worse than anything Kuma and crew could throw at him. You resign yourself to your fate and think of where in that burnt-out building you might be able to hide, preferably while still keeping an ear out for danger.

You speed on, trying to shake your pursuers, but soon the road runs out. The bones of burnt buildings jut out before you like oversized tombstones. You remember scouting here before, trying to usher out displaced zombies before the remnants of the building could collapse on them. Much of the ruins have fallen since you were last here, but there's still a concrete bunker that was once a stockroom, and it's mostly intact. You can lay low there until the fighting's over. 

You relay this plan to Zoro, and you tell him, "I'll be safe there, don't worry about me. Once the fighting's done, I'll come back down and patch you up. So don't die on me again, alright?"

Zoro nods, even though he surely knows the claim is more for your comfort than anything. He's a zombie, after all, and they don't heal the way humans do unless they devour human brains. He won't bleed, but if he looses a limb, or even his head? There's nothing you can do to fix that. And to be honest, you're not sure if that'll do him in, or if he'd continue living in pieces. You don't want to find out.

You park. And you know you should hit the ground running, but your heart is hammering in your chest. You turn to Zoro as he pulls out his blades.

You quickly put your warm hands on his cold cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. You two never attached words to what's simmered under the surface for so long, but in case of the worst...you couldn't handle him not knowing how  you truly felt. He blinks as you pull away, briefly stunned. You wonder if he'd blush if he could.

You run into the burnt-out husk of a building. The touch of your lips on Zoro's is replaced by a sword between his teeth.

In another lifetime, before people stopped dying right and the world went to hell over it, this building was a clothing store. You shopped here for outfits you haven't seen in years. Once, a friend who worked here snuck you into the back room, and you ate cheap takeout while surrounded by wall-to-ceiling racks of clothing and shoes. If you took time to wipe away the dust, you might still find graffiti left by the workers during their final shifts. You wonder if your friend left one.

You cannot look because you are huddled on a shelf and trying not to make a sound. The shelves are sturdy metal and easy to climb even without the rolling ladder. You're hidden high above the heads of anyone who might come in and pressed against a wall. No one should find you here.

For awhile, you heard sounds from outside. Speaking at first, though you couldn't make out what was being said. Then battle, swords colliding and guns firing. Screams. Then...nothing. You don't know if it's safe to come out. You'll find out soon. There are footsteps approaching.

A voice you do not recognize says your name.

"Roronoa Zoro is dead. Again. I am sorry that it had to happen." Heavy footfalls contrast a voice that is soft, almost even kind. "I understand why you might want to save him. You've built quite a reputation for that, you know. But I'm afraid it ends here. We cannot allow you to keep any more abominations alive. You understand that is what they are, don't you?"

You know he's trying to goad you into revealing yourself. It takes everything in your power to hold still and silent.

Metal crumples nearby with a shrill squeal, as if it could protest its false bones being broken.

"If you were to go on a trip...where would you like to go?"

The question throws you off guard, almost enough for sound to escape your lips.

"We do not have to kill you. All the government wants is to talk. If you cooperate, you'll be transported somewhere safe. Free of zombies, even." More metal crumples, and you wonder how Kuma is doing it. Does he have a weapon, or is he strong enough to break the storage shelves with his bare hands? "All you have to do is come willingly, and when we're done, you can go wherever you'd like, and you'll be kept safe."

But the only place you can think of is home. With Zoro. No matter what might come after you there.

The shelf under you shifts, and your body spasms as if you fell in a dream and awoke with your mind still lurching. You reach for anything to grab onto, but your fingers only touch air. (For the briefest instance, you spy graffiti drawn by a familiar hand upon the wall.)

You do not immediately recognize the feel of the arms, because they are warm and pulsing with life. You stare up at Zoro's face in disbelief. He's missing an eye and his face is smeared with blood, mouth drawn in a thin line.

"You survived," Kuma intones softly. "You ate them." And you wish you could refute him, but even before he spoke, you knew it to be true. Zoro's bloody fingers dig into your clothes to hold you tight. You hear his heartbeat for the first time, and it rarely skips a beat. Kuma says, "Let your friend down, Roronoa. You don't want to do this."

"Think I'm some mindless cannibal? Think again." Zoro sets you down and looks  you dead in the eye. "Told you I wouldn't die. And neither will you. Now, get out of here." Half a second before returning his sword to his mouth, his tongue flickers over his blood-stained lips. "Hurry!"

You do as he asks and flee to the doorway of the building. You know you should run to the motorcycle and drive out of here, but there are two problems with that. One is how you don't want to leave Zoro again. The other is that even if you admit the truth to yourself, that he finally gave in and consumed the brains of his enemies like the zombies he used to put down...you don't want to turn around and see what he did to the corpses of Kuma's followers.

The fight is swift and brutal. You've seen Zoro fight before, but while he's normally a whirlwind with his blades, now he's a demonic torrent. Much as he tries to stick to his traditional fighting forms, they slip into more instinctual slashes when Kuma pushes back, and the only thing that keeps Zoro on top is sheer ferocity. He moves so fast, you swear he's slashing three times faster than a normal man, leaving the afterimages of a three-faced demon. (You've heard rumors of zombies growing entirely new parts when they've eaten too much mortal flesh, but surely those are only rumors, survivors not understanding what they're seeing...)

Kuma is far quicker than his size would suggest. But even he begins to buckle. He blocks one blade with a bible far sturdier than it appears, and then lunges forward in a final desperate attack. Zoro braces to parry an attack, but is taken aback as no blow comes. Something metal and blinking is clasped onto his wrist.

"We will not meet again."

And Kuma is gone. You blink in surprise. You swore you didn't see him leave through the other holes in the building, didn't feel anyone pass you, and yet...

The normally composed swordsman growls as he sheathes his swords and tries to pry the blinking metal bangle (a tracking device, what else could it be?) off his arm. You want to approach him, but are unsure if you should; all you can do is watch as he uselessly paws at the bangle. Until he stops suddenly. You catch a glimpse of fresh crimson.

Zoro freezes as the reality of what he's done, what he's become, finally settles in. He's a statue slowly dripping red, most of which isn't his own. His breath shudders, and that too takes him off-guard. He sways where he stands, almost falling to his knees but somehow staying upright.

Before you can stop yourself, your feet carry you toward him, and you reach out. Your fingers brush against his back. He growls, "Don't. I'm not..."

"It doesn't matter what you are. You're still Zoro." 

Gentle pushes at his shoulders turn him around so he faces you. His face has more color than you've ever seen, blood red and flesh pink and mottled blues and violets of bruises. His closed eyelid twitches as the eye underneath regenerates. How long will it be until all the color's gone, and electrical impulses run short to leave his heart to hang heavy and empty in his chest, and how much longer than that until he gets a taste for life again regardless of the cost?

That doesn't matter right now. The future looms taller and more frightening than Kuma, but right now, you're two scared humans in a broken warehouse. You wrap your arms around Zoro and pull him close.

For the briefest moment, you feel his mouth open, hear the click in his jaw. His teeth brush against your ear. You close your eyes and refuse to think about it.

His chin rests on your shoulder. Mouth closed. Arms wrap around you right and your hearts beat together, lungs scramble for air together, blood and worry (and tears, you think, but you're not sure whose) intermingle and crawl to a slow stop until only a numb and temporary peace remains.

"You'd be forgiven for walking away." His voice is raw and tired with the weight of living again and all that took.

"Maybe. But someone has to keep you from getting lost." You give him one final squeeze before letting him go. "Come on. Let's go home and get you cleaned up."

When morning comes, you'll have to face what the future holds for a brain-eating swordsman and the one who looks out for him despite it all. But tonight, the both of you are miraculously alive and breathing, and there's a green new plant in the window ready to soak up all the sunlight tomorrow can offer.